Disclaimer: Anyone or anything that wasn't in the movie is mine, and anyone or anything that was in the movie is obviously not.
Author's Note: I've said it once, and I'll say it again; I suck at updating. Sorry to anyone still reading; waiting on updates like this. Anyway, the story is taking a dark turn for a while. If you could, review and tell me what you think so far. I'd appreciate it. Carrying on.
Chapter 43: Lost
I opened my eyes, and found myself in a playground, on a swing set, in the middle of the night. I was in mid-swing, actually, and I was so surprised to find myself in a park instead of my familiar room that I lost my balance and let go of the swing. I went sailing through the air and landed face-first in the gritty sand. Groaning from the pain in my freshly scoured face, I floundered blindly in the sand trying to get up. I felt ill, and my head was spinning as if I'd just stolen a power or two. I finally managed to stand up, only to lose my balance again and pitch right back onto my face. I lay still for a moment, holding my head in my hands and spitting out sand. I felt like my whole body was coursing with electricity, and I was honestly worried that my head would just float away. I'd never felt so sick before.
Slowly, slowly, I tilted my head to take in the surroundings. Even that small motion made me alarmingly dizzy. Ignoring the warning signs, I once again tried to get to my feet. An overwhelming wave of nausea crashed down on me. I lurched over to a garbage can I'd seen a few feet away and promptly threw up everything that had ever been in my stomach. When I finally stopped puking, I fell back on the ground, weak as a kitten. Using up the last of my energy, I crawled off the sandy portion of the playground and collapsed onto the cool grass. Beads of sweat stood out all over my skin, and a light breeze soon had me freezing. Shivering uncontrollably, I curled up into a ball on the grass and held my head. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut tight, but every time I closed them I got the disorienting feeling I was tumbling through space, and my stomach objected. So I forced my eyes open and stared fixedly at the grass inches from my nose. I stayed in that position for what felt like hours, not daring to move.
I couldn't collect my thoughts; every time I tried to think, they slid away like beads of water on polished glass. I grasped onto what I could—I was not where I should be, I had no idea where this was, and something was very wrong with me. I eventually realized that I was not wearing the jeans and shirt I remembered wearing last. I was dressed very strangely, and I was cold. I was wearing a flowing black silk dress and knee-high leather boots. The observation that I looked like a dark version of Alice from Resident Evil flitted across my mind and was gone.
A dull pain in my side brought to my attention the fact that I was lying on something. I felt around until I discovered it was a purse, the strap looped over my opposite shoulder. I tried to consider the pros and cons of shifting to get the purse, but couldn't gather together a coherent list, so I counted to three and hurriedly fumbled to get the bag out from under me. Once again a crushing dizziness came over me, and I fought the urge to vomit. Clutching the semi-freed purse to my chest, I lay very still and waited for the spinning in my head to subside.
The purse strap was still twisted and tangled around me, but I could get at the purse without trouble. Very, very slowly, I unclenched my arms and worked on the purse clasp. It took a while because my fingers just refused to do what I told them to. Finally, I managed to open the purse, and—because it would be unpleasant if I moved my head to look inside—began pulling things out and holding them up to my face to examine them.
A hairbrush—simple enough. A cherry red cell phone—curious, since I didn't own a phone. I'd get back to it later. A package of Juicy Fruit. A… bottle of rum? There was about an ounce of dark liquid left in the two six. The sight of alcohol made my queasy stomach flop over, and I tossed it away from me. Well, that was one mystery solved—I wasn't sick; I was drunk out of my mind. There was also an empty mickey of vodka in the spacious purse. I threw that away too. An empty plastic bag. A chocolate chip cookie from Subway. A set of keys. A few receipts. A lighter. A box of cigarettes? Half full… I shuddered and threw that over by the bottles.
Aha! A wallet. It was time to see who's purse this was. It was… mine? Inside the wallet were several neatly organised wads of cash—American, Canadian, and… Euros? There were also half a dozen different sets of ID. Rebecca Groulx; Rachelle Gomez; Rita Green… different names, different places, same face. My face. What the hell was going on?
The wallet dropped out of my numb fingers, scattering the bizarre ID cards in the grass. I shook like a leaf and hugged my knees to my chest. The last thing I could remember was Beck leaving that afternoon and then… and then…
And then I was falling off that swing. It was sometime at night, so that was at least a whole afternoon unaccounted for. Had I blacked out? Snapped worse than I thought I had? Couldn't think straight…
The time. What time was it? I didn't have a watch. Somehow, it occurred to me to check the cell phone for the time. I picked it up and flipped it open, sprawling out on my back. The background on the phone was a fluffy orange kitten in a basket. Odd, but I was so far beyond confused, I couldn't even be surprised anymore. I would've reacted the same if it was a picture of Jesus doing coke. It took a few moments for me to find and focus on the time. It was 3:12 am.
"Great," I told the phone aloud, my words slightly slurred, "Now tell me where the hell I am."
Sudden inspiration shined for a moment through my mind's alcohol-induced haze. This was my train of thought: I have a phone; people talk on phones; I need to talk to someone; I should call them… using this phone that I have! Brilliant. I'd call my house. Only problem was that I couldn't quite remember the number. I started doing trial and error. Nine wrong numbers later, I finally got the right number.
"Hello?"
"Kyle?" I asked tentatively.
"Eve!"
"Oh crap. Warren," I acknowledged flatly.
"Eve, where are you?!"
"No, no, I'm not talking to you," I said irritably, "Put Kyle on. Or Beck."
"But—"I heard a sigh on the other end, then "Fine."
A moment later, Kyle had replaced him on the phone, "Eve, you alright? Where are you?"
I was so relieved by his voice; I was breaking down, "No, I—I don't think I'm alright. I'm s-sick. And it's spinning… I don't know— Ahhh!"
The phone beeped loudly in my ear, and I accidently flung it away when the sudden noise made me twitch. Forgetting the repercussions of fast movement, I lunged after the phone. Fortunately my fingers curled around the shiny red device before the world spun end over end. I held tight to the phone with one hand and braced myself with the other as I discovered there had been a bit left in my stomach. Mostly bile. As soon as I stopped retching I rolled away to a fresh patch of grass and wiped at the sweat on my forehead, putting the phone back to my ear. Kyle was yelling.
"—Eve! Eve, answer! God, say something!"
I gulped some air before replying shakily, "I-I just… this ph-phone is dying. It beeped and… I'm s-so cold."
Kyle regained some of his calm, "Eve, how sick are you? Focus. Where are you?"
"I don't— don't know…" I said, trying not to panic, "I don't know where here is. I'm in a p-park. I could be anywhere! There's a wallet…"
"Focus, Eve. Focus. Can you try teleporting home? Try."
Obediently, I tried. I ended up teleporting a few feet away and somehow lighting a patch of grass on fire.
"Oh God, I lit the grass on fire!" I squeaked into the phone.
"What? Ummm… get away from the fire. We'll try to find you. I'll try that locating a person by picturing them thing. Don't use your pow—"
Kyle's voice was abruptly cut off. I looked at the dead screen of the cell phone. Attempting to turn it on again failed. The battery was dead.
