Do You Come Here Often?

AN: Yes, I know. The title is horrendously lame. But, I tried, so I get points for that, right? No? Oh... Figures. -sigh- ANYHOO... This story is going to be pretty rediculous, by my standards, while not being stupid or off-topic. I'm warning you, though: This story is not for those who do not enjoy a bit of time-travel. :) Enjoy!

P.S. When it has "she" or "her" in this chapter, it doesn't mean anything. You say it like you would say words without italics. I just wanted to make her seem a bit more...omnious, I suppose.

Prologue:

The room was semi-large, but cluttered enough by cardboard boxes and old blueprints to look fairly...well, actually, it just looked cluttered. It was a laboratory, around the size of a classroom.

There was only one "student". And, before you ask, that would be me.

There was one wall of the laboratory that was nothing but windows. It was all glass, seperated into three parts by vertical strips of thin gold. The walls were pink, and so was all of the lab equipment. Now that I thought about it, it actually looked more like a horridly mutated ballet studio. For hobos. And lawyers dressed in frilly skirts and lacy blouses. Did I mention these lawyers were men?

A harsh storm was brewing outside, making the room darker than it honestly needed to be. From the table she'd strapped me to, I could see a perfect veiw of the angry sea out the window wall. It was quite odd. I could've sworn she had dragged me here through the woods after hitting me over the head with an old, splitering baseball bat and deeming me 'unconscience'. I had been wide awake the entire time as she dragged me through the maze of tall, leafy trees, headache and all.

CRASH

The thunder was loud, unforgiving. The lightning had come only a bit before, lighting her face as she shouted psychotically over the whooshing of the enraged ocean just yeards away from the dimly lit workroom. Her heart-shaped face was a dull ivory, either thanks to moonlight, or being cooped up in some stupid lab every day. They'd flashed crimson; I knew for a fact, though, that her eyes were a soft pink. Her bubblegum-colored hair stuck to her face, sweat running down her chin, as she attempted to screech over the crashing of wind, rain, and waves;

"You will be my test subject! I'm hoping you don't die, but if you do, I'm sorry!"

And just like that, everything was black in a sudden crash to my already aching head. Shame really, when you stop to ponder the predicament I'd been in. After all, I didn't even get to know her name

AN: Yeah, yeah, it's short. But, it's the Prologue, gosh darn it! And it is ALSO in First Person! GASP!P!P!P!PP! Bet'cha wonder who's Point Of View, though, huh? I AM EVIL. Actually, I'm dorky, but is there really a difference? Don't answer that. Really, don't. Please. OKAY, IF YOU MUST: Please make any remark to my unstoppable dorkiness in the form of a review. :D

Have you ever wondered where the eraser bits go?