I couldn't tell between dream and reality. Even though my brain captured snippets of hues and movements in between the blackouts, I didn't know if any of them were real.

For instance, one time I picked up a heated argument between my parents. Mom was shrieking like a banshee, accusing dad of bringing me home.

"You should have let her stay there and bleed to death. What are we going to do with her now?"

Even in my somnolent state, shock and denial engulfed me. Was she so mad at me that she had decided to disown me for good? Did my death matter nothing to her?

Dad had argued some more, but my ears were too strained to pick up the words.

Then I saw the Rank Three from the shore, the man in shabby clothes and shiny weapon in his hands who had attacked me.

He was before me, his features quite sharp and vivid, convincing me that he couldn't be a figment of my imagination. This time, he wielded that weird weapon of his, and jabbed and pushed at the cut below my throat.

"It's alright," his deep voice sounded like a lullaby, but instead of comforting, it only frightened me, "You're going to be okay."

Two spots of blue.

"Please..." I murmured, begging him to not kill me.

"Shh..." he crooned, "I'll make it right. I'll make it go away."

Did he mean the pain? Or my life?

More jabs, more pain threaded into my wound as warm fingers worked on my skin, but the pain never ceased. My senses never grasped the colors, and the black slate came sliding back before my vision; again and again.

A door banged somewhere, and I lost my grip on my senses for the umpteenth time.

***

As I gained consciousness, the first thing my senses picked up was a dull pain across my body.

Where was I hurting? I tried to pinpoint the source, but the pain was everywhere. It was constant, so much that it felt as easy as a breath, as certain as a heartbeat.

I opened my eyes one millimeter a time, and the first thing to fill my vision was a gray ceiling.

I tried to lift my head, and the bones in my neck cracked audibly. Sore muscles started popping in my arms and legs as I made an effort to move them, and my eyes took a few moments to adjust to my surroundings.

There was a quilt drawn up to my neck, my body beneath it feeling abnormally hot and clammy. I reached out and gently removed the rough quilt from my skin, and hoisted myself up on my sore elbows.  

The air smelled of dust and mud. There was an electric fan over my head, its steel blades rotating in a never-ending loop.

This was definitely not my room.

My chest blazed with a dull pain, and I was suddenly knocked over by memories of what had happened at the shore.

My fingers quivered as I lifted my hand and touched the wound that had landed me in this bizarre situation. There was a thin cut there that started from my right collarbone, and trailed down to end right near the top of my left breast.

Memories of intense pain pooled my brain and I felt tears choke me. I looked about, looking for a hint as to where this place could be; but I was certain that I had never been here.

My body was sprawled on a narrow bed that was placed in a corner of a smelly and near-dark room, with only one table at the opposite wall for furniture. A small hole of roughly about eight inches by five inches was curved out on top of the southern wall right beside the table, perhaps to serve as the only window to the room, but it was doing a poor job by pouring a dim light into the room.

The only aid to my sight.

On the northern wall there was a door, which was closed.

Was it locked? Was there people beyond the door? Would they explain this place to me?

Most importantly, could I go home?

I wet my parched lips with my tongue, and dragged my feet off the bed, inch by inch. Someone had taken my dress off and changed me into an oversized t-shirt with its arms ripped away. It reached my knees. I pulled the fabric up to my stomach and took a peep inside. Thankfully I had my underwear on!

Gross. How many hours did I have them on for?

How many days?

All I could feel was fear for the next couple of seconds.

There were hurried footsteps outside the door, making me shrink back to the bed. Should I call for help?

As the pounding of footsteps drew closer, realization dawned on me.

If whoever it was outside the door had any good intention, I would have woken up in a hospital and not in this rotting hellhole. This person likely had his own agenda.

Which made me a prisoner.

Tears threatened to leak out of my eyes, but I pushed them back. I had to escape, but it called for a well-thought-out plan, not something I could pull off in thirty seconds.

Even pros had their limits.

I inched backwards, lay back on the smelly bed, and tried to replicate the posture that I had been in when I had first woken up.

Something rustled, which sounded a lot like clothes or rope, and then the door opened with a faint creak. Two sets of footsteps thudded closer, and I held my breath, my heart drumming madly.

"Is she awake yet?" I heard someone— a boy— speak from a little far away.

The person standing closer must have shaken his head, because I heard nothing.

My arms started to itch. It was impossible to feign unconscious when you were actually awake and was agitated to this extent.

"You shouldn't have done that," the boy started to draw closer.

The itching in my arms increased exponentially.

"I did not have any other option!" the other person — another boy — murmured quietly.

"You realize that we will be tracked down now, don't you?" there was an unmistakable pang of anger in the other boy's words.

"We'll see to that later," the one standing close answered, his voice taut.

"What about Nan?" the other boy inquired, "What if she gets to know about her?"

Her? Me?

My ears perked up, scooping up all the words that left their mouths.

"I'll take the blame if I have to," the boy standing close to me replied, "Listen, let's not argue about her. There are bigger issues to worry about right now."

A faint scream came floating to my ears, and I almost jumped up in surprise. Both the boys cursed loudly.

"She's getting out of control!" one of them told the other, "This cannot go on further. We have to get done with it!"

My heart twisted inside my ribs.

More panicked footsteps.

"Dylan!" a girl shouted from the door, "She's out of her room!"

"Shit!" Dylan, or the other guy, cursed again as another scream cut through the air.

More footsteps, all of them retreating from the room this time, and then a loud bang told me that they had left.

I opened my left eye by a millimeter, and found that the room had indeed been deserted.

There was another scream, and I almost fell from the bed. There was nothing I could do to learn the source of the commotion, the only small hole being high up on the wall. I could drag the table and ride on it to get a better view, but thought against it, considering the noise it would give rise to.

Taking a deep breath, I started for the door, hoping that no one was still hovering nearby. If these people had their hands full with whatever was going on, I could sneak out of here. No harm in trying. They had kept me alive so far, so my life meant something to them. They wouldn't kill me even if I got caught.

The thought somewhat empowered me.

The door did not have any handle on it. Instead there was a crooked piece of iron pipe shoved through the wood to create a makeshift handle. I grabbed hard on it, and pushed it a little to the outside.

Another scream filled the air, making the hair on my neck stand up.

Despite my feeble shove, the door yawned opened. I looked with wide eyes as the entrance to my prison inched open in front of me, and I faced a slim corridor. It was deserted, yet, I carefully shuffled along. 

As I turned the corner, a sudden burst of bright light almost blinded my eyes.

This must be the door that led to the outside.

Five seconds and a thousand blinks later, my teary eyes adjusted to the sharp rays of the sun. Blocks of khaki and green swirled in my vision, and I swiped at my eyes to rid them of the tears.

I craned my neck to see out the door, and saw something so horrifying that it scalded my nerves.

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Hello my lovely readers!

Late update, I know. I was caught up in my studies and finals, but finally finished the editing of this chapter.

So, what do you think of the progress of the story so far? Like it? Hate it? Have guesses? Suggestions? Spill them in the comments below.

Please don't forget to VOTE and comment your thoughts. I would love to hear from you!

Thanks for reading and I will see you all soon with a new chapter. :)

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Bloodstream
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