With a gasp, I came to on the floor of a long abandoned warehouse. The cement floor cold and wet and sticky with what I can only assume was blood. I was heaving, wanting to puke at the sight before me but my stomach was empty. I averted my eyes from the piles of bodies around me and focused on bringing my breathing down from my panicked, shallow huffs and gather my thoughts.
I curled into a ball and rocked back and forth. The panic rising like a bile in my throat that I had to swallow down to breathe. Terror was running rampant through my head, closing any attempt at a clear thought from arriving.
Dean, I grasped at a single tail of a thought train, I need to find Dean. I stumbled to my feet and dragged my feet over the sticky floor and tripped over the lumps that I dreaded to look down at to watch my step. Sliding my hand across the cement wall, I followed the line of light that seemed to be a large garage door. I wanted to run, to take me far away from where I was, to look for anything that was familiar. I wanted to run to Dean.
My feet wouldn't move. I could not get them to move any faster than how they were shuffling along. It felt like my feet were not connected to my body. Everything was made of lead and I had none of the strength to move swiftly. It felt like hours before I made it to the door and much to my frustration it was locked. I couldn't open the door no matter how much I pulled.
I couldn't seem pull forward any of my strength, it was like my body was new and foreign. Every move was uncoordinated and awkward, my legs shook and I tripped over my own feet. My arms seemed thinner and weaker making it hard to open the door, after a while I gave up and continued to follow the wall.
Blessedly I found another door but this one was locked as well but the door was wooden and the hinges felt rusty to the touch. I felt around for something to use to hit the door, finding only dirt and rubble at first before stumbling over an old fire extinguisher. With almost all my strength I lifted the extinguisher and dropped it on the handle knocking it off so I could see through the handle hole that was left behind. The outside air blew in and in the light I noticed something odd about my shaking hands.
The skin once pale as the moon was now a golden tan and my fingers were longer, more delicate, but the paint on the nails were chipped and bloody like they had been scratching something hard. My breathing became short and haggard and I threw myself through the door and out into the cold. There was snow on the ground my bare feet stung against the cold and I was once again lost to the world. Everywhere I looked was dense trees, the sun was high in the sky and I didn't know which direction it was heading yet.
Fear was eating at my insides, my wings wouldn't work I couldn't fly. The handicap was frightening, my heart pounding as I stumbled through the dense woods.
I stumble towards the sound of running water hoping to get my bearings. The river was only 20 yards from where I was but I could hardly see it.
I leaned over the water using the current to wash the blood off my body. A glimpse of ink caught my eye and I did a double take, pushing the sleeve up my arm further. A tattoo of branches wrapped with arrows was around my forearm, a tattoo that I had never seen, and had never gotten.
I looked at the water, willing to see my face in the reflection but all that I see is my shadow.
"What happened to me?" I whisper to myself, curling into a ball on the cold hard ground.
