stoneheart ; 𝐭. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 , 𝟐

11 | in your head

february 2019

STAY AWAKE, SHE thought to herself, chanting it like a mantra. Stay awake. Stay awake.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was awake, though she was angry at herself for having fallen asleep in the first place. Although, she had to remind herself, she didn't really fall asleep. She was put under, like a dog going into surgery. 

The surgery. She looked around her, but nothing had changed since the last time she was awake except for the fact that she was alone yet again. There was no one in the cold, dank room with her, no doctors to alert their superiors when she awoke from the anesthesia. She was by herself, laying on the table like she had been before being put out. 

Jack, stay awake, she told herself, though the voice sounded far away. It was hers, she knew that, but it felt strange, like her mind and body were separate, and she had to actively tell her body what to do. 

Just stay awake. Find out where you are.

She darted her eyes around the room, looking for anything that might be the slightest bit different. A table, a chair, a sign that she was somewhere else. As much as she hated it, she needed to be in the same room she'd fallen asleep in. If she wasn't, she didn't know how to get out. She didn't know how anyone would find her.

Anyone? How Anne would find her. She was the one who'd promised to help. She was coming, and she was going to get her out of this place. They would leave together. 

Once she tested her restraints and found that she was still strapped in by her neck, wrists, and ankles, Jack let her mind sink to new depths. She wasn't strong enough to break through leather, and she certainly couldn't afford to waste her energy on a task that was near-impossible. She would have to wait until the perfect moment, for when it was the best time for her to use her strength and fight her way out of here. 

For some reason, her mind drifted to a different place, a place that she was familiar with, but only because it was from another life. Another life as someone else's puppet. 

She was standing out of a building, a club or sorts, but an upscale place whose patrons only wore their fanciest attire. She felt herself outside the club, looking in at an old memory. Music was playing, but given her position outside of the building, it was only a muffled sound that barely reached her ears. The bass of the song was the loudest sound that traveled through the base boards of the floor, reaching her toes and cascading up her legs, resting once they reached her ears. People walked past the building behind her, their heads bent down with the intention of getting where they needed to go. No one looked up at her, or at the scene of pure bliss that played out in front of her. 

In the midst of her confusion, she knew that this scene, this memory, was true. She didn't know how she knew it. Maybe it was the look in the man's eyes as he looked down at the woman he danced with, right in the middle of the dance floor. Or maybe it was the warm feeling that grew in her chest as if it were her own. 

This had happened. She'd been here. It was true. 

Jack lifted a hand to rest on the glass in front of her, but it sank through the barrier. She wasn't really here; she was just a ghost, an observer to an event that had a specific meaning to her. A meaning that was still lost to her. 

Feeling her other hand do the same thing and permeate through the glass window, she stepped forward and into the building. Just as her hands had done, she walked straight through the glass and into the room, the music immediately getting louder and more clear as she stepped into the space. She knew it was warm in the room, as it had been when she'd been here last, but she didn't feel it. If anything, she felt a cool breeze on her arms, as if she was still out on the street.