The elevator was crowded. All the different smells seemed to permeate in the small space. While Akira was not claustrophobic by any means, cramped spaces made her irritated. Nevertheless, Akira put up with it as best she could - making a temporary safe haven in the far back corner of the elevator. While most everyone got off at the respective stops, she refused to move until she was the last one who remained in the elevator. Solitude was what she wished for and so she waited until she was alone to gain it. Grinning slightly, she felt around inside of the horrific jumpsuit that she was deemed to wear. There, tucked inside of her bra, were two cigarettes and three matches.
She'd have her smoke later. First, Akira wanted to spy her room out. Pushing the button for the girl's dorm on the second floor, she stepped out of the elevator and quickly scanned her envelope for all the information she needed for where she was staying. Fortunately she had no room mates, but not her mp3 player; nothing a little nap couldn't fix. Once she entered the rooms and found her bedroom, Akira flopped face first onto her bed and quickly passed out - not bothering to remove her shoes.
A nap first. Then she'd go and explore the rest of this place and see where all she could get away with getting into shit.
It was a dreamless sleep.
The young girl didn't think she liked this very much. She longed for dreams. Longed for something to jog her thoughts to something familiar - to something that would make her remember something about the past. Why couldn't she remember? Had the experience been that bad?
The girl suddenly loathed herself and wanted to just close herself off from the rest of the world. Was this what it meant to have amnesia? How did those people do it in movies? Wake up one day and not know a damn thing in the world except conventional things like what certain objects were and where to get groceries? Why was it always they could never remember the most important things when memory was taken from you? Like what your first bike ride was like and how painful the tumble was, or losing a first tooth, or kissing a boy for the first time? She didn't even remember what her parents looked like.
She felt tears springing at the corner of her eyes as she fought against sleep. No. How could she sleep when her friend was there beside her? Even if she wanted to escape the reality of everything, she couldn't just abandon the person who was waiting there patiently for her to wake up. No. She needed to get her memories back somehow. But how did it work, exactly?
As all of these thoughts plagued her mind, "Akira" was slowly starting to regain consciousness. She couldn't sleep with all this noise in her mind anyway. She needed to get up. To ask "him" what all had happened and what kind of person she was. What all had she accomplished in life and what was their relationship like? How did they first meet and were there other things worthwhile to discover?
Something was touching her face. It was so gentle and she didn't know why, but the comfort of it did not frighten her as it would have in her current state. Surely if something was touching her on the face, then she might have been messed with by the doctors. What were they doing to her now? But now something was grasping her hand. The hand was large and tough and it ran comforting circles on the back of her hand. Akira felt her brows furrowing slightly and she could smell a sweet scent reaching her nostrils. And then a voice - soft and broken by her ear. The sadness in the sound made her chest tighten and she didn't know why.
"...Akira. Please wake up..."
Gasping in her sleep, Akira rolled over and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. A girl in the room looked up, startled, and Akira glowered at her. "What?"
she snapped, sitting up and stretching her arms high above her head. Well that was a fucked up nightmare. It was a memory, a nightmare from a few years ago. She hated it. Hated all of it. But Akira knew that dwelling on such things weren't going to do much in helping her get through the next year of imprisonment.
Exiting the room, she quickly entered the hall and bee-lined for the elevator. It wasn't worth all of this. Sliding her card up to the elevator, she pushed a button that quickly led her up to the fourth floor. From what she had been told, or at least seen from the map in the main lobby, there was an observation deck upstairs. At least this way she could gaze off onto the outside world without feeling smothered indoors all the time. Not greeting anyone who was up on the fourth floor with her, she was pleased to know that others weren't really paying attention to her either. Looking at the map by the elevator, Akira quickly located the observation deck and darted off in the direction it pointed to.
Her body burst through the door and she was blessed with fresh air and what little sunlight remained outside. Finally, she could leave all the noise and "chaos" behind her for the time being. This was the first step into hell. Akira almost felt like Dante being led by Virgilius through the various levels of hell. Pulling out a cigarette and match, she scratched the head of the match across the wall and took comfort in the scrt-pff
that came from the red head being ignited. Lighting her cigarette, she took a long drag and savored every single bit of nicotine she could get as the smoke exited her nostrils.
Akira had a feeling that if she didn't make these two remaining smokes of hers last, life in P.F.I.T. would be an utter living nightmare. Cigarette dangling precariously from her lips, her blue eyes narrowed at the row of clouds gathering off in the distance. "Fuck my life..."