September 19th, 6:12 am,
Bella
Is this some kind of sick joke? I just woke up from the worst pain I have ever experienced, like a migraine eating away at the back of my head, but worse. I am alone, and all I remember is going to sleep in my bed. Now, I am not even in my room. Did someone take me in my sleep?
I am in a sort of alleyway. Dark. Wet. Cold. There isn't much light, but enough to tell that it is the morning. A flowery dress sits loose against my body, a white jacket hiding the cold from my skin. I vaguely remember putting them on- for what reason I don't remember. I left with my own free will. There was no one else there.
But why? Sleepwalking?
No, it can't be. That has never happened before. It is the only logical explanation to why I am in the middle of nowhere, wearing summer clothes in 40-degree weather. I don't have any concept of what actual time it is, left with only the morning daylight to help me out. Maybe I am dreaming?
No. A sharp nip circuits through the back of my hand as I pinch the skin. I am most definitely awake. Curling up my arms, I try to retain what heat I have left. I must have only been outside a few hours, or I would surely have hypothermia by now. I could have it. I wouldn't know. I feel like it, the freezing temperatures chilling me to my core. I can barely stand. My flesh has turned an awful shade of purple, which my brain can't do anything about.
I try to force my legs to succumb, to run around and gain some heat, but my brain shuts out the thought before I can even try. I am physically shaking, my entire body vibrating from my head to my toes. Lifting my shivering fingers up, I try to move them toward my mouth. Placing my hands in a cupping motion, I bring them slowly up, unable to move at a faster pace. Breathing in all the air I can, I release, trying to create some warmth. Simultaneously, I wobble my arms, trying to get some needed friction. It doesn't work.
I can't think. My shivering — the only thing keeping me alive — is threatening to stop. My mind isn't even filled with concern anymore. I can't help but want to die, just to get some relief from the pain. I want to scream and cry out. So I do, releasing more of a muffled groan, but it appears to work. With each breath comes a cloud of heat that I capture in my hands, inhaling it again.
''Bella?'' A concerned voice expresses, paired with the shuffling of feet. My name is called multiple times, each time sounding closer and closer.
''Over here,'' I try to force out of my mouth, but I used the last of my air up a few seconds ago. My throat is dry, speaking isn't going to work.
''She must be here somewhere, one of these streets. . .'' A second voice exclaims, worriedness flooding their words. They are so close, yet so far, their sounds echoing so near to me. Instead of wasting my time speaking, I attempt to crawl my way across the floor, my knees scratched up in the process. Soon enough, I catch a glimpse of the men.
''Bella?'' A small man yells, rushing over to me. The other man does the same, though he is the exact opposite: tall and lanky.
The large man starts talking into something in his hand, ''Hello, can we get an ambulance to. . .'' He looks to the other, ''Where are we?'' He looks around for a second, and when he doesn't get an answer, he races down the tunnel to find the street.
''Bella, are you okay?'' The one left with me questions, pressing a finger to my neck. I am very much alive. I have no clue who either of them are, but their uniforms give me enough trust. One is wearing a police outfit, and the other, a suit. They seem like very trustable men. I try to nod my head, but my neck is stuck in one position, my eyes icing shut. This is all my fault. It isn't even that cold, but my incapability to dress for the seasons has ruined my chances of survival.
''Yes,'' I croak. I feel paralyzed, raw like I have been placed in an ice cube and left for days.
''The ambulance is on its way, you are going to be alright,'' The tall man reassures me when he returns. I hear him shuffling about, and warmth encase me when his blazer covers my recoiled limbs. He doesn't sound very genuine, appearing very stern, but this isn't a good situation to be focusing on first impressions. Are they really first impressions, though? How do they both ow my name?
I feel like I recognize them, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I mean, I am looking at them from the ground.
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