Just as darkness was what had left her, so it was that it greeted her as her eyes slipped open. They were grainy, and felt as if they wanted to fall out of their sockets. She twitched her fingers, rotated her wrists, and finally wiggled her toes. A slight bending and stretching of the legs now, and a crack of the neck. Slowly, feeling was flooding back through her body. She sat up, covers spilling off of her. There were bandages all over her. (Was I really hurt in that many places?) Lights flashed outside of a narrow window. She stood and drifted over to it, fingers pressing against the harsh metal that separated her from the glass of the window. Cars, a few stories down, whizzed by. She bit down into her lip, one hand tugging at the paper-thin hospital gown that covered her equally-thin frame. She hated to see them go by, hated to think that they had no idea that she was here, that she even existed. She hated to think of how futile each and every life was. In a movie, once, some actor had said, "After you're dead, and everyone who knew you is dead, it will be like you never existed."

She opened her mouth to repeat this, and then made a silent snarl at the recalled memory of having no voice. She wasn't sure when it had been lost, or stolen, but it had. Maybe it was still there, somewhere, and she just couldn't remember how to use it anymore. She had trouble walking across her room--her limbs still weren't fully cooperating. She went to open the door, and found it locked. When she turned back to her bed, she saw two of them. Her legs felt like they were going to buckle beneath her. Two beds? Which was hers? Which was hers?! She'd lost it. She'd lost her bed. Where did it go? How was she supposed to know?

Rational thought does not occur to people in her state of mind. The fact that there would obviously be someone in the other bed--or, if there wasn't, that it wouldn't matter--never occured to her. The only thing that mattered to her was that she had no bed.

She moved over to one bed, and peeled the covers back. A woman lay there, soundly sleeping. The girl leapt back and then half limped, half scurried over to the other bed. She cralwed beneath the covers, head and all, and trembled.

~*~

"Morning."

She shot up out of bed, her limps all quivering in distress. The woman on the other bed slowly sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. She looked over at the girl, and gave a little half-nod of the head. "Rise and shine, beautiful," she slurred. "Time to start the day anew."

She frowned. Why was this woman talking to her? Where was the nurse she'd just seen at the door, declaring morning? She tried to stand up, but couldn't really. Her legs just wouldn't obey her. She crumpled to the floor, and then started tearing at her face with her nails. She wanted to go home! She didn't want to be here!

"Uh oh," the woman said, scurrying out of bed. She had on pajamas... That wasn't fair! She burst out into the hall, her feet slapping on the tiles as she ran down the hallway, calling to an orderly. "She's violent! Come get her!" Their shoes squeeked as they ran back down the hall. They swept her up, and one stuck her with a needle. The last thing she remembered was trying to scream, and failing.

(This isn't a finished chapter. I want to add more to it, but I felt like I needed to go ahead and get some more of this thing up on the net.)