There is rain, at first. Drops and droplets of freezing, liquid dihydrogen oxide falling to their certain dismemberment. It is odd, how they should splatter fearlessly onto my translucent corpse.

The utter darkness, from my perspective, lights with a greyish portrait of foaming waves and round pebbles for a brief, merciful moment of certainty before those suicidal molecules spill underneath my stiff eyelids. Obscurity drowns my desolate view, but oblivion seems to have faded into consciousness.

There is a certain beauty to this realization.

Five senses jolt through my corpse, defibrillating every atom, molecule, nerve and tissue until they vibrate with life.

How odd, for my awareness to be caged in this foreign body. For this human mind, presumably my own, to awaken within the confines of this carcass.

My eyes open, once more, to a grim sight of grey stained with scarlet rivulets dripping from my completely bare body. I blink and a crude pain strips this unfamiliar mass of flesh with an oddly familiar agony, one that my brain refuses to recognize but that my body seems to have grown accustomed to in the past.

I allow my fingers to twitch, then move. It is odd to sense a foreign piece of my own body respond to an instinctual command, as if it has done it countless times before. It is even odder to feel my own body slow its respiratory frequency, lift an arm and put pressure against the gushing hole in my lower abdomen.

A reflex.

My terribly sore neck turns to the side, avoiding the sky's merciless tears. My eyes reward my clemency with a clear picture of my surroundings.

It is a monochromatic portrait of grey that meets my irises, the single true colour in this landscape being a discoloured shade of red that stains the rocks surrounding my bloodied wounds.

I blink again and push past the opaque emptiness of my own mind, vainly attempting to reach something, anything worth labelling as a memory. My physical body locks all sensations away until there is nothing but a complete absence of life within this shell of a person that seems to be me.

I am a void of nothingness, neither dead nor alive and certainly not human. A crevasse hides within my brain, devoid of identity and memories, but saturated with knowledge and reflexes and words of someone else's making.

I decide to move slightly to the side to relieve the stiffness of my frozen muscles and feel a cold, metallic presence around my neck shift and clank onto a rock. It is strange to feel a weight around my throat when the rest of my body is uncovered and free of restraints. I am surprised to see my free hand reach for the silver plaque and orient it towards my two eyes.

My ocular muscles strain, my irises dilate and the colourless light refracts onto my transparent retinas, leaving three words seared onto my empty brain.

Eleanor Victoria Rhodes.

A woman's name.

My name.

A/N. Let me know what you think. I'm currently editing the finished manuscript.