𝖰𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗄: 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡

Relief

You could feel the warm shuffle of something soft around your body, encasing you in a comfortable embrace.

Tossing around, trying to find the coziest spot, you froze the moment you smelled the calming aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Was this heaven?

Taking a deep inhale, and letting out a similar exhale, you tried your best to bask in the moment. You could feel the warm sun on your face, and though your back felt a little sore, the warmth of the morning kept you content.

But the fabric between your fingertips felt pretty real. On top of that, it felt familiar.
Something you weren't expecting in heaven.

Snapping your eyes open, a red-orange fox stared back at you, its fluffy fur begging to be combed through. Your hair was sprawled across a pillow, the same pillow you slept on everyday.

What the hell?

Shooting up in your spot, you looked around, throwing the soothing blanket off your body as you quickly noticed your surroundings; you were back in your room, not dead at the gates of heaven.
How you got here, who knows, but the aching feeling in your muscles definitely proved some shit had happened in the last 24 hours.

The sun was shining through your curtains, and from the brightness you could tell it was a bit earlier than noon.

You should be in school right now, right?

Why hadn't your alarm gone off?

Why hadn't 47 woken you up?

Forty seven.

Was he even—

Could he have—

You could feel your stomach drop at the thought of the man, a searing image engraved into your mind forever.

The blood that had poured from him, the knives sticking into his b—

FUCK!

Your fingertips tangled through your unkept hair, tugging on the roots from pure frustration. You had just woken up, and yet you already felt so tired, so drained.

Letting your fingers comb through the rest of your locks, you were surprised to find odd clumps of hair matted together by a hard coating.
Pulling at the unfamiliar clumps so you could see what was in your hair, you could only sigh at what you found.

Dried blood.
It was coated in certain parts of your strands, and now that you thought about it, it smelled awful.

Wiping your groggy eyes with your sleeve, you had only just realized what you were wearing, the memory continuing to make you more frustrated by the second.

It wasn't even because the once white hoodie was stained, but because it was stained with the same substance that coated your h/c hair.

At this point, you couldn't even tell the difference between dreams and reality, and it made you feel even more helpless.

You couldn't wait and ponder on what had happened or didn't happen. Right now, you needed to know how you got here.

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