A girl stumbled through the woods. Her eyes were empty and unfocused. Her mind was a complete blank. Her clothes were soaked with blood. Some of it, her own. The trees opened up before her, and she faltered into a clearing. The scene opened to a view of simple buildings, and people going about their business. She made it to the village. But the thought never registered in her head. She shambled forward without breaking stride.
She inched toward the edge of the town. The villagers didn’t notice her, or simply ignored her. It wasn’t unusual for children to play out in the clearing. It wasn’t until she got close that they began to notice something was wrong. A small group of women came up to her, worried.
“Dear, are you alright?”
“…help…please, help…me…”
The girl didn’t make eye contact, or stop walking. She acted like nothing was around her, and looked at nothing as she stumbled forward. A group formed around her; visibly concerned, or frightened.
“Dear… Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll look out for you until we find your parents, alright?”
“…help…please…”
The girl didn’t react. She mumbled the last thing she thought and moved forward.
“C…come. I’ll take you home.”
The woman slowly, and shakily, reached out her hand, and grabbed the girl’s. The girl walked, until her arm pulled her back. And then she stopped.
“Come on, I’ll clean you up.”
The woman started leading her to her house. The girl offered no resistance and let herself be led. Those who had no major business formed a small group and followed after them. Half formed out of compassion, and half out of curiosity. A number of them offered to help take care of the girl when they reached the house.
The girl was cleaned and dressed, and given food. She mechanically ate as the group discussed what to do with her. She was led off to bed, where she fell asleep instantly. She slept for two days, while the small group worked out plans for her.
She woke at night, while everyone was asleep. She was vaguely aware of her surroundings as she got up. She wanted to go outside. Moving slowly and without sound, she exited the house. The streets were empty. She moved to the edge of town, back to the clearing. Two orbs of water were waiting for her. When she laid eyes on them, they began to pulsate, and change form. They flattened, and gained two arms, legs, and a head. A small coat of ice formed over the surface. While this sight distracted her, a javelin crystallized into her hands. Four feet long, one inch thick, sharpened on both ends. She loosely took it into her hands, and looked back at the aquatic mannequins before her.
She wanted to hit them.
She walked forward. She weakly poked one of them with her stick. No damage. Her muscles gave off a warm sensation as they stretched. She poked again, harder. The muscles loosened more, giving off more pleasure.
She struck again.
And again.
And again.
Harder.
And harder.
And harder.
She wasn’t focused on anything. She didn’t notice when she started screaming. She just struck again and again, and relished in the pleasure her body bathed in. Adrenaline soaked through her, as dopamine washed away her pain. Her intensified heart beat rushed oxygen to parts of her body which had been doing without. She ignored the buildup of lactic acid as she struck as hard as she could. Each time she struck, she screamed as loud as she could, and a memory flashed into her head.
The screams of women and the sound of fire.
The feeling of an intense grip on her throat.
A sword of ice running a man through.
Each image brought her intense pain, and each thrust washed that pain away. Her body soaked in an intense cocktail of chemicals, battling each other for control of her emotions. She screamed and she swung, coaxing her beating heart and her aching muscles to weigh the balance of the battle in her favor.
The last of the images faded into her memory, and the pain subsided. The painkillers released from her stiffening muscles kept her up for a few more minutes. Her muscle’s protests eventually won out, and she stopped. Her heart raced, and her breathing ran ragged. She afforded herself a look at the instruments around her. There were dozens of holes in both of the mannequins, and both ends of her spear were dulled to a rounded point.
She heard yells behind her. The javelin melted into freezing water. The mannequins fell with a splash. Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned around and looked at them. A group of almost a dozen people rushed out to meet her, all shouting questions and reprimands.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Where you yelling? What’s wrong?”
“How could you leave the village like that? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”
She looked at each of them, then at the village, with a dumbstruck look on her face.
“…where am I...?”
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