Chapter One.

I was still in denial.

I mean, how could I not be?

I was trying to tell myself, comprehend the fact, I had no idea where I was, which so happened to be in - what looked like - the middle of a woods. And I only say that because there's grass covering the cool ground and little colorful flowers sprouting up in the green, and of course, tall trees surrounding me and it was warm in the spots the sun was shining.

Honestly, this was fucking great and all, but is it was I was expecting? Never. Not to be rude or ungrateful, but I was expecting more ... white, in the sense of either walls and the sound of periodic beeps, or the great pearly white stairs and lead me up to those gates - hallelujah. You know, the things you usually expect when you try to show off to yourself and whatever being ( alive or dead ) is watching when you try to walk home in the late evening by yourself from the library ... in the winter. So to say I was kinda sweating right now was the truth, but I was still too stumped to take my coat off, even if it was starting to get itchy.

This was just - no, I mean. Unless ... this was my heaven? And I skipped the entrance exam, the judgment on my sins and they just decided to say, "Hey, fuck it, let's give this one a break,"?

But probably not.

I might be in hell. Sounds more reasonable for a shit-head like me who was either secretly on everyone's kill list, or publicly known they hated me. But last time I checked, Hell had fire, yo. Unless Lucifer is trying to get on my good-side because he's realized I'm a good asset for world domination. Then again, I've never dominated anything. Hell, I've never even shown dominance to my dog! And look how that turned out!

( Imagine here: a seventy-five pound husky ruling over a bed, and having to sleep right on the edge and fearing of both falling off and the non-existent creature living under it. )

Back on track here, I needed to get this shit through.

Inhaling deeply through my nose for what seemed like the first one since I had woken up in these woods, the fresh air filled my lungs and my head felt woozy, and for the split second I could properly think and I knew it had finally crashed down on me, and I was numb. My chest constricted my throat burned as I began to decline quickly, my eyes stinging as I brought a gloved hand up to my face. As quiet as whatever rational part of my brain still functioned wanted me to be, it bubbled up and my stomach churned ten ways 'till Sunday, and I vomited right to the side, some of the bile landing on my thick stockings and painting my black coat and I began to sob into my mittens. I knew anything could hear me, whether it be dangerous or helpful, and covering my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to let my tears flow silently, but with every whimper and hiccup, I wasn't sure how well that was going to work.

I was stranded, I was alone, I was defenseless in my winter clothes and boots, with nothing but the pepper spray in my pocket and my phone, and this and so much more was running through my mind. Did I run: see how far I could make it before I possibly find help or until I couldn't move anymore? Or do I wait: helplessly and in distress like some damsel and see how many days I can last with no food?

Honestly, as appealing as the last one sounded, I happen to love food and the pudge on me shows it. But also, curling up in a ball of self-pity, depression and sky-rocketing anxiety and crying myself to death shamelessly, sounds absolutely amazing right now.

My mother would be so disappointed in me.

Oh, well. Too bad, so sad I suppose.

Letting out a mildly loud, extremely pitiful and girl whine, I threw myself back onto the ground with a thud, only crying harder at the pain that shot through my back from the impact, and the injuries and open wounds I have. My family ran through my head during the midst of this mayhem.

It wasn't the fact I didn't love my family, don't get me wrong. Despite the fact they're all paranoid as hell, but also incredibly full of themselves beyond reason, they still hold a place in my heart. But I felt so much more alone, and it was so much more harder to breath. I was never alone, never growing up, I had always clung to my mothers side with everything, and it has only been recently I had begun to do things on my own - which much difficulty of course. But now? How did I even know if I could call her? How could she get here even if I did? I probably didn't even get a signal out here ...

Fuck.

Now, before we even go any further, I am going to admit I am the biggest baby in the world, hands down, ask anyone that's known me over a year. I can complain and whine about anything in the fucking world, without a doubt. Everyone kept telling me it's because I'm young, which I don't see as the truth, and I blame my anxiety for it, which relates back to the fact I had my mother making even my doctor appointments for me and I fact I never cared to learn how. I do all this now, even if I stumble over my words and say things I don't mean, and make jokes no one finds funny, but thats not the point here.

The point being -

I sniffled harshly, hiccuped and covered my face with my knitted mittens and wailed for my mother like the little bitch I can admit I am.

- I don't even give myself an hour.