Blake knew only a few things when her mind had partially woken up. The fact that her eyes were shut. The fact that she was lying somewhere cozy. The fact that she knew there were other people, talking, even when she couldn't hear what they were saying. And the fact that she needed to tell them something.
Something important.
'But what?' her hazy, unfocused mind asked to no one in particular.
Maybe she was asking at herself. Maybe she was asking at fate itself. Blake didn't know whom she was asking that question for, and she didn't want to know the answer to it. Not right now. Not in the near, nor the long future ahead of her.
She couldn't bring herself to do anything. Not to speak. Not to move any part of her body; not even her smallest finger. She didn't know why.
Maybe it was because she couldn't do anything.
Maybe it was because she didn't want to do anything.
She also knew that she was exhausted, more exhausted than she'd ever felt during her entire life.
It was a type of exhaustion she'd never felt before too.
It wasn't an exhaustion in which she had continuously run for miles with no stop, nor was it an exhaustion in which she had completed dozens of exams in one day.
No, this was an exhaustion in which even a thousand words could not even accurately describe.
Her body was frozen, melting into the soft mattress, fusing with it.
It was as if she never had a body, nor mind, of her own.
She couldn't even be sure if she was in any pain.
She simply allowed her dreams to take her where it wanted her to be; letting the flow of her mind guide her to some place that was, hopefully, safe and nice.
Hopefully.
Everything was unauthentic.
There was no other way to explain it.
She was in her room. The books were stacked in the correct order. A few of her clothes were hazardly placed on the floor carelessly. One small novel was placed on the desk right next to her bed; a novel in which she was currently reading.
It looked just the way she remembered it.
But it was also different.
Very different.
It was as if she was looking through a sunset-colored lenses. Either that or the walls were transparent and the rays of the sunset had found it's way into her room, or, more precisely, it invaded her room.
It changed her room.
It changed every color within the objects of her room.
The wall, in which was previously colored with light purple, was now light orange instead.
Her bed, in which was previously covered by a dark purple mattress, had changed into a dark red instead.
Everything had changed into yellow and red, to put it simply.
It was so surreal.
Blake knew, that with all of her heart, she was standing in her room; the room she'd been inhabiting for years.
But, looking at it, the odd change of colours, and the lack of noise; no sound of her mother cooking or watching something downstairs, nor were there any sounds of any vehicle passing by, the girl knew that she wasn't in her room, not entirely.
This was anything but usual.
One might've thought that, the white silence surrounding everything and the sudden change in colors, might make everything off-putting. Unnerving.
But, to her own surprise, Blake felt the exact opposite way.
In some way, she could think rationally. Calmly.
She didn't sense a hint of fear from within herself. Not one bit.
She was not afraid.
'Is this… a dream?' she tried to guess, still perplexed and shocked by where she was, her amber-colored eyes rapidly darting around in order to see if anything was amiss.
A dream. That was her conclusion. There was no other way to explain it.
Right?
There was no way to explain the way her room looked. There was no other way to explain the lack of noise.
And there was certainly no other way for her to explain why her body felt like it was made out of light itself. As if she wasn't really where she was. As if she didn't exist.
There was no other way to explain it.
'But… why doesn't it feel like a dream?' her mind asked to no one nor anything in particular.
She had asked towards nothing, and nothing answered her.
Her body, which had already been light before, became even lighter, as if she was a ghost or astral-projecting.
But, even after she told herself that this was all a dream, after she told herself to wake up, she still stayed in this place, and nothing happened.
She wasn't waking up.
She didn't know what had happened to her. She didn't know what was happening to her. She didn't know what was about to happen to her.
She knew nothing; nothing except that this was too familiar and too realistic to be a dream.
If this was a memory of some sort, then she couldn't remember which memory this was.
"Hey," a voice said from behind her.
A voice that she knew she should know, a voice she knew that she should recognize, but didn't, not in the way that she'd expect.
She knew that voice. That comforting, light-hearted, calm voice. But at the same time, it was so unfamiliar.
Blake knew that, in the back of her head, not only could she identify that voice, but she had so many emotions towards it.
Many more emotions than she'd ever remember feeling.
It was overwhelming, in a sense.
But moreso, it was frustrating for her not to be able to pinpoint who the voice belonged to. It was even more frustrating that the girl didn't know why she didn't remember as much as she'd hoped to.
She slowly turned around, afraid that everything would shatter when she moved, afraid that the person behind her would disappear, like a dust being blown away, the second Blake saw her.
And what she saw immediately caused an immense reaction towards herself.
The girl in front of her.
The girl with the yellow, curly, long mane that, in this particular lighting, made it appear as if they were glowing strands of angelic, dream-like gold.
The girl with those beautiful, almost hypnotic, red-tinted eyes that were large and full of emotions, as if they had a life on their own.
Silently, Blake prefered those colors to be violet instead.
The girl she knew that she should recognize. A girl she must know. A girl so dear to her; so important.
The girl she couldn't remember.
Blake's feet took a few steps, her entire body slowly, but surely, walking closer towards the girl, only stopping itself when she was only a few inches away from the girl.
The faint freckles around her cheeks. The shape of her nose. The small bags under her eyes. The small wrinkle around her eyebrow.
Blake could see it all.
Every single detail adorning the blonde's face, the blonde's features that she doubted the blonde herself knew about: Blake saw it all.
So how was it possible that, at the same time, the girl in front of her was nothing more than a blur.
A blur.
That was what the girl was and was not.
How was it possible? And why?
It was as if Blake had never seen her before; never in her life.
Blake frowned in intensity, trying to recall something about the girl, something that no one could see, but hear instead.
Her name.
The raven-haired girl wasn't sure if she actually recalled what that special name was, but she tried to say it anyways.
Her mouth was opened. Her vocal chords trembled with force as she spoke. Her lips formed itself in the way that she wanted; in the way that the blonde's name was pronounced.
"..."
A breath was the only thing to come out of her mouth.
Her face turned into one of shock, before slowly melting away, changing into an even deeper intensity; a profound concentration.
"..."
The name she so badly wanted to hear didn't reach towards her own ear. And she was forced to simply stood there in wonder; wondering about many things.
But, most importantly, wondering why she couldn't say the girl's name, if she truly did remember what her name was.
With a sudden realisation, the realisation that Blake might not be able to remember her name anymore, she took a step back.
She took a step away from the person she could no longer remember much of.
Blake, without truly realising it, let out a shuddering breath and crossed her arms in an attempt to comfort herself by a hug. All the while, she sensed that, in the corner of her eyes, tears were starting to form.
'Why am I crying?' she thought to herself, wiping away the non-existent tears, fighting back the urge to weep.
When her eyes were dry and she was sure that no tears would soon fall out, her hand instinctively reached out onto her chest, to where her heart was placed.
Her small, thin, delicate fingers attached themselves onto her chest, trying to feel something, anything, in order to find out why she had been in tears earlier on.
Hollowness.
A lack of something.
Something important.
But what?
Another voice drew her attention. A voice she deeply recognized. A voice from behind her. A voice that belonged to her.
Her own voice.
"Hey."
She turned around and saw that, curled up in a ball of sadness, covered by a blanket, hiding her face with her knees and arms, was herself.
'I look… she looks like a mess,' Blake thought with wide eyes, shocked to see her own self being in this state.
Of course, using the word 'mess' would mean that she was simplifying things.
Blake took more than a few steps back until the wall greeted her back, meaning that she was in the corner of the room, knowing that, for whatever reason, it was best for her to simply watched what happened.
These two girls, being the blond-haired girl and… herself, wouldn't be able to see her, as in, the real her; the her that was practically a ghost.
So, she watched as the scene in front of her unfolded, similar to the way a person would watch old videos of their childhood.
"I…" The blonde girl scratched the back of her head, looking at the other Blake with so much concern. The sight warmed the current Blake's heart and brought a small smile on her lips.
"I know why you're sad. I know about what happened, between you and Sun."
The other Blake hugged herself tighter while the current one raised both of her eyebrows in shock and interest.
"How?" the other Blake asked, her voice suggesting that she'd been crying. Either that or she hadn't drank anything for weeks.
The girl chose to believe the former option.
The blonde put her hand down and threw both of them into her pocket, shrugging warily as she replied, "Ruby told me."
"Oh," was the black-haired teenager's only reply after a moment of silence.
The Blake that wasn't part of this dream slash memory, scrunched up her face, partly in confusion as to why her flower-loving friend would tell this girl about that, and partly in interest as to what this strangely familiar blonde would do next.
"It's fine if you don't wanna talk about it," said the yellow-haired girl as she slowly walked towards Blake, careful not to show any sign of aggression of hostility, acting towards her with such great care, as if treating her like a thin piece of glass that could break at any moment. "I just want you to know that it would never happen again."
The real Blake's reaction to this was to simply raise her eyebrow, wondering what she'd meant by those words.
The dream Blake had a very different reaction, however; she had a much more vocal and emotional reaction towards the girl's words.
And, looking at how broken she was, the current Blake shouldn't really be surprised that her other self was acting the way she was.
The other Blake tilted her head up, her gaze meeting the blonde's, while at the same time, shocking the real Blake at how devastated her other self looked.
Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose and cheeks weren't in her usual pale pink, instead, it was almost in a crimson shade of red.
It was clear to everyone in that room that the poor girl had been crying.
It was also clear to everyone that the girl was also trying to hide her tears. And failing miserably at it.
It took the blonde only a few seconds before she decided what she was going to do. Blake immediately noted that this girl was a person who acted with not much thinking, if any at all, fully relying on her feelings instead of her brain, especially seeing the way the blonde quickly gave the other Blake an embrace.
It was clear to Blake now that she meant a lot to the blonde, especially seeing the way she cradled the weeping Blake, holding her gently, softly, warmly.
"It's okay, everything's okay now," she soothed the dark-haired girl. "It won't happen again, I won't let it."
It was also clear to Blake that the blonde meant a lot to her.
The dream Blake let a single tear dropped onto the other girl's shoulder as she spoke one word. One word that the current Blake could not hear, no matter how much she wanted to nor how much she tried.
"..."
The blonde's name.
"..." the dream Blake spoke again, her arms reaching out towards the other girl, embracing her back as more tears escaped from her eyes, flowing down like river.
"What he did… What he almost did," the girl said with grimace on her face, her grip on the other girl becoming stronger and more protective. The current Blake was certain that the blonde herself didn't notice, but she surely did, and that small action meant a lot to her for an unknown reason.
"It shouldn't happen. It should never happen," the yellow-haired girl continued with a hint of regret in her tone of voice.
"It's not your fault," the now Blake thought and wanted to say, and the dream Blake actually said, albeit in a much slower tone.
"I…" said the blonde indecisively, red eyes looking down. "I want you to know that I would never hurt you Blake. I swear it, on my life, I would never hurt you."
There was a sparkle on the dream Blake's eyes, as if all this time, the sky had been filled with the dark night, but, somehow, because of the blonde's words, the bright sun had finally risen.
The real Blake also had that spark.
"Thank you, …," the dream Blake whispered, the last word, which was undoubtedly the name she wanted so badly to hear, was muted out yet again, as if it was censored for some baffling reason.
Everything started to fade away, flickering, like a flashlight that was repeatedly being turned on and off again.
The whole room, everything, it all was starting to become darker and darker each second.
Blake knew what this meant; she was waking up.
She wasn't scared. Not at all, really. She knew that it was a matter of time before she finally went back into reality. She knew that, one way or another, she was going to leave this dreamland.
Now, everything was dark, except for the two girls that still embraced each other.
Blake's eyebrow raised a little at the sight of the two girls glowing, even if only faintly.
She sighed while closing her eyes before opening them back again, looking at the blonde more than anything.
Blake knew that, based on how they interacted, and how she felt, that the blonde was anything but a stranger. She was not just a friend, but she was closer than any of her other friends, even Ruby. She was her best friend.
Blake, for some reason, felt like it was more than that.
She might not had remembered much about this girl, if anything, really. But one thing was for certain.
Yang would never hurt her.
A small smile formed itself on the girl as she placed her hand back on her chest again. She felt something this time.
She didn't know what it was, but she liked it.
Amber eyes closed itself, but before they did, she whispered one last thing.
"Thank you, Yang."
Slowly, unsteadily, gold orbs fluttered open, confusion and fear instantly filling them, but only barely.
They were unclear: Her vision, her hearing, her sense of touch, her feelings. Everything.
She tried to move her arm, her legs, any part of her body.
But she couldn't move them, any of them. Not yet. No matter how hard she tried.
Unsatisfied by the results, she resulted to try and see better. She was laid in a soft texture, a bed was her guess, but she couldn't understand why.
She was facing up, looking at the bland white ceiling.
'...White?' a part of her asked, hazily remembering that her room regularly had a light violet ceiling.
Suddenly, came the smell of something far from pleasant.
It wasn't a horrible stench, but it was a stench that reminded her of needles, stethoscope, and many of those other hospital devices.
Which meant she was in a hospital.
Something bad happened to her.
She tried to speak, but there was some kind of pressure around her mouth that made it harder for her to move her lips.
She looked down onto her nose and found that she was wearing an oxygen mask.
Something very bad happened to her.
She heard voices. Voices that belonged to people.
A person suddenly stood above her, looking at her. He appeared to be saying something, but she couldn't understand what.
She could faintly see the outline of his lips moving around, forming different shapes, and the fact that there was noises coming out of it.
But that was it.
Noises.
Noises that was supposed to be words.
Noises that, in her ears, wasn't words.
Then, another person showed up.
This time, Blake knew who she was. She could never forget those dark amber eyes that were like her own, only darker in comparison. She could never forget the small, gentle smile she always wore; the smile she was wearing now.
"Mom," she breathed, knowing that the woman in mention would know that she called out for her, even if she couldn't hear the girl's word.
She fell into unconsciousness once again, but this time, she knew that when she woke up, she wouldn't be alone.
She felt the sensation of her fingers twitching with little of her control.
She felt her eyebrows moving, furrowing themselves as she opened her eyes.
She felt a small, whisper-like moan escaped her lips, one that she wasn't too sure others might hear.
She slowly opened her eyes, afraid of what she was going to see, now that her mind had became more clear.
It was the same foreign white ceiling.
She heard two noises coming from her right; pages flipping and electronic beeping.
Slowly as to not hurt her already pained head, Blake turned around.
There she sat; Kali Belladonna.
Her hair was tied to a little messy, but strong bun. She was wearing a simple white shirt with a black leggings. And around her back and shoulders, lied a blanket.
'Someone must've put it there,' she thought to herself absentmindedly.
Many believed that she and her mother was as different as night and day. Especially since her mother tend to be more extroverted and she herself tend to be more… socially inactive.
Many believed that Blake was the exact copy of her father, Ghira Belladonna, for many reasons. But, the main reason was because they both tend to brood so much.
But when she saw the way her mother was reading right now -flipping these pages once in a time, her expressions changing only so slightly that Blake was certain only she would notice, absorbing every information like a sponge absorbing liquid- she knew that those people believed in the wrong thing.
Subconsciously, Blake shifted to her side so she could see her mother better. Her mother must've heard her, because as soon as she did it, her mother looked at her and instantly gasped, "Blake."
"Hey," Blake tried to say, but ended up with a voice quieter than a whisper.
It was then did she realise that she was still wearing the oxygen mask.
She tried to lift her arm and open it, but realised that the task was impossible with how weirdly heavy, yet weak her arm was.
Her mother flashed her a smile that could soothe Blake even in the middle of a hurricane. "The doctors told me you're supposed to wake up in another hour."
Blake's shoulders lifted slightly as an attempt to shrug.
The woman stood up and walked towards her daughter, pulled out the oxygen mask for her, and started cupping her cheek as she sat on the edge of the bed, asking, "How are you feeling?"
Blake frowned as she started asking that question herself.
She already knew that moving was a task that had became as hard as interacting with people she'd just met, which, in her case, was extremely hard.
But, as she started to try and truly feel herself, she didn't feel pain, not any kind of pain.
Her entire body was sore, but that was it.
There wasn't any part of her body that hurt.
What was really concerning for Blake was her memories. It was… blurrier, for the lack of a better term. Almost as if she was holding a camera that couldn't be zoomed in or out.
"Heavy," the girl uttered after a long thought. "... And… Weak," she added, looking at her arms and wondering why it wasn't obeying her command to simply move.
"Mom, what… what happened?" Blake asked, feeling herself became more and more worried the more she got a better look at her mother.
Not only were the woman's eyes red, but the entirety of herself looked very concerning.
Her hair was tied to a bun. Blake knew how much her mother hated tying them into that. She only wore them for emergencies.
And, based on how disheveled her clothes were, the girl guessed that her mother hadn't showered in… however long she was asleep.
But what was most concerning was her look.
Her mother had an expression that was filled with many emotions. Emotions caused by a deep emotional pain. Emotions caused by an accident that happened to her daughter.
And much more.
So, with that, Blake asked again, mouthing her words more, hoping it sounded more clear. "Mom. Please, tell me what happened." After quite a short time of thinking, she, with her eyes wide, asked, "And where's Dad? Is he at work?"
Her mother sighed in reply. "I'm sorry, Blake, I'm sorry for what happened… I should've known not to trust her…"
'Her?' she repeated in a questioning tone, as her feelings of uneasiness grew more and more, dreading to find some sense of explanation from her mother, or anyone, really.
"Mom, what are you talking about?" she gasped out, unable to contain her worry, but, to her luck, the woman in front of her couldn't hear any of the words she was speaking. Either it was because she was too deep in thought or because Blake's voice was just too small.
"She just…" her mother stuttered, something that almost never happened. "She just looks like such a good girl, I should've known better, I just…" she bit her lip before sighing, giving up. "You two were the best of friends, maybe even-"
"Mom," she intended to shout, but ended up speaking in a volume that was barely larger than normal. "Who are you talking about?"
Her mother quickly gaped at her, as if she'd said the most unbelievable thing on this planet.
"...You… don't remember?" she asked, her voice suddenly weak and hollow.
"Remember what?!" Blake shot back, in both desperation and anger.
"The reason why you were in a coma for the three days!" her mother shouted, her voice echoing throughout the room, and possibly the whole floor.
Blake's mouth hung open as no words came out of it as her heart skipped a beat. She knew that she'd been unconscious, but she thought she'd only been asleep for hours, not even a day.
"...Three days?" the dark-haired girl echoed. Suddenly, her entire body became heavier, her chest especially so. Her mind had become more and more tired, yet, awake at the same time.
She didn't feel good.
"Honey," her mother said, snapping her out of her train of thoughts. Her tone was soft and motherly-like, it was the type that brought Blake comfort more than she'd admit to anyone. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"I…" Blake closed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows in intense concentration, trying to remember anything. Her hand, as heavy as it was at the time, moved to touch her head, trying to numb down the pain she felt as well as the sudden exhaustion.
"I don't know…"
"Please, Blake," the woman said, her voice as soft and gentle as a flute. "Try, for me…"
"I am, Mom," she replied with her eyes still closed, "but it's all so… fuzzy," she said, unable to find the better word to describe it, "it's like… it's like they're dreams, but… not…?" she said, halfly confused.
"What are you seeing?" her mother demanded, worry starting to grow noticeably on both her face and her voice.
Flashes of images appear the more she concentrated.
School. Ruby. Raining. Umbrella. Sidewalk. A smile.
A Raincoat.
The pink raincoat with red dots.
"I was…" Blake tried to explain, feeling as if she was experiencing that day once more, "I was walking home… it's raining… I remember getting mad over the stupid pink raincoat you brought me…"
Her mother chuckled on the raincoat part, not to her surprise.
"And then… A tree? A… something…" her brows furrowed ever deeper, but, it was as if she was trying to catch something, but ended up catching it's shadow instead.
It just didn't feel right.
"...Nothing… Not yet," the girl finally breathed out.
Light amber eyes looked up to find the darker ones to be filled with distraught.
It gave her the courage to ask again, "Mom… what happened?"
Her mother simply looked down before hugging her, the woman was obviously still deep in thought. Blake embraced back but with so much gentleness, her mind racing with a million questions, questions that she, with no doubt knew, her mother wouldn't be able to answer.
"The important thing is that you're okay," her mother whispered, her voice cracking. Blake's eyes widened when she felt her shoulders getting wet.
Realising that her mother was in tears, the girl tightened her embrace as best she could, giving her mother as much comfort as she could, silently letting her know that her daughter truly was awake, and that she was alright.
But, somewhere in the back of her mind, the girl knew something was amiss.
No, not something, someone.
But, when she tried to recall who that person was, she ended up getting nothing but fragments. Pieces.
Yellow hair.
Purple eyes.
A goofy smile.
So little that she could remember.
And, as much as she hated it, so much more that she could not.
Looking into nothingness, Blake thought to herself, no, she told herself, 'Something's wrong.'
The only question was; what?
Author's Notes : So, originally, this was supposed to be a long chapter, and I mean, a very long chapter. The mid-draft had about 7.000 words, and I wasn't even halfway finished!
So, instead of taking a very long time developing a very long and messy chapter, I, instead, decided to cut out the first half of the chapter, add more details into it, and so, this chapter was born!
I would also like to give a shout-out to NightFlare! You're the best for always reviewing my work with so much positivity! I wish I could actually PM you, that way, we can have so much fun chatting with each other!
So, lastly… goodbye!