𝖰𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗄: 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡

Imagination

Your eyes fluttered themselves opened, the slow disentanglement of your eyelashes brought a sense of calamity to your awakening form.

But that serenity quickly disappeared the moment your eyes adjusted to the dark room, a distinct memory attached to the walls surrounding you.
It was impossible to forget about this place, and you were mentally kicking yourself for not already realizing where you were.

You shouldn't have had to open your eyes to remember the eerie feeling of the cold concrete ground you were sitting criss cross on, or the chill that wafted in the air.

You were back.

Back to that prison you called hell, to that place where you wanted the world to burn, if it meant you could be free.
Your heart was already racing, your breaths quickly becoming labored, your head frantically pounding as you scanned the room with shaky eyes.

It was impossible.

Staring directly in front with a widened gaze, it was easy to notice that there was one major difference about the place that was forever imprinted within your memory. The small gleam of sunlight from god knows where that reflected against the wall you were facing.

Why this wall caught your eye wasn't because you used to claw lines into the concrete to track what you assumed were days, but because those numerous lines had disappeared, now covered by what seemed to be hundreds of mirrors.
It was as if that wall never existed, every nook and cranny had been filled with the reflecting glass.

You were surprised to see yourself in the clothes you had put on this morning, the bloodstains non existant as you sat neatly on the frigid floor.

Not to mention the normal color of your hair.

You were definitely panicking, completely overwhelmed and confused by what had happened in the few hours you were out cold.
You could barely move from where you were seated, and though it felt too dream-like to be back in this prison, all your senses were screaming that this was very real.
Questions were bouncing through your mind—this imaginary bouncy ball rattling your brain as you watched your eyes tear up through the mirror, unable to do anything to stop it.

It felt like a trance, you could only continue to stare at yourself, an anxious pit in your stomach as you watched your hands ball into fists, a whimper leaving your lips as hot tears rolled freely down your cheeks.

You felt so helpless, so weak, and you knew that you had finally given up on everything.

There was no hope this time, no dream of seeing the outside world again, and no one to help you. 47 for all you knew had been the one to put you back in this hellhole... that, or he was dead.
And Aizawa had no way of knowing you were even here, so that definitely wasn't a way out.

Letting your body topple to the ground in absolute defeat, you let yourself lay there, a numb feeling overtaking your form as you watched your pathetic self curl into a ball through the mirror. It was all too much to handle at once, and though the mere thought of 47's body bleeding out made you want to scream, but you didn't have the strength to.

You were surprised, but glad no one had bothered to enter the room because seeing your crumbling body would have been an absolute treat for Jack.