The Present

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The constant dripping of water woke her. She could feel the pain spreading itself from the nape of her neck to the rest of her body. It defied gravity and travelled upwards giving her a thumping headache. She could feel the cold floor on the soles of her bare feet. It was cold... and it was wet. Her hands, tied with an uneven rope, grazed her wrists and made them bleed. She wondered if the sound of dripping was from the water leaking from an old pipe, or if it was the sound of her blood falling into a pool of shallow water.

Her eyes were shut and she made no attempt to open them. She feared what she would see; what new pain she would be inflicted with. Her mind fought hard to remember the events that lead to the current situation. But every small fragment of memory she grasped, evaporated into thin, white air. Her heart, she noticed, beat at a regular rhythm. It was neither fast, nor slow. Her breathing, she noticed, was relaxed and even. Yet her body felt the searing pain at the nape of her neck. She tried to move her numb feet only to realise that they were bound by the same rope that held her hands in place. The ropes cut into her ankles making them pale with loss of blood. The dried blood stuck to her skin as though they had hooks and suckers. She could smell her sweat and blood in the air as she breathed. Not only that... along with sweat and blood, there was something else. Something that screamed at her to wake her senses, to move; to do anything but remain stationary.

Her body challenged her thoughts and did otherwise. The strength in her was draining faster than water pouring out of a broken bucket. It was leaving her and dissolving in a dark abyss at the base of her feet.

Her throat was parched and dry. Her body shivered as she became responsive to the cold temperatures. She barely managed to croak "water", when she heard a thud and several foot steps bringing something -no, someone- closer to her. It was several long and agonising minutes before ice cold water splashed on her face; some only just making it into her open mouth. She swallowed. It was more her dried spit than water, she realised. On impulse, without consultation, she groaned. The pain was far too much for her to bear. It tore at her skin and made her bleed. It made her lose conscience and forget. And worst of all, it made her groan; something she wasn't accustomed to.

The footsteps were now taking the person away from her. Her mind raced to think of something to say; someway that she could find out what had happened. But, alas, she drifted into a painful sleep; a sleep that took her to lands unknown. She saw plants she knew not the name of... There were plants in the shape of stairs, plants with different shades of red and blue shaped the walls that surrounded the stairs. She walked down them only to find them dissolving beneath the touch of her feet. The green freshness gave away to a dark, black chasm of nothingness. She groped and thrashed but found nothing to hold onto as she fell deeper into an uncomfortable sleep.

The sensation of falling left her long ago, now leaving her with a feeling of hopelessness and worry. What it was that made her feel this way, she knew not. She tried to conjure up images of people she loved, of those that meant something to her. The canvas was blank. Then she remembered that she had lost the ability to love... and the hope of ever finding it. She smiled, in spite of herself. The smile turned into guttural laughter as she turned cynical. Life... was simply far too beautiful. And beauty was cruel.

A small flickering light illuminated the dark chasm pulling her lost soul away and out of it. She was forced out of the darkness and into reality only to feel a searing pain as her head rolled from left to right. She almost screamed in agony had her anger and stubbornly cynical nature not taken over. She smiled. And slowly began to lift her weighed eyelids. Life, she decided, was going to be nicer to her. Whether it wanted to or not.

Several metres away, the corners where his two lips met curved upwards to form a clear smirk. Oh yes, life was going to be very nice.

Hello fellow (aha! rhymes!) Skip Beat fans,

I'm completely new to fanfiction and this is my first attempt at writing something creative out of my own need to do so. If I've ever written an essay before -which I have- it has always been for the sake of English Literature or Biology. And I hate them both. Not the latter as much as the former though.

Anyway, I have no idea how often I'll be updating. I suppose I'll be updating as soon as I finish writing each chapter. Hah, that's pretty simple. Now if only my thoughts and imagination would jump down from the seventh sky, where they're currently vacationing at. I have ideas, but it's the describing side of things I find terrifyingly difficult. And without sufficient description, I feel the atmosphere is never set.

Now, to those who care enough to review, I prefer straight out criticism. No beating around the bush or sugar-coated words. If you really appreciate what I write and say so, I'll accept your compliments and be thankful. But if you think there are things out of place; things that shouldn't be where they are; OOC (characters)... Then do tell me. I hate OOC-ness as much as the next fanfiction reader. And I am a perfectionist when it comes to representing the characters. At times, I know, even trying your hardest to represent a character accurately won't be enough to satisfy others -since we all see things differently- but I'd still like feedback on OOC, even if it is a trivial matter compared to something else.

I decided to leave this as an after note since I didn't want to ruin the looks. Haha~ Yah, fiction needs to look attractive too.

A late thought: I might be changing the title of this as I get to grips with what's really going on. At the moment, I'm a little unsure. But all hope is not lost, my friends. Trust me. :-)

How wonderful. My silly blathering is almost as long as the actual chapter. I must leave before I continue.