The room was white. It wasn't a pure white, more like a pasty, dirty, white. In fact, as she looked down at her hands, it perfectly matched her skin color, causing her to blend in. This was mildly surprising, as she remembered her skin being closer to a darker brown, and had assumed it would stay that way.
Remembered?
She shook her head. That wasn't really the right word. "Remember" implied that she had experienced that in the past. "Her" past effectively extended to a single wish before this. Now that she stopped to think, there wasn't really a word for what she was going through. As far as she knew, this wasn't really a previously occurred phenomena.
She might as well pretend that she was the same person, if only for simplicity in terminology.
The next order of business was to find out where she was. The best way to do that seemed to be getting out of the room she was in. It was giving her a headache, as it took pretty intense concentration to locate her limbs each time. There was no door, but the floor looked more dirty than usual in a spot, so she went over there and jumped on it. Surprisingly, she seemed to have found the correct way to open the trapdoor, and she tumbled down onto a hard floor. That was definitely going to leave bruises the next morning.
She was in a long stone corridor, lit by flaming torches. It seemed remarkably old, as there was dust everywhere, and moss on the stones. But there were no cobwebs. Or anything alive really, as the moss was gray, brittle, and turned to dust when she touched it.
Then a buzzing began in her ears. It was pretty annoying and it only grew louder as time went on. She tried to run away from it, as it got louder and louder to the point of inducing another headache, but it didn't really seem to help.
Then, everything changed. She was no longer in a cold, dark corridor. She was on a bed, beather a couple of warm blankets, staring at glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. She yawned, stretched, and looked at her hands.
Good, they were back to her normal chocolate brown skin color. She was worried that they would stay that pasty white. It didn't really match any clothes she had in her wardrobe.
Time for breakfast. It wouldn't do to be late to school. She could hear her mom yelling at her from downstairs. She got out of bed and took a couple of steps into the bathroom. And then the buzzing began again.
And then she was back. Shoot. She really had to learn how to control this. It would be pretty bad if it happened when she was playing a sport or in class or something. Oh well. Might as well make the most of it. If she could could get out of this confunded hall and find some clothes, it would be really useful to have a second body on standby at all times. She continued walking down the hall, and soon came to an intersection. One side was lighted by torches, and the other was completely dark. She hesitated, and took off along the lighted park. Technically speaking, both sides had a 50-50 chance of being a trap, and she would much rather see where she was going rather than stumbling around and hurting herself.
Then she felt something lick her shoulder. She turned around sharply, but there was nothing there. No leakages or something of the sort to simulate the feeling, either. Confused, she turned back around, only to find herself face to face with it.
She looked at it.
It looked at her.
She started to cry.
It started to smile.
Then the buzzing started. The smile vanished from it's face as it looked around, seemingly searching for the source of the sound. So she wasn't imagining the sound. At least something else could hear it. But this wasn't really the time for that...
Hot water hit her face. It wasn't really burning hot, but it was a startling change from what she imagined was it's cold saliva. How did this body and soul thing work, really? Does it matter if one of "her" dies? Existential questions suddenly became a lot harder to answer when you have to think enough for two separate bodies. It's two heads are better than one, not two bodies.
She didn't really feel like crying anymore. It seemed like emotional states didn't really transfer, just the memories. Her Psychology teacher would probably say that this "condition" of hers was in clear support of Cannon-Bard's Emotional Theory.
Shoot. Psychology. She was going to be seriously late for class if she didn't get out of the house. She grabbed a breakfast bar from the stash she hid from her cat, and ran towards her bicycle outside.
She instinctually hopped on the bicycle and was halfway down the main street before she realized that this wasn't the best idea in her present…. condition. Before she could get off the bike and regret her stupidity, the buzzing started. She tried to swerve to the side so that she would at land in the soft-looking bushes when she fell asleep.
Then the truck swerved towards her, and a bunch of cars honked. She had momentarily forgotten which side of the road she was on. The bushes had looked greener on the other side.
Then it switched. It lunged towards her. A pair of pasty, dirty white teeth sunk into chest.
Something hit her body and crushed her windpipe. She lost any breath that she had held onto.
It ripped her flesh, making a clean, but painful cut.
The truck driver ran out, yelling something at a nearby passerby.
It licked it's lips. Fresh meat always made it happier
Her vision faded. The driver was trying to stop the blood that was pouring out of her side
The pain increased. It was busy lapping up the blood from her open gaping wound.
Then, it was white.