I woke up soaked to the bone.

Raindrops pattered across my cold cheeks, slipping towards my ears and nape. I had never felt so tired, so weak. The sounds of an unfamiliar civilization were all around me. A clacking like horse hooves accompanied the bump of carriage wheels. Shouts intermixed with the rainfall. Nearby, the smell of warm bread mixed with something pungent. I winced. It was rot.

I willed my eyes open and peered at the sky above, raising a free hand to shield my gaze from the downpour. I blinked, confused at the sight of my fingers. They looked less touched by age. So much paler too, like they had been when I was younger.

...I must be dreaming. Cold, wet, and tired on the city streets, a child with nowhere to go. This was my past. Instead of being a prime-of-her-life 29-year-old, I was 18 again. Scrappy, uncomfortable, and lying on the dirty pavement.

Great. Was I in the hospitable right now?

I'd collapsed earlier from horrific stomach pain. It hastened into dizziness, ending with a collapse into unconsciousness. Had my drink been spiked?

Was my closest friend and lover, Lucas, alright?

I gained the strength to sit up, staying comfortable despite weakness and aches. The air burned with its chill. My surroundings were stone walls and rotting food, scattered across the dirt flooring. The lack of light and tight corridor suggested this was an alleyway, a place I had spent too much time as a child. I'd never been in one so…medieval themed before.

Shivering, the two twigs that were my legs struggled to support me as I stood, forced to lean against the wall for support. Despite the brown rags I wore being the size of a potato sack, they still hung loose over my bony arms and jutting ribs. Was it possible to be this malnourished in a dream? It felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks.

I stumbled over to a stream of water tumbling off the roof and down towards the dirt path. The water was soft and soothing over each palm. It pooled up in my hands until I gulped it down, repeating until the dryness in my throat finally started to soothe. A wet, stinging cough wracked its way up, leaving tears in my eyes and a burning sensation in my chest. Each breath was unsteady. I observed my hands again, noticing my fingers were turning pale, almost blue. The shivers wracking each limb were not only from the cold anymore but from a growing sense of panic.

This was too realistic.

With slow steps, I trudged towards where the shadows ended at the edge of the alleyway. The rain blurred visibility, and my vision tunneled from the strain of trying to walk. I couldn't get a good look at what was ahead of me. Taking a deep, shuddering breath I blinked at the sudden change in intensity, stepping out into the mottled light of a rainy day.

I froze.

"What?" I mumbled, eyes snapping in every direction as I took it all in.

Too real. It was too real.

Who saw this many faces in their dreams? People huddled under street stalls. Drunken men in worn leather clothing stumbled out of a wooden building. Horses pulled dark carriages down the streets, children scattering before them. Their figures were as skinny and dirty as I was.

A sudden thump drew my gaze to the left. Sitting a few feet away from me, an old man had collapsed onto the wet road. He'd been resting with his back on the stone building but lost the strength to hold himself upright. His eyes were open and unfocused, and drool poured from his mouth.

'He's dead.'

The unexpected death wasn't what shocked me; I had seen death before. I'd even had a hand in causing it a few times. Growing up on the streets toughens your stomach and mind. I would argue even the toughest person, however, would become terrified upon returning to those times. That was what I was experiencing right now.

In a horrified haze, I reached my arm up towards my mouth, opened it wide, and then bit down hard. I flinched, letting out a small whimper as pain seared my skin. The taste of copper washed over my tongue, and I pulled my arm away, spitting out the blood. A fresh, stinging row of teeth marks had appeared. A few of them were beginning to bleed where canines had cut through the flesh.

This wasn't a dream. What had happened to me? Where was I?

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I needed to see what I looked like. Head whipping around, I searched for any reflective surface in the rain. A shimmering puddle in the middle of the road seemed to be the best bet. I glanced both ways to ensure a horse didn't run me over, then I dragged my withered body to the center of the street. Kneeling, I met my own, unfamiliar eyes in the pool.

It wasn't me.

Why wasn't it me? How could it not be me?

My hair was the same golden-brown tone it had been when I was younger before it had started turning dark around 19. My face was not quite right. The new look was sharper and more toned than it used to be, and my button nose lost for a long, straight one. Wide eyes and a resting expression that always seemed to wear a smile made me look like a mischievous young boy. A very pretty boy, to be fair...or a very handsome girl. Wait, was I still a girl? My hand flew towards my lower parts, and I groped. Nothing there. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

The part that left me the most confused was the eyes. This body had heterochromia. While her right eye was the same stormy color I used to have, the other was dark, blood-red. Was that normal around here? Wherever here was?

Having finished looking myself over, I shook with the strain of standing up and slinked back to the alley. Once there, and just in case, I tore off a part of my ragged slip 'dress' and tied it around my head to cover my red eye. Better safe than sorry.

A million thoughts bounced through my head. I needed to find somewhere safe to rest before considering them. I didn't know if I spoke the same language as these people, how to obtain services or goods, or my location on a map. I was also clueless about who I was, or whose body this was, though those problems could hopefully wait.

'Damn it. Damn it all. What is going on?'

My heart rate picked up pace, each breath heaving against my chest with a growing panic.

'No. No no no no-'

This couldn't be happening. The reality of the situation was hitting me. I clenched my teeth, hard. Tears began brimming at the corners of my eyes, that characteristic pressure building in my face. I needed to calm my breath, to move, but the world seemed slow and dim. Each limb felt like puddy, useless to assist me.

What felt like not even moments ago, I had it all. The love of my life had me cradled in his arms as we sipped drinks on the top floor of the Danton Hotel. City lights shone in through the wall of windows, carpeting the tiled floor in a breathtaking shimmer. Lucas had returned from receiving confirmation. He had a written letter, from our target that he would give up rights to all the hotels in the area. After pinning a murder on him and then tipping the police off, we had given him a choice. The police chief had left the interrogation room for us to speak with him. That took no coercion since he was someone I'd given his position in the first place. Lucas entered. He told the businessman he could die mysteriously in jail, or provide ownership.

He'd taken the latter. It was an enormous milestone for our group, especially for me and Lucas. This meant that after our decade of work, not a single area in that earthly city was free from our control. From the garbage trucks to the restaurants and politicians. It had all become ours. So we had been celebrating, glasses filled with liquor, clinking in a loving toast.

I was an amazing thief. Lucas and I discovered this when I had managed to sneak into a hospital and steal a medication. Without it, Lucas would've died. I was only 18. We were both poor street orphans who couldn't afford things, and I had been desperate. After hopping onto a janitor's cart and making my way in, I found my senses attuned to the layout. Cameras never went unnoticed, and my body matched unseen within each shadow. I managed to make it in and out completely undetected.

I remember that day so well; it was like realizing I was a superhero. Of course, I hadn't used it for good. I had broken the law time and time again to steal that which was worth the most; hard cash and terrible secrets. Lucas was the sweet talker, I was the night stalker. That is how we took over our little part of the world. I was my own superhero.

'Why? Why me? Please, please let me wake up.'

All we wanted was to be comfortable. All I wanted was to be safe.

I finally had that comfort in my grasp. The kind of safety that only comes with standing atop the heap of society, with every danger below you.

And now? I was back on the streets. Starving, days from death. Exposed.

Alone.

The world went blurry as hot, wet tears mixed with rainfall. I pulled my fist back and slugged myself as hard as I could directly in the jaw.

The searing pain accompanied by a throbbing discomfort brought me back. In the drum of the rain, I caught my breath and allowed the grieving tension behind my eyes to fade. I could think about all this later; right now I needed food, cash, and information.

'Otherwise? I'll freeze to death...or starve.'

Hearing someone upchucking their lungs, I peered down the street. A man was making his way out of a building with a colorful sign dangling above the door. Even from here, I could see his reddened face. Beyond wasted, he was getting kicked out because someone in an apron was yelling at him. He continued to vomit despite the person's shouting becoming louder. The sign above them had a pig's head painted on it, resting on a pile of beer cups. This was like fantasy; signs like that were either for show or because most citizens couldn't read.

As the door closed behind the man and he stumbled away, I began to move towards him. The wall stayed pressed to my back, each step unnoticed in the pitter-patter of the rain. After slipping behind some barrels, he slowed down again. His chest lurched from a strange hiccup and cough combination. He was tall and lanky, wearing a cloak and a worn cloth tunic like something out of a medieval festival. As he swayed from side to side something clinked. A round pouch peaked out from his waist, seeming to be the source.

'Time to test something out. Time to survive'

This would be my first guinea pig.