Oblivion's Grasp

Red. All she sees is red—no, it's not just red. It’s a chaotic blend of crimson and shadows, swirling together like a violent storm in her mind. Somewhere in the haze, she becomes aware of warping figures moving just beyond the edge of her vision. Their shapes are indistinct, morphing and twisting like smoke caught in a gale.

Above her, faint streaks of light seep through the gloom, casting a dim glow on a metallic ceiling. Tubes—dozens, perhaps hundreds—descend from the ceiling like serpents. They weave in and out of her line of sight, pulsating faintly as if alive. A nauseating sense of realization washes over her as she looks down at her own body.

The tubes are connected to her.

They pierce her arms, legs, and torso, disappearing into her skin like grotesque lifelines. She can feel them inside her, cold and foreign, as though they’re draining something vital—or worse, pumping something sinister into her veins. A shiver runs through her, but she’s not sure if it’s from fear or the icy sensation coursing through her bloodstream.

Her breathing quickens, shallow and erratic. She tries to move, but her limbs refuse to obey. It’s as though the tubes are holding her in place, tethering her to whatever nightmare she’s trapped in. Panic sets in, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a caged animal.

"Is this... death?" she wonders, her thoughts fragmented and incoherent. "No, this can’t be death. It’s too... cold. Too real."

The warping figures above her begin to take form, and she realizes they aren’t human. Their elongated limbs and featureless faces give them an almost spectral appearance. They hover over her, their movements deliberate and unnervingly synchronized. One of them reaches out, its long, spindly fingers brushing against the edge of a tube connected to her chest.

Pain.

A sharp, searing pain erupts where the tube meets her skin, and she lets out a choked scream. The sound is muffled, as though it’s been swallowed by the thick, oppressive air around her. She can feel something shifting inside her, a strange heat spreading through her veins like fire.

Her vision blurs, the red and darkness bleeding together into an incomprehensible void. But through the chaos, a single thought pierces through the fog of her mind: I have to get out.

With a surge of desperation, she focuses all her willpower on moving, on escaping. Her fingers twitch first, then her toes. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. She forces herself to ignore the pain, the unnatural weight of the tubes, and the oppressive presence of the figures.

Move.

Her arm jerks slightly, and one of the tubes slips free with a sickening squelch. A fresh wave of pain washes over her, but she doesn’t stop. Another tube comes loose, and then another. Each one feels like ripping apart a piece of herself, but she pushes through the agony.

The figures above her seem to notice her struggle, their movements growing frantic. One of them reaches for her again, but she lashes out with her newly freed arm, striking it. To her surprise, the figure recoils, its form flickering as if destabilized.

"Not real," she whispers hoarsely, her voice barely audible. "You’re not real."

Fueled by the revelation, she rips the remaining tubes from her body, each one leaving a burning trail in its wake. The figures begin to dissolve, their shapes disintegrating into wisps of smoke. The red haze starts to fade, replaced by an overwhelming brightness that engulfs her vision.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, everything goes silent.

She gasps for air, her body trembling as she collapses onto a cold, hard surface. The tubes are gone, the figures are gone, and the crimson storm has been replaced by a stark, sterile white.

But the question lingers, heavy and unyielding in her mind: Where am I?

She slowly turned her head, neck stiff and aching as though she'd been bound in place for days. Her gaze drifted downward to the spots where the tubes had pierced her body. Blood poured freely, dark and thick, pooling beneath her in glistening streaks. Her breath hitched.

We're they taking my blood? Or... were they giving me blood?

The thought echoed in her mind like a haunting riddle, unanswered and suffocating. The wounds where the tubes had impaled her throbbed, a sharp, biting pain made her wince. Instinctively, she tried to press a trembling hand to one of them, but her body wouldn't obey. Her limbs felt disconnected, almost as if they didn't belong to her anymore.

When she finally gathered the courage to look again, she froze.

The wounds were... healing.

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as the torn skin slowly began to knit itself back together. The flow of blood stemmed, the angry redness fading to a faint scar in mere seconds.

Her amazement was short-lived, quickly replaced by a crushing realization: what the hell am I?!

She barely had time to contemplace this before the pain surged through her once more, paralyzing and unrelenting. Movement was still impossible. Her body refused to respond, like a puppet with its strings severed.

And then, she heard it.

A low, mechanical hiss cut through the oppressive silence, followed by the unmistakable groan of a heavy door opening.

The sound was sharp, slicing through the haze of her mind like a knife. Steam hissed and swirld around the edges of her vision, obscuring everything but faint shapes and emerging from the fog.

Her eyes darted upward straining to focus as footsteps echoed on the cold floor. A man appears first, his silhouette tall and commanding, shrouded in the mist. Behind him came two others, their forms equally vague and distorted, like shadowy figures plucked ftom a nightmare.

She squinted, her vision wavering, but their faces refused to come into focus. Their features were blurred, surreal, like smudges on a painted canvas. The one in front stepped closer, his presence radiating a cold authority that made the hairs on the back of her neck thand on end.

"Code Nine is stabilizing," the lead figure spoke, his voice deep and clinical, devoid of any warmnth.

The words sent a shiver down her spine. Code Nine? Her mind reeled, grasping for clarity.

"She's stronger than expected," another voice added, coming ng from one of the men behind him. This voice wa softer, almost hesitant, but laced with something unnerving—admiration? Fear?

The lead figure tilted his head slightly, as though inspecting her. She could feel his gaze piercing through her even if his face was obscured.

"She's read for the next tests," he said, his tone laced with finality.

What tests?

Her heart raced as the room seemed to close in around her. She tried to cary out, to demand answers, but her voice was trapped in her throa. Helpless and bound by her failing body, all she could do was watch as they moved closer, their indistinct forms looming over her like specters.

And then, with a soft click, a bright light shone directly into her eyes, blinding her completely.