(WARNING: DISTURBING IMAGES)
(Chica's POV)
Jonathan had given Chica a shot.
She didn't know what the shot would do to her. All she could possibly know about it still was that it wouldn't be good. The fact that Jonathan had given it to her was a testament to that.
Chica had been locked away in a room for quite a while. All she had been doing possibly hours before was attempting to return to Room 13. Now, she was imprisoned once more, just like in 7th Grade.
She didn't think Jonathan would be slow to kill her.
He had failed once.
He wouldn't fail again. A man as evil as him wouldn't let something like that happen. Chica was terrified. Terrified of what he would do when he got in.
She had wedged herself in a corner, her knees up to her chest, tears spilling out onto her jeans. Chica had a very vivid feeling that this would be the last night of her life, or whatever time of day it was.
When she looked down at her jeans, she found a small rip where the knee was. Strange, she thought. I never saw that before.
The small tear in her jeans grew wider, exposing her pale knee. Given the pressure the bone was putting against her skin, it wasn't surprising it would look like that. Even the fear she felt added into the mix.
When she felt the small tear, she didn't feel skin. All she felt was the rough denim jeans. But she saw . . . Was Chica going insane?
She looked around, wondering if the room around her was still the same. As she scanned across the first three walls, she noticed that it was completely normal. She looked behind her at the wall she hadn't examined yet. That was when she saw the difference.
A mirror sat perched above her, spanning off to the side, like an eagle ready to catch prey. Now that wasn't there before . . .
A strange mixture of curiosity and fear drove her up from the corner, to her feet. Chica looked behind her at the mirror. Indeed, she saw her own face. Why was this mirror here? Chica had imagined the rip in her jeans, but what about this mirror that she hadn't seen before?
Chica closed her eyes. Something had to be going on.
She suddenly felt a tickling in her arm. Shock punched her in the stomach, making her look at her forearm. "What the . . ." she muttered.
Her skin seemed to be mashing up and floating away, as though it were in space. It revealed a disgusting muscle tissue underneath, something that if she touched, it would sting really hard.
Chica looked up into the mirror, her stomach continually twisting and knotting at the images she was seeing. What she saw in the mirror was much worse.
Her face seemed to be disengaging from itself. Her eyeballs came out of the sockets, spraying a small amount of blood out in front of her face. Her hair seemed alive in the mirror, shaking uncontrollably. Then, her hair in the mirror broke off, taking bits and pieces of her scalp away and through the room. Her cheeks caved in and separated from her face. Everything was wrong.
Chica then put her hands up to her face. Her face tingled when she found it still intact--her eyes, her cheeks, everything. Yet in the mirror, she didn't even see her own hands. She saw bird claws, thrashing at her face, clawing at every bit, mutilating every inch of the face in the mirror.
"HELP!" Chica screamed. When she screamed, her mirror tongue shot out of her mirror mouth like a torpedo. Before real Chica could react, the mirror exploded, sending shattered shards of mirror flying everywhere in the room. Every time Chica would touch one, it seemed to shoot right through her hand, sending blood splattering everywhere.
That was when she realized, It's not real.
"I WILL WAKE UP!!!" she screamed into the room.
She felt herself being pulled back into reality. It had to have been working. Something felt different as every moment progressed, pulling her away from one thing and bringing her home to another.
Then, she felt her real eyes open.
I'm back . . . she thought.
I'M BACK!
Just to make sure, Chica looked at her fingers. They were all still intact. She felt her face for her eyes and cheeks. She smiled when she realized that it was all there.
Chica felt her jeans, especially across her knee. It was all one piece. Chica smiled once more with the realization.
But when she looked around, all of her hope faded away. She was still trapped in that same room. Chica was still trapped, and she didn't know if she would be able to get out.
Her hope couldn't outrun fear. Fear had wings.
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