Pale green eyes snapped open at the sound of a gunshot. Giselle sat up fast, pulling the machines latched onto her head and arms down to the ground. She raised a hand to her head trying to steady herself from the vertigo. She heard more of a struggle outside but couldn't bring herself to care about it right then at that moment. She just knew the problem would come to her eventually, her mind showing her pictures of the extremely tall blond man in all black followed around by a group of eleven delinquent looking people. Shaking the thought, already knowing they were there for her, she removed the wires connected to her head and wrists wincing in the pain. She stood, shoving her feet in the black boots placed just aside her bed. She looked at herself in the mirror, not getting past her face in the reflection. Eyes watering, anger wracked her body, she punched the tile wall next to her and didn't feel the throbbing of the broken knuckles. She remembered how she used to look, who she used to be.
Giselle Dresden was the perfect woman. Perfect trophy girlfriend, perfect classmate, perfect friend, succeeded at everything she did. At the age of 24 she had become a chef, dropping out of art institute to work and be the only female in the kitchen of a very popular restaurant. She was a woman's and minoritie's rights activist and you can bet your ass she researched everything she talked about before making her opinion. She ran a blog on her beliefs and was praised instead of hated. She wanted four lovely children but was patient for her boyfriend to be ready for children. She loved a man named David Marighoy. David worked for Rush Industries (a company funded from the CDC for whatever tests the CDC need partnerships in for medical and virus uses). Due to their ever constant schedules, Giselle busy with the restaurant from 3:30pm to 3:30am and David working from 4:30am to 6:30pm they almost never saw each other for longer than half an hour. When they both had Sundays off, David would catch a beer with his buddies and often leave Giselle alone for the whole day.
Most of the time Giselle called he old college buddy Nazz and they met for coffee or lunch. Sometimes Nazz brought along her girlfriend Marie, giving Giselle some smug pride for being the one to pull them together finally and knowing that they've stayed together. Giselle used to have to hide Marie under the bed or in the closet in their dorm to hide from the Dorm Advisor after curfew. Giselle told Nazz about her and David not having any time together to work on their relationship and they came to a mutual conclusion.
"Break it off." Nazz said.
"He's going to be so hurt." Giselle gulped, knowing David's temper, but also knowing that was strong enough to fend for herself.
"If you don't tell him, I will." Nazz warned.
"I'll call in late to work tomorrow and make him dinner." Giselle nodded, this had to be done. Nazz was right.
The next night, David came home an hour early, Nazz had texted him and told him what Giselle was planning. Giselle had made yellow, white and brown rice. She made chicken sauteed in Teriyaki sauce with fresh vegetables steamed and placed over their rices with sauce drizzled on top. David had scared her as he came home more pissed off than she had noticed a few times before.
"Hey, babe! How was work?" She smiled, taking two wine glasses out from the mini bar cabinet and her favorite bottle of wine. Setting them on the counter she turned to face him.
"Cut the shit talk Giselle." He barked, walking up to her. He was a good foot taller than her 5'5" figure. He towered over her but she did not let this scare her. "You wanna break up with me?" David huffed, watching her face, eyes widening and jaw dropped. "Nazz told me, don't try to lie to me."
"What?" She gasped, feeling shocked that a good friend like that would do this to her.
"How could you? Huh?" David pushed her, smashing the small of her back against the counter, eliciting a pained moan. David brought his hands up, grabbing her face and Giselle's heart beat so fast she could hear it scream.
Giselle blinked back into the mirror. David had done this, he had beat her ass and shaved her head and put her in the hospital. Giselle closed her eyes, feeling the dull headache start. Except it was gone as soon as she opened her eyes again. Staring at her in the mirror was the old Giselle- not too thin and not too thick, her curvaceous body, a small hourglass figure. Long blonde hair touching just above her cute butt, pale green eyes alive again, pale skin having some flush to it. Sighing in despair of her lost hair, she snaked a frail hand up to touch her bald head but nearly fainted when she felt the hair the mirror was portraying. Tugging on it, she realized she had her hair. Her hair was back! How? Had she imagined the whole thing? This must be a dream!
She looked at how tiny and sick she looked in the mirror. She wore skin tight grey stretch shorts and a thin black spaghetti strap tank top. She turned on the heel of her black boots and back into the room after hearing a thudding against the door.
She found a small handgun and a note that read "Come Out And Play" on the bed. After reading the words, instincts she didn't even know she had took over. She turned the safety of the gun off, protecting herself before she opened the door fully, she came face to face with the blond man she mentally visioned earlier.
"Who the fuck are you?" She yelled, gun pointed at his chest while looking down both sides of the hall.
"Plank." He grinned, accent invading Giselle's ears harshly.
"What's your real fucking name, shit dick?"
Now he was full on smiling at her. "Patrick Levy."
"Why are you here, Levy?" She saw a figure coming from the left.
Keeping a weary glance between Plank and the figure closing in, she though. Her mind told her that these people were okay to trust, at least enough to get out of the building before slipping away from them, but her gut told her to run.
"Yo, Plank, why is she point a gun at you?" The red headed man put his gun in the back of his pants and raised his hands as if to symbol that he would not attack.
Raising the gun slightly, she shot right about Plank's head and both the men ducked. She stepped back and turned into the room. She shot at the window until the glass was broke enough and went to until she felt fingers close around her right ankle.
Turning, lifting her left foot and looking down at the red headed man, she brought her heavy boot-foot down on his face hard enough to break his nose and him to release her. She ran to the window and plunged herself out.
Once in the night air she figured her survival rate, few to none, probably 15/1000. Mentally she cussed herself until she had landed with just a soft thud of feet on concrete, as if she had merely jumped over a puddle and not 4 stories in the air.
Brushing herself off, hoping this was a wild dream after taking some crazy medication, she walked forward but a giant black SUV pulled up and the driver almost shit herself.
"GISELLE. GET IN THE CAR NOW!" Nazz screamed.
Giselle paused, watching Nazz open the door for her and pull her in.
"Nazz?" Her voice broke as she got comfortable in the seat and Nazz sped off.
"Hi honey." She smiled sadly.
"What the fuck kind of dream is this?" She groaned, her mind trying to take over control but she forced herself to shut up to hear Nazz.
"Not a dream. This is your life."