BatIM Steps of the Survivor

Chapter One

Jade awoke much later on something that was rather soft and warm, a huge contrast of what she had grown familiar with in the studio. The fact that there was such the drastic change almost made her believe that everything was just a dream, that she had only somehow imagined everything. She shook her head, attempting to sit up. After all, if it were only her imagination, she'd have no trouble. . . though, this place didn't look like her room.

Pain in her shoulders and arm revealed it wasn't all some kind of weird, twisted dream that her mind just so happened to conjure. With the unexpected pain, she allowed herself to fall back on the pillow behind her. After this, she sighed as the whispers in her head started back up, though much quieter now than they had been before. Why can't this be a dream?

After a minute or two of recovering, she tried sitting back up again, better prepared for the coming pain. She looked around the room to see various objects an adult's room might have. A couple of bookshelves, a nightstand with a glass of what looked like water on it, and some random shelves with lit candles on them, giving the room its dim lighting. She didn't recognize this to be her mother's room, however. The wall color was different, as well as the shape of the room, as well as the decor. Where even am I? She wondered as she looked through the room for any signs of her current location. There weren't many, no pictures to give away whose house she was in. . . if this was a house of sorts.

Everything which the amnesia of unconsciousness was starting to catch up, all up until the point she had passed out in the snow. She shivered a bit at the memories of the biting cold. So. . . someone took me out of the snow, it seems. . . maybe I should go make my presence known. I do owe them a thanks. She looked on the bed behind her, shivering at the sight of the stains of ink and her own blood lingering on the sheets. I should also apologize. . . I hope I didn't ruin the bed somehow.

Jade turned and got up off the bed, stumbling a bit as she tried to regain balance. It was as if somehow fatigue and passing out worked together to make her legs forget how to work. Finally, she had regained her balance once more, using the assistance of a wall to achieve this. She took a breath. Okay Jade, time to go out there. I hope I don't look too horrible. The last thought was mainly a joke to herself. She already knew she looked horrible, stained and cut up. It was a wonder whoever saved her even did, she probably looked just as horrible as she felt. She walked over to the door, which was probably closer to a stumble because her tired, sore legs didn't want to walk. They wanted to continue to rest, but Jade did not.

She opened the door to the rest of the house, starting in a hall with a couple of doors leading on either side. The bedroom she had been in was at the end. A radio played from a room on the opposing side of which she was on, and she could also hear voices chatting amongst themselves. They were too quiet for her to make out the words, but at least she knew that was the way to go. As she got closer, she started to be able to tell how many voices there were. Four of them, and all sounded familiar. . . she just couldn't place them.

Walking to the room where the four voices came from revealed quite the surprise, causing her eyes to widen in horror. It turns out three of her four rescuers were the reason why she was like this in the first place. Tyler, Trysten, and Sasha. The four pairs of eyes looked over at her after she had gasped in surprise. The fourth voice spoke, revealing their identity to her by jogging her memory.

"Ah, it seems our little Trial-goer is finally awake." He said with a bit of a smirk, his brown eyes holding ice within them.

Instantly, Jade recognize who it was, her horror multiplying as her shaky voice gave her reply. "That voice! You're. . . Joey Drew?!"

The man's smirk only grew at her recognition. He put down his mug of what looked like hot chocolate and walked toward her. The whispers in her head grew louder, telling her by voice and tone that this was not good.