I woke up with a desperate gasp for breath, shivering as I looked around the darkness of my room. I narrowed my eyes, it seemed a little too dark. Even on the blackest, stormy night my apartment was usually fairly lit up, unless there was an outage. Usually that was because I forgot to draw the curtains, but I didn't even see a window as I looked around.
I rose from my bed, unsteady. The room was too small my apartment, lacking the kitchen just across from my bed. It wasn't...uncommon to wake up in someone's room, but usually I wouldn't be alone. I stumbled as I started walking towards the door. It felt like I'd hit something with my legs. Looking down there was nothing, but it felt like something was making it hard to move normally.
Probably still high from...whatever last night had been. It was like a fuzzy blanket lay over my body, making my comfortably listless. I should probably be feeling anxious but, well, it wasn't like my brain worked right at the best of times.
Lucky for me, the bathroom was just across the hall when I opened the door. For the first time in my life, I was thankful the last asshole left the seat up. I plopped down without a second thought and sighed with relief. Okay, maybe I had been drinking last night. That would at least explain the memory gaps, and the trouble moving this morning. I quickly finished and pulled up my pyjamas.
I swore under my breath as I felt the crotch grow wet. I yanked them back down and dried myself off before sliding them back on. A thought occurred, sharp enough to cut through the fog that suffused my head. I pulled my pants down again, an odd apprehension growing in my gut. I patted myself down in the darkness, then froze.
Where was my penis?
That stupid thought got my heart racing. I wasn't too broken up about having it...replaced, but also what the fuck?! I stared into the dark, unable to see what my fingers had felt. Okay, maybe some kind of lucid dream or something? People didn't just wake up with different junk, not outside the operating room at least.
I had to know what the fuck was going on. I groped along the wall til I felt a light switch, then flicked it on. I squinted in the harsh, fluorescent light. The bathroom looked...normal, but it definitely wasn't mine. I looked over at my hand pressed against the wall, holding me up. It lacked the partly removed tattoo that should have marred the skin. With a bit of trepidation, I stepped in front of the mirror.
Well, I wasn't me. That was less of a shock that I thought it would be. Then again, I didn't really feel like me. The usual aches and pains from decades of beating the shit out of my body simply weren't there. My lungs didn't strain against years of tar as I took a deep breath. And then the situation downstairs...yeah, this definitely wasn't my body.
The girl in the mirror probably wasn't called 'pretty' at school. Dark bags, the kind from years of poor sleep, wrapped around dull, grey eyes. Her skin was pale, where small patches of acne didn't make it ruddy. Curly auburn hair fell to her shoulders, shiny and healthy. Well, at least we had one feature in common. The baggy pyjamas hid her figure and, frankly, it felt weird thinking about pulling them up to see. She deserved some dignity.
I shut off the light and trudged back to my, or her, room. I flicked on the lamp beside the table with practiced ease I'd never practiced. Her clock read six, basically when I got up anyway. I sat there on the bed for a while, staring blankly at the floor. The dizzy feeling was back and I felt my-her body wavering with it.
I pinched my cheek sharply with chewed-short nails. All it did was hurt, not what I wanted right now. Well, that was only ever a long shot. Stuff that worked in the movies very rarely did in reality. Did that make this reality? It couldn't be, not with all...this. I looked down at my hands for a moment, then jumped as a loud thump sounded from the ceiling.
I glanced at the clock again. Six-thirty now. Well, shit. Whether this was some fucked up dream or my new life, I just had to get on with it...like always. I sighed and rose, the strange pressure still pushing slightly. I ignored it and left the room again, still in my pyjamas. Finding my way took a moment, most doors led to closets, one to a large furnace room. Finally I found a staircase and, with few options besides moping around a room that wasn't mine, I began climbing.
The upstairs was lit with the warm tones of sunrise. The living room had some tired looking furniture, and nothing was spared from claw marks. At least I liked cats. The apparent offender sauntered over, brushing against my shins. I nudged the cat aside and walked to the kitchen where I could hear cupboards opening and shutting, none too gently.
“Good morning, Lia,” a tired, stressed looking woman greeted me. Mom came to mind unbidden. “Did you sleep well?” I nodded.
“Yeah, fine.” I tried to keep the strain from a high-pitched voice that wasn't mine. At least I didn't have to train it anymore...
“Good,” she said shortly, lifting a mug to her lips and sipping. She grimaced and poured the rest down the sink. “I need to leave early today, you'll have to take the bus.”
“Uh, sure.” I blinked. I guess I was a student now...again. “When's that?” Mom rolled her eyes.
“I haven't the foggiest.” She checked her watch and clicked her tongue. “I have to go. Make good choices.” I had no response, so just nodded as she headed out the door. Some things never changed...
At least now I had time to pick through an unfamiliar kitchen. The odd weight continued to press at my body. No...weight wasn't exactly right, it was just some kind of pressure. It was weirder than any feeling I'd had, like I needed to think twice about moving my body around. It wasn't the grogginess of sleep, nor the comfort of intoxication. Maybe this girl had something wrong too, something that kept her from moving right. Sad, but I was managing to muddle through.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
I reached up in a cupboard to grab a plate, the pressure settling around my shoulders like someone hugging me from behind. I shrugged to no avail, so had to be careful as I retrieved the dish. I fumbled suddenly and it fell from my hands. I swore and flinched as the plate struck my foot, smashing to pieces.
My foot remained unharmed.
I stared for a moment. What? Shards of ceramic littered the floor, big and small. I should have been at least nicked by something, and yet... Curious, I picked up a piece and dropped it form just above my foot. It bounced off, like the plate had shattered, and left me uninjured. Okay, cool, but again what the fuck?
I poked and found that my foot was, in fact, flesh and not a prosthetic. Yet I hadn't even felt the plate or piece, despite them clearly striking me. Okay, definitely some kind of weird dream then. Fine, that was something I could deal with. My impromptu experiment done, I cleaned up then returned to making breakfast. I poured some cereal into a plastic bowl, no more chances, and sat at the island that bisected the room. I picked at my food slowly, thinking.
I'd never dreamed like this before. Even my hippy friends into lucid dreaming never described something so grounded, so real. That didn't mean it was, of course, as the plate experiment showed. I had no way of knowing when or...if I'd wake up. In the mean time, I should probably act like it was real, just in case.
I'd finished my lackluster breakfast by the time the clock on the stove read seven. I tried to think about when the bus would be here. Half-past? That seemed right, and just on the corner a block over. I didn't really want to go to school again. Three years of university had dulled my spark of love for academia. Still, if I was treating this as real...
I rose and put my bowl in the sink. I could deal with it later, at least, if there was a later. I returned to the room I'd woken up in, opening the closet and letting out a sigh. Boring. Where were the skirts, the blouses, the fun stuff? I frowned and grabbed a pair of jeans and a nice-ish, blue tshirt.
A glance in the mirror made me pause. Right, I wasn't me. Okay, this was a little awkward but I couldn't really go to school in pyjamas. I clicked my tongue and stepped away from the reflection. Awkward or not, for now this was my body and I had to deal.
One uncomfortable change later, I was dressed like a high-schooler from the mid-2000s. Not my preferred look, but it would serve for now. I skipped the make-up scattered over the dresser, no point. Once I'd grabbed my bag, phone, and a set of keys, I set out for the bus stop in 'my' memories.
It was a warm morning, and the gentle breeze carried the smell of the ocean. The sun sat behind some clouds, but the cover was thin enough that it still warmed my back as I walked. It was weirdly pleasant, for a morning that had just been plain weird so far.
I popped in some headphones I found in my pocket and plugged them into my phone. I grimaced as I pressed 'shuffle' and took them out after skipping the third Justin Bieber song. Ugh, silence and birdsong was far better. The bus stop was empty at least, and before long it had arrived.
'Arcadia Secondary School' the lettering on the side proudly declared. That rang a bell, somewhere in my real memories, but nothing important. It sounded fancy anyway, which might be irritating. I'd dealt with my share of rich kids at uni.
The bus was fairly empty, so I grabbed a spot near the back. There was a niggling feeling at the back of my mind, like I should know something but it just wouldn't come to mind. It was important, I could feel it, but it stayed frustratingly unrealized. Frustrating, but it wasn't the end of the world. I'd figure it out if it was important...eventually.
The houses passing by reminded me a bit of ones back home. Turn of the century designs, a little fancy but in an old-school way. I could see the sun rising over the water between the houses, so I was on the east coast still...wherever I was. The few other people on the bus spoke with an accent, but not one I was familiar with.
As we passed a park at the top of a hill, I looked into the bay the city seemed to be built around. The dull, morning sun shone on shadowy breakwaters off shore, almost haunting in the morning fog. There was an odd, glittering spot of light too, probably some ship with its lights on or something.
The view quickly vanished behind rows of more modern houses. I sighed and looked out the opposite window just in time to see a grey, armoured van racing by at high speed. Another followed, then another, too fast to catch more than a 'P' stenciled on the side. Huh, the cops were rolling a little heavy this morning.
The bus eventually pulled to a stop and the few passengers slowly filed out. I followed, thanking the scowling bus driver. He drove off as soon as I was on solid ground, leaving me along to contend with the horrors of high school.
Well, this 'Arcadia' looked okay, definitely better than where I'd gone. The other kids had expensive looking bags and fancy accessories. So I had been right, the rich kids school. Great. Still, there was something about it, something familiar that simply wasn't clicking. What was--
“Look out below!”
I glanced up and stumbled back as a silhouette descended towards me rapidly. What the fuck? Had someone jumped off the roof?! I looked around as a brief scattering of applause echoed in the little courtyard. I glanced back just in time to see a stunning, blonde girl that seemed to radiate charisma smile at me.
“Sorry,” she offered, extending a hand. “You were just on the landing pad. Good reaction though! What's your name?”
“Uh,” I stammered. “Um, are you okay?” Hadn't she just fallen off the roof or something?
“Yeah, of course I'm okay?” She wore a look of confusion. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Vicky,” a lower voice called from behind her. “Class. If Mr. Pritchard catches you late again...”
“Shoot, you're right.” She grabbed my hand and gave it a quick shake. “Victoria Dallon, nice to meet you, bye!” And like that she took off, literally, into the school, followed by a mousy girl with tight, brown curls.
It clicked and I felt a chill run up my spine. Victoria Dallon, now that name I knew. But it was impossible, she wasn't-- My eyes widened as more pieces fell into place. The shadowy breakwaters, no the ships in the bay, the single point of glittering light, fucking Arcadia.
Somehow, somewhy, I was in Brockton Bay.
I stumbled over to an empty bench and sat down heavily. Fuck. Fuck! This had to be a dream, it was the only reasonable explanation. I mean, not like I hadn't dreamed something similar before. The realization was oddly calming. Sure this was more detailed than any dream I'd had before, but that sort of made it cool. Of course there was still the issue of waking up, but that was as inevitable as taxes....for better or worse.
My heart was still hammering in my chest and I forced myself to breathe deeply. It was okay, I was going to be fine. Hell, if anything this could be kind of fun. I mean, Brockton Bay wasn't exactly a safe city, but this couldn't be real anyway. So. It. Was. Fine.
It took a while to settle down, long enough to miss the bell. Oh well, I was only missing...math, apparently. Eugh, hell of a way to start the day. After was chemistry, it seemed. Recalling stuff was getting a little easier at least, so I didn't need to worry about getting around. I sighed and rose from the bench, taking a brief look around the now-empty courtyard before heading into Arcadia High.