Part 2: Presque Vu

Click, clack.

The blankets fell off her as she bolted upright. Dizzying panic made her pause before she quested her gaze around. She was in a bedroom. (The bedroom she’d always been in?) The walls were a faded violet. An organized dresser was beside the door.

A brown, dusty door.

She could finally see the door.

Click, clack.

She stood, and stumbled. She could move. How could she move?

Her gaze darted around the room. She assumed it was the same room from all the previous iterations. How many repetitions had she gone through? A hundred? A thousand? The last number she’d counted before she gave up was eighty-three. That was a long time ago.

The door opened and a little boy walked in, not noticing her for a moment. “Come--” His eyes widened and he stepped back. She peered down at him.

Panic flashed through his eyes. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. “Wha-wha-what are you doing?” His voice was small and uncertain. (And maybe a bit robotic?)

She stared at him. Opened her mouth. A harsh gasp escaped her lips. She closed her mouth, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Who ... ?”

[The ground below me is cold, hard, rough. Did I fall? Why is everything so cold? I’m wearing clothes, shouldn’t those protect me? I shouldn’t be so cold.

[I have to move. I can almost see now. C’mon, stand up. I can do this. I just have to start moving in a direction and--]

Tick, tock.

She gasped and pressed her back against the wall. She couldn’t see much. What was going on? This was not how it was supposed to go.

Her momentary panic faded. She smiled.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

She could deal with that.

Tick, tock.

She stood and ran to the door, tripping over her own feet in the process. She ripped the door open and stepped out.

A hallway stretched out to either side of her. To her left, a tall, shadowy form approached on soft feet. Cloth was draped over it like a cloak, like a child in a cheap ghost costume.

She stumbled. Ghost costume? What? What was a ghost costume?

[I’m on the ground again. How did that happen? I just need to focus.

[Can I open my eyes yet? No. I think it’s that residue. It dried up on my face. Maybe if I sweat? How can I get it off? It will probably come off with time. Okay, how about I just crawl? Just crawl across the floor.

[Agh, what’s that? Rubber tubes? It’s connected to that tank-thing. What is it? Why was I in it? Okay, doesn’t really matter right now. I just have to--damn it, these tubes are everywhere. How can I get through--oh, I’m connected to something. How--]

Drip, drop.

She jumped to her feet. She stared around at the stupid white walls with their stupid white perfection.

Drip, drop.

She didn’t waste anymore time. Within moments she had crossed the room to the door, flung it open, and entered a hallway, much like the one in her dreams, the one with the ghost costume.

Doors lined the hallway, across and to either side of her. The (doctor?) was walking up to her from her left. His polished black shoes stopped their crisp clicking. They stood frozen for a moment, girl staring at doctor, doctor staring at girl, surprise written as mirroring expressions on their faces.

She turned and ran down the hallway to the right. She ran past doors, past white perfection, past windows, past more doors.

Behind her, the doctor shouted, “She’s escaped!”

She reached a stairwell and leaped down the steps, around a turn, down more stairs. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She was doing it. She was breaking the pattern.

She hit another landing and spun around another turn, then another, then through a pair of doors and through a hall. More doors and more windows.

The hall was empty except for her, lined with narrow windows. Her lungs were beginning to burn in her chest, as were the muscles in her legs. She slowed long enough to peer into a window. She stumbled to a stop. And stared.

A girl sat in a perfectly white room, staring at a sink. The faucet was dripping.

She turned to another window. There. A girl staring, frozen in place.

Where was she?

She took a few more steps and ran down to another window. The same sight. A girl, staring, frozen, wearing plain white scrubs and a plain expression. She glanced down at herself and saw the same scrubs. She stumbled away from the window, spun a confused circle, and began to run again. Ahead of her was a T crossing. She turned the corner and smacked into a tall doctor.

[Damn tubes. So easy to get tangled in it. Why am I on the floor again?

[Am I connected to something? No, just my imagination. I just have to find out where I am, find a person--no, no people.

[How did I get here?

[Stop worrying about it, just get untangled, and crawl out of here. Agh, why can’t that water drip just be quiet?

[Water. I could use that to fix my eyes. Okay, just follow the sounds ... Ow! I hope that’s the sink. Okay, stand up ... Yes! A sink.

[Ugh, my head hurts ... No sudden movements. Okay, wash out this stuff--don’t poke yourself!--that’s better. There is light in this room. Still can’t really see, but at least I know there’s light. Maybe I should call out? No--bad idea. Just keep washing out your eyes.

[What is that ticking? A clock? It’ll probably be going quiet anytime now--no, that wouldn’t make sense. Batteries don’t just die. Just focus on washing out your eyes. You’re delusional.

[A clock. A sink. That sounds familiar.

[Is there something in my neck?]

Click, clack.

She was prepared this time. She sat upright, flung off the blankets, and darted out the bedroom. She turned to the right, down the hall. Doors sat in orderly lines against the walls. Another repetition. But at least she could control her body this time. Another time.

It was strange how akin the hallway was to the hallway in her dreams, the one with the hospital and the leaking faucet. If the dreams with the ghost costume and the clock had been better lit, then maybe the hallway would be like that one as well ...

She slowed to a stop.

Considered.

Remembered.

In those dreams she had always thought this was a dream.

Unease made her glance around. She looked down. Her feet were bare, like in the dream with the clock. She wore the same white scrubs from dream with the hospital.

If this were to follow the pattern, she’d probably find a stairway soon. And then she’d run into a person. Which meant that behind these doors ...

She hesitated, then opened a door. Inside was a bedroom, well-organized, colored a faded purple. A girl sat in the bed, her gaze blank and unseeing. Perhaps in another world.

She closed the door.

Dread was sour in her gut.

Uneasily, she continued down the hall, lightly stepping down the stairs and reaching what she expected to be the bottom floor. She went down the hall and spied a little boy as she reached the T in the hall. The boy stared at her.

He was supposed to be upstairs.

But he was a copy-cat. Like the doctor.

She walked past the boy and turned down the hall, half expecting to see more doors, but instead, found a dead-end. Just one door. She hurried towards it.

Everything was a dream.

She needed to wake up.

She reached out, turned the doorknob, and pushed it open, heart pounding.

Light blinded her.

No, not her.

Me.

I’m not there.

I have to disconnect that tube. I have to pull--