Cigarette Ahegao

My Name Is

Word count: 1002

AN: I started writing this on a whim and I'm pretty proud of this first chapter :)

Hope you enjoy!

                            -BabyBat05

"Hurry! Take her to the chamber!"

"On it, ma'am!"

"No! I can't go there! Not again!

Please!

Please, no!"

A whir erupts in the quiet, ruined room; a whoosh of thick, white smog fuming from a now opened preservation chamber. Its glass door is cracked and has smudges on it, as well as some curious looking, dusty, green residue here and there. There is absolutely no one in this room, or even the facility this room is in. No one, but a single 13 year old girl who stands unconscious in the foggy chamber.

Why is it so loud?

Why am I so.. cold?

Why... Where am I?

With a gasp, the girl's eyes shoot open, and she falls to the cold, pavement floor with a thud. She groans, the impact of her body to the floor causing a large desk in the room to shake. Glass shatters from behind her, startling the girl. She fumbles to her feet, limping a bit. "God, how long was I out for?" she asks herself, her voice taut and hoarse. She exhales dramatically out her mouth, making a wheezing sound. She hits her upper chest with her fist to clear her throat, feeling something rather fleshy.

She glances downwards, relieved at the sight of clothing. Quite ugly clothing, to add. She is clad in a white, leather-like tank top and long shorts of the same material. Her feet are sore and bare. Looking forwards again, she begins walking towards a doorway. A little bit of light shining through the doorway. It's just enough for the girl to see somewhat clearly. Some dim, blue light emits from the preservation chamber, but it's slowly dying out with every step she takes.

The girl cautiously steps into a dimly lit, narrow hallway. Looking behind her, she sees a dead end. In front of her is an extremely steep set of stairs. Tiptoeing towards the stairs, she begins to climb them almost like a ladder, so she doesn't fall. The higher she climbs, the more she can see an opening, emitting a cold light.

She reaches a surprisingly rusted bunker doorway, that appears to be made of metal. The doors seemed to have been blown off of it's hinges, showing the somehow pitch black room that would soon be explored. The girl places her hands on the doorway. The rough texture of the rust ticks at her hands, causing her to flinch away from the metal frame, holding her hands wearily. With a huff of effort, she thrusts herself upwards and onto the broken tile floor of the new room. Goosebumps freckle her arms, as she shudders, rubbing her arms to stay warm.

Looking around, she sees high-tech, government looking computer machines lined up on one wall, and another on the opposing wall. The right wall of computers seem more in-tact than the other, broken swivel chairs scattered across the room. It almost looked as if a mini tornado ravaged the room, then left. Taking careful steps, the girl explores the room. Looking at every crack in each wall. Every broken object. Everything she can see.

She begins to feel overwhelmed by everything. Especially the fact that she has no idea what is going on. Let alone who she even is. She gulps, the warm feeling flowing down her clammy body. Down, down, down...

Why can't I remember anything? Where am I? Who am I?! Is this a dream? It'd be a sick one, of anything.. Please wake up, this is just a dream. It has to be a dream!

What the fuck is going on?!

Her feet give from beneath her, as she slips on a paper of some sort. She falls onto her bottom, a grimace of frustration plastered on her face. She sobs a bit, a tear dripping down her face. Taking her hand, she swiftly swipes it away, staring at the liquid on her hand in anger. She cries out, a growl in her yell rasping at her throat. Quick to her feet, she throws debris around, smashing the already broken set of computers with her fists. She punches at the broken glass screens, cutting her knuckles. She picks up a large piece of a swivel chair and chucks it across the room, smashing one of the untouched computer sets.

She seethes, breathing heavily, her hair a mess. Looking at the mostly undamaged computers, she sees her reflection in the black screens. Her wrinkled eyebrows obscuring her squinted eyes. Her teeth bared as if she were a viscous animal. Her nose scrunched up with flared nostrils gives off a sense of fury. Her features relax, her eyes widened with shock and her mouth gaped. She approaches the machines, examining herself closer. 

She has pale skin with faded freckles, a few darker than the others. Her freckles are predominantly on her cheeks under her eyes, and all the way up the bridge of her nose. A few freckles are scattered on her arms and legs, but not a lot. Her poofy, dark brown hair is almost a bit curly; frizzy, loose ringlets framing her face. And her eyes. Deep blue irises with green hints set in her skull. Her eyelashes are a deep, dark brown.

Stepping backwards, she turns around. She knows what she looks like. That does not help her in the long-run.

Her bare foot stops on a paper of some sorts, probably from earlier when she fell. Her glance shifts downwards, revealing a coffee stained looking piece of paper. Or maybe it was just old. She couldn't decide which. Bending her knees, she picks up the paper, bringing it closer to her face. Her eyes scan the page, then widen. She couldn't believe it. After what she didn't know, she could not believe it. There is a photo of her in the top left-hand corner, followed by a list of traits and information. One of which being a name. Her name.

A smile tugs at her lips, as she chuckles a bit. "My name is..."