WILD HEART • COMMANDER LEXA [1]

i. ACHROMATIC

Everything was white.

When Erica awoke, it was the first thing she noticed. At first, she wondered if she'd died, if this was the version of heaven the historians had gotten right, a white room with a bright light above. 

The second thing she noticed was the bed. Sliced hands ran over the comforter. Soft, clean, cotton melted between her fingers. For a brief moment, Erica didn't care where she was, or whether or not she was alive. She only cared about the bed. 

Eyelids fluttered shut under fluorescent glow, feet flexed and legs stretched in a swath of luxurious comfort. 

Then, she remembered. 

Erica shot up, her chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

Where was she?

Her eyes flitted in all directions, scrutinizing her surroundings. With a shaky breath, she exhaled. 

Everything was white. 

The only semblance of vibrance in the room was a painting, hung across from her bed. Saturated swirls of warmth coated the canvas, oranges, yellows, and reds blended in a symphony of color.

She wanted to touch it. To feel the brush strokes under her thumb. 

With one small movement, the pain surging through her body reminded her of her injuries. Erica lifted the comforter to see that her leg had been cleaned and bandaged. Two fingers went to her lips, then her brow. Tiny pieces of adhesive covered her smaller cuts. 

Somebody had changed her clothes. She was dressed in all white, much like her new quarters. She lifted a shoulder, running her cheek against the buttery material of her white tee. It smelled like lavender.  

She wondered where her old clothes were. By now, they must have been ruined, seeped with sweat and blood. 

Erica took a moment to acknowledge the quietness of the space. She could almost hear the blood coursing through her body, the pumping of her heart clear as day. In the silence, her ears listened for something, anything that could tell her where she was. Violin music hummed through the walls, beautiful yet haunting.

This room was so quiet, so peaceful, but why did she feel so trapped?

Her eyebrows knitted together as her gaze returned to the painting on the wall. Erica pressed her palms to the mattress, lifting herself carefully. She padded across the floor over to the work of art, and her eyes scanned over it slowly. A shaky hand reached for the canvas, longing to feel the emotion of its artist, when a door clicked shut. 

The sound made Erica flinch. She snapped her head toward the door and stepped back warily.

A young woman dressed in a hazmat suit came in slowly. Her hands were held up in her surrender, but she had something inexplicable in her dark eyes. Fear. "I'm not here to hurt you." She said. "I'm Maya, Jasper's friend."

At the mention of Erica's lost friend, her face lit up and took a step towards the girl. She was wary, but more than anything, she wanted to see her friends. 

"Hi Maya. I'm Erica." She paused, examining the girl from head to toe. She didn't appear to be a threat.  "Where is Jasper? And everyone else? Where am I?" She questioned, thoughts spinning through her head far too fast for her liking. Her frantic questioning earned a soft laugh from the girl in the suit. "Is something funny?" The Parker girl asked, genuinely not understanding why the stranger was laughing.