The air is different here. Fresh. Cool. Alive.
I take my first step outside, each movement feeling like it's breaking through invisible chains. The sky above stretches out endlessly—a vast canvas of clear blue. The brightness stings my eyes, and I squint, feeling the warmth of the sun spread over my face. It's nothing like the relentless, cold fluorescents from the lab. This warmth is... gentle. Real.
I take a deep breath, and the air fills my lungs like nothing I've ever tasted. It's crisp, pure, carrying hints of grass, earth, and something else I can't name. A breeze passes, brushing my skin like a soft whisper, lifting the heavy weight from my shoulders. My senses, used to the sterile, metallic stench of the lab, come alive with these new smells and sensations.
But something stirs deeper than just curiosity or fascination. There's a strange, unplaceable nostalgia, like a melody half-remembered in a dream. I don't know why it feels so familiar, but a part of me aches for something I can't recall.
My gaze drifts across the landscape—a tapestry of green and gold, with trees dotting the horizon, their leaves rustling in the breeze. Farther off, I catch sight of a field of wildflowers, vibrant and free, waving in unison. It's all so vast, so open. It's as if the whole world is unfolding before me, offering a welcome I never knew I needed.
For a long moment, I just stand there, taking it all in.
A faint sound catches my attention, pulling me from my trance. It's soft, almost musical—a gentle trickle that blends with the rustle of leaves. I follow it, stepping carefully through the soft ground beneath my feet, feeling the cool, damp earth sink slightly under my weight.
As I push through a thicket of trees, the source of the sound appears: a small stream, clear and glistening in the sunlight. It snakes through the underbrush, flowing over smooth stones and casting shimmering reflections onto the rocks around it.
I move closer, entranced by the sight of water, pure and free, not confined to a metal basin or siphoned through pipes. My fingers reach out instinctively, dipping into the stream. It's cold, colder than I expected, but the sensation is exhilarating, sending a thrill up my arm.
I bring my fingers to my face, feeling the rivulets of water drip down my cheeks, mingling with the dirt and blood caked onto my skin. The freshness of it is invigorating, a shock to my senses. The water feels different—clean, untainted, unlike anything I remember.
Without a second thought, I step into the stream. The coldness wraps around my ankles, but I don't care. The sensation grounds me, drawing me closer to something primal and pure.
I crouch in the center of the stream, water flowing around me, and start to wash the grime from my hands. Blood, dirt, and the remnants of battles gone by cloud the water as I scrub, watching as the dark stains fade, carried away by the current. With each movement, the memories of the lab—the metallic floors, the sterile lights, the stench of death—seem to fade, washed away by the steady flow of the stream.
I slip off the remains of my tattered clothes, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability as I stand there, exposed under the open sky. The sun warms my skin, its light filling me with a strange mixture of calm and energy. I scoop handfuls of water, splashing them over my chest, my arms, my face, feeling the shock of the cold followed by the rush of clarity it brings.
Slowly, methodically, I wash every inch of myself, scrubbing away the dirt and blood that clings to my skin, as if each movement is wiping away a part of my past. It's more than just cleansing. It's a ritual, a way of shedding the darkness I've carried with me since I opened my eyes in that lab.
For a moment, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the water's surface. I lean closer, staring at the face that stares back—a face that feels both familiar and alien. Crimson eyes, intense and unwavering, stare back at me, framed by hair as white as snow. My skin, though pale, has a strength to it, scars and callouses that tell stories I can't fully remember.
It's a face that's fierce, unyielding, but also… free. This is who I am, whoever that may be.
As I gaze at my reflection, a mix of emotions swirls within me—confusion, awe, and a strange sense of contentment. For the first time, I feel like I'm truly *seeing* myself. I may not remember who I was, but standing here, washed clean under the open sky, I feel like I'm on the edge of something new.
The breeze picks up, sending a ripple across the water's surface, distorting my reflection. I close my eyes, feeling the wind dance across my skin, and for a moment, I let myself simply exist. No battles, no monsters, no hunger. Just… peace.
I step out of the stream, leaving behind the blood-stained clothes on the bank. They're a part of a past I don't need anymore. The sun is starting to set, casting warm, golden light across the landscape, painting the world in hues of orange and pink.
I feel lighter, as if a weight I didn't know I was carrying has been lifted from my shoulders. I don't know what lies ahead, but for now, I'm content to just be. To breathe. To live.
As the sun dips below the horizon, I stand there, feeling the day's last rays warm my skin. The sounds of the forest begin to rise—the chirping of crickets, the distant call of birds settling in for the night, the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze.
In this moment, I realize that I'm no longer just surviving. I'm… *living*.