---

Table Of Contents

---

Chapter 1

Rebirth

Within an all-encompassing void, I was stirred from abyssal sleep by murmured voices hinting at my slow awakening. “Stimulation in the ventrolateral preoptic nucleus confirmed. She’s surfacing from sedation, yet again. We need to administer more,” one voice echoed ominously. A knife-edge of agony bit through the ether, anchoring the drift back to unconsciousness with a crushing solemnity.

My retreat into slumber did not last, however, as a frigid undertow ripped me back towards the surface. Discordant words whispered through the murk, “Something’s amiss. The treatment isn’t taking hold.” A roar, a distant rumbling disagreement, reverberated from afar, “Administer another dose.”

“Sir, another dose could be lethal.” A woman’s voice emerged from the aural fog, fraying at the edges with unvoiced fear.

“A wasted endeavor, as all before,” a glyph of resignation painted in the cadences of a voice, worn rough and brittle with time. As whispers of despair braided themselves with the encroaching shadows, I felt the ebon tide of nothingness pull me under once more.

“No time to spare. The cells–they’re already failing.” That voice again, the thunderhead of frustration trailed in its wake, beckoning me back from oblivion. Yet, an irrefutable barrier stood between me and the wakening world—I was but a wisp in the void.

“We might attempt cloning again,” the young woman ventured tentatively.

“Cloning has proven futile,” the man murmured dismissively. “Our only course now is success. We’re bereft of alternatives. fetch epinephrine and adrenochrome. Stabilization is paramount.”

Searing life coursed its way through my veins, fueling the embers of consciousness. It nudged awakenings at my every corner, birthing a frenetic wave of energy that lifted me past the gates of my sable prison. Abruptly, welcomed brightness seared my retinas as I dropped into its glaring embrace.

My fingers scratched frantically against the cool, smooth barrier that held me. The cold bit into my arm, triggering violent spasms that licked through my body. My eyes, however, saw only darkness. I attempted to scream but was betrayed by a voice that had fled in terror, deeper into the recesses of my being. The world swirled dizzyingly. The last vestiges of my reality dissipated, leaving me hovering in an infernal emptiness.

“We’re squandering energy on another doomed experiment. Haven’t the recent weeks provided ample evidence of its futility? Hellibor, it’s time to relinquish this futile pursuit. This transgression against humanity cannot proceed,” the woman’s voice echoed, shedding light on the eldritch man’s name—Hellibor.

“No, I will not permit another failure!” Hellibor’s voice thundered, as resolute as the hammer of a gavel. “We will persist! My methods will reap results! Extraction is all that remains. The board’s aversion to drastic measures will not lead to waste of this…donor.” The realization that they were debating my fate sent tremors racing down my spine.

“Sir, objection!” the young woman blurted with an urgency that gripped the silence.

“Why?” he retorted, his interest piqued.

“Fatal risk runs high. Any damage to the donor could render the whole procedure futile. Might we consider waiting until consciousness returns? We needn’t inform her of the proceedings,” her voice danced around my comprehension. Inform me of what?

“She wouldn’t survive in this place. She would starve. It’s humane to just let her pass,” another voice, one rich with the sorrow of years, interjected.

“I say we persist! The board holds no sway here. I obtained her with my own resources. Her fate rests in my hands,” Hellibor decreed.

The passage of time… … … was unknown.

“Damnation!” The older man’s outburst jolted me from my heavy, dreamless slumber. “The board is cutting off her life support! The machinery maintaining her stasis can’t run indefinitely. Our supplies will last for…”

“Please, I’ll take up the charge of her care,” interrupted the young woman, desperation creeping into the edges of her words. “I’ve been tending a garden. I’ve even managed to synthesize sustenance for her. Please, Hellibor, don’t let them do this.”

The line of conversation hung in the air, pregnant with the enormity of the proposition. “If this is the path you choose to tread, we will make the attempt. She will be your responsibility, and I will bear the brunt of the board’s disapproval. This decision will trigger shockwaves amongst them,” Hellibor elucidated. “Also, there’s no rush to rouse her from her comatose state, but we need to prepare a suitable environment for her first. We’ll present our proposal to the board once all the pieces are in motion. This has to be our secret. No one else can know until she has been revived.”

Battling against the invisible chains of my condition, I longed to cry out, “Wake me up now!” lamentably, my plea either fell on deaf ears, or I remained utterly silent.

“Doctor Winters, you won’t rue this decision.”

“I’d like to believe that, dear Vanity,” said Hellibor, eerily formal now, “but the unfurling knot in my gut suggests otherwise. Our immediate requirement is to have her circulate blood. A seemingly manageable task. Keeping her alive, however, is a much more formidable challenge,” He paused, the weariness in his tone unmistakable. “And once she discovers the truth of our little deception,” he said, his voice softening, “the bond of trust will shatter.”

Vanity— only then did I understand the name of my guardian angel. Or devil.

Vanity’s voice would intermittently intrude into my consciousness, resounding in the haunted caverns of my mind. In dulcet, melancholic tones, she’d evoke images of parental affection, her words gently lapping against my denial. “The love of your parents was boundless,” she’d discant, and weave tales of my forgotten history. “You, dear child, are Primina.”

She insisted upon a past complete with a younger brother and a pair of sisters, but to me, their faces were as blank as an unsullied canvas. Try as I might, the moniker ‘Primina’ stirred no slumbering memories, only the echo of dark, fathomless waves in my subconscious. Perhaps Primina was my identity, swallowed by the abyss. Yet, in the end, it mattered not whether it was a reality sculpted in truth or deceit, for all I had was the Stygian tide. Thus, I claimed it as my own, embracing ‘Primina’ as my solitary beacon in the vast expanse of my existence.

Vanity wasn’t only my chronicler, she was my storyteller, her narratives plunging into me like phantoms dancing in the night. From her lips I gleaned tales of my perceived ailment— a shadowy specter of sickness that wormed its way into my self-perception. A mere thought seemed to chisel a chilling question into my mind: “Could this be an elaborate fabrication, a dreamscape woven from the threads of my disorder?” I wondered, questioning the legitimacy of my very existence.

“Speaking to her is fruitless. Your efforts baffle me,” declared Hellibor, his voice ebbing back into my consciousness. His presence was as startling as his temporary absence.

“Your assumption lacks substance. There are tales where comatose patients are privy to their surroundings,” Vanity staunchly shot back. So, it was confirmed then, my existence was chalked down to a state of comatose. It was a fact alluded to before, but hearing it as a certainty stabbed at my heart.

An attempt to articulate a rebuttal fluttered from my non-compliant lips, “I can hear you.” Yet, the ambiguity of my physical ability left room for uncertainty. Despite this, I harbored a flicker of hope that my weakly whispered protest had been heard. Vanity remained an enigma, her identity veiled in secrecy. However, her proximity was comforting in an otherwise indifferent world. Whoever she might be.

“Let her recline in peace,” Hellibor insisted, his last words reverberating through the cold room before the forbidding sound of a door slamming brought my world crashing down once more, delivering me back into the ceaseless embrace of oblivion.

“Will I feel anything?” My voice emerged tremulously, reaching out to figures garbed in a uniforms- one in pristine white, another in deeply hued burgundy. Their faces were maddeningly nondescript, perhaps they were from the beginning, or maybe time had washed the features away from my memory. My surroundings were similarly unclear, a haze hung over everything, obscuring straight lines into nebulous vestiges of reality.

I recall an odd sensation, my spinal column comfortably molded to some unseen element of the chamber’s wall, while my bare toes rested on an icy platform. Days may have passed but scant remnants of nail polish clung tenaciously, a lurid clash against the barren shell containing me. Gazing at the duo then in their gleaming attire, dusk painted cheeks matching their inscrutable smiles. They looked at me reassuringly, but their faux kindness wasn’t enough to battle the discomfort of being exposed in my form-fitting bodysuit. As discomfort wormed its way into my chest, the man made a soundless response to my question.

In an abrupt transition that seemed almost dreamlike, the glass of the chamber sealed shut, effectively imprisoning me. I found my voice, raw with terror, though to them my pleas sounded merely like an echo of countless others. Suddenly my universe turned glacial, my feet kissed by an insidious cold. The fluid creeped up, inch by inch, wrapping around me in a chilling embrace; a watery death clawing its way past my ankles. Yet their expressions remained static, their vacant eyes reflected my torment, their chilling smiles remained plastered on.

To them, it was an oft-repeated routine, for me a visceral journey into the unknown. “What are you doing?” My words fought for escape as the water swarmed my hips. I thrashed desperately, strained by helplessness until my body sprawled out, forced to submit by an unseen force. The fluid danced its way onto my face, my lips pressed fruitlessly against the glass. The ascending tide of my fear had me captive, filling my mouth and then blot out my cries for mercy. My final breath was stolen away, replaced by the icy tendrils of the fluid.

Engulfed completely, I felt the icy grip tighten. As my lungs cried out in searing agony and every muscle screamed for air, there came an ascendant realization – survival demanded that I take in the fluid. The instant it invaded me, I was embroiled in a visceral struggle against the sensations. The liquid flowed into my lungs, scorching and freezing in equal measure, mimicking molten metal coursing through my veins. In the background of this living nightmare, the retreat of the ceiling, the plunge into darkness. The silent plea, so desperate, yet all alone amongst the brutal invasion of foreign fluid, the residue of which left behind a vile flavor paired with the shimmering bubbles of my coughs.

But it wasn’t long before the coughing petered out, replaced by a merciful numbness that seemingly slowed time. I was heaving out the last of the wretched fluid from my lungs as sleep finally swathed me in its merciful embrace.

“Your family loved you very much. You will be awake soon. Everything will be alright. You can trust me.” Vanity’s voice, a soothing lullaby in my ears, counteracted the chilling sensation encasing my body. Still, the thirst for awakening, an insatiable desire, seethed within me like a coiled spring. It promised to uncoil soon—but the wait was torturous.

“The synapses are rekindling. She should return to us any moment now.” The youthful voice drifted through the encroaching blackness, a heraldic whisper of impending lucidity. A soft, warming glow of flushed orange peeked through the thin veil of my shut eyelids. A rejuvenating breath trickled from between the slight gap in my lips, my chest stretching to accommodate the sweet, crisp air. Tentatively, I brought my lashes apart, blink by calculated blink. Above, a sterile blanket of off-white spread across the ceiling, a soft pillow cradled my tousled hair.

A gruff, ochre-toned voice, Hellibor, commandeered my drifting attention. “Ah, excellent. A sign of life.” The room effused virginal white, flooded with an array of sterilized plastic objects. Monitors and switchboards were scattered across the wall, manipulated by a blond youth. My onyx gaze shifted towards the two figures poised in the heart of the room, their silhouettes framed against the place I once peacefully slumbered. I fixedate my focus onto an elder man’s gaze, cut from a quarry of granite-grey. A pen, nestled in his pocket, was plucked as he extended a greeting. Ignited by the slightest touch, a blinding ray of light launched from the pen, he offered me a brief glance before extinguishing the beacon, leaving only a lingering fog of glow. “Splendid. Pupil response is perfect.”

“Where…where am I?” My lips murmured involuntarily.

“You’re in a hospital,” Hellibor reaffirmed, “The medical bay to be precise.” Propping himself upright, he ran his eyes over a holographic blueprint of neon blue that hovered mysteriously in the stale air. “Consider this your temporary residence, until your treatment concludes. There will be ample time for inquiries, but not this instance.”

“Nonsense, Hellibor!” My sight was violently pulled towards the owner of the chastising voice, a voice that resonated like a distant dream. “She may pose any questions she wishes. We are available for explanations.” This woman was Vanity.

Understanding the distinct demeanor of Hellibor, I gauged that not all my questions would be welcomed despite his colleague’s sincerity. “Greetings, Primina,” a warm, inviting smile danced across Vanity’s lips as she crouched by my bedside. Her hair, mirroring the mysterious charm of a moonlit sky, was lazily pulled back into an elongated ponytail. “I am Vanity and this,” she gestured towards Hellibor, “is Doctor Winters.” She spared a moment to direct my attention towards the technician manipulating the switchboards over her shoulder. “And that man over there is Cody.”

Moments later, Doctor Winters approached, brandishing a hand-held appliance against my abdomen. Cold, merciless metal commanded shivers rippling down my spine. “What’s its purpose?” I instinctively inquired.

“Silence,” Dr. Winters grumbled, dismissing my question. The burden of his breath pressed against the instrument on my belly and moved it with practiced precision. After removing the device, he expelled a sigh engrained with exhaustion. Wordlessly, he returned the device to a designated compartment within the wall of white plastic.

“He was merely confirming your vitals, my dear. You’ve been cloaked in sleep for quite a stretch and we needed to ensure physical adjustments are being met. The intermittent periods you woke during this process were hazardous.” Vanity’s tone was soothing, like a calming lullaby.

Cody disengaged from his monitoring station, his legs awkwardly draped over the clinical whiteness of his seat. “Honestly, I was quite pessimistic about your prospects.”

“Was that what the elderly lady referred to when saying I was a failure?” The room froze at my question, my words echoing within their stunned silence. The room was filled with open mouths and surprised expressions. “Did I mess up somehow?”

Doctor Winters, his voice void of tonal shifts, deflected. “No.” He was cradling a gun-like device, a gargantuan needle piercing the air at its muzzle. “Brace for a minor sting.”

“Are we proceeding with that now?” From Cody’s crestfallen appearance, an icy dread gripped me. As Doctor Winters tread towards my bed, Vanity contorted her face in apparent displeasure. As if mimicking their earlier position, he yet again crouched bedside, the impending needle-end upturned at me.

His fingers, gentle despite their roughened past, seized my wrist and extended my arm with a remorseless tug. “Can you prop yourself up?”

With a compliant nod, I shifted past the lip of the frigid chamber, allowing him a clear access to my inner wrist. “Don’t flinch,” he ordered, pressing the gun against my exposed surface, the sting that followed was as sharp as he’d warned. My instinctual recoil was thwarted by Doctor Winters’ unyielding hold. “Stay put.” Observing underneath my skin, one can see the thick needle drain me. My life force, a pool of ruby, was collected in a glass compartment at the needle’s origin. “Well done, girl,” he commended before pulling the trigger. With an audible click, the needle pulled back.

“That hurt,” I complained, scowling at my arm. The entry point was sealed with a translucent patch. As Hellibor critically examined my blood sample, his stoic demeanor was broken by a begrudging smile. With a nod of satisfaction, he reestablished eye contact with me.

“The sensation of pain,” Vanity mused, her voice barely a whisper, “is that what I see on your face, dear?” A mystified fascination radiated from her gaze, directed solely at me. “It has been awhile since I saw such an expression. Can you put it into words?”

“What an odd question.” A confused frown marked my expression as I stared at the minor imperfection left by the dreadful device. “It stings just like Doctor Winters had predicted.” How could such an ordinary experience now feel so alien?

Vanity masterfully hid her amusement but not before my eyes had captured the mischievous glint she tried to bury. “Indeed. Such a pointless question on my part.”

“So, she is the genuine merchandise,” Cody exclaimed with noticeable amazement straightening his slouched position. Acknowledging Doctor Winters with a shared smile, he added, “Turns out you were right. Infectio Nervosa is the treasure we’ve all been searching for.”

“Time will tell,” Hellibor grumbled apathetically, separating the precious vial of my essence from the insidious device. “I have a rendezvous with the board soon. I am anticipated to put forth a demonstration to establish our future course.” He trudged towards the room’s perimeter, pausing at the threshold. Before his departure, he cast a glance towards Vanity, who seemed to understand the unspoken command. “Ensure her comfort, and guide Primina to her assigned quarters. I will join you later.”

Breathing became less of a battle once the sinister figure was gone, though his presence echoed in the room. I felt nestled in a cocoon of uncertainty and burgeoning fear, in a cocoon filled with probing questions intended for Hellibor. “Vanity, why was I called here?”

Her eyes, rich as molten chocolate, seemed to soak up the light around them whilst taking on an air daubed in frosty aloofness. “As I’ve tried to make you understand, you have been in slumber’s throes for a rather long time. The world has subtly shifted, modified since you last regarded it. We found it imperative to transfer you from the original facility to our humble abode.”

“And why was that transfer essential?”

The bite in her lip captured the mood, a brief snarling tension against the silence. A flicker of discomfort, of strange magnitudes reflected in her eyes as she slanted a look towards Cody, who payed his dues with a comforting nod. Extending a hand, she placed it on top of mine, injecting an alien yet entirely comforting feeling into the air. It felt remarkably familiar.

“No physical contact,” Cody opposed categorically, the words sharp as shards. “You are well acquainted with the regulations.”

A sigh, long and weary tumbled from Vanity’s lips. “I acknowledge, Cody,” she muttered reproachfully. She faltered for an suspended instant before withdrawing her hand. “Your caution holds merit. I shouldn’t be encouraging behavior veering on the ‘inappropriate’ side.” Her gaze found mine, point blank. “Your recovery was abating in the hands of the previous facility. Here, we wield more sophisticated mechanisms and methods.”

“Alright,” I returned, even though comprehension was a grayscale spectrum. A knot coiled in the pit of my stomach as her vague reply suggested something distinctly sinister. “My family – my parents, my brother, my sisters – where are they?”

“Their safety is intact, albeit this establishment is somewhat remote.” Rising to her feet with a sigh, Vanity moved away, leaving trails of melancholy in her wake. “We are dedicated to nursing you back to health as swiftly as we can and return you to your home.”

“They will visit me, won’t they?” I pressed.

“Perhaps eventually,” she mused, her tone curt. Our establishment is rather strict regarding visitors. You are under specialized care, we simply cannot afford any form of disclosure or disruption.” Her words echoed in the room, leaving no room for comfort.

“Okay,” I said reflexively, but my mind was chasing memories. “I remember things since I woke… inexplicable things.”

Cody’s patience was evaporating like the mist of dawn. “Enough!” He commanded, arms slashing through the air with an underlying note of finality.

But I stood resolute. “I remember monsters,” I admitted, my gaze falling on my feet. “Vivid memories of a great many things. Escaping the gloom seemed like a far-fetched dream.”

No words were exchanged, Cody relying on his intuition, shaking his head as if confirm a hidden truth. “Put an end to this discourse. Vanity, escort Primina to her quarters.” The room fell under Vanity’s spell, her attention seized by something beyond my vision. Her eyes were riveted to a spot beyond my line of sight, somewhere closer to the entrance wall where a metallic box hung unassumingly. Approaching it, she pressed a concealed button which revealed folded uniforms.

The clothes were distinctly militaristic in design: a pair of navy blue trousers encrusted with a white highlight, a simple white undershirt and a jacket made of the same blue material featuring a high collar, designed to button on the far left side of the body. A white stripe raced vertically to the collar, ensuring the entire jacket held a striking appeal. Also included were black boots coupled with white clip-on socks and a pair of briefs. “Are these mine?” I asked.

A slow smile graced Vanity’s lips as she deposited the uniform besides me. “They may not be a fashion statement, but they are what we have on offer at present.” I recoiled back into the capsule, gingerly pulling on the zip of the form-fitting suit that had been my second skin for the longest time. It had entwined so intimately with my own skin that the separation felt akin to tearing off a plaster, stark red reminders of the ordeal etched around the edges. It caused an intense sting to sweep across my body, but liberation followed. Swiftly, I traded the old suit for my new attire.

“You will find this place to your liking, Primina,” Vanity assured me with an encouraging optimism. “There’s a plethora of sights to take in. There’s a garden for one, a beacon of natural beauty. Our entire facility, in fact, is an homage to nature. We believe it fosters a sense of solace in our patience.” Her words floated around me, but I was occupied measuring the ill-fitting clothes against my frame. “Are you changed now? Please, join me, Primina,” she urged. I advanced out of the capsule on fumbling legs, the floor beneath a novel sensation, thrilling and intimidating. At once, the air felt dense in my lungs, stale and potent. My first step forward invoked an onslaught of pain, my body protested violently against the notion of motion. “Is everything alright?”

Pain creased my forehead into an unsightly furrow as I grudgingly dragged my gaze to Vanity, huddled on the floor. Offering her a rueful smile, I admitted, “It hurts.”

Vanity’s imploring look met Cody’s icy disapproval, and a resigned sigh escaped his lips. “Help her, just ensure the others remain blind to this.” Though towering noticeably above Vanity at around six and a half feet, he maintained a respectful distance from me, his gaze scrutinising me unabashedly. “It’s normal, given the fact that your muscles have been immobilised for an extended period,” he informed me finally. “A wee bit of enfeeblement is expected. A couple of weeks, and you should regain your strength.”

“Oh, what a delight await the ensuing weeks,” I thought to myself, my legs trembling like a foal’s. Vanity supported my weight effortlessly, her arm slipped around my waist cushioning me. The walls were adorned in creeping ivy, and my legs felt stiff, like they had been incased in quick drying cement. We ventured out into the passageway where the flooring was blanketed in mud, and the walls echoed with nature, ivies claustrophobic grasp on the surface added to the allure of the room.

The hall gave way into a parkland, the pathway was made of polished stone and well-bred trees lined the arteries of the park, reaching eagerly towards the blue skies above. Gossamer clouds sailed past lazily, throwing transient shades over the grounds below. The nexus of the park held an elaborate fountain, and scattered around were several people, all uniformly dressed like me. Were they patients too? Breaking the silence, I expressed my admiration aloud. “This is picturesque.”

“Yes, the crafters of this institution dedicated their lives pouring their efforts into making the facility feel more like the natural world. I, for one, can’t recollect my life before this.” Vanity confessed.

“And why is that?” I pried curiously.

“I can’t say…” Vanity paused before saying with an apologetic smile. “Long hours at work, mainly. My days revolve around patients and when I’m not at work, I’m generally confined to my room sleeping.”

A bitter sensation concocted a sickening swirl in the pit of my heart, something about her composed façade echoed familiarity. I hid my concern behind a shield of assurance, suspecting that she was adopting the same course of action as I.

We approached a steel barricade where Vanity held up her hand to an electronic panel, the door yielding to her command. “This is your room.”

The room was pitifully compact, dominated by a screen intricately positioned into focus, towering black stools positioned in sync with an inbuilt desk. Directly opposite of it, stood a neatly made bed with monotonously white sheets and blankets. At the foot end of the bed a refrigerator and a microwave was installed. Also, overhead, was a coffee maker on an extended shelf with an elongated machine who’s name slipped my mind. Reflective, metallic tiles covered the floor, mimicking the lustrous coat of glass. A few steps from the refrigerator, a shower was partitioned off with a glass screen, a toilet bowl and sink sat beside it. It was certainly well-arranged if not spacious. “Everything you need should be here. Don’t overindulge in the food available in the fridge. We are in the process of rationing food, it’s foregone conclusion.” She added after analyzing my reaction.

Settling into the austere environment required a substantial amount of effort. “Rationing, you say? Is there a possibility of war looming over us?” I asked, my voice barely concealed my perturbation. “This tiny universe is entirely available to me? Can I possess rights to this room?” I searched Vanity’s eyes for approval. She responded with a polite nod. “In that case, may I request some paper and colouring instruments? I have a passion for art, it would surely lighten up the energy in this room.”

“I wouldn’t see why not, I’ll scrounge up some papers and colours for you.” Assured that I was largely comfortable in my new setting, Vanity began her endeavours towards the exit. “Catch me up in the medical bay if you need my assistance, it’s generally where you’ll find me.”

Surveying my environment, I uttered, “Fair deal,” the commitment to the task at hand clear in my voice. The subtle closing of the door by Vanity didn’t register in my consciousness. Rather eagerly, I launched myself onto the inviting splay of my comforter, surrendering to its comfort and familiarity.

A persistent throb rang through my skeletal structure, a poignant reminder of the physical toll of recent events. The fibers of my muscles seared with a residual, burning fatigue. Yet, despite these protests from my body, I found solace in the liberation from an oppressive darkness that had once cloaked me.

As solitary musings began to fill up the corners of my mind, I found a peculiarly uplifting realization nestled among them. I had been bestowed a fresh covenant with life, an unexpected opportunity to rewrite my narrative. A prospect of such magnitude wasn’t something I intended to wave aside lightly.

These contemplations, albeit immensely pivotal, bore a weight that pressed down on my psyche, their hefty significance lulling my consciousness into submission. In spite of my tumultuous inner monologue, my eyelids succumbed to their natural weight, sinking down over tired corneas. Submerged in the gentle tide of impending slumber, I drifted back into the realm of uninterrupted dreams and mid-thought sighs.

---

The next chapter is waiting for you, why not read it? Just click the button below to go to the next chapter.

---

If you enjoyed the story, please like it and subscribe to my page to get notified as soon as I post anything new.

Do you have a comment about my work? Share it with me below.