Dreaming is Free

Disclaimer: Not mine, though, maybe if I did a little dance…

Jill: five weeks ago

The brightness, the painful silence, the smell of sweet burning – it's the same; it's always the same. The quiet is forced and deafening onto itself; numbing. It surrounds me, the emptiness of it slowly crushing me, making it hard to breathe. But, then feeling returns, and with it, I realize that the silence isn't suffocating me, the searing hot piece of metal lying across my chest is-

I jerk awake, a scream dying out suddenly as my jaw clenches tightly; it's not the first time since the incident that I have woken from this dream, and I know it won't be the last. I feel myself begin to shiver uncontrollably, and squeeze my eyes shut against the tears, cursing inwardly. I have to be strong, I can't afford to break – God, I want to break. I should be dead, my mind whispers cruelly.

My mind turns back to the dream, and I begin to hyperventilate. I see the broken beam hurling towards Angie, and I am totally helpless, wanting to protect her but knowing that I am just not fast enough. Then, she darts forward, taking the hit in the chest, the hollow 'thunk' sound of it making me ill even now, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying not to be sick again… it never helps, but I try anyway. I should be dead.

I am in the bathroom within four seconds, not even bothering to turn on the light as I lunge for the toilet. As I revisit the previous evening's meager meal of fast food burgers and fries, it occurs to me that I shouldn't even be well enough yet to breathe on my own, let alone lunge for anything. That thought only makes me more ill, my face so far in the toilet that I can almost taste the water. I should be dead…

When I'm done, I strip off the sweat-soaked t-shirt that clings to my strangely compliant limbs and climb into the shower, turning the water as hot as it will go. Within seconds my body is a flush pink; everything except for that horrible scar… Oh God, I should be dead.

In less then a week, my body has managed to heal the equivalent of a year. The terrible, gaping, weeping wound on my chest closed before my very eyes, as fire raced through me. I hesitate even now to contemplate why; the truth is too painful and frightening. Carlos only says that it must have been superficial; but he can't look me in the eyes when he does, and I know he is lying anyway. They did something to me – She did something to me. I am changing, and it scares me. Should I be dead?

Despite my new healing abilities, there is a scar. It's large, about the size of a man's hand, and sits across the left side of my chest; it almost appears like someone ripped out my heart. It looks thick and rises up from the rest of my skin, like a child took a handful of flesh colored bubblegum and smeared it on my body. The first time I saw it, I almost cried. I should be dead.

I am red now; everything but the scar, which is an almost angry white; I begin to scrub. I feel like I will never be clean again, never be me. I feel cheap, used, like a whore. Only, I don't remember anything that should make me feel this way. My mind flashes back, to lips and tongues and blood, pleasure and pain, and I squeeze my eyes shut. No, not now, not now… I don't even realize I'm sobbing.

"Ssshhh, it's alright, I've got you," a soothing, deep voice rumbles, and I feel myself being drawn into a warm embrace. Carlos holds me close as I finally allow myself to let go, to cry for her, for Angie… for me. "It'll be all right, I promise." He whispers, and I can only hold on as if my life depends on it. I should be dead…

When he takes me to bed, he is gentle, though his grip on my hips and the random hard thrust suggest that he prefers not to be. He lets me ride him until I can't move anymore, then makes as if to stop. I beg him not to and so he climbs on top. I feel dead inside, numb. There is an emptiness that he cannot fill, and he knows it. He becomes rougher, trying to draw reaction from me; I just stare at him, feeling cold. His hands at my shoulders draw blood and I don't flinch; he bangs his pelvis into mine and leans in to kiss me. I should be dead!

Suddenly I feel even more disgusting and used. I turn away, and his lips land on my neck. He kisses along my jaw line, trying again. I bite harshly at his shoulder, and pull him down. "Make it hurt, please; make the outside hurt." I whisper, the only words I've spoken to him in nearly a week. He grunts, in pain or acceptance, I don't know. But soon after, he is slamming into me so hard that I feel it in my womb, and when he cums, he grips hard enough to leave bruises and clamps down on my breast hard with his teeth. I am thrown with a scream over the edge into the single most excruciating climax I have ever experienced, and all I can think about is the look in her eyes as she gazed up at me from between my legs. I. Should. Be. Dead.

Alice: 3 weeks, 2 days ago

She thinks I'm sleeping, but, I'm not. I feel her gaze on my exposed back, all her love and longing on my skin like velvet caresses. Then I feel her fingers run softly the length of my spine, and I know I've made her wait long enough for me to rejoin her in the waking world.

"Mmm… Good morning," she murmurs, leaning forward and capturing my lips in a slow, gentle kiss. I feel a smile come to my face as I kiss back, luxuriating in the lush sweetness of her mouth, and the warmth of her love.

"Good Morning Darling," I reply, reaching up and cupping her cheek. I am happy. This is wrong, my mind screams, but, I ignore it. I am happy.

My lover makes a face at me, her nose scrunching up cutely in mock indignation. "You know I hate it when you call me that." She complains halfheartedly, moving forward to rest her forehead against mine. I smile, playful.

"Hmmm… yes, I know that's what you say, but-" I pause and kiss her quickly. "I know that deep down, you love it," I end with a peck on her nose. Wrong, wrong, wrong, my mind chants.

She sighs and gently nudges me down, so that I am lying on my back and she is hovering above me. Wrong, my mind screams again, and this time I am concerned. This isn't how it's supposed to go…

"Ada, how long are you going to keep this up?" Rain whispers, suddenly looking sad, and so very tired. I tense up as she kisses my cheek. "You have to let it go."

"No!" I shout, suddenly feeling caged, trapped. "No!"

"Ada baby, please, you have to let it go. She needs you; they need you." I freeze, unsure.

Then She walks out of our bathroom, wearing the same outfit she wore that night, rips, tears, bloodstains and all. I whimper as she draws closer, joining Rain and I on the bed, gently kissing my lover on her proud forehead, before turning to look at me. "Alice," she says, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see. wrong, Wrong, WRONG! NO, NO, NO! I scream inside, and begin to sob.

"Please…no…" I whisper, but, no one seems to hear me.

"She needs you baby, I need to you help her." Rain says, locking her legs with mine and softly pressing against me. I whimper again and try to stop my tears.

"She's not you," I argue, shaking my head, still not opening my eyes. Rain chuckles and so does Jill.

"She doesn't have to be baby; you love her anyway." She is so reasonable; I hate it.

"No!" I cry, opening my eyes to glare at them both. "I love YOU Rain!" I insist, angry. She smiles down at me and caresses my neck.

"I know. But, you love her too."

"No-"

"Yes," Jill speaks up, and I turn to glare at her. "And there is nothing wrong with that."

"No!" I growl. STOP!

"Ada honey, it's time to wake up." I close my eyes again, not wanting to, understanding now.

"I don't want to leave you again," I admit, sounding small and lost even to myself. I feel her sigh above me.

"I know baby, but, you have to go now."

"No," I say again.

"Ada honey, look at me." She says quietly, but I find myself complying as if she had barked. I turn startled eyes up to her. "Alice, wake up." Her voice is not her own, and, I find myself falling…

My eyes jerk open and are immediately assaulted by a thick feeling; swirling and blurred images flitter past me. My skin tingles, and it almost seems like I am under water…

Angie: four weeks ago

I am sitting in a class room, homeroom I think, quietly looking over my notes at my desk. At the front of the room, the teacher drones on about something, and two seats away Greg Larson pulls at Jenny Wilson's pigtails; it's all I can do not to yawn aloud.

"Ms. Ashford, please come to the front of the room," the teacher – Mrs. Jacobs – snaps suddenly, and I feel guilty for being caught daydreaming. Shy to be the center of attention so suddenly, under the heavy weight of so many pairs of eyes, I awkwardly stand and make my way to the front of the room. Benny Jessup snickers under his breath and I frown.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jacobs, I-" she cuts me off promptly.

"Not a word from you, Ms. Ashford, not one word." She glares at me over the tops of her horn rim glasses, and I feel my cheeks burning. I am in for it now. "I think your classmates have something they would like to say."

As I turn my attention to the rest of the room, I am startled to see that they have changed. Gone are my peers, young and hyper and so full of life. In their places are the shells that they had become, after…

"Yooouuuu." They hiss, baring their teeth at me through rotted lips; I flinch away. "You did this to ussss!"

"No…" I whimper, shielding my eyes with my hands, clutching my lunchbox to my face. "No, please, I-I didn't…"

"YOOOOUUUUU! It's YOUR fault!" they cry, their voices merging into one, horrible sound. "You…" A cold, clammy hand touches my shoulder, and I scream.

She thinks I don't hear her, when she cries late at night; she thinks I don't know. She doesn't want to trouble me with her problems, and I wish I could tell her… Could tell her that I understand, and, that I miss her too…

In that first, horrible week, there was nothing. She didn't cry, or scream, or talk much at all. But, then something changed. Carlos said he talked to her, but… that doesn't seem right… He thinks he made everything better, but, all I know is that, now, he's gone, and she cries…

Subject R1-9n: yesterday

I am sleeping, or, I least, I was… now, I'm not so sure. People come and go, some to see me, poke me, prod me and draw blood… others to do the same to the others around me… My mind is hazy, like I am coming off of a bad trip, or, maybe starting one. All I can remember is this reoccurring dream, about a woman, with the most beautiful green-blue eyes, and a wicked, secret smile….

"She seems to be responding much more positively to the treatments then the others." Someone says above me, and I hear something scraping… like pen and paper, I guess.

"Yes, I see that." Another voice replies, and suddenly I am gripped with fear. "Remind me again why we are using this, when we have a perfect subject already?"

"Because, the only reason the original succumbed to the virus was our meddling. Something about her DNA makes her naturally immune to the un-tampered with strain, and we need to know why… and how we can use it to make her – it – better." The first voice says, like he's trying to sell something over the phone. He sounds desperate, but also sure.

"Also, the 'perfect' subject… she's not exactly here to test on anymore…" And I feel my body go cold. I know it's her, I just know it…

"Don't worry, she will be soon. She's been programmed to always be able to find her way home." I have to help her, have to stop them! I hear a frantic beeping, and realize that it's my heart monitor.

"What the-" the first voice says, and I reach out blindly, hand latching onto something soft.

"Rain, stop this." The second voice says, deceptively soothing.

"NO!" I scream, even I as I feel the needle prick my skin, bringing back the trippy feeling I lost in my fear. "No… you can't… Ada… no…"

tbc

AN: Okay, I have no idea what to say… next chapter will be less trippy, I promise… sorry about this, but, I needed to get it out of my head… yeah; I don't know what to say…Hope you enjoyed... And, see, ANOTHER UPDATE!