Chapter 11 - We ride at dawn, bitch!

With a loud bang, a swear and a deep breath, Lauren came back to life. Her body felt strange, her chest hurt, and her throat felt raw. It reminded her a little of when she woke up in that strange world two weeks ago. Greedily, she took in breath after breath, feeling light-headed.

When she had opened her eyes those two weeks ago, she had been in the hospital and not in the cafeteria of her school, like she expected to. Weird people were there, calling her Viv. Obviously, she thought they were crazy, mentally retarded, playing a joke on her. Martha, the annoying psychologist, talked to her like she was the one who was stupid when obviously it had been her. It had been a nightmare.

There was something distinctively familiar when she woke up this time. Somehow, she felt tall again, however that felt like. She gave in to the urge of touching her face. Her nails were short and not pink, she hated it, but she felt her nose and her lips. Was that a pimple on her forehead?

"I am beautiful again!" Lauren yelled at the top of her lungs, sitting up and opening her eyes like it was the first time. Even her voice was like she remembered it.

She was laying on the ground in a room she had never seen before. It was not really big, but somehow six sexy grown-ass men still fit into it and in the corner laid a chair. Why was there a chair laying around, don't people usually sit on them?

"And blond," she started sobbing, pulling at her hair, running her fingers through it, feeling the soft texture. It stinged a little as she pulled, but she didn't mind the pain, it reminded her that she was alive. That she wasn't stuck in that awful and ugly body. Hot fat tears were running over her cheeks.

"What is this?" Her fingers stop at the ends of her silky strands. "Is this frizz? What the fuck?" The ends of her hair were not soft like the rest of it but rather dry and strawy. But she had hair masks for that, which she used religiously every other day.

"Viv, you are alive, thank god," a guy said suddenly next to her. Lauren jumped a little and swirled around, looking at one of the guys in the room. He had black shiny hair and dark eyes, but so did they all as she inspected them closer. She frowned, biting her lip. Why did he seem so familiar?

"What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?" The words were pressed through her teeth, her eyes narrowed.

Was she still stuck in that nightmare world where she was a brunette and had no boobs and everyone kept calling her Viv? Did she not escape after all, was her blond hair just imagination, a dream, a hallucination? What had Martha said about this, had she been right all along?

"Viv?" The guy sounded unsure, a little nervous even as he took in her glare. He was hesitant, like he was talking to a rabid animal.

"You told us to call you Viv just yesterday," another one stated, sounding more accusing.

"This is exactly what Martha warned me about," Lauren muttered to herself, getting lost in her own thoughts. Martha said she, Lauren, was just a splinter of Vivian. That Vivian was the real and that she, Lauren, was not. The life Lauren remembered, the body she thought was hers, it was all not real.

"Who is Martha?" Another one of the hotties asked her innocently, leaning in closer. She could almost taste his breath on her lips.

"You are all not real! You are all just fragments of my imagination. The stress of studying at university has just gotten to me. This is a dream," she kept muttering to herself. This is what Martha had told her. She hadn't been sure, Martha had said, perhaps the choking caused some kind of trauma in her brain or the university stress combined with the choking trauma resulted in a split. She reached her arms out, hugging herself, holding her together.

"You are not going to university, you are a high school student," one of the guys clarified, looking puzzled to his friends. They also just shrugged. Briefly looking up, Lauren saw their faces. Worry, confusion, helplessness. It didn't matter. They were not real anyway.

"No, that is not true. I know it is not. Martha talked to me about it. I just need to work through this. You are not real. Okay, breathe in 7, hold 3 and breathe out 7," Lauren continued. "This is a hallucination, a dream. I am not Lauren, I am Vivian Backer, a 23-year-old student studying economics." She started breathing in the rhythm.

"You are definitely not 23, that would even be older than Sam!" one of them exclaimed. He was one to talk, all of them looked in their mid twenties anyway! Maybe Vivian went to university with them? But still, it didn't feel right to her, they all seemed familiar in a way that Vivian's life never had been.

"Wait a second, I know you. Aren't you from La Push?" She asked disrupting her breathing exercise, her eyes zoning onto the guy who had dared to speak up.

"Very sharp observation," yet another of the guys muttered underneath his breath.

Lauren paused a second, releasing her arms from the self-hug. Her hair was blond, she was pretty again and now she was surrounded by guys from La Push. There is only one test that would tell her the truth. She brought her hands to her chest, feeling her full and plump breasts. Her fingers dug painfully into her skin. The pain, the realization, all combined made something click.

"I am not Vivan. I am Lauren, I have tits again that don't look like deflated water balloons," it dawned on her. "I am Lauren, Martha was wrong. This is not a dream. This is not imagination. I am real," she concluded and started laughing. And laughing and just couldn't seem to stop. It was a hollow laugh without any happiness in it, it was cold and calculated.

"Lauren is back bitches!"

Someone slapped her across the face. First, she didn't feel anything, all she could do was gape at the guy who had dared to touch her. He stared back at her. It seemed that even he himself was surprised by what he had done. Then the sharp pain pulled her back to reality. The laughter stopped and her hand went up to hold her hot and probably tomato red cheek. If that bruised and ruined her face, she swore he had to die.

"What the fuck dude. Are you fucking crazy?" Lauren sprang up to her feed, her baring teeth and clenching her fists. She had just found herself, had just found her beautiful old self for what? For that insolent little shit to slap her?

"You could have really hurt her," one of the wolves protested as well. His comment went ignored.

"Do you wanna fight? Fight me bitch!" Her voice carried through the room. She didn't see anyone else anymore, just that guy who had dared to slap her. He was a little taller than the other, a little more muscular. His face seemed so punchable, it was almost inviting a chair to hit him.

"Calm down, calm down," one of the other guys insisted. His hands were raised like he was trying to tame a horse, trying to assuage her.

His glaringly calm demeanor, his arrogant attitude, it made her even more angry. She wanted to claw his eyes out, but then she remembered that her long pink nails were sadly gone. With a swift movement, he embraced her in an iron grip, his arms holding hers down. Lauren screamed in surprise; the fight was over before it had even begun. She struggled; her body reared against the forced hug.

"Let me go, let me go," she screamed, throwing her head around. The grip only grew stronger. She tried to kick him but couldn't reach anything.

"Have you calmed down?" the guy asked, Lauren screamed like a banshee in response. "I guess not." They just stood like that for some time. Lauren struggling, the guy just holding her.

"Why is she saying that her name is Lauren now? Is she into role play? I mean, I wouldn't mind, I could be the big bad wolf," one of the guys said while another chuckled.

"This is not funny. Don't you feel it? It is gone." This one was solemn, but there was still a degree of desperation in his voice. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What, what is gone?" Another one demanded harshly, sounding angry.

"The imprint, haven't you felt it?" Silence.

Lauren's face was pressed against his chest, his masculine odor rising in her nose. She took a moment to breathe and calm herself down. This wasn't working, at first at least. She felt the firm juicy muscles underneath his shirt, did he lift? She had to resist the urge of licking his chest.

"What?" Then there was silence, each guy feeling within himself, searching for it. Lauren rolled her eyes. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it was getting annoying.

"So, is someone going to fuck me, or can I go?" Lauren said nonchalantly, getting bored. The anger from before had left her. The guy holding her let her go instantly, dropping her like a hot potato. Oh, this is working now? Interesting.

"Who are you?" The guy who had held her asked, ignoring her question. She gave him a disapproving look.

"Who am I? Who are you?" She put the emphasis on you. "And where am I anyways?" She asked, looking around again. This was getting annoying, she wanted to go home, maybe call Jessica.

"Hang on a second. We are asking the questions here," one of the younger looking guys said. "Yesterday you told us that your name is Viv, we imprinted on you and now you are Lauren and all you can do is bitch around?"

"Well, that sounds more like a you problem than a me problem," she answered to the accusations and shrugged her shoulders in disinterest. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

"Tell me-" he was interrupted by a guy who had been standing behind the others. Lauren shifted her glance from one to the other. He was just as handsome but there weren't any identifying features that made him stand out.

"Want a gum, Lauren?" He asked and smiled charmingly. In his outstretched hand laid a piece of gum wrapped in silver foil. The foil reflected the light and for a second, Lauren could see her gorgeous blue eyes looking back at her.

"What are you doing?" One whispered, sounding oddly horrified.

"I got hungry anyways," she said, shrugging her shoulders and just grabbed the gum outright out of his big hand. Did he even have muscles on his fingers, is that even possible?

"Think about what happened to Viv before Lauren showed up," the gum-guy whispered but Lauren barely registered it and thus also didn't listen to the response.

The wrapper she threw on the ground, something tightened around the guy's eyes. The gum touched her tongue, sweet but also minty. Not bad at all but in the next moment, she spit it out. The barely chewed pasty clump got stuck on the floor.

"Is there sugar in this? I can't eat sugar, it makes me break out," she shrieked and patted her tongue down with her hands. "Are you trying to make me fat?" She could still taste the sugar in her mouth.

"Where is the bathroom?" She demanded but didn't listen for an answer and just dashed out of the room. Lauren was oblivious to the mess she left behind.

The room she entered was a kitchen, small but comfortable. Glancing around quickly, she saw baking trays and empty casserole dishes laying around. The next door led her into a dimly lit hallway. It could have been creepy, no scratch that, it was immensely creepy. The next room she tried was a small bathroom with just a toilet and a sink. It was cramped but she didn't care. She threw the door close and turned the key. The light flickered to life hesitantly as she switched it on.

The water of the sink tasted fresh as she cleaned out her mouth. Looking up, her eyes caught her own reflection in the mirror. There were no freckles, no dull brown hair, no boring grey eyes. Instead, there were lush blond waves, porcelain skin and glowing blue eyes. It was true then, it had to be true. A tear escaped her. She really was in her own body again. She could breathe again.

When she had gotten over the fact that she was indeed in her own reality again and her body was as beautiful as she left it, she realized something.

"What the fuck," Lauren muttered and touched the dark bags underneath her eye. "Why do I look like shit?"

And the most important question of all, where was her make-up to hide the fact that she looked like shit? First things first. Taking a bit of toilet paper, she tried to squeeze the pimple on her forehead, she had itched to do that since she knew it was there. It irritated her that her nails weren't longer, it would have made this whole process easier.

With a little plop, some yellow liquid oozed onto her white toilet paper, and she almost cried out in triumph but then she remembered that technically, she was in enemy territory. Alone with six guys who could rape her at any moment for all she knew. On the other hand, they were pretty hot anyway, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

She decided then and there that she wouldn't get laid looking ugly. The only logical next step she could take would be, that she had to find some make-up now. She opened the cabinet under the sink but only found more toilet paper and pads. What a disappointment. That means that she had to venture out of her little safe haven.

Opening and closing the door as quietly as she could, she tried to tip-toe further into the house. Maybe she could grab some water on the way, she felt so thirsty. A hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around in the process.

"Not so fast," he said and looked at her sternly. Lauren groaned, why couldn't they just leave her alone? Jesus, is that too much to ask?

"Let me go or I will spit in your mouth," she threatened and glared at the guy who had dared to touch her. He let her go in an instance.

It was a pure coincidence that she looked down. She hadn't thought anything of it but what she saw wasn't something that she could unsee. A scream escaped her lips.

"What? Are you alright?" The man in her way asked, grasping her shoulders again.

"My, my," Lauren started to stutter as she could just look down at herself in horror "my clothes! What am I wearing? Is that black?" She asked faintly. She started to feel a headache coming on. She thought she had gotten rid of all her unfashionable trash clothes.

The guy let her shoulders go again and groaned. He probably rolled his eyes as well but who knew. Instead of commenting, he took her wrist in his hand and pulled her towards the kitchen.

"Hey, let me go! I need to change! Please let me change my clothes," Lauren begged as he dragged her mercilessly out of the hallway and into the kitchen again.

In the kitchen were the other guys waiting for her. Their eyes were serious, their lips pressed together in worry and some brows furrowed. Lauren knew this kind of look just too well. This look meant trouble. A lot of trouble.

"I really gotta go now, you know, the clothes don't change on their own and the make-up doesn't apply by itself either," she laughed a little, but it was more in fear than in good humour.

"Sit," the oldest looking guy ordered. And Lauren sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. It was a little uncomfortable and her headache intensified.

"Now tell us, who are you and where is Viv?" He demanded and Lauren's eyes rolled back into her head in response. Seriously, why does everybody want her to be Viv?

"Listen, sugar, I have nothing to say to you," Lauren answered snippily. The guy brought his hand down in a swift movement, banging on the table. Lauren flinched in reaction to the loud noise.

"Now you listen, Barbie, I am not fooling around. Either you answer our questions, or we will get the answers out of you." He was staring down at her, seizing her up with his gaze, daring her to defy him.

All of it came crashing down on her and suddenly Lauren felt like she couldn't stand another minute without a sip of water. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue was sandpaper. She coughed a little, but it made it even worse.

"Water, I need water," she rasped and stood up, staggering to the fridge. There were no other thoughts or desires, just the need of the cold liquid.

Someone sat her down on the chair again, she wanted to protest, but someone else pressed a glass into her hands. She took it, put the rim to her lips and greedily drank it. It was pure bliss as the water ran down her throat. There was an instant relief. Lauren had her eyes closed, just drowning that glass of water. A mass entered her mouth, an ice cue probably. Suddenly, it was more than just water in her mouth and the ice cube lodged itself in her windpipe, closing off any access to air.

She let the glass go, her hands gripping her throat. It shattered on the floor but she barely registered. All efforts were on trying to drag in air, to breathe again. She felt like her eyes were going to plunge out of their sockets, out of her head and onto the floor next to the glass shards.

Her eyes focused on the guy in front of her, saw the horror in his face, the disbelief. It was as if time slowed down. He was lunging for her, but not just him but almost all the guys.

"Not again," someone muttered as she felt arms around her chest and a fist underneath her ribcage. It was pressed into her flesh with such a force, she was almost thrown forward, but the arms held her firmly in place.

Lauren was dying, she felt it. She didn't see her life flash before her eyes, didn't remember any regrets or happy memories. There was nothing but the thought of dying. And then there was nothing and she felt her soul leave her body.