Be Brave

Jamie

My eyes snap open. There's no pain anymore. And the room I'm in is different....wait, no, it's not. Someone placed a floor length mirror on the opposite wall and there are stacks of clothes piled up beside it. In addition to my new wardrobe, many pairs of shoes, packages of hair dye, bottles of shampoo and perfume and lotion, nail polish, various hair styling tools, jackets, and more are spread across the room. The drain is still in the middle of the room, but it's been cleaned and a shower head is sprouting from the ceiling.

Maybe this really is a different room.

This place looks perfect for anyone trying to find themselves. And I guess that's me. I walk to the mirror and assess what I have to work with.

What I see is a pale, skinny, tall girl with bags under her eyes and slightly prominent ribs. How could I have bags under my eyes if all I do is sleep? My hair is short and black and all over the place. Kind of what you'd expect Harry Potter to have or Nico Di Angelo. See? I can't remember hearing or reading about them, but I know that's what to compare it to. This is getting seriously frustrating. My hands are on the small side with slender fingers and bruised knuckles. My face is pretty, but not striking enough that you'd remember it. Normal facial structure, thin-ish lips, and a small nose. My eyes are dark red. Odd. I don't have large breasts, but enough that they're annoying and I can't lay on my stomach. Sighing, I reach down to find some clothes.

Anything a girl could want to wear, and it's all in my size. Lucky me. The first color I'm attracted to is black, so I grab the clothes that match my hair. From these, I choose a black long sleeve shirt, black jeggings, a bra, and some underwear. I gather all of these up and stack them against a wall. Thinking twice, I grab a gray tank top and throw it with my clothes.

I walk to the toiletries that are spread out beside the shoes. Do I want to smell like lavender or sweet pea? Maybe ocean breeze? I chuckle to myself and grab a green bottle of shampoo. In actuality, I don't really care what I smell like, I just want to take a shower. I stand above the drain and wait for the shower head to turn on.

How was I supposed to turn this stupid thing on again?

I looked around for a bit, staring up at the head and down at the drain. I grabbed a tube of toothpaste and chucked it at the ceiling. Nothing happened. Sighing, I start to move away.

Dang. A shower would have been really nice right about now.

And then it hit me. Literally. Hot water hit my back as I turned away from the makeshift shower. I really don't want to know who turned it on. All I do for a solid three minutes is stand in the steady stream of water. Then I reach for the soap and wash everywhere. I didn't seem to be growing any hair anywhere but my head, so I didn't bother trying to shave. I rinsed myself off and brushed my teeth, and then stepped away from the warmth of the water to dry off.

Everything I need is in here. And plenty that I don't. Should I be grateful?

Wow. Yes, let me be grateful for waking up naked in a cold room with a splitting headache. Thanks for watching me and for apparently not taking very good care of me. I notice as I'm getting dressed that I have some bruises on my back and around my neck. A scar runs down my bicep. And there is a tattoo on my side. I should really pay more attention. With my clothes on, I find some socks and then a pair of black combat boots. I lace them up and explore my other options for reinventing myself.

I approach the hair dye, and I find myself really wanting to use it. Just one streak. I grab a box, wrap a towel around my neck, and follow the instructions. Some time later, I'm standing in front of the mirror with a brand new purple streak in my hair. Also, I'm wearing a new shirt. I didn't actually follow the instructions all that well. This one is a light gray t-shirt with black sleeves. That looks alright.

I approach the far corner where a crap ton of makeup is neatly organized. I grab some eyeliner, lipstick, and eyeshadow and kick the rest of it. Oops. Sorry not sorry. I sit cross legged in front of the mirror, applying a generous amount of black eyeshadow and eyeliner to my eyes. If I'm going to do this, might as well go all out. I grab the lipstick, a light pink that doesn't look like it would match but surprisingly ties the look together. Shoot, I forgot mascara. I gather up the first one I see and then kick the rest again. After applying it, I throw it at the wall.

Breaking things feels really good.

My hair is dry now, so I grab an oversize black leather jacket and head towards the door. There's a note there.

Please put on your name tag and wait.

I grab the cheap name tag sticker and the marker on the floor. These people seriously have their stuff together. Now what name do I use? I don't remember mine. I think for a little bit and chew up the end of the marker. Jamie. I write it down, stick the name tag onto my thigh, and wait.

I'm getting out. But what if out there is worse than in here?