The Dream Devourer (Kakashi X OC)

Reunited

When Chiisai finally awoke, it had been like fighting a hurricane. Her body had tried to reject her, and forcing herself into the mold of her mind became long, and strenuous, and it was as if her body had given up on living. So she had pushed, and pushed, and forced her way back inside of herself, refusing to give up after the hell she had been through. Had it taken minutes, hours, days? She had no idea in this lonely darkness, and she was eager to get back to reality.

But when she tried to open her eyes, it was as if they had been glued shut. And she was weak, and hungry, and a deep soreness has nestled itself in both of her arms. It reminded her of the nightmares- of being helpless and weak, with everything out of her control.

All of those feelings had terrified her, and she had retreated back into the dream world, a place where her body didn't have to feel weak, or hungry, because she was in control of it.

But then she had seen Kakashi's dream, had seen him searching for her, hand reaching, never grasping, and something tugged at her heart. Then she had hurled herself back into her body, damned the consequences.

This time, she was able to open her eyes.

She was in a room, a very white, thrumming, hospital room.

Resting her head against the pillow, Chiisai laid still. This was her body- her real body- in real life. Her toes dug into the cold, thin sheets, and the muscles in her legs strained from the movement. Her body shivered, and sweat began to form around her temple. There was a plastic piece around her nose and mouth, and wires ran along her arms.

And her hair- her bangs were longer, coming down to her nose, and panic begin to grip her as she realized she had been gone for a long period of time.

Her dark eyes blinked up at the ceiling. There were no windows and not a clock in sight, and panic rose inside of her.

With a frustrated groan, she barely managed to pull herself up and swing her legs out of the bed. Everything was sickeningly white, except for the worn chair and a pile of books that-

Her haggard eyes went back to the books. There were six piles. She counted each one thoroughly, and it helped her mind shift into wakefulness.

Sixty-two books- and they all were a variety of genres.

Someone had been here, at least. Her mind was in a fog, and she struggled to remember why there were books.

Sixty-two. What sort of significance did the number hold, if any at all?

She remembered back to everything that had happened. She had pressed her hands into the dream tree and sucked in all of the dark dreams, and then pain...Then there was nothing, and she thought that was it.

And suddenly she realized she knew absolutely nothing except she was alive and alone in a hospital room, and she hated hospitals.

She needed to get out of here.

Chiisai ripped off the tape and needles from her skin. She had to fumble with her fingers several times to peel it off. The machines blared horrendously loud, but her mind was in disarray, and she didn't notice as she forced herself up. Her head rocked to the side, and she frowned at the effort it took just to keep her head up. She placed both hands down on either side of her and placed her feet flat on the floor.

Her muscles stretched tight from the effort, her bones popping as she pushed herself up.

The small victory was short -lived as Chiisai looked down to see a clear tube coming out of her nightgown.

A catheter.

Chiisai glanced up at the IV stand. The catheter bag was pretty empty, meaning someone has changed it recently.