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Overwatch: Alive
Prologue: Nearly Dead
How long had she been here?
"What is your name?"
There was the question again. The question that came out from the dark, piercing her ears like a knife through flesh. Worming its way into her mind and body. The question that once again, as she had always done, attempted to answer.
"Am…"
She couldn't get it out. Her lips were parched. Her tongue was dry. Her throat was on fire. Sweat and tears drenched her skin, and her hair, long, black, and limp, was plastered against her flesh. Once, she was said to have the grace of the swan. Now, she was but a wingless bird, awaiting slaughter.
How long had she been here?
"What is your name?"
She heard the words, but not the voice behind them. She heard the words, but not the language. French, English, Spanish, German…the language was gone. All that was left was the question.
"Am…"
No more words escaped her tongue. Blinking, she looked into the dark around her. Dark below, where her feet felt its chill. Dark above, bereft of light. Dark around. Dark that she leant against, before screaming – the dark was a wall. The dark had shocked her. The dark hurt her, and forbade sleep. Sitting on this stool, shivering in the dark, the smell of sweat and urine rising around her…
She wanted to die. But the dark wouldn't let her. She had not the strength to break through the dark. And all that she had was…was the small silver band on her left fourth finger…special finger…how long had it been there? Had the dark put it there?
There was a man, maybe…she'd been wearing white…he'd been wearing dark…was he of the dark?
How long had she been here?
How long had it taken to want to die? How long since she was taken from the light? How long before…before…
She screamed, as she rested her head against the dark, and it shocked her.
"What is your name?"
"Am…" She bit her tongue. There was a time, long ago…hours…days…weeks…when she had answered. She could barely remember what had happened after that. But the voice kept asking. The voice refused to let her rest. The voice was with the dark, and the dark sought her harm. Maybe if she answered this time…maybe…possibly…
"Amelie."
She screamed, as the dark became white. As the light seared through her eyes, drilling through her skull. She fell off the stool, and into her own filth. A high-pitched wine filled the white, and remained in her ears, even after the white returned to dark.
"That is not your name."
She let out a sob, but was bereft of tears. So long had it been since she'd had water.
"What is your name?"
She curled herself into a ball, ready to let it end. Wanting it to end. The dark was around her. Why couldn't it take her? Why were they, whoever they were, doing this? The dark had no answers, but maybe in the dark, she could find sanctuary.
How long had she been here?
How long had she been here, lying on the ground? How long was it, until she was vaguely aware of water being poured down her throat. How long until she felt herself being lifted…not into Heaven, but up into Hell. On the stool. Surrounded by the dark, which harmed her. Above her filth, still drenched in sweat, and defiled by blood. How long…
"What is your name?"
How many…
"What is your name?"
Times…and long…so many times…a long time…
"What is your name?"
"Am…"
She dared try to answer.
"Am…"
Try, and failed.
"I…am…Am…"
"What is your name?"
"…elie…"
Failed, and was thus assaulted by the light and noise once more.
"That is not your name."
Before falling back into the filth.
How long had she been here?
How long had she wanted to die?
How long did she have to remain alive?
The dark had no answer. Only the question.
"What is your name?"