A Painful Awakening, Part 1

Now…

In a small room that was professionally, yet comfortably, decorated, a woman met with two young girls.

This was to be expected, of course. The woman was, after all, a trained therapist, someone whose job was helping children work their way through trauma and come to grips with what had been done to them. It was a difficult job, one that often required her to hear things that no one would ever want to hear and regularly deal with young girls experiencing things that anyone with an ounce of empathy would be horrified to see young girls going through, such as emotional breakdowns, panic attacks, and even violent anger.

But all that aside, someone unused to the very specific circumstances that had brought the three of them together would immediately notice a few things amiss. For one, despite being a trained and experienced professional in her field with years of schooling and even more years of practice, the woman did not seem any older than the two young girls. At a look, one could be forgive for thinking her to be roughly around sixteen years of age, with short brown hair and an elfin face. However, she was much, much older than that.

That being said, even if someone did know that, her lack of physical aging would not be the first thing anyone would notice about her. Instead, their attention would be first drawn to her eyes, which resembled the rounded glass bulbs of a motorcycle's headlight. They then might notice her teeth and maybe even her fingernails, all of which were of a natural metallic chrome.

In contrast, the two young girls that were her patients that day actually were in their very early teens. They were both Japanese, one whose nervous eyes and shoulder-length hair were of a dark pink, while the other, who looked to be one harsh word away from bursting into tear, had dark violet eyes and long, raven hair that flowed nearly all the way down her back.

But like the counselor, the two of them looked like monsters. The pink one's eyes glowed with a faint luminescence, and she had no legs, possessing instead twelve whiplike wires that extended from her hips onto the floor, where they writhed and twisted in agitation. As for her friend, she had legs, yes, but she was also in possession of a bright red spider lily growing out of the top of her head, its roots digging down through her hair and into her skulls. Furthermore, though her arms, hands, and fingers worked perfectly well, moving, feeling, and grasping as they ought to be, they were missing several important components, specifically their skin, muscles, nerves, sinews, and blood vessels. They were completely skeletal, all bare bones, held together by some unseen power, and yet they moved as if they were still covered by flesh and skin.

They sat side-by-side on the couch across from the therapist, holding tightly to each other's hands, as they struggled to vocalize exactly what had happened to them.

"I…" the pink-haired girl began before falling silent.

"It was…" said the one with raven hair, and then the words died on her lips.

The therapist nodded in understanding. There were a few things that connected the girls she spoke to, and one of them was that their experiences were as bizarre as they were horrific, and they often had trouble putting it to words. "Which one of you woke up first?" she asked.

"I did," the pink-haired one replied. "Woke up. Um, I woke up first."

"Are you comfortable talking about it?"

The pink-haired girl shuddered, but she nodded. "Yes," she said. "It was awful."

…

Homura, I'm scared!

Waking up seemed like it would be cold, wet, and painful, so she resisted it, mentally clinging to the dark that was just so warm and inviting.

…mura, I'm scared!

It wasn't easy though. Now that the pain had been registered, it grasped at the ragged edges of her consciousness and, once it had a decent grip, began tugging. Once it had pulled enough out of the dark, the cold and wetness joined in, all of them working together to haul her closer and closer to wakefulness.

…I'm scared!

Her eyelids twitched. Her fingers flexed. Remaining unconscious was becoming more and more difficult. For one, something seemed to be wrapped around her arms, something sharp and metal that dug into her skin. For another, she didn't seem to be wearing any clothes, and as noted, it was very cold out.

…m scared!

And finally, wherever she was, it seemed to be outside, and it was raining. Raindrops pelted her exposed skin like tiny, freezing hammers. Meanwhile, she was starting to become aware of other problems, such as the deep, rhythmic beating of what sounded like a massive clock, ticking away the second right behind her. Something was pressing against the flesh of her neck, digging in and making breathing difficult. Furthermore, her legs were stretched out in all directions, and were subjected to the same digging pain as her hands and wrists.

Also, she seemed to have way too many.

…scared…

Wake up. She couldn't afford to sleep any longer. She was in danger.

…scared…

But she didn't want to. Wakefulness was scary and painful. At least being asleep would shield her from the pain, would protect her from the cold. She didn't want to wake up, she didn't want to…

…scared…

…didn't want to…

…scared…

…didn't want…

…scared…

…didn't…couldn't…

WAKE UP!

The freezing girl's eyes snapped open, and she immediately regretted it. She was what had to be dozens, if not hundreds of meters up, tied to the front of a building during a massive storm, with a bizarre, twisting city stretching out below her.

She tried to scream, but the thing pressing against her throat choked her off.

…

Now…

"I was terrified!" the pink-haired girl wept. "I was up there, and it was so cold and it was raining and everything just hurt so much…"

She broke down weeping. Her companion was quick to comfort her, drawing her into her skeletal arms.

As for Dr. Cynthia, she silently picked up one of the plastic cups of water that had been set out on the table between them and offered it to the weeping child. Her patient took it gratefully and gulped it down.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Cynthia said softly as the pink-haired girl started to calm. "I know it must have been terrible. It was almost as bad when it happened to me."

"What was yours like?" the dark-haired girl asked, seeming more curious than horrified.

Dr. Cynthia took a deep breath. It was actually a story she had told and retold endless times in her job, and though she had come to terms with the memory, it still was difficult to revisit. "I was being held suspended in an auto shop," she said. "I woke up, and I was hanging from the ceiling with two thick chains wrapped around my arms, and beneath me were several large tires attached to some kind of machine that just kept them going and going and going. Before I had any idea what was going on, the chains started lowering me toward the wheels, to either have my skin seared off or to be crushed between them. Had there not already been a rescue party nearby, I would have been."

"Is it the same for everyone like us?" the pink-haired girl asked, her voice still thick with tears. "For w-witches?"

"It is, unfortunately."

"What about the ones that don't become witches?" the raven-haired girl said. "Are they tortured too? When they wake up?"

"No," Dr. Cynthia admitted. "Their surroundings are often strange and frightening, but not painful."

The distraught girl blinked away tears. "That's not fair," she whispered. "That's not fair at all!"

"It's not," Dr. Cynthia agreed.

"We…We get turned into monsters, we get killed, we get tortured, we don't get to keep our memories or our real names, we have to stay monsters forever, while everyone else that didn't get turned into a witch gets to stay human! They don't wake up in terrible pain, they don't have to walk around with this big hole inside them, they don't have to live as…" She held up one skeletal arm, displaying the bare bones for all to see.

Dr. Cynthia nodded. "You're right. They don't. And it's not fair at all. But you know what? As terrible as that first day is, as hard as it is to have no idea who you were or what happened to you, and as frightening as it was to look into the mirror, I'm honestly glad that I became a witch."

At this, the pink-haired girl looked up from her companion's shoulder to blink owlishly at Dr. Cynthia. "Why?"

"Because as bad as that first day might be, for us it is the worst that it's ever going to get," Dr. Cynthia said in a frank tone. "For girls that don't become witches, that remain Puella Magi, their first days aren't as horrible, but they walk around always remembering the world that they left behind, the families and friends that they are never going to see again, as well as why and how they died. On the whole, we witches have a much better time adjusting to our new lives here."

"It's still awful though."

"Yes. It is." Dr. Cynthia sighed. "Are you all right? Would you like to stop for today?"

"No," the pink-haired girl said firmly. "I want to do this. I want to get this out."

"All right. Take your time, then. What happened next?"

…

Then…

In a very short period of time, the freezing girl came to learn several facts about her perilous situation, none of which made her happy.

In addition to her being naked and tied to the face of a gigantic clock tower high in the air in the middle of a rainstorm, she also didn't seem to be human, or at least something different from most humans. Most of her body seemed to have the standard equipment, all save for her legs. For one, she did not have the usual set of thighs, knees, calves, shins, feet, etc. Instead, she had thin whiplike wires, like the kind used to support a billowing skirt.

Also, she had twelve of them.

The freezing girl was pressed against the exact center of the clock's face, with each one of her legs stretched out toward one of the hours. They did not reach all the way of course, so they had their lengths increased by being wound around wires attached to the perimeter of the clock.

Barbed wire.

More barbed wire stretched her arms out to either side. Her legs hurt, certainly, but her arms were the worst of it, as they were of pink flesh, with the barbed wire wrapped around her forearms up to the elbow, the points digging into her skin. What was more, there seemed to be yet another wire, thankfully not barbed, pressed against her throat, making even breathing difficult.

She had tried yanking on them, but that just brought tears to her eyes. She had tried screaming for help, but there was no one to hear her cries. She was alone.

Thrashing did no good. In fact, that just made things so much worse, as she quickly found out. Hanging limp was also an agony. It was a nightmare paradox. Nothing she did gave her the slightest relief from the torture she found herself trapped in.

She panicked. Even though it sent burning lances of pain through her body, she again began pulling at her restraints, screaming the whole time. Something had to give, something had to happen, something had to-

Something did.

With a snap, one of her legs came loose and was free. The freezing girl frozen in place. Then, with almost fearful hesitation, she brought her leg up.

Though it was not of flesh of bone, it obeyed anyway, curling up like a snake. She twisted it around and was equally fascinated and horrified by how easy it was. No human limb ought to move like that.

Well, she could figure that out later. For now, she was in kind of a pressing situation.

Now that she had a tool to work with, she set to work freeing her neck. Fortunately that wire was just pressed up against her throat instead of being wrapped around it, so all she had to do was seize it with her leg and push out. Surprisingly, whatever was holding it in place was very flexible, and she was able to slip her head under, freeing her neck.

Next came her arms. In another stroke of luck, the barbed wire was just wound around them and not tied, so all she had to was find the end and unwind it.

All she had to do. Ha. Like it was that simple, with the barbs still gouged into her skin and the mind-rending agony every movement brought.

Every loop unwound made her want to die. Heck, she probably ought to have died by now, but if death had no come to claim her yet, then she wasn't going to let it come for her now. So she let herself cry and gasp and scream, but she kept on unwinding.

Then one arm was free. Her eyes squeezed shut, she immediately cradled it against her chest, afraid to look at the mangled mess it must be. Keeping them closed, she then reached up with her free leg to get to work freeing the other.

Again there was pain, but as horrible as it sounded, she was started to get used to it. She gritted her teeth and kept at her task. Another loop, and then another, and then another, and then another…

Suddenly, her other arm was free, and the worst of the pain was starting to ebb away!

Unfortunately she wasn't given time to celebrate, as her horrible mistake suddenly became clear.

Though her legs kept her pressed to the face of the clock, it had been her arms keeping her upright. And with them no longer bound, she found her upper body pitching forward. Arms flailing, she screamed.

A moment later the pitching stopped, and she found herself pretty much upside-down, staring at the white of the clock face itself.

The freezing girl shut her eyes.

How long she hung there too scared to move, she had no way of telling, which was kind of ironic considering that she was strapped to a giant clock. However, she couldn't remain like that forever.

She blinked. Then her eyes reflexively went up, or rather, down.

This proved to be a mistake, and she quickly closed her eyes again.

Keeping them closed, she extended her trembling arms until they touched something hard, cold, and wet. She pushed with her arms and her core, mostly expecting herself to not have the strength to move back upward.

But she did.

The freezing girl would have been surprised had the last hour or so not been packed with one surprise after another. Regardless, she was soon upright again, arms behind her back holding onto the clock hand for dear life.

Though she was still subjected to pain in the ends of her legs and the freezing cold from the elements, at the very least the bulk of the agony was gone as she had some space to think. She wracked her brain, trying to seize upon anything of worth, anything to explain where she was, why she was there, or even who is was to begin with.

To her rising dread, she came up with nothing.

Oh, there were bits of information, flashes of memory, but they didn't seem to be connected to anything. She was able to pull up general knowledge about…society, pop culture, school subjects, and more of the same nature, but her personal life was a muddled blur. She saw fleeting glimpses of faces, rain coming down on a ruined city, a red-eyed cat…thing, a shattering pink gem, but no context to give them meaning.

Her panic started to return. What about her name? Surely she had a name at least. She dug into the scattered mess of her memory, trying to bring it up.

To her surprise, that was the one question that had a definitive answer. Her name was…

…

Now…

"Kriemhild Gretchen," the pink-haired girl said. She frowned. "How did I know that though? I couldn't remember anything, but I knew that. I knew my name."

"It's our witch name," Dr. Cynthia said. "We're given those when we become witches, and they just sort of remain embedded in our minds."

Kriemhild Gretchen wrinkled her nose. "So you used to have a different name?"

"Presumably, yes."

"Doesn't that bother you? Knowing that you'll never, ever know your real name?"

Dr. Cynthia shrugged. "I did at first. I was curious, as everyone usually is. But honestly, I've spent so much time as Cynthia that I barely even think about it anymore."

"It's still not fair," the raven-haired girl insisted.

"You're absolutely right. It's not." Dr. Cynthia looked to Kriemhild Gretchen. "Do you think you can continue?"

Kriemhild Gretchen shuddered, but then nodded. "Yes. Um, well, I was…st-stuck up there, so I just kept trying to free myself."

…

Then…

The last stringy leg came loose from the strand of barbed wire it had been twisted around, and the horrible thing fell loose. Gasping, Kriemhild Gretchen curled it up close to the rest of her body as the throbbing pain finally started to recede.

Kriemhild still had no answers. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know why she was tied naked in such a torturous position and exposed to the elements. Heck, she didn't even know her own name. And above all, she didn't know what she even was, why her legs were such a bizarre nest of wiry…things. Was she even human?

Still, as she clung to the hour hand of the massive clock face with all her legs wrapped around its base, she was grateful that she had been mutated in such a way. At least it meant that she had a way to keep herself from falling. She tried to look out at whatever it was that lay below her, but it was weird, twisted, made no sense at all, and seemed to be moving, so she stopped.

Kriemhild couldn't decide if she was more terrified or confused. Nothing about any of this made any sense. It had to be some kind of demented nightmare. If she tried hard enough, she could almost make herself believe that, believe that she was safe in her own bed somewhere, and in a few moments she would wake with a start, wondering what she had ate to give her such a vivid dream.

Except that the bitter cold was too real to be a dream. As had been the pain.

"Help!" she screamed out as loud as she could. "Please, help me!" Her words were swallowed up by the wind.

The height was starting to make her nauseous, so she turned away and closed her eyes. Tears were prickling at her eyes. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve something like this?

Then she so happened to blink her eyes and look up. She gasped.

There was someone else there, someone tied to the top of the same clock hand she was clinging to. Kriemhild gaped, then her face hardened with resolution.

Fully maneuvering herself around so that she was fully facing the clock hand was a terrifying experience, and she had to talk herself through switching the position of each individual leg. But she got it. Then she began to climb.

She was already far, far too high up, and making herself go even higher took every ounce of willpower. Every centimeter of height gained felt like a battle, and there was precious little for her legs to hold onto. The cold metal of the hour hand was agony against her bare skin, and its length seemed impossibly long.

Don't look down, she told herself. Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down…

The higher she got, the clearer the other person became. It seemed to be another naked girl, also strapped in place by barbed wire. Well, that was enough reason to try to free her. Kriemhild gritted her teeth and pressed onward and upward.

The climb seemed to take forever, though in truth it was less than a minute, but finally she was passing over the girl's body. The girl was pale of skin and completely unconscious, just as Kriemhild had been. Her long raven hair blew freely in the wind. On top of her head was a scarlet flower bud. Some kind of weird metal disc covered where her wrists were bound to the clock hand over her head, like some sort of lock.

Also, her arms and shoulders were nothing more than bare bones, completely free of flesh.

For a moment Kriemhild thought that she had come so far just to reach a corpse, but then the other girl moved. It was a slight reflex, just a simple shifting of her weight, but her eyelids fluttered and she let out a small moan.

Kriemhild blinked. Wait, what?

She lifted a finger, hesitated, and then reached up and poked the bones of the other girl's upper arm. It reflexively moved away from her touch, just like a living arm.

Another monster then, like her. For some reason she was almost cheered by the thought.

She then studied the other girl's face. There was something achingly familiar about her, something important. A name was clawing its way up through her swirling memory, something so close and dear, and yet she couldn't seem to grasp it.

"Hom…" she whispered, and then it was gone, dissipating like a dream.

Then the other girl stirred again. She groaned, louder this time.

Encouraged by this, Kriemhild gently shook her shoulder.

"Hey," she said. "Wake up."

"Uh…"

"Wake up!" Kriemhild's shaking grow more urgent. "Please, you have to wake up!"

The other girl blinked her eyes. Kriemhild breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're awake!" Then she glanced up to where the other girl's arms were still bound. "Just…Just hang on! I'll get you off!"

The other girl blinked in confusion. She looked down, and her eyes widened.

"What?" she said with a small gasp. "Where?"

But before Kriemhild could answer, the other girl then looked up.

And she screamed.

Kriemhild winced at the shrill sound. "Calm down, calm down!" she said, though she herself felt anything but calm. "I know it's scary, but I need you to hold still while I get you loose!"

The other girl gaped at her. "What…who…what am…where are…who are you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm Kriemhild. Kriemhild Gretchen. Do you have a name?"

The other girl stared at her. "A name? A name? I don't…I don't remember anything! How can I-"

Then she blinked. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. I think I do. My name is…"

…

Now…

"Homulilly." The raven-haired girl frowned. "What does that even mean? Homulilly? Is that even a real name?"

"It is now," Dr. Cynthia said. "And I think it's a very lovely one."

"Homulilly," repeated the girl to whom that name belonged to. "I dunno. It just sounds…weird. And I don't even get a last name!"

"Well, I like it!" Kriemhild Gretchen said, giving Homulilly's bony fingers a squeeze. "Better than my name at least. Kriemhild." She sighed. "I don't even look like a Kriemhild!"

Dr. Cynthia cleared her throat. "Then why not go by your second name? Gretchen's a very lovely name too."

"Can I?"

"Of course! They're your names; you can do whatever you want with them."

Gretchen glanced over to her companion. "Um, would you be okay with that? Just calling me Gretchen, I mean."

"I'll call you whatever you like!" Homulilly was quick to say. She smiled. "Gretchen."

"Gretchen," said the name's owner to herself, musing over the sound of the syllables. "Homulilly and Gretchen. A couple of weirdoes with a couple of weird names."

"Well, I think they sound quite nice together," Dr. Cynthia said. "You two make a good fit."

Even though their eyes still glimmered with tears, the two scared, malformed girls beamed at the compliment, and Dr. Cynthia did so as well. She had an eye for how the girls that came to her for help would turn out, and she could already see that though these two would definitely have their share of challenges ahead of them, they would be all right.

But then, that was often the case with Walpurgisnachts.