I stand up from the place I am hiding in, I do not know when- or why I am standing here if I was just hiding a few minutes ago. I'm sure I am with my friend... but where is she? I look around the obnoxious room I am placed in and I am greeted with a gust of wind and unhappy whispers.
I am being watched; I know I am being watched. Two pairs of displeasing crimson orbs are observing my every move; this inanimate object is making me feel anxious. I move my semi paralyzed head to face this loathsome existence. I reluctantly advance to the being to find a ghastly doll underneath the wrecked, ancient piano. Her dress is ripped, much like the dress I'm wearing now, her eyes are as red as blood. This doll resembles the same long hair I have, and the deathly pale skin I have. My mother always said that I need more sunlight hours but I never listened to her.
Not once did I ever think to go outside. I stare down at my hand and realize that I look dead, my skin is simply the skin of a dead person. I grasp the doll's hand and study her features like a cat observing their prey. I run a hand against her porcelain cheek and felt an existence rub my cheek at that same moment.
I put a hand to my cheek and flick the doll's head, again, at that same moment a presence flicks my head in the same area. It appears that I am somehow connected to this collectible.
I hold her as if I am protecting her and take a glimpse through the torn, wearing curtains. I creep to the rusted door leading to the outside world. I struggle, but I manage to open the door to see a bottomless pit of blackness. I can't escape this place. It's a wrecked jail and I am it's prisoner.
Even if I cannot escape from here, there is no harm in trying, is there? Maybe I can even find my friend? I open the door leading to the corridor outside of the room. It's jammed and rusted but I manage to open it with difficulty. I take my me-doll outside with me, since I am holding her hand I feel a presence holding my hand too, I feel protected and secure. I grip her hand like a child grips their mother's.
The corridor is dark, eerie and has a sorrowful vibe. Still, I am determined to escape. I look down the corridor but I fail to see anything, all vision is lost. Though I can't see, I feel like I know where I am and I know where I'm going.
A slit of moonlight finds its way to an unused, abandoned girls' bathroom. Paint is peeling from the walls, sink pipes are cut and a large puddle of unhygienic water forms underneath the cut pipes. The sights of the dreadful bathroom send uncomfortable chills down my spine. I shudder a little and the me-doll also shudders, mimicking me. It scares me a little, having a small version of me copy my every move like a younger sibling.
I peer into the room where the drips are heard from. The door is broken and was on one hinge. The common picture of a female on the door is eroding away. I step into the bathroom and take a deep breath. Pipes are either lost or cut. Sinks are cracked. It is only one specific sink where the pipe is sliced in half, that is the source of the constant dripping sound, it's not irritating, but somehow reassuring. Reassuring that if I am to be stranded here, at least I'd have a source of water.
Advancing out of the room, I begin to walk right towards a pair of double doors. A tared picture of a Sunday roast dinner was plastered on the left door. The faint scent of fresh roast potatoes are smelled, implying that a cook is lurking this large building.
"Hello?" I call out in a questioning manner. My voice is thin and gentle, the opposite of my usual voice.
"What do you want?" A voice calls out to me.
The voice seems all too familiar to me. Familiar but different. She sounds like my sister.
I enter the large room through the double doors, accidentally hitting me-doll's head on the door frame. Not long after, I clutch my forehead in agony. I moan in pain and that's when the owner of the harsh voice reveals herself.
"Kuro? What are you doing here?" She asks, shocked. ( ◠‿◠)
"I... just woke up here..."I trail off, confused about my situation. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"What's with you? You usually have a strong and deeper voice for a female and you never wear dresses or ribbons!" She clutches her stomach in laughter. ( ◠‿◠)
"What about you? You're never laughing about other people's appearances or answering people rudely!" I reply, full of hurt.
"And you'd never get offended or sensitive about the comment I just made," she smirks. ( ◠‿◠)
It's true. I'm a "tomboy". I never wear dresses or wear my hair down unless I'm going for a shower or sleeping.
"Enough of that. Where are we?" I ask her. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"I've already worked it out. We're at school." She answers. ( ◠‿◠)
"School? But isn't school usually more cheerful and cleaner?" I ask. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"And not abandoned." She adds. ( ◠‿◠)
"How did we end up here? How do we get out? Where are all the teachers? Have you-" (｡◝‿◜｡)
"Enough! When will you stop asking questions? I only got here forty-seven minutes ago, what makes you think I have the answers to your questions?" She exclaims.
"I'm sorry... Shiro," I look away.
My sister never answers anyone like that. Regardless of them irritating her until she grinds her teeth. What makes her so rude now? Questions flood my mind as I walk towards the freshly cooked food.
"Did you cook this?" I ask her. (｡◝‿◜｡)
"Yes, smells nice?" She smiles. ( ◠‿◠)
"Yeah... it smells just like mother's roast potatoes." I comment.
Something's not right. Shiro never cooks, and when she cooks, it never tastes good.
"I figured that if I had working ovens and ingredients I could cook something. Care to taste one?" She beckons me to come closer. ( ◠‿◠)
"S-sure..." I stutter, not knowing what to expect.
It's strange; I feel as though I'm... hurt by how rough my sister is, which is atypical, I do not usually feel hurt by people's comments...