I don't know when I fell asleep. -Like anyone ever does- But when my consciousness starts to return, I wish I could just stay in that blank black place that only really comes when you're completely exhausted.
Feeling listless, I slowly open my eyes to stare up at the plain white ceiling. Listening to the soft song the Tardis is singing. it's different from the one earlier.
She nudges me warmly in what can only be taken as a happy 'good morning!'
It takes me a moment to reply. My first compulsion being to more or less grunt back... or completely ignore her- Not ready for any kind of interaction, human or otherwise.
In the end though, I clumsily try and return it. Getting parental amusement for my attempt. That, at least makes me smile faintly.
Sitting up, I'm very pleased to find that I'm no longer sore. Inspecting my arms shows no bruises to be seen.
As for the room I barely glanced at last- well for conveniences sake let's say 'night'- it's just as plain as when I went to sleep.
White walls, surprisingly comfy bed- I bounce slightly to test its spring- yes, very good bed. One wardrobe, and that's it...
I stop for a second.
Was that couch there last night?
I don't think it was. I give the ceiling an overdramatic accusatory look.
Seems 'my room' now has a reading chair.
Unsettling.
Shrugging that tidbit off as best as I can- this is apparently my new topsy turvy life. I stretch my shoulders with a satisfying pop, letting out a comfortable sigh. Appreciating having multiple blankets and pillows on my bed and the fact that there's a pleasant room temperature too- though maybe a tad on the cold side.
Living in a rundown house for two weeks is both bad for sleep and extremely uncomfortable. Fleas are nasty too. hateful little things.
Especially when you're without power, gas or hot water- as it was the first week and a half.
Yes, it took me that long to get up my courage and call.
Gosh, I hate phone calls.
Savoring the warm blankets a second longer, I fling them off. Rolling off the edge of the bed in one practiced motion, legs up in the air, in something vaguely resembling a lopsided backwards roll, twisting to my feet. Sighing, I should probably make the bed.....
I'll do it later.
Seeing a flicker at the corner of my eye I glance over to see a second night stand has aperated itself to the other side of my bed, making me huff mock indignantly at the ceiling "are you really just going to make stuff keep appearing in my room over time? This much is fine, honestly."
All I get is a noncommittal hum. The background song continuing unperturbed.
"Oh well. Thanks for thinking of me... you really don't have to though." Saying that, I head to the wardrobe, noticing that my soiled clothes are nowhere to be seen.
Opening up the doors, I once again find only a single outfit. A red form fitting tank top, a loose gray sweater and a pair of black yoga pants.
It's an outfit I liked wearing back home.
One I shouldn't have here.
How far exactly does she go into my mind? Honestly I feel a bit violated.
YOU ARE READING
To Have Faith
Hayran KurguIf you were trapped in a fictional universe, how would you survive? Would everything be the same as 'the show'? The same as 'reality'? Would you really be able to walk around without a care in the world? Would you actually have fun? All you can do i...
