Rapture

Chapter I

I wake up alone.

This feels familiar to me—to wake up by myself. It takes hardly a moment to notice a difference in the air trapped in the room with me. It's heavy, hard to breathe—I can't help but feel severely out of place.

And what truly startles me is that I can't remember . . . anything.

I know my name, at least—but the journey that has led me to this moment is long forgotten.

I'm in a room—one not too small, having just enough space for a large, modest bed and a cluttered desk on the opposite wall. The only sources of light come from the small, rounded window toward the ceiling and the crack of light that peeks in from under the door.

Dazed, I push myself up into a seated position, watching intently as the dark black sheets fall from my torso onto my lap, willing my head to settle. The clothes I wear are simple, but filthy. An upsetting scent comes from me, I think—tells me I haven't bathed in quite some time.

I shift to swing my feet around, eyes on the sphered glass I intend to gaze out of, when a bolt of pain unexpectedly attacks my right leg.

A hiss slides through my gritted teeth, completely unprepared for a violent sort of pain—a pain that clings greedily to my bones. I grip the bedding with weak hands and throw it all aside, careful not to move my leg so much as an inch. My ankle, newly revealed, is swollen, wrapped in a neat pink-stained bandage.

I lean back against the headboard, feeling it against the back of my head, and stare at the wall.

What am I doing here?

Where is here, and why can't I remember any of it?

Looking around, my blur afflicted eyes have trouble focusing still, but catch on a blink of light that bounces off of glass—a mirror, actually. A mirror detailed in a web-like design of a past shattering.

Something about it draws me in.

I can't look away—and my sense of reality skews further. The shattered mirror is almost . . .

Comforting.

A flash of something undecipherable flickers across the divided shards, and doesn't scare me. It should, I know that—but I find myself playing it over in my mind, trying harder to recall the image that fades with every second.

And I don't know where the name comes from, but the simple knowledge of it is jarring—and suddenly my chest feels tight; a wave of discomfort washes over me in the form of a cold sweat. A ball of anxiety grips my stomach in a cold fist.

Scias.

I do my best to push it from my mind, as the only result of the one thing I can remember is absolute confliction. Instead, I give my ankle another try.

I gasp, the sound ragged—fire crawls up my leg with impatience and fury.

It hurts far too much, and so, leaves me stranded in this bed. I lean back, and give in. I suppose the window must wait, but there is noise. I silence myself, listening as acutely as I can manage, even holding my breath in order to hear better. The sounds confuse me.

They are nothing I recognize.

The door swings open then, startling me to near death and disturbing my apparently injured leg. I freeze, waiting tensely for the pain to fade as I bring my eyes to study the lean figure who appears at the doorway. The light is blinding, as the room is so dark compared to the outside of it.

I blink the sun smudges away as the person approaches, kicking the door shut behind them. It slams unapologetically loud, making me jump in my seat. So far, the room had been so quiet—the slamming of the door sends my sensitive ears ringing.