[TheRaisin]

Boy, big leap here. I must warn you: we are about to take a metaphorical journey through the right hemisphere of my brain. I dare not speculate on what my subconscience reveals through this story. Know that this is a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, and I don't have a clear idea of where it's going. If it gets a little... odd... know that this is because the creative and emotional side of my brain has beaten the analytical and logical side of my brain into submission, and then tied it up in back and took control.


I woke up gasping. I had stopped breathing. I caught my breath. And then something clicked in my subconscious mind. I began screaming. And screaming. And screaming. My vision blurred, I could feel the veins popping out of my neck. Blood pounded through my head, bringing a sharp spike of pain with each throb. Then I passed out.
I woke up again, apparently some time later. My skin felt as if it had been set on fire, then rubbed with sandpaper until the dead skin chipped off. My head throbbed. My eyes hurt. A thin trickle of blood was seeping out of my nose. What happened? I asked myself, expecting my memory to come flooding back. It didn't.
What? WHAT?! Something was wrong. Why couldn't I remember anything about what had happened to make me feel this way? For that matter, I couldn't remember anything since.... well, since I woke up. In fact, where was I? Who was I?
C'mon now, how could you not know who you are? Unless...
"Oh, God." I said out loud. Amnesia?
I ripped the cover of the bed aside and sat bolt upright. I was in some sort of hospital room, apparently. I got up, then fell against the sterile linoleum floor. Looking down at my legs, I noticed they looked thin and pale. All my muscles felt weak, and there was an aching that felt as if it was rooted deep in my bones. Standing up again, I saw that I was wearing a cheap hospital gown, kind of like a tunic. Refocusing my mind, I looked frantically around the room. No window. Blank walls. Flourescent lights. A bed. No answers there, I could be in any hospital room in any hospital in the world. There were two doors. The first one was locked. The second one led into a small bathroom.
"Let's start there," I said to myself.
Cautiously, dreading what I might see, I stepped in and looked at the mirror.
There was a sickly-looking girl standing there. Her skin looked pale and unhealthy, her limbs and frame ludicrously thin. Her hair was dark and fairly long, her eyes green.
"Hello," I said. "You must be me."
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My instincts told me I had better sit up. I did. Spying a bedpan next to me, I grabbed it and promptly vomited. The result was suspiciously and somewhat frighteningly red. Realizing what this might mean, I tipped my head forward and an even redder substance began flowing out my nose. Without thinking, I rose to my feet. My muscles felt strangely weak. My bones hurt excrutiatingly. In fact, so did my skin and stomach and head and... actually, everything. That wasn't normal. Nor was it a good sign.
Holding a hand to my nose, I searched for a box of kleenex and a sink. I didn't recognize the room I was in. Feeling lightheaded, I stumbled around and spotted a door. It was locked. I tried the one next to it. Success. In the small bathroom it led to was a box of tissues and a large stone sink. I stumbled towards them. Blowing out the blood clot from which the blood was eminating, I looked up into the mirror.
"Ah!"
I jumped back, slipping as I did so and falling into the tub. My head slammed hard against the tile wall, my vision blurred, and my mind faded out.