Ellie tossed and turned in her master bedroom, her body contorting with discomfort. Her movements ranged from twitching to heavy, abrupt breathing, and her forehead glistened with sweat as her heart raced beneath the comforting embrace of her crimson velvet blanket. The once-neat bed linens now transformed into a disheveled mess, tangled around her slim form. Fragmented images from her past invaded her dreams, relentless flashes of scenes she had desperately tried to leave behind—the haunting remnants of the apocalypse incident.
In her restless slumber, she found herself wrestling with a survivor she believed to be an enemy, locked in a deadly dance of survival. The weight of a gun pressed against her temple, yet fiery determination burned in her eyes as she barked, "Who the hell are you!?" A defiant cry despite the imminent threat. "I'm here to save you!" the mysterious man yelled. Her body winced and groaned, twisting and turning from one side of the bed to the other. Blood splattered, anguished cries filled the air, and her own voice echoed with tears. She grunted and cried out, driven by an indomitable will to fight and kill for her own survival, despite her tender age.
She dispatched enemies with brutal efficiency—undead zombies and treacherous survivors alike—her technique honed through rigorous training. Blades clashed against skulls, bow- an arrows found their mark, and throats were mercilessly slit with a sharp blade. There were grunts of resistance, but some succumbed, their lives extinguished by her swift and deadly strikes. Her dreams whisked her away to countless locations, each corner a battleground where she fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Glimpses of her savior, the one who had accompanied her through the trials of the apocalypse, were fleeting and scarce in her dreams.
The nightmares persisted, unrelenting in their intensity. She cried out, repeatedly stabbing at the lifeless body of the man who had already met his end, desperately drove her to sever the tie that bound her to this figure, once a hero in the post-apocalyptic world that lay at the end of the road, now a betrayer. His words lingered, echoing in her mind, as she fought against the memory of how he had saved her, his family standing alongside other survivors. The nerve that it struck was palpable, for he seemed to possess an intimate knowledge of her, and his intent was clear—he would ensure her demise. But now, his crew, long gone and lifeless, had rendered Ellie an mysterious man she trying to save his life is incapacitated, because of this man people, his fate soon to be sealed as soon the pain killers Ellie bought on exchange to keep himself alive longer effects run out.
Locked in a showdown of death, she knew he would find her, driven by a desire to eliminate the people who spelled trouble for those he cared about. It was in this harrowing confrontation that someone pulled her away, their identity obscured by the haze of her subconscious. Sobbing, she collapsed into their arms.
Ellie awoke, tears streaming down her face, and glanced at her alarm clock—it was still the early hours of the morning. She sighed heavily and lay her head back down on the pillow. The blankets flew up and settled around her, providing a comforting cocoon for her entire body. One of her pets, a feline companion, approached her on soft paws, its eyes filled with concern as it let out a worried meow. "No," Ellie spoke softly, her voice an attempt at a smile, not wanting to upset the cat or invite its own tears due to her nightmares. She hurriedly reached out and smoothed the fur on its head, feeling the soft, wet moisture of its tongue licking her left hand, causing her to giggle as the sensation tickled her.
Straightening her back, she sat up in bed and gently patted the cat's head before lifting it into her arms, urging it to settle in its designated spot—a cozy cat bed with a miniature blanket draped over it. "Sorry, mommy was screaming and having nightmares," Ellie whispered, her voice tender. "Go back to sleep." She returned to her own slumbering place, laying her head down slowly. Her gaze shifted to the left, where the nightstand table proudly displayed pictures of her achievements—a badge of honor from her days as a lab technician. The photographs seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight that seeped through the blinds of her window. With a gradual closing of her eyes, she let fatigue overpower her fear. Her arms stretched out flat on the bed, her legs extended as she succumbed to the embrace of sleep.
Ellie's snores filled the room, a symphony of slowed and troubled breaths as if her throat was plagued by sickness. In the dimly lit patches of orange fur on the cat's tail, it wagged back and forth, swaying like a two-speed fan. A groan escaped the feline's mouth in a yawn-meow before it settled down, cuddling Ellie's entire body like a corsage. Her tail wrapped around her, creating a cocoon-like embrace as she sought some well-deserved rest. The dogs, a couple of poodles, were faithful companions, but they struggled with their own sleep issues, snoring through anything, including Ellie's nightmarish screams.
The moon hung overhead, its light peeking through the clouds as it followed the cyclic rhythm of life. The family slept soundly, lost in their dreams. Ellie's quiet breaths indicated that she was experiencing a taste of peaceful dreams, free from the torment of nightmares that threatened to push her over the brink of sleep deprivation. Her rapidly beating heart gradually cooled down, returning to its normal rhythm, as she exhaled deeply, the air puffing out from her chest.
The cycle of life continued, an unceasing flow that carried people through their slumber, whether living or deceased. Hours passed, and as morning approached, the sun's rays pierced through the red velvet blinds of Ellie's window, intensifying in the bustling city outside. She groaned and shifted her entire body away from the spotlight of the sunbeam. She hadn't quite outgrown her childish tendencies, and a droplet of saliva slid down her cheek, leaving a sticky residue until it dried. Her snores grew louder, accompanied by the slurping sounds of her salivating mouth, partially open in her sleep.
Her alarm clock blared, its annoying tone piercing the air, announcing that it was time to wake up. "No, Daddy, give me a few more minutes," she mumbled, crawling her body to the right side of the bed, seeking refuge in the sun's rays, hoping the deafening sound would dissipate. But the alarm grew even louder, persistently repeating its call. She groaned and muffled her ears with her pillows, her breaths growing more agitated as she struggled to find respite in sleep. Just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, her phone rang with a volume rivaling her alarm. It played her favorite ringtone, a melody reminiscent of anime, a nostalgic facade that usually brought her joy. But in her combative state, fueled by her dark past and honed combat skills, she unleashed a battle cry and smashed the alarm clock with a mighty fist, reducing it to shards of robotic metal scattered on the table.
Her eyes glared red, but as her savage breaths subsided, she realized the extent of her destruction. She crawled into the corner of her bed, shielding her body with the blankets, covering herself up halfway, and squeezing her pillows tightly in a bear hug. Taking deep breaths, she surveyed her sleeping pets, including her orange-furred cat, still curled up and peacefully slumbering. Ellie let out a sigh of relief, exhaling the tension that had built up, and retrieved her phone from the wreckage she had wrought upon her alarm clock.
Holding the phone in her hand, remnants of the shattered clock still lingering, she pressed the accept button to answer the call. It was her long-lost friend and bar owner, Steven Jones. "Yeah, Steven?" she asked, her voice tinged with an exhausted exhale that made her more grouchy than usual. "What could you possibly want from me at 7 o'clock in the morning?"
"I'm sorry, Honeybun," Ellie chuckled as Steven playfully used his favorite nickname for her. She rolled her eyes, letting go of the tension that had built up from her earlier outburst. It was comforting to know that despite her combat skills, Steven had a way of diffusing her anger. She settled back into her bed, finding a more comfortable position as she curled up. The soft sheets embraced her tired body, offering solace.
"I needed your help at the bar," Steven continued. "It's a safe place for you to fly under the radar while working on the project with retired special agent Leo, right?"
Ellie pondered for a moment, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, that's right. What's going on with your other staff?" she asked in a gentle tone. "I mean, if you're hinting that I should take my day off as a reward for my hard work, I can be replaced, you know?"
Steven chuckled nervously and glanced over his shoulder. Chaos ensued as rowdy patrons harassed the female staff, while some of the male staff grew nervous and scared, urging the troublemakers to leave the ladies alone. Tensions rose as defiant individuals in the bar squared off, their faces inches apart, fists clenched with hostile intent. Others who were still patiently waiting for their drinks stood up, positioning themselves in defense of the frightened staff, daring the troublemakers to back off. It was a standoff, and a fight seemed inevitable.
"Wow, I can sense the urgency in your voice. You definitely need me," Ellie smirked and let out a small giggle. She placed her phone by her side, cracking her knuckles audibly, a sound that Steven could hear on the other end. He scurried into the kitchen, seeking refuge while some of the trembling staff continued cooking and preparing drinks for the customers.
"Please, just don't kill anyone, Ellie," Steven said, his voice filled with fear, before quickly hanging up.
Ellie stretched her arms wide, feeling her entire body come alive as her bones cracked satisfyingly. A yawn escaped her lips, followed by a deep exhale. It was time to get out of bed and start getting ready for work. She whispered to herself, "Right," as she gathered her energy, her cartoon pajamas clinging to her sleepy form. The day awaited, and she was ready to face it head-on.
She slowly slid out of her bed, her feet covered by soft pajamas, and stood upright on the plush carpet. The cat that had been cuddling with her emitted a low snarl, causing Ellie to glance back. Its clawed paws scratched the air with fury as it let out a snore-meow, settling back down by Ellie's side, resuming its peaceful slumber.
Ellie tiptoed forward, careful not to let the wooden floorboards creak and give away her wakefulness. As she left the master bedroom and stepped into the hallway, she walked normally, the doorframe framing her exit. Closing the door to her red velvet cushioned bedroom, her favorite color enveloped her, adorning every inch of furniture and personal belongings. She flicked the switch, and the lights illuminated her entire body, causing her to groan at the sudden brightness that pierced through the shadows, welcoming the vibrant morning outside.
Turning on the faucets, she adjusted the temperature to her liking, feeling the cool and warm water blend together. She reached for her toothpaste, securely held in its tube holder, and opened the mirrored cabinet beside it. In a split second, she caught a glimpse of her disheveled appearance—the light brown hair resembling a rockstar's messy style, her tired eyes, and the remnants of dry saliva on the side of her cheeks where she had slept. Her tan skin bore traces of light chickenpox, a reminder of the past.
As she reached for the Aim Cavity Protection Ultra Mint toothpaste tube amidst her other belongings, it clinked against the surrounding items, creating a cacophony of clattering sounds. The noise caused her medicine pill bottles, prescribed for her traumatic episodes when she transformed into a formidable combatant, to tip over and roll momentarily before coming to a stop amidst the other objects, their weight keeping them upright.
The white faucet of the sink, adorned with blue tides, matched the square design of the bathroom. As Ellie stood on the bathroom floor, it hugged her feet with a cozy embrace, providing comfort. The cleanliness of the bathroom was a testament to her efforts in maintaining a tidy space, a way for her to release frustration by fighting against messiness and uncleanliness. She closed the window, shutting out any external noise, and twisted off the cap of her toothpaste, exposing the minty green gel within. Squeezing the tube, she dispensed a generous amount onto her toothbrush and wet it with warm water, preparing to brush her teeth.
With efficient and strong strokes, she brushed up and down, from the front to the sides and back, all the while smiling at herself in the mirror. Her reflection blinked back at her, revealing that she hadn't changed much over the years, except for her increased height compared to her shorter, younger self. Her features still retained a hint of cuteness, often leading people to mistake her for a teenager or someone in their early twenties.
She released a slow spit, forming a string of paste that worked its way from her mouth, landing in the sink below. With her left hand, she turned the red faucet, screwing it halfway to allow the running water to spill out. She spat a little more, ensuring that the paste dissolved into the sink. Using her free left hand, she rubbed the donut-shaped paste around her lips and chin, cleaning up the dried slobber that had smeared across her cheeks. She used both hands, reaching up and down her arms, wiping away the residue with hot water splashed onto the spots, rinsing it off with a light blue tile cloth.
Taking hold of the toothbrush handle, she braced it firmly on the edge of the white sink, ensuring it wouldn't fall and hit the ground. With the bristles, she brushed down her tongue, extending it over her lips and down to her chin, applying an extra squeeze of toothpaste. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned, keeping her tongue in this position, determined to eliminate any lingering bacteria and banish bad breath, striving for a healthy mouth that would last a lifetime.
Bending over the sink, she watched as some slobber rushed down the drain, the paste melting into a dripping concoction, as she continued for a few more minutes, spitting it all out and rinsing it away with the faucet. Moving on to the mouthwash, she gurgled the liquid, feeling it whoosh in and out, swishing back and forth between her cheeks. As she did, her cheeks looked puffy and swollen, resembling a chucky and puffer fish, inflated like a porcupine. She stared into her reflection, lingering a little longer in the mirror, her fingers resting on the edge of the sink to maintain her balance, taking in the details of her appearance and her surroundings.
She tilted her head back slightly, opening her mouth wide and gurgling. The sound of bubbles oozing out and popping in mid-air echoed through the bathroom, resembling the playful noises of being inside a bathtub. The stream of mouth waste moved aggressively, swirling in her mouth before she spat it out into the sink, repeating the process and using the faucet to flush it away. She rinsed her mouth with cold water, feeling the quick whoosh and whoosh as it danced within her mouth before being expelled as well. Taking a long exhale, she could smell the minty freshness of her breath filling the air. With her mouth open, she revealed a full smile, showcasing her white teeth and vibrant red gums, her extended tongue spotless and devoid of bacteria. Satisfied, she closed her mouth, glanced around, and reached for a hairbrush.
As she brushed, the bristles created gentle waves in her smooth, chestnut brown hair. The strands undulated like waves washing ashore, held in place by her right hand stretched over the right side of her head. Her left hand skillfully brushed the hair into a girl hunny bun hairstyle, creating a long cascade of hair that swayed gracefully above her left ear and wrapped behind her head in a neat twist. The hair on the right side lay flat and sleek, covering her right ear. She admired her reflection in the mirror, pleased with the result.
Leaving the bathroom, she entered her room, where her pets were still sound asleep, exhausted from their adventures and playtime during the day. She needed to be mindful not to disturb them as they enjoyed their much-needed rest. Gently gritting her teeth in worry, she tiptoed to her closed baskets with lids and carefully retrieved her work clothes from underneath the radar. Her fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of an orange silk shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans. Closing the lid with a soft click, she made her way to the closet, grabbing a handful of clean undergarments she would need for her shower. She closed the closet door halfway, ensuring it wouldn't make a loud noise and wake her pets. The quiet click of the door shutting provided a sense of relief. Heading back to the bathroom, she arranged her clothing on the closed toilet seat lid, creating a makeshift seat. Closing the bathroom door behind her, she noticed her perfume, lotion, and deodorant bottles neatly arranged beneath the bathroom cabinets, ready for her to use before stepping out into the world.
The shower faucet emitted a metallic creak as it was turned on, and the shower head paused for a brief moment, as if contemplating its next move. Then, with a burst of energy, the water sprayed out, enveloping the entire bathtub in a warm and cold shower rain. She reached out and gently closed the red velvet blinds of the shower, shutting out the outside world. With a graceful motion, she undressed, removing every piece of clothing from her body. Her hands found a plush cloth, adorned with a soft facecloth and a bar of orange-scented Dove soap perched on top. Folding the cloth neatly, she knelt down, the scent of warm and cold water mingling in the air.
Taking hold of the facecloth and soap, she carefully guided her slender legs into the shower, the warm water cascading over her half-submerged body. As she balanced on one leg, she could feel the slipperiness of the shower floor, relying on her willpower to remain upright and avoid collapsing into the shower with her other leg. With a determined focus, she closed the shower curtains, ensuring that the water would stay contained within her body and the bathtub. As the water continued to wet her surroundings, the whole bathroom became a damp sanctuary.
She spread her legs slightly, standing tall, and wet the facecloth. Mixing it vigorously with the soap, the lather grew exponentially, becoming frothy and cool against her skin. With efficient strokes, she began scrubbing her entire body, each hand working diligently to rid herself of every trace of dirt and impurity. As she immersed herself in the shower's embrace, a soft hum escaped her lips, the sound reverberating within the enclosed space. In this moment, flashes of memories surged through her mind, transporting her to a world of her own creation—a place of solace and glimpses of goodness amidst the shadows of her tragic past.