Tattoos, body chains, and dark lipstick.
Ina and Amé are two women who rewrite the game.
Follow them into their never ending world.
Written by Ina Seele and Amé Fengári
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She thought she lost her sight. It took her such a long time to stop seeing black and white spots, she thought she'd never see again. But eventually, black and white spots became shapes, shapes became figures, light became color, and color became eyesight.
She thought she wasn't going to live.
Her body ached, and it ached everywhere except one arm. In that one arm, she looked down, to see if she still had it. She did.
She turned her head to the itch on her hand. She had an IV in. She pushed off the covers and looked at her legs. With fragile skinny fingers, she touched the bruises like a foreign texture painting.
She looked around.
Is she dreaming? she wondered. She got off the bed and grabbed the pole from where the IV serum bag hung. Then she walked around. She was in a bedroom, and it was a really big one. It reminded her of a castle. The bed was in the center and the furniture surrounded it, but further was a small living area with a fireplace, sofas, bookshelves and a piano. Oh, and a desk.
She went to the desk, where she saw a frame. She picked it up and smiled. It was her, and Ivaan, she was smiling– no, grinning, which she rarely does, and he was looking down at her with a smile, his arm around her waist and her hand on his chest.
But there was only one problem: she didn't know when this picture was taken. She was wearing a red dress she's never wore, and he was wearing a tux, and the background was the busy streets of New York City. And she noticed, for some bizarre reason, she was barefoot.
She didn't remember this moment.
She put down the frame and panicking, she went back to bed and sat down. Why was she covered in bruise and stitches? Where is she? Why is she in pictures of moments she can't remember?
She couldn't remember. Then she realized she couldn't remember what's the last thing she remembers. She can't remember– she went to the large window.
It's winter.
Why'd it be winter?
"Ina?"
She turned around.
"Oh my God," The middle-aged woman laughed and went to her, and hugged her tight. Ina hugged her back awkwardly, and patted her back. "You're awake!"
Ina nodded and the lady guided her to the bed. "How do you feel?" The lady asked.
"Good," she nodded. "M-my head hurts."
"That's normal," she smiled warmly.
"It is?" She asked.
"Yeah you cracked your head open sweetheart, it'll hurt," she chuckled. "Wait," and she frowned. "You do remember what happened right?"