You've Missed Mouthy

Echoside

    Freezing winds brush the ground, picking up leaves and tossing them over tree roots. The breeze whistles eerily through tree branches, before wedging under a steel trap held open by a stick. The cold air crawls down into the small bunker-like room hidden under the trap, inching closer and closer to the girl lying on its concrete floor. With a twitch, she curls in on herself attempting to hide from the cold by wrapping bruised arms over all revealed skin. But the chill doesn't leave, and she's forced to keep scraping for warmth.

The whistling of air pinching through the tiny space under the trapdoor is high and difficult to ignore, screeching with the intent to wake her. As the hissing grows ever higher, the half-dressed female rolls onto her back, eyes wide and staring at the unfamiliar space around her. The small room is roughly eight feet by ten feet, with an even smaller room branching off of the side. Metal shelves and desks decorate the walls, making it feel almost suffocating.

Groaning, the girl forces herself to her feet, pain pinching at her insides. A harsh cough bursts from her throat and she keels over, grabbing at the metal cot that's just within reach. Her other hand covers her mouth as she coughs, blood speckles her palm as pain engulfs her lungs. The fit soon ends, but the pain remains. The girl feels the need for water, stumbling from her crouched position and into the second room, as if she knew what she would find. The girl pads her clean hand around in the dark. Her foot finds a small metal box on the floor, and her fingers dance across its surface. Locating a switch on the box, she pulls it, and becomes greeted by a familiar buzzing. The girl shields her eyes, just as the rooms are illuminated with a soft light.

Pulling her cold fingers away from her face, the girl gives a small gasp. Caught with her gaze locked on her reflection in the small mirror, the girl moves towards the sink beneath it, unable to look away. Two big grey eyes, dull with grief, and swollen from guilt are watching her every movement closely, taking in her condition. The girl reaches a hand to her choppy curls, watching the reflection do the same. Lifting a finger to the dark bags under her eyes, tracing the lines of her cheekbones, and rubbing her pale lips: the girl doesn't remember who she is.

Looking away from the mirror, she turns on the faucet. It spits brown dirty water that smells rotten. Without waiting for it to become clear, the girl wastes no time in splashing her face with the liquid, before filling her mouth full and drinking to her content. Spitting out the sledge left in her teeth, she frowns at her appearance once again before looking down at her clothes. She finds shreds of fabric tied together around her abdomen, crusted with a brown substance that peels at her touch. Dried blood.

The hissing air pulls her back into the main room, and she stares across to where a small ladder leads up into a concrete tunnel. She wanders underneath the ladder, staring up through the tunnel surrounding it. A ray of dim light shines through the gap of the trapdoor, and its reflected on the rungs of the metal ladder. However, the girl's eyes land on the stick wedged in between the trapdoor and the concrete surrounding. The branch reaches over her head, lightly swinging a round white object. The breeze kicks up, shaking the object from it's perch. It clatters down the ladder and onto the floor at the girl's feet.

Her heart rate increases, and the room around her begins to blur. All of her focus is on the white face staring up at her. Its two black fabricated eyes watching her closely. Without fear, she reaches out to grab the mask lying at her shoes.

"... Mou... thy..." Her voice creaks like old bones, sending a shiver across her own body. "Mouthy..." She repeats, twisting the word like a robot, humming at the way that the name tastes on her tongue. "I'm Mouthy." She whispers, running her dirty fingers over the mask's indented cheeks.