Contrasting Tranquility |COMPLETE|

Chapter One

PART ONE

THE CATALYST

"The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances."

- Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie

Pain.

White. White walls. White. White and red and white and walls. And pain.

A rattle at the door made her turn her head, only she couldn't. Pain. Restraints. White, white walls. All white. Everything white.

She took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, her tongue licked at her dry lip. Blood. Plasma, platelets, red and white cells. White. Pain. White. Walls. Metallic taste. She smelled the air. Nothing but chemicals. Chemicals, alcohol and death. Death and pain.

White. White. White walls. White white white and pain.

The door to her right opened and she tried to look, but her eyelids felt heavy. Melatonin. Was it? Or just pain?

White and pain.

She tried to speak yet only a raspy exhale came out.

..white. White. WHITE AND PAIN.

"Don't leave us yet, Miss Tyler." a male voice said as he grabbed her arm and injected her with something.

Back then, she'd have known what it was. But nowadays...everything was slipping away. Adenosine shot? Norepinephrine? Adrenaline? Amphetamine?

She felt a cold wave flow through her veins; median cubital, basilic vein, brachial, axillary vein, subclavian, jugular and finally, the brain.

Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, followed by a dry cough. Blood.

"Please..." Rose begged, squinting her eyes. "Let me die. Please."

"Now, Miss Tyler, where would the fun in that be?" he smirked, placing the syringe on a tray to her left. "We've been through this before, haven't we? Now, be a good girl. Let's conduct the testing."

She bit her lip and drew her brows together.

White. White. White walls. Pain. Pain and white and PAIN AND WHITE AND RED.

"No.." she said in a whisper. "Please."

"It's okay, darling." he replied, gently seizing a utensil from the medical table. "Now, Lidocaine or not? It's your show, your decision."

Rose turned her blurry vision to him and parted her lips to speak.

"No anaesthesia? Perfect!" the man continued before she could say anything and smiled. „Now." he placed the scalpel over the pale skin of her arm. "Rose Tyler. Are you going to oblige and tell us the truth?"

"I told you..." she coughed. "I don't know anything. I don't...I just don't."

The man tilted his head and sighed. "Your call."

Pain. Pain and white and walls and blood and red. White. White. White. White. WHY?!

Her ears rang from the frequency of her own voice. She tried to move but was unable to on account of the restraints. She screamed and screamed and yelled and cried.

It could have been hours or minutes or seconds; she could not tell anymore. Rose stared at the ceiling.

The white ceiling. White. White. Walls.