Regan felt, the best word was, fuzzy. The people around her moved either too quickly or too slow, words buzzed against her ears, none made an impression. When was the last time she had slept? A week? A month? No, when did she come here? Just after leaves had begun to fall, and now the snow was melting. Five months then. A long time, even for her; but she was afraid to sleep, SHE was still strong, too strong, she would swallow Regan. Not to mention the nightmares, Regan wasn't strong enough to fight the nightmares, she never had been. That was HER job.
"Shamira, I have to sleep. Will you keep me safe?" Regan whimpered, clutching her swimming head. Regan knew she would have to sleep, she was so tired. No! she only had to stay awake until Shamira answered.
"Of course, sleep little one." The woman replied her voice slipping through the air as she became a sentinel angel, her dark hair and skin standing in sharp contrast of the stark whiteness of the room. Moonlight poured through the single window, the glowed room brilliantly in the lights clear purity. Easily Regan slipped into the stream that was unconsciousness.
Dark figures circled her, whispering to her. "No." Regan hissed, clutching her opalescent locks with shaking hands. "Shamira!" her voice was cut off, black water swamped her lungs; only it wasn't water, it was thick and syrupy, heavy in her lungs. It dragged her mind down, made her sleepy and confused, she was hurting. Pain like needles pierced her to her core, her body fought, until the burning was focused in her hands; the pain changed it was ice and fire and knives and needles and biting wind and glowing embers, it was everything and nothing. She tried to scream, only to find the sickly green substance swamping her lungs again.
She woke coughing, her body shivering. "Shamira!"Shamira couldn't help her here; she knew that as well as she knew these living dreams in which she walked. Waves lapped at her feet, dark figures loomed above her, some laughing some jeering and others watching silently. She begged and pleaded, she talked and talked, trying to get her strength back, she had used so much energy. The world went black; she couldn't fight back a scream.
The world broke and shattered and…
"I won't leave! You can't break me!" It was her voice, not Brook's that broke the silence of the white room; she looked at her pale hand her skin looked like it was cracking, they couldn't break her, she was already broken.
Her arm was locked in place, trapped between the steel cuffs meant to immobilize her. They forced her arm out; she felt her skin touch another's. Fire raced down her arm, through her veins; this was a mutant they forced on her, mutants always had more LIFE. Memories fractured her mind, pain that wasn't hers flashed through her body, forcing a scream from her body.
Kitty was giggling as she ran, phasing through rooms as she did, after all she WAS being chased by most of the, as she liked to call the younger kids, mini mutants. Phasing into one last room, she figured she'd lost them. And screamed.
Soft hands stroked the girl's hair gently, hundreds of hands reached out to pet and grab and twitch. What seemed like a thousand different voices muttered, murmured, whispered, screamed, babbled; it was impossible to distinguish one voice from another.
Kitty managed half of a second scream before a dark skinned hand placed itself gently over her mouth severing the cries. "Hush child." A voice as soft as the hand soothed. "The illusions cannot hurt you. They are mere illusions." Kitty whimpered, curling closer to the woman behind her.
Many faces looked at her, prodded, poked, dissected. But of course she would live, as long as they continued to force 'feed' her. Regan felt nothing, reality was a wash, she was inside her own mind, a world of mirrors created to protect her. Brook saw. Brook heard. Brook felt. Brook screamed. Regan dreamed. Reagan listened. Regan played. Regan giggled. The break was evident.
" Black and White now exist. Black always attempting to swallow White. Black isbroken, twisted and warped beyond repair. And White was no better; a never quiet mind, forever thinking with a hundred people's thoughts. She is sweet and soft and caring and giving. But she is damaged." The woman seemed to narrate a story as she spoke, watching the illusions play. "But you should be careful child, both are fractured. Now run along little ghost-child." The woman smiled softly at Kitty and kissed the top of her head. With a feeling of falling into cool water, Kitty knew no more.