dahlia palmer (blindingly) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-09-25 08:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle003, dahlia, incomplete, max |
Who. Dahlia and Max.
Where. The cell.
What. Dahlia and Max wake up.
When. Early Monday morning.
Rating. Low.
The last thing Dahlia remembered was holding fast to the material of Jenny's shirt as they navigated their way toward the caves. Dahlia hadn't wanted to go. Neither of them did, really, but it was that or sit in the hot, humid downpour. So, with Lucy's leash in one hand and the other grasping onto Jenny, they found themselves in the caves. They didn't make it far before their world descended into unconsciousness.
Dahlia didn't remember blacking out, though one rarely does, and as she stirred for the first time, she couldn't figure out why her head was throbbing. Did I fall asleep? Instinctively, she reached for Jenny's hand, half expecting to feel the soft, high thread count sheets of their bed back home. But this wasn't a nightmare, and Jenny's hand wasn't there. Lucy should have been nuzzled up against her side; that's how she slept, with her head resting on Dahlia's arm and the rest of her curled up against her ribs.
"Jenny?" Dahlia murmured sleepily, finally sitting up despite the throbbing behind her sightless eyes. "Baby?" When there was still a lack of response, Dahlia went rigid. Something was very, very wrong. Jenny wouldn't have walked off and left her asleep, and she wouldn't have taken Lucy with her. "Lucy? C'mere, girl." There was no familiar lick of the chin, no soft fur that brushed against her arms. Was she alone?
Panic struck hard in her gut, threatening to reach up and choke the air from her lungs. "Jenny? Jenny?" It was then, as she stretched her arms out to try and feel for her wife, that she realized something even more unnerving: she didn't have on any clothes. "What the fuck? What the fuck?" Dahlia was too afraid to stand to her feet. She didn't know where she was, where her clothes were, where her dog was, and most importantly, where her wife was.
Her breaths came in sharp little gasps of rising panic as Dahlia frantically began feeling out her surroundings in some desperate attempt to find her wife. Maybe she's asleep, too, Dahlia thought, perhaps too hopefully. On her hands and knees, she pressed forward, fingers ghosting over a floor that felt far too smooth and uniform to be any kind of natural ground. "Jenny? Where are you?" It wasn't Jenny that she encountered first, but instead a wall. Not a cave wall, not a tree - a glass wall. Seemingly frozen, Dahlia pressed her palms against the glass, her useless eyes impossibly wide.
And then she started to scream.