Chapter 126
Days and nights passed. Whenever I came to it was to colorful walls of fabric. Sometimes there would be an old woman there, who would give me the blankest of smiles as she spooned water and soup down my throat. Sometimes I'd wake up to her hands sponging my body. One time as she brushed my hair against a pillow.
The block of consciousness I'd had to face the black knight had probably only been fed by adrenaline, for nothing else sparked my panic long enough to keep me awake.
And so I dreamed.
At first, they were scattered, senseless things, like dreams often are; not making any rhyme or reason.
Then, after a few times of waking up spurts, they solidified, until I found myself aware of the apartment I stood in. It had brown carpet that should have never been in style, but carefully scrubbed walls. I had been meticulous during bouts of my nesting instinct.
I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to remember what happened here.