Home Alone
~WEEK TWO~
*She tosses restlessly on her 'bed' small moans and protests can be heard as she progresses once again through her haunting dreams..~~~the side of the barn splashed a brilliant scarlet...she continues the ghastly dream walk, unwilling, but unable to stop...she enters the house, broken furniture lies scattered through the kitchen...the dream figure stops abrubtly as the sounds of a Television can be heard loudly coming from the den... with a trace of hope she rushes into the den only to see the lifeless figure of Geoff upon the couch...despairingly the dream rushes around encountering only the empty blood splashed rooms of those she holds dear~~~..Her tossing and moaning becomes more frantic, her breathing panicked as her mind fights to escape the nightmares grasp..~~~in her dream, she approaches a closet which she hesitates to open..of its own accord it opens revealing the ghastly forms of her most beloved, her friends...her family~~~..A muffled scream erupts from her throat as she abrubtly awakens, the ghostly forms still etched in her minds eye. She lays there for what seems and eternity staring at the ceiling, regaining control of her breathing, slowing the pace of her heart.*
*She sits up, one hand running through her disheveled hair...was it a dream? her worst fears surfacing in her mind..or was it a premonition?... She walks over to the illusionary window, staring out it, trying to convince her mind of it's reality..but it was futile...her mind and her body knew where she was...The illusion only seemed to sharpen the pain/the loss...She had always been free, unfettered...able to come and go as she pleased, able to escape from the confines of a city or building...She had never realized before, how much that freedom meant to her, how claustrophobic confinement made her...she longed for the open spaces of her farm...a displaced smile crosses her lips, a parody of the smile she once wore...little did they know that their pathetic attempt to maintain a captives sanity only pushed them further towards the edge...its false reality, a betrayal of truth*
*And The sounds...down here in the pits of hell itself...sound was different, even silence had a strange echo...not that it was ever silent for more than a few seconds...there was almost always some sort of noise, the click of the cameras, the buzz of the force fields, the distant echo of footsteps from somewhere beyond...all possess some strangely unreal quality, as if either they or she is not quite of this world...Perhaps this is a different world, different than any she knew before....This is a world without time, nothing to truly seperate the days from nights..except that pathetic holographic wall...of everything down here, that is the most annoying...she can constantly hear/feel it humming in the back of her head, vibrating through her skull....A sweat dampened hand runs through her unruly mane...*
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~WEEK THREE~
*she counted on each upward push...one hundred eighty-four...she slowly pushes her body up, forcing each muscle to feel the work, holding for a ten count before allowing herself to slowly lower back down...one eighty-five...she has been at this for hours, not allowing herself to rest..it is the only way...one-eighty-six...the only way to avoid the dreams is to stay awake...one eighty-seven...or at least exhaust herself into a dreamless state...one-eighty-nine...but even that attempt was starting to wear thin..one ninety...she didn't tuly remember the new dreams that haunted her worn slumber...one ninety-one...but she had vague flashes, portions she remembered, that followed her through the day...one ninety-two...she needed something to occupy her mind and body...one ninety-three...try to exhaust both...one ninety-four...maybe then she will manage to have one night without them...one ninety-five...her body is stictly operating on auto pilot...one ninety-six...push up slowly feeling the burn, slowly descend making each muscle ache in the process...one ninety-seven...yet still, even in this state, she will not quit...one ninety-eight...this night will go on like the last several...one ninety-nine... forcing her body beyond its limits...two hundred...until it simply gives out...two hundred-one.....*
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~WEEK FOUR~
236...237...238...She raises her upper body to her knees, holds for a bit, then slowly lowers her torso back down....sweat runs freely down her face and body...she had been at it for hours, working herself into exhaustion. It had become a ritual, something to concentrate on, her mind sharply focused on each muscle, each breath...It was to distract herself, keep her attention off of the walls...the walls closing in on her, constricting, squeezing...each day they seemed closer, more foreboding...It had been a while since her 'visitors', how long she couldn't tell. Days, weeks, they all blended into one, the only definition being her nightmares...Slowly she can feel insanity eating at the edges of her mind, an insanity edged with terror...Perhaps this had been the plan...They couldn't crack her shields, so they thought they'd crack her mind...It was working, no matter how hard she fought she could feel the lonliness, the barren futility of this place bearing down, crushing her...300...still not enough to exhaust her mind...it still roils with thoughts, concerns...regrets...What of Zak?is he okay? does he even know/suspect/care?..Her last words to him had been harsh, as much as she wanted him to, could he deny his nature?...As much as she tried, she couldn't...so why should he?...Perhaps he is right, one should do/be what they are..should not deny their nature...350...she can feel her muscles quavering, the strain on them almost too much, yet still she pushes...something will break soon, wether her body or mind is uncertain, both are at their limits, stretched beyond normal endurance...363...her breathing labours as she once again pulls her torso up to her knees...364...yet again she forces herself up, only this time there is no carefully calibrated lowering...the muscles, pushed beyond endurance, betray her and send her plummetting to the ground. She lays there, her body unresponsive to her mind, the strained muscles gratefully absorbing the cold from the floor...Even now, her body unable to respond, her mind still races, the walls still close in...Blood pounds in her ears, each beat accenting the words in her mind...Why didn't I listen to him, tell him how much he means. Her body remains pressed against the cool floor, the only movement the rapid movement of her chest as her body labours to bring in oxygen. Gradually even that dimisinishes as her body falls into an unresponsive trancelike, slumber...yet even in this state, her mind and her dreams still haunt*
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~WEEK FIVE~
*101, 102, 103...she is almost maniacal now in her workouts, something to focus on, ...107..108... keep her attention off of the walls, the nightmares....everything...110, 112...she is in the best physical shape she has been in years, better than even when she was with GUARD...115,116...she counts softly while she continues the push ups, her attention focused tightly on each muscle, each repitition, her mind blocking out everything else*
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~WEEK SIX~
*The almost silent humm of the heating system forms an eerie backdrop for the clicks and whirrs of the survelience equipment. An occaisonal creak eminating from one of the fans seems to echo harshly in the empty hallway. ...All this and more she takes in, these sounds these changes in her surroundings have become something of note, somthing to listen for. They have become almost like an old friend, comfortable in their familiarity... Tense muscles glisten with sweat as she once again pushes herself through her daily ritual...one arm held behind her back while she balances, holding her form halfway up, making her muscles burn, before completing the upward push...once again she holds it, waiting there muscles taut...she listens carefully..waiting for the signal..this time it seems to take forever, but finally she hears it...a single drip...with that sound she lowers her body by one arm and once again begins the upward ascent.....it was a sound that tormented her, followed her through both waking and sleeping, the slow steady dripping of the tap in the cell across the way...but, gradually....it too became familiar, almost comforting...now it had become her clock, her timer...it dripped a hundred and fifty times before lunch, then another one-eighty before dinner...and like clockwork she counted another one hundred and fifty before lights out...now it was her timer..hold halfway for one, up for one, halfway for one, up for one..... before dinner she had been on her right arm, the muscles in it still burned from the exertion, now she was on the left, the burn just starting to take effect.*