Kapitel 2: Chapter 1: Crimson.
Through the grey-ish haze, from the depths of a cold, dark ocean; I felt myself slowly waking up — a slow and painful process.
My head was throbbing with a dull ache, pulsing right behind my eyes, making it difficult to see, feel...think.
My eyelids felt...were impossibly heavy, glued shut.
I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like it was scorched—burning, raw, and impossibly dry. There's a sharp, metallic taste on my tongue — something like a yen coin or blood — and it was clinging stubbornly to the back of my throat.
I manage to force my eyes open, blinking rapidly as I try to adjust to the translucent crimson... moonlight?
For a moment, everything was a blur—just a swirl of dark greens and browns and the faintest hint of crimson above.
My head spun again, and I lost the little focus I had gathered.
I blinked, repeatedly and pressed the base of my...oddly soft hands against my eyes.
Slowly, the shapes around me started to sharpen into some semblance of clarity.
'Bushes! I'm surrounded by bushes!'
I thought with an almost palpable excitement. The leaves were thick and tangled, some of them torn and hanging limp.
I could see thorns, dark and wicked, snagged with bits of something red and wet. I blinked again, trying to make sense of it, rather than thinking why was I here. But I kept the notion close, very close; to contemplate over it right after I was done with the current line of thought.
I tried to lift my head, but a wave of dizziness crashed over me, and I was - yet again - forced to stay still.
I clutched my forehead, feeling the coolness of my palm against my clammy skin. The pounding in my skull intensified, the unnatural hammering making me grit my teeth.
I try to take in a deep breath to steady myself, but the moment I did, a sharp pain lanced through my throat, and I gagged; choking on nothing. Like a scorching coal was placed inside it.
A wet sound filled my ears—gurgling, faint but unmistakable. My hand moved instinctively to my neck, and I felt something wet and sticky beneath my fingers.
I pulled my hand back, and in the dim light filtering through the leaves, I saw it, finally—blood. My blood. It was smeared across my palm and fingers, still warm and slick.
There was no panic that invaded me, however; the morbid sensation of why I was bleeding and why my the flesh over my throat felt unnaturally placed was still there, making me rack my brain quickly over it.
While I was thinking, I started feeling it—the sluggish, warm trickle of blood still oozing from a deep, ragged wound in my throat.
Most of it was dried, crusting around the edges, but fresh blood still seeped out, sliding down my skin in thin rivulets.
My breathing stayed calm but each shallow breath sent a fresh wave of pain through my neck. I was bleeding out.
How long have I been lying here, bleeding?
I can't remember... as a matter of fact I can't remember anything after I chanted "The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for blessings."
My head feels light, too light; like I'm floating.
My vision blurred again, dark spots creeping in at the edges.
I can't remember... I can't remember what happened.
How did I get here? Why am I bleeding? I press my hand harder against my neck, trying to stem the flow of blood, but my fingers felt weak, trembling.
It was hard to think, hard to focus. Everything felt slipping away, like trying to hold onto an overflowing crack in hull with cupped hands.
I look around again, more frantically this time, trying to take in my surroundings. Panic was something that could be greatly suppressed since it's totally dependent on a person. By suppressing and enough practice, one could subdue the reflexive panic, but death, albeit; was quite hard to ignore.
Even I had an intrinsic fear of death; despite finding an odd allure in it.
Beyond the tangled mess of bushes, I suddenly caught sight of a building—brick and mortar, with tall windows and a sloping roof.
A school? It looks familiar, but my mind was too foggy to place it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to remember, to make sense of this... nightmare? But all I got were flashes—glimpses of faces, voices, laughter... and then, nothing.
Unknown. All-- everything was unknown. These are not even my memories...
I came to a quick conclusion through the grey haze that flickered in and out of my eyes.
I opened my eyes again, and something cold began to set in, seeping into my bones.
My heartbeat was slightly elevated; pounding so hard in my chest that I could feel it in my throat, feel it in the wound.
I needed to move. However; my body felt like lead -- heavy and uncooperative.
I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt even more sluggish than my mind, like they were moving through thick mud. My head spun, and for a moment, I thought I might black out.
I clutched my head, trying to steady myself, and that's when it hit me—a sudden, sharp clarity cutting through the fog.
Memories start to seep into my mind, slowly at first, then faster, more insistent.
I remember... I remember a struggle. A dilemma.
Hands—cold, rough hands—grabbing me. No...they were my own hands.
The flash of something silver—a knife? And then pain, white-hot and blinding, ripping through my throat. My own voice, screaming, cut short.
A fresh wave of an emotion totally foreign to me surged through me, and I choked on a... sob? the sound strangled and wet in my ruined throat.
I touched my eye, and despite the impassiveness of my stiff features, I could feel a hot stream of tears rolling down my cheeks. I force myself to sit up, pushing past the pain, the dizziness, the overwhelming urge to just lie back down and let the darkness take me.
Now this is strange. I had never experienced these feelings before. And I could tell this much that these...steady streams of predicaments infesting my mind were not exactly mine either; forced, implanted. But that makes little to no sense.
Logically speaking; of course.
I manage to prop myself up on one elbow, my free hand still pressed against my neck.
The world tilted dangerously, and I had to blink several times to keep it from spinning out of control.
Suddenly, my hair fell forward, spilling into my lap like a thick, dark curtain. For a moment, I was confused—my hair wasn't this long.
I reached up with my free hand, fingers tangling in the strands. It's softer...longer; longer than I've ever kept it. Too long. Way too long.
I felt my lips part, as a cold, creeping realization dawned.
I pulled my hand away from my neck, just for a moment, and press it against my chest, feeling the fabric of my shirt clinging to my skin.
My fingers brushed against something soft, something that shouldn't be there. I froze, my breath catching in my slit throat. I pressed harder, feeling the unfamiliar swell beneath my palm.
No... no, this isn't right.
An odd sensation invaded me again, clawing at my insides.
I run my hands down my sides, feeling the unfamiliar curves of my body; the way my hips flared out, the way my waist narrowed.
This isn't... this isn't my body.
I reached up, grabbing at my hair again, pulling it in front of my face.
It was brown, rich and dark, spilling over my shoulders like a waterfall. My hair was never this color - not this shade. I was never...
...I was never a girl.
A cold, rasping cough choked by blood left my throat as I stood up, a prickly sensation eating away at the wound on my throat.
The crimson moonlight overhead added to the queasy feeling in my gut.
A sudden flash of memory invaded me.
"Klein...?"
************
A/n Well, as you know, I am writing my own story, so this is all I could manage. Courtesy of delululu (and my own growing love for LoTM). Anyways, I'll dip now. If I don't see delulu commenting first, I will oil him up and throw him to starved Wattpad readers. Until next time.
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