Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip...
Green eyes fly open as the last droplet lands on her cheek. The girl is frightened, that is the next thing that hits her. Completely unexplainable, terrible fear clenches at her heart. She sits up in darkness; a wet, slick substance is beneath her and she is surrounded by an unholy odor. Her head pounds and she feels like throwing up. What is causing all of this? She isn't claustrophobic, or is she? The girl can't remember. Can't remember…
"My name..." she croaks into the darkness. "I can't- cannot, where..." Standing upon shaky legs, she stumbles forward, hands held in front of her to meet cold, metal bars. A cell, is that what she is in?
There is a creaking from somewhere in front of her and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Every instinct screams for the girl to run, but her legs won't cooperate. Knees locked, she's sure to fall if she makes the slightest movement.
Eyes adjusting to the faint light, she squints…
A growl sounds, a puff of breath that smells like rotting death hitting her full in the face.
In front of her stands the skeletal face of a human size playing card, covered in blood and clutching a battle axe.
The girl screams.
Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…
Green eyes flicker open when a droplet hits her cheek. The girl is ecstatic, that is the second thing that hits her. Wonderful, mesmerizing, delightful ecstasy that causes her heart soar. The girl sits up, a hard mattress beneath her. The thin sheet covering her falls to her lap when she moves... Along with a stuffed bunny rabbit, that might have been pure white once upon a time. Now it is in a wretched state, and the girl looks at it in distaste. One of its button eyes is missing and several rips are poorly and loosely sewn. It seems almost sad, as it stares at the girl with its one, black button eye.
The girl returns the sad look with a smirk, reaching out a hand to easily tear off its head, stuffing fluttering in the air for a brief moment before settling on the bed. Standing up, the girl throws the only thing in the old, dingy asylum cell (for room was to generous of a word for it) to the side... For she doesn't need to be comforted.
You see, the girl is not a girl at all; she is the Red Queen.