It's cold, so cold. And dark. Where am I?
I stretch out my arms and legs, feeling around for something, anything. I touch smooth, chilled, rounded walls. I run my finger down one side of the circular enclosure, testing for a weak spot, but come across nothing.
My breathing is shallow. I feel naked. No, wait, I am naked. And wet. I'm covered in something slimy and thin, like a liquid blanket.
The more time I spend in this prison, the more frustrated I become. I begin to pound my fists on the wall, the pressure of my fists beating stronger and stronger until--CRACK!
Light streams into the dark place where I am held captive. I squint and reach towards the light. With both hands I grasp the edges of the hole I have made. I pull myself up and dig my nails into the wall. Crack, crack, crack, my prison breaks.
I gasp, starving for fresh air and struggling to take in as much as I can when I reach it. The shell collapses around me and I slide to the floor. My body strewn across the shattered remains of my prison, I shakily sit up. My eyes roam around the room, trying to take everything in at once.
Light; bright, white, light. Cold, tile flooring. Chairs, also white. A person swathed in milky, silk robes.
Pupils dilated, head erect, shoulders stiff, I stare wide eyed at the stranger before me. He doesn't notice my obvious gaze, or chooses not to acknowledge it.
I stare for hours, days, I can't even keep count. It seems like forever before he finally looks up and meets my hungry eyes.
"So, you've finally been born," he murmurs quietly, though he knows it reaches my ears.
I try to clench my fist, but it's too slimy to get traction and slips. "Where am I?" I ask when I locate my voice. It sounds foreign to my own ears and I instantly loathe it.
He smiles, slow and controlled. "You'll know soon enough." He pauses and then adds, "Kiera."
I cock my head to the side, processing his words. "That...is my name."
He blinks. I take this as confirmation.
I sit silently for a few moments, gathering my thoughts and emotions. One emotion unexpectedly assaults me: embarrassment. I feel extremely self-conscious of the fact that I am wearing nothing but a thin coat of clear slime. I am basically naked.
I cross my legs and fold my arms across my chest. Raising my chin to counteract my humiliation I ask bluntly, "Do you intend to leave me naked forever?"
The controlled smile once again makes an appearance. "It is not for me to decide."
I frown. This does not answer my question and he knows it. He sighs and uncurls from his position on the chair. He leans forward on his elbows and stares at me. I feel my face heat up against my will. I glare defiantly back, refusing to give him a moment of satisfaction.
In the end, the fact that I am butt naked gives him leverage over anything I may throw back at him. One point for him. Zero for me. No, make that negative one.
The air above his head pings suddenly and he looks up toward the source. "Finally," he breathes and springs into action.
Grabbing my arm, he hauls me to my feet. I stumble, not quite used to these new legs. He doesn't stop. My arm burns as he twists the skin roughly. I wince, face contorting. From some distant place in my mind I find the words that describe him: fucking bastard.
He glances down at me and a devilish smirk envelops his face. "Nice choice of words. Though I've been called much, much worse."
I stretch out my arms and legs, feeling around for something, anything. I touch smooth, chilled, rounded walls. I run my finger down one side of the circular enclosure, testing for a weak spot, but come across nothing.
My breathing is shallow. I feel naked. No, wait, I am naked. And wet. I'm covered in something slimy and thin, like a liquid blanket.
The more time I spend in this prison, the more frustrated I become. I begin to pound my fists on the wall, the pressure of my fists beating stronger and stronger until--CRACK!
Light streams into the dark place where I am held captive. I squint and reach towards the light. With both hands I grasp the edges of the hole I have made. I pull myself up and dig my nails into the wall. Crack, crack, crack, my prison breaks.
I gasp, starving for fresh air and struggling to take in as much as I can when I reach it. The shell collapses around me and I slide to the floor. My body strewn across the shattered remains of my prison, I shakily sit up. My eyes roam around the room, trying to take everything in at once.
Light; bright, white, light. Cold, tile flooring. Chairs, also white. A person swathed in milky, silk robes.
Pupils dilated, head erect, shoulders stiff, I stare wide eyed at the stranger before me. He doesn't notice my obvious gaze, or chooses not to acknowledge it.
I stare for hours, days, I can't even keep count. It seems like forever before he finally looks up and meets my hungry eyes.
"So, you've finally been born," he murmurs quietly, though he knows it reaches my ears.
I try to clench my fist, but it's too slimy to get traction and slips. "Where am I?" I ask when I locate my voice. It sounds foreign to my own ears and I instantly loathe it.
He smiles, slow and controlled. "You'll know soon enough." He pauses and then adds, "Kiera."
I cock my head to the side, processing his words. "That...is my name."
He blinks. I take this as confirmation.
I sit silently for a few moments, gathering my thoughts and emotions. One emotion unexpectedly assaults me: embarrassment. I feel extremely self-conscious of the fact that I am wearing nothing but a thin coat of clear slime. I am basically naked.
I cross my legs and fold my arms across my chest. Raising my chin to counteract my humiliation I ask bluntly, "Do you intend to leave me naked forever?"
The controlled smile once again makes an appearance. "It is not for me to decide."
I frown. This does not answer my question and he knows it. He sighs and uncurls from his position on the chair. He leans forward on his elbows and stares at me. I feel my face heat up against my will. I glare defiantly back, refusing to give him a moment of satisfaction.
In the end, the fact that I am butt naked gives him leverage over anything I may throw back at him. One point for him. Zero for me. No, make that negative one.
The air above his head pings suddenly and he looks up toward the source. "Finally," he breathes and springs into action.
Grabbing my arm, he hauls me to my feet. I stumble, not quite used to these new legs. He doesn't stop. My arm burns as he twists the skin roughly. I wince, face contorting. From some distant place in my mind I find the words that describe him: fucking bastard.
He glances down at me and a devilish smirk envelops his face. "Nice choice of words. Though I've been called much, much worse."
