Let the Sky Fall

Chapter 1: Holding Out for a Hero

When I wake up, I feel disconnected, like my brain can't quite find the rest of my body. I remember everything clearly, the kidnapping, the harness, the speech. Most importantly I remember that horrible experience, the feeling of being everywhere at once. I shudder at the memory, scared to think what comes next. As if on cue, a cold, wet feeling shoots through me, and very suddenly, I can feel again. I'm still strapped to the harness, but I'm lying down. I almost panic when I notice the IV in my arm, and I fight to keep the scream from escaping. I hate needles with a burning passion; I was always the child pinned down, screaming in the corner when it was time to get vaccinations.

I calm down by telling myself that I wasn't actually awake when they put it in, because I don't want to attract attention to myself. I don't know if a reaction from me with result in more pain. I also don't want to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream. A doctor is already in the room, a middle-aged man with a regretful look on his face, like he doesn't like what he's about to do. I have a feeling I won't like it either. I want to talk to him, to beg for him to let me out, but I can't find the words or the energy. He stops to check my heartbeat, my blood pressure, and a couple other things on the monitor beside me. He jots down a couple notes, mutters something intelligible, and then turns to the cabinet in front of me, pulling out things that are hidden from view. When he turns around, I see several syringes, and almost as many vials of liquid in various threatening colors. I stiffen, afraid and about to lose it. The doctor selects a needle and a dark, murky, purple solution and slowly measures out the amount of liquid into the needle. As he releases it into my IV, I feel the heat. an intense burning in my cells. The pain is intense, and terrifying. I struggle to keep my composure. But I let out a scream after the pain is intensified by another injection. I make it to three more before its to much for me to take and I sink back into the darkness.

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I can see the surface; the top of the murky cloud that is unconciousness. I know that when I  reach it, I will get answers to where I am, why my muscles throb, why I can't remember anything. I struggle to reach the clarity, but it's like a dream; I just can't move fast enough. Finally, I break through the barrier, and immediately wish I had stayed alseep. The memories come back like a punch to the face. I'm still strapped to the bed, but I'm in a different room. There are harsh lights glaring down on me, the temperature is above a hundred degrees. I can feel the heat seeping into me, my body, my mind, my whole being is saturated in this extreme, excessive heat. Every once in a while, there is sweet relief, as somethng cold finds its way into my bloodstream, by means of the IV I still have in my arm. But it quickly burns away, and I'm left to deal with  the pain on my own. Its making me nauseous, and soon I'm dry heaving. But nothing comes out. I can't remember what I ate last. It feels like weeks have gone by, years, and I wonder why I haven't died. I want to die. "Please." I manage to get one word out of my parched lips, but its not like anyone is around to hear it. I'm alone in this room, but I think I can hear the screaming of others in the distance. But its enough. Someone is watching, probably through a camera, and has a slice of mercy left in their heart of ice. I sink back on a wave of something cold running through my veins, and I dive willingly away from the pain.

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I think I've been here a week. Or on my seventh session of anguish. I switch off, a session with the needles, a session in what I had dubbed the reaction room.The needles stayed constant, or at leat I thought so,it was taking less injections to put me under. The other part however, changed everytime I visited. First had been the heat. The second had been themed similarly, but with water. I had awoken in the pitch black, being almost completely covered by water, except for an oxygen mask around my mouth and nose. The bed had been let loose, but I was still strapped to it, floating around in the violently turbulent water. With no IV in, they had simply waited until my oxygen tank ran out and I passed out from lack of air. The last time I was there, the torture was wind. Giant fans blew hot and cold air alike into my face. The bed was different too, it was like being in one of those gyroscope things they have at carnivals, but not attached to anything. I was free to roll about in the wind, lost to its noexistant mercy. I simply blew around until a stronger gust of wind flung my head against the harness and knocked me out. Then I woke up here, back in the needles lab. These particular injections seemed a little weak, and I figured it was because they hadn't ever fed me, and it seems like they are still trying to let me hang on to this thing called life. I'd rather they let me die. I think the other girls might have already, because I can't hear their screams anymore.

Either way, I'm not going to last much longer. Its all I can do to form coherant thoughts. I've lost all feeling in my limbs except for the pain that shoots through me after every injection. I've been seing things too. My family came to see me, saying things they would never mean, and then dying right in front of me. Next came my friends, mocking me, bringing up all the things they had hated about me, all my imperfections, my insecurities, repeats of what my parents and brother had said. That was the only time I had broken down and lost it, crying and screaming. But then I gathered the fractured ramains of my sanity and fashioned an emotionless mask that I've worn since then.

Now I sit here quietly, waiting for the death I know is coming. I smile to myself when I hear it. The clanging and commotion outside my room. This is reality falling apart, welcoming me to the next life. I take a deep breath, bracing myself. But death, it seems, has decided not to welcome me today. The door flies off of its hinges, revealing a strangely familiar figure dressed in black and green. An emerald gaze holds my weak one, and I watch as he flings the docter giving me the last injection into the wall. But its too late, the familiar pain finds its way into my body like a bullet from a gun. Those green eyes bore into me as he breaks me out of the harness and sweeps me into his arms. i try hard to place his extremely attractive face, but I can't find the name. It isn't until he starts talking when it starts to click. My rescuer is Loki, god of mischief.