Fire.
Her skin was on fire.
Her eyes jolted open to see what was going on: left and right, all she could see were orange flames dancing around her, rising into the red nothingness above.
Every inch of her being was screaming out in pain, but when she opened her mouth to do so herself, all she could hear was the crackle of the inferno and the oils in her skin sizzling.
She struggled and flailed about where she lay, but she couldn't bring herself to sit up. Gravity had increased. Her body grew hotter with every movement she made, the heat shackled her down with her own body.
There was nothing to do but panic.
And burn.
Something else rose in the distance. Something from the deep red absence of space came into view, as if she was up against a wall and it was walking towards her: a human shape. As it got closer and she writhed, not sure whether to scream for help or for it to stay back, she began to make out its only defining features: horns.
No, not horns...
...antlers.
It got closer and closer, looking bigger and bigger until she wasn't sure whether it was eight feet tall or eight hundred.
She could hear it — past the blazing and the searing that hushed her own screams, she heard it in a booming voice that came from everywhere all at once, even behind her. He sounded larger than anything she could possibly imagine:
"Thank you," it said, and its silhouette grew so large that it enveloped her.
Suddenly her feet were cold. Freezing.
She could feel her body being pulled by them, and the freezing cold traveled up her legs. Then her waist. Then her torso. And Jane began to notice that a white light was coming from at her feet, and as it got brighter, she got colder. Her fingertips froze, curling up on instinct before the frostbite spread to her arms and joints, though any movement proved to be a futile effort. Before long, her vision was completely overtaken by the light and the cold which made her want to curl up, though the lethargy of her frozen body kept her from doing anything.
That's when she heard it. Heard the shifting of metal and a voice calling out through the flames she could hear but not see. It spoke again, clearer this time, but she still couldn't make out the words.
Everything was so cold.
She bolted upright with a gasp of cold air, and the world around her became more vivid.
It was cold. Bright. Grey.
Metal handles on metal squares labeled with paper and ink framed in more metal lined the walls.
It was about at this point she realized she was completely naked.
The harsh, icy air stung every exposed inch of skin, seeping into her lungs through her mouth and her nose as she continued to breathe in soundless, shuttering gasps of air.
"Oh my god!" cried a male voice. She turned her head and saw an overweight man wearing all white, except for tight blue gloves. She could only see him from the waist up, meaning she was raised on to some platform, but that part wasn't important to her right now. She needed help.
Help.
Help.
She didn't realize at first that her mouth was even forming the word, though nothing came out regardless.
The man only stepped back, away from her. Something from his hands clattered to the the floor.
He held up an index finger to her, saying something in rushed, desperate mumbles as he shuffled towards a metal door she could see at the far end of whatever room she was in. He looked ready to run.
But she didn't want to lose him, not another step. She reached a hand out to him, her body pulling itself through the air as the man took another step back, but as her legs shifted closer to him on the platform, gravity pulled her down from the edge of whatever she was sitting on and caused her to land headfirst on cold, hard concrete. When she looked up, the man in white had already left.
Her eyes were drawn to what the man had dropped earlier: a flat, brown piece of wood with a metal clip holding paper down to it. The word for it couldn't quite come to her at the moment, but the word wasn't wasn't important either.
She reached out for it, but once again, gravity was working against her. The weakness in her body prevented her from moving upwards, and even sliding across the floor was an uphill battle.
With the pain of cold and lingering pain of heat, and the fear, and the ground having come up to meet her, she was losing consciousness fast, but the paper on that plank of wood kept her awake, if nothing other than sheer curiosity.
With her head down at the angle it was bent into, the name at the top of the paper was all she could see:
"Jane Doe no. 167"
Everything went black.