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RebeccaLucy

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Chapter 2:

I wake up screaming in pain. It feels as if huntsmen are hunting me now. I shiver in agony.

This place is white. Pure light, like how the sun looks like when you stare at it for too long.

Where am I?

My shivering stops and the pain recedes. I am lying down. I try to stand up, but I am being held down. It is like a thousand pounds sitting on my body. I give up trying.

The floors are white. The walls are white. The ceiling is white.

However, there are no walls, ceilings or floors. It is nothing but an infinity of the color white. Am I floating?

My question is answered as I fall down into the endless white below me. I gasp and try to scream, but the wind is knocked out of me. I spin and turn in the air, barely breathing. I fling my arms around in circles.

Suddenly, I stop. I catch my breath and look around again. Nothing but white. I have time to scream this time before I start to fall again.

The fall is faster this time. My belly flops inside me and I feel my insides skip. My head becomes light.

I stop again. I choke for air. I look around. White. White. White.

I fall.

I stop.

I breath.

I fall.

I stop.

I breath.

I fall.

I stop.

I breath.

This endless tortuous routine goes on for what seems like hours. Days. Every time I fall, I scream. Every fall is faster and longer than the one before. Every time I stop I can hardly breathe. Please let me die. Let me die. Please. I cannot take this anymore.

I fall.

I stop.

I breath.

This time, I do not fall again. I look around frantically. My white surroundings are turning grey. Fear consumes me. What is this? What is going on? Where am I?

I groan as the pain I woke up to starts again, only this time, it is even worse than before. It feels like the rouge dogs are ripping me apart like a fox. Shred by shred. Ear by ear. Arm by arm. Ripping my head off my neck and my legs off my hips. I feel like I am being eaten alive; maybe I am. Maybe some giant ferocious devil-beast is enjoying my torso right now, savoring every single flavor that touches his tongue. I yell as I am broken apart.

Something touches my right hand. Not something scary, hard or rough like I thought it would have been. But something soft, gentle, caring.

Another hand.

I look to my right and see a pale-skinned hand washing into existence. The color leads up to an arm, a shoulder, a torso, two legs, a head. The person's face comes into view. It is a girl. Just about my age. My white surroundings darken and adjust, hurting my eyes.

It's a room. A regular room. Just like rooms in cottages.

I sigh in relief. Am I back to my regular home? I look to the girl holding my hand. She is beautiful, but I do not know her.

She smiles warmly at me.

"Hello, dear."