drip. drip. drip.
she opens her eyes to broken light and long shadows. blinking a few times to clear her vision, she glances around. the only company she has are a monotonous dripping and a cold stillness. gingerly, she rolls over onto her stomach to get a better look, but shuts her eyes tight as agony hits her like a wall. white light explodes behind her eyelids. a weak cry escapes her lips, and she grits her teeth.
time slid past her as she fought to maintain consciousness, perhaps slowly, perhaps quickly. when the stars stopped dancing, she carefully cracks her eyes open, squinting at her surroundings.
the color of the cabinets was mahogany in the dim lighting. she traces the lines of the cabinet door with her eyes, following it to the counter. the crisp white tiles appear to be stained black. she continues following the counter, coming across the sink. the same black stains cover the faucet as well, but the faucet isn’t dripping. then what is?
she carefully turns her head to survey the other half of what she takes to be her kitchen, however different it appears in the light. light falls unevenly on the table and the floor, illuminating bits and pieces of the room. something glints in a patch of light but is mostly obscured in darkness. she opens her eyes wider, but can’t make out the object. she considers standing up, but remembers the abyss of pain she just barely pulled out of. suddenly curious, she tries to turn her head to look at the rest of her body.
her clothes, once brand new, are tattered and completely black, the same black as the counter and the faucet. the fabric feels wet, as if someone has dunked it in black paint. there are strange lines crisscrossing her arms and legs. she turns back, staring intently at the object, willing herself to identify it. there is silver and red. silver and red. silver and red. glinting.
she resolves to return to the object later and resumes exploring the kitchen with her eyes. next to the mysterious object is the table. one ray of light falls across the table, but she can’t see what it reveals from her low angle. instead, another ray of light grazes a hulking mass slumped across the edge of the table. a black liquid is falling from the tablecloth.
drip. drip. drip.
something nags at her, telling her that she should be screaming, should be weeping, but her mouth won’t open and her eyes are dry. exhausted, she lays her head down on the ground, gazing at the dark scene before her without registering what she saw. shapes began to meld together into a menacing ghost. it licks its lips hungrily and advances toward where she lay,helpless. she wants to scream. she wants to stand up and run away, but her body no longer obeys her.
drip. drip. drip.
the monster is inches away — or is it miles away? her eyelids feel heavy. feebly, she resists the urge to sleep, but maybe if she just closed her eyes…