The air that Allison was gasping in was dry and stale as she tried turning her head to figure out where she was. For a moment she thought she might still be in the void; everything was dark and there was no sign of anyone else with her. But she quickly pushed the thought from her head as she could feel her body lying against something. She had fingers and toes and everything in between. She smiled into the darkness as she tried to stretch out her arms and legs, everything felt so stiff, but was stopped before she could really move.
Confused, she moved her fingers along what had stopped her. Whatever it was felt silky and plush, and when she pushed down on it she was met with resistance as if the fabric was covering something hard. Moving her hands above her head she followed the barrier which seemed to box her in. A worrying thought entered her mind. When she brought her hands up in front of her, her fears were confirmed.
She was in her casket.
Allison struggled to keep her breathing slow, suddenly faced with the reality that she had to conserve her energy and oxygen. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes as she looked into the nothingness, her hands still placed against the lid containing her the small space.
"Breathe, Allison, just breathe." She dared to say out loud. Being able to hear her own voice for real comforted her a little, enough to clear her mind enough to assess the situation. Applying as much pressure as she could, she tried pressing up against the lid. It didn't move.
So, she was buried. Six feet under ground. She wasn't all that surprised, considering she'd just come to terms with the fact that she was dead. But now she wasn't, and she had to get out.
Bringing her hands down to feel what she had at her disposal, to find anything that could help her, Allison could tell what she'd been buried in. Her simple black button-up cardigan and black eyelet dress. She wondered who had chosen her outfit, her father? Maybe Lydia had taken it upon herself to at least make sure she went out in style. Whoever it was obviously didn't think she'd be coming back; there was nothing in the pockets, nothing useful or of sentimental value. She brought her hands back down to her sides and thought hard.
She was strong, but didn't have a whole lot of space. If she kicked hard enough, she could probably break through the wood above her since there was already so much weight for it to bear, but then she'd be covered in dirt and unable to breathe. Now that she had a steady flow of oxygen, even for a small amount of time, she really didn't want to go back to that whole 'not breathing' thing again. If only she had something she could cover her face with so she at least wouldn't have to worry about breathing in dirt while she fought her way to the surface. Out of habit, she began tugging at her sleeve as she nervously searched for an answer.
Her cardigan! Maneuvering her way in the limited space, she took off the sleeves and brought the sweater up to her face. Flipping it upside down, she kept her head in the neck hole and brought up the rest of the garment above her head. Starting at her neck, she buttoned up the cardigan until she reached the top of her head. Taking the sleeves in her hands, she tied a knot around the remaining fabric so nothing would be able to fall down the other hole. She withdrew her hands and shook her head a little to test her makeshift mask. Perfect.
Now she just had to break the lid. Hopefully her father hadn't invested in a coffin that was too good of a quality (words she never thought would ever cross her mind) so she could get through it easier. There was only about a foot of space above her body, just enough space to try some quick, sharp kicks.
"Now or never," Allison mumbled into her sweater, desperate to be out. With one more deep breath, she braced her self as she began pounding at the lid with her foot. At least they'd buried her in her favourite boots, so she didn't have to worry too much about how much this was going to hurt. If she'd been buried in her flats, she'd be dead. Again.
The lid of the casket let out a creak and she sighed in relief. She kept throwing her foot up against the fabric with tore easily, and soon dirt began to spill into the coffin. She couldn't see it through her sweater, but the smell of earth and the soft pattering of it against the silk was unmistakeable. Giving it one last good kick to make sure the wood was certainly broken, she wriggled around so her head was under the hole she'd made. Now, the really hard part.
Feeling with her hands, she found she'd made a hole about a foot around in size. The wood was so splintered she could easily make it a foot wider with just her hands, snapping off a few pieces at a time. More dirt began falling onto her. She must not have been buried too long; the dirt was only now starting to settle, becoming less loose earth and more packed. Within minutes she was able to sit up through the opening, dirt falling to occupy the space she was just in.
Reaching her hands up, she dug her fingers into the earth above her and started to pull it down while simultaneously pushing up from in the coffin. Slowly but surely, she managed to pull her torso out of the casket, her feet planting against the floor of it. Breathing wasn't easy, but she managed. This feeling of being surrounded only by the earth was worse than lying in her coffin. At least there she had space. Now she was completely encompassed by the ground with nowhere to go but up.
She kept pulling down the dirt from above her and pushing it down beneath her until she managed to stand. Hopefully she only had a few more feet to go before she reached the surface.
It was difficult. Most of her body was exposed to the ground because of her dress and the dirt was sticking to the sweat on her skin. But as she kept digging, kept pushing onward, she was happy despite how scared and uncomfortable she was. She could feel. She would never have guessed how much she would miss just being able to sweat and move and struggle to breathe.
Suddenly, her fingers felt cool and were no longer touching dirt. She'd hit the surface. With a new surge of energy, she kept clearing her way until she was able to find a grip on the grass above her, pulling herself up and out of the earth.
Allison was out. She collapsed onto the grass, ripping her cardigan off of her head and taking deep, gulping breaths of the cool night air. She lay there for a few moments, taking in the smells that surrounded her, smells that she never thought she'd experience again. Freshly cut grass, flowers, and that fresh scent that always hung around on cold nights. She barely even registered how much she was shivering until she sat up, her breathing finally slow enough for her to concentrate on herself and what was around her.
Looking up at the sky, Allison saw the fat crescent of a moon which gave her light by which to see. The night was cloudless, giving the air around her that dry coolness which forced her to pick up her now-grimy sweater and tug it on quickly, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. Turning her head, she was faced with the last image she'd seen back in the void, her tombstone.
Allison Argent
January 31, 1997 - March 17, 2014
Lover, Daughter, Friend
Allison stroked the words that were engraved in the hard stone. Of course, no mention of her bravery, her being a warrior. A normal description for a normal teenage girl who led a normal life until her tragic passing. Her father was still keeping her cover.
She was suddenly very aware of just how dry her throat was; how the empty pit in her stomach hadn't faded even though she was out of danger. Standing, she faced away from her grave and the hole she'd just emerged from and started to run towards the gates of the cemetery, forcing herself not to look back. Running felt amazing, she was finally able to warm up her muscles which probably hadn't been used in weeks. Her dress flapped against her legs in the wind she was creating, her lips instinctively drew up into a smile as she felt her freedom. That was, until she was stopped by the very locked up gates in front of her. Shrugging her shoulders, she hoisted up her leg so her boot could lock onto the first line horizontal bars. Breaking out of a cemetery wasn't the craziest thing she'd done tonight.
Landing on her feet on the other side after a quick jump, Allison realized that she had no idea where to go from here. Looking down the road in front of her all she saw was the empty street, streetlights tinging everything with yellow. Her dad wasn't here, he wasn't even in the country any more. That is, if what she saw in the void was true. And that would mean Isaac was gone as well. She had no way of communicating with them, not without finding someone else first. There was only one other person whose instincts she trusted enough to be the first to find out she was alive. One person who might believe what she had to say.
Her legs carried her down the sidewalk, block by block, with barely instruction from Allison until she was standing in front of the door of a house. She had no idea what time it was or if anyone was home, but lifted her hand to rap on the door anyway. It was wrenched open before her knuckles had a chance to hit the wood. He'd probably heard her heart beat from the moment she rounded corner onto his street, smelled her as she walked up the steps of his porch. She was staring into the eyes of Scott McCall once again.
