Log:Just Like a Dream
There was nothing but darkness, and somewhere in the distance, a voice sounding panicked, murmuring, 'no, no, no...'. Some section of her mind recognized it as her own voice, like some hazy memory of a dream slipping away as one wakes. There was a hum of other noise in the background of it, but she couldn't quite make it out, other than the telltale sound of a Bic lighter; wheels turning, button being pressed in with a small click. That sound was louder in her mind than it should be, louder even than her own voice and growing more so with each click until it was making her head hurt. It ended with a high pitched, piercing scream that stopped abruptly, casting her into that darkness once more.
But not for long.
Something in that scream jolted her awake and The Lover, Lulu, sat straight up in her bed with a deep gasp of air, her eyes flying open. The rush of air in her throat was taken in so harshly, she started to cough just as the lights flick on. She was naked, a soft, cozy blanket pooled around her waist, fallen there when she woke. Panting for breath, she looks around, taking in her surroundings. It's a nice enough room, almost lavish even in its simplicity. It seemed made for relaxation; neutral colors with tan walls accented with polished wood that matched the furniture. A mural was painted above the bed of a branch coming from the edge of the alcove built in, small blossoms of white and blues of light and dark. The carpet is like a watercolor itself; shades of blue that gave one the impression of moving water.
The bed was large with the softest sheets, a ton of pillows and the fuzziest, coziest blanket; all in tones of tan, off white, and blues. The light is dim, diffused by artistically made shades, though the light by a nearby grey-toned chaise lounge was just a bit brighter to make the perfect spot for reading. There was more to see, but Lulu's heart was racing in fear and she could not move from her seat on the bed.
Lifting the sheet up in her fists, covering her nakedness as tears spring to her eyes, Lulu tries to figure out where she is. Her mind is reeling with memories... memories of a... fish person? That can't be right, can it? It attacked her. She screamed as blood splashed out from her body, its claws and teeth tearing into her flesh. She lifts her arm, looking at it for marks, then touches her neck, her face, finding nothing out of sorts there. Spotting a mirror that takes up nearly one whole wall, she scrambles out of the bed and rushes towards it. She stands there, staring at her naked self as her breaths continue to come in quick bursts. It is her, her body; lean legs, slightly curvy hips, pert breasts. Her hair is not the cascade of beach waves she remembers, but is swept back in a loose bun that even her mother would approve of, though, she cannot recall why her mother would. She runs her hands over her own curves, not in a lewd manner, bust as if to see if she is indeed... real. She feels very real under the palms of her hands and it seems to only freak her out a bit more as she runs back to the bed and pulls the blankets around her. There are no scars, no cuts anywhere to be seen. Was that all a dream? It can't be. It just can't. Why does that feel more real than, than this? Than here? Where is here? "Is this... heaven?" she wonders in a whisper, cowering in her bed.
One can only sit naked in a bed in a strange place for so long before one has to do -something-. That time comes for Lulu and she gets up, more slowly and cautiously walking across the room to a door just to the side of that large mirror. She opens it slowly, holding her breath as if she might find that dreaded fish person on the other side. Sighing in relief when she sees that it is merely a closet that leads to a bathroom, what she was hoping for, she steps in.
When finished, she starts to brows the clothing choices hung there for her. No All Stars, no ripped jeans, no band t-shirts; the clothes are all foreign to her. She chooses a pair of trousers, widelegged but tailored perfectly to her waist and hips, and a sweater, artfully altered to be sleevless with large openings at her arms that give a bit of a peek at her figure from the side and a deep v-neckline; and slips them on before heading to the only other door in the room. It must be the way out.
The Lover stands there at the door trying to find the courage to go out, to find out where she is. Maybe it truly is heaven. Will there be clouds to walk upon and people with halos? Maybe she didn't really die and this is some dream she is having as her body lay in a hospital bed somewhere. Maybe, maybe, maybe... She is scared though, scared to find out, yet scared to not. She closes her eyes and leans her forehead against the door, one hand on the handle, the other pressed flat to the honey toned wood. She breathes in and out slowly, counting each inhale; one, two, three, four; exhale; one, two three, four. Her hand turns and she steps back just a touch, the door opening maybe an inch. Forehead still resting against the wood, she listens. No alarms go off, there is no sound of chaos, so after a few moments she takes another step back and opens her eyes. One last deep breath is taken before she steps out into the hallway, and into the Facility where she will likely find few answers and many more questions.