Changeling (Completed)

Day One-and-a-Half

I was going to make Day One a super-long chapter, but then I realized that I would set you all up to think that every chapter is going to be that long. I don't have time for that. Benji and I are cleaning up the mess that someone made in Ronson's office. It involves glue and glitter. Do you know how hard glitter is to get out of the carpet? Next time we're using something else... I mean, whoever played that prank on Ronson should use something else next time. 

Anyway. 

Love, 

Innie

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Day One-and-a-Half - Twenty-nine days left

So... I'm super-lost. I have no idea how to get around this place, but at least I have a goal. I have never not been coddled a little upon 'waking' up. Never. Guess I will just have to find my own shower.

I open several doors, finding some people who stare at me weirdly, some in shock, several glaring as if I offend them. I don't bother talking to them, I just shut the doors again. Maybe upstairs? Could there be bedrooms here?

I walk up and open the door to a sitting room, a library, a study, another study. These rooms seem empty, so I finally just walk into one of the studies and discover that it is an apartment. A sitting room or study, a bedroom, and a bathroom, with... a shower. I walk out of the apartment and continue to explore. Why? Because the room smells like flowers and something tainted. My sense of smell is really acute in this body. The next few apartments stink, too, and I find a staircase to the third floor. Up here the apartments are larger, more luxurious. I stumble into a very feminine room and smile. A good smell, one that beats the stink of death, finally.

I take my time in the shower, using about half of the body wash and washing my hair twice before using half a bottle of the deep conditioner. What? I need it, my hair is gross. I glanced in the mirror when I entered the room, but I know the routine. Bodies returned to life always look extremely unhealthy, and this body is going to look awful even when clean, I can tell.

I wrap myself in the plush towel and finally gear up to look in the mirror. Hmm. OK, not too bad. I really am emaciated. Dark circles are etched under my eyes, but the color is a really pretty grey-blue. They sparkle with a dark black ring around the iris, typical when I take over a body. It's a little more apparent with a light color, but what can I do? My features are pretty, but my skin is deathly pale, also typical, although with the condition of this body it might be from that. My hair is brown and very dull, even with the deep conditioner. I noticed during my shower that it was long, down to my butt. I search through the drawers before finding what I am looking for. A pair of sharp scissors. I hack away until my hair hangs around my face and curls at my shoulders. Better, it hides the thinness a little and takes the weight off my scalp.

I leave the hair on the floor and the scissors on the counter. I am feeling... very bitter. These people are bad ones. I may have only snapshots of life, but it's enough experience to know that I should get dressed, get some food, and get packing.

Leave?

"Uh, yeah," I respond sarcastically. "Why, do I have my schizophrenia meds somewhere?" The voice goes silent again and I have the vague feeling that I offended it. Again. Oops.

I walk out in the towel to the bedroom. I have to admit it's nice. Very... fancy. Everything is soft, the carpet, the bedding, the curtains. Little throw pillows of some knitted fuzzy white yarn are thrown around everywhere. My mind drifts to the dungeon, hmm. I walk into the closet and choose a pair of skinny jeans that fit me loosely, like boyfriend jeans, really. A cami with a built-in bra fits me better but still gapes a little. I grab a plaid shirt and pull it on over top of the cami and tie it at my waist. It will provide both protection and warmth. I find socks and a backpack and pack away a change of clothes. Now for shoes... I search through heels, cute flats, sneakers. I discard all of them, tossing them out of the door of the closet and into the bedroom, even the sneakers, as being too impractical. Nothing here is for walking, nothing for comfort. Finally, I find a pair of hiking boots deep under some boxes of sandals. I toss more shit out of my way as I get to them, making a mess out of the closet. I don't care. This girl, whoever she is, has a ton of beautiful clothes and I don't even have a pair of shoes on my feet.