By Your Hand

1

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I woke up in a strange room. After rubbing my eyes I glanced around in a daze. It was empty, with nothing but a chair for me to sit in. The windows were tall and stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Unease washed over me, as if I was about to be swallowed whole by the blank walls. Sitting up from the chair I was asleep in, I felt my joints ache and groan. Like I had been sleeping there for quite a while.

This wasn't where I was supposed to be. I was in my counsellors office, discussing... 

I froze, not remembering what I had even met them for. Where is my counselor? 

I walked towards the windows, rubbing my head in pain. The sky was dark and dotted with stars, but windows didn't glisten like they should. The light that should be emanating from the night sky was missing. I pressed my hand against the sky. It was rough like paper. I recoiled and cradled my hand to my chest, flooded with anxiety.

'I'm not supposed to be here. The sky is fake, it's dark and empty. I need to go home.'

"Hello?" I whispered, feeling my words reverberate through the hollow room. It only helped press my anxiety deeper into me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shuffled to the door. It was heavy and creaking under its own weight pressing on its hinges. Peering out anxiously, I was met with a dimly light hall. Everything smelled sterile. Surely I must be in some kind of hospital or clinic. I fought through the pit in my stomach that urged me to hide and cupped my hands to my face, "H-Hello?" I called out, begging for a response. However, when I was met with quick footsteps, I felt fear wash over me again. 

I quickly retreated back into the room I had awoken in and pushed the door shut. Covering my mouth, I stepped back quietly. The foot steps stopped in front of door and shuffled, as if looking for something. The door knob turned slowly and let out a feeble click. Silence hung in the air as I choked on my hot breath. 

The door swung open. I flinched and processed what I was seeing. It was a small girl. She was young, younger than me. Her brows were pressed in worry, close to her brilliant blue eyes. We both stared silently at each other.

I opened my mouth to speak, but felt nothing came out. My hands shook near my chin as I tried again, feeling my throat rumble, "Who are you?"

She turned her head away from me like she was double checking behind her before speaking to me.  Her hands that had lingered on the door's handle fell slowly and placed itself atop of her purse. Using her other hand she clutched the strap crossing over her chest and observed me wearily. Assumedly registering that I was just as nervous and confused as her, she softened.

"R-Rachel Gardener," she swallowed, "Who are you? Do you work here? Where are we?"

I stepped back, suddenly overwhelmed by the questions, "I-I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I was in the hospital for some counselling, I think?"

"You think?" Her expression tightened.

"The thing is, I don't really remember," I looked down and furrowed my brows, embarrassed by my forgetfulness, "I don't even know how I got here.

Rachel expression relaxed. She nodded, tucking her chin towards her chest, "I was in for counseling too. I saw some one... die."

I swallowed and took a gentle step forward. I lifted my arms slowly in reflex to offer her a hug for comfort, but I stopped part way letting them hover awkwardly, "That's awful, I'm sorry, Rachel..."

She shook her head and looked back up, "Do you have an idea where I could get back to my parents?"

"Parents? Rachel, How-, How old are you?"