The Dream, The Nightmare, The Reality

[Melusine]

((Dot entered this reality.))

Dot's current mood was on the borderline of angry. She felt betrayed by an ally, yucky from the filth that was accumulating on her body but more importantly, she felt pain.

It started off as a minor headache but quickly degenerated into a stiffness of her neck, which felt like she was mummified. She imagined herself with bandages covering her body, her guts removed, replaced with pouch of fancy spices and in a museum where she could be seen by everyone that dared walked her path. She took some aspirine from her first-aid kit, shallowed it down with some water.

While it was a grim thought, she found it slightly comforting because it reminded her of the smell of cinnamon. Fuck, she wanted some cinnamon cereals right now. Instead, she was stuck with flavorless military-like bars. She munched on them, choking them down. She took a sip from her water bottle to help it go down but it felt like she was pouring water on sand.

She looked at her fingers. They were caked with blood, she wondered who's blood it was: hers, Hazel's, Penelope's or Iz's?. She stabbed three people, it would make sense their blood on her hands plus she cut herself on her knife so that adds her own blood. She bent down, lowering her hands in the water. She rubbed her hands together, making the crusted and dried blood seep into the ocean. She raised her hands from the water and stared a them. They looked fine but they still had dried blood at places like the wedges in between her nails. Whatever, she wasn't walking two bloody hands and that's what mattered the most.

She removed her sweater and her shirt. It felt wrong that she was undressing in front of the world but she comforted herself that her body was toward the ocean. It would surprise her that there was a camera capturing her in her bra.

She unbuttoned her shorts and lowered it to her knees along with her pair of leggings. Her heart was he her throat, she shouldn't believe she was actually doing that. They passed her feet and she neatly set it aside, putting it beside her shirt and her bag. It was getting very chilly on the island and being kinda naked didn't help. Jumping in the water wouldn't help either.

She grabbed her knife and stared at it. This is going to suck, isn't it? She cleaned her weapon, removing the blood and filth on the shiny black blade. She raised it the knife beside her throat and took a deep breath.

Her right hand wrapped her right braid and her left hand had her knife. With a quick jab, she tried to her braid but it didn't go through. Dorothy started to do a sawing motion, cutting her hair in a choppy and rustic way. She pulled on her braid with her right hand, painfully breaking it in the middle. Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Time to do it on the other side. She swapped her knife from her left hand to her right one. She grabbed her braid with her left braid with her empty hand and pulled on it tightly. That feeling reminded her of what the bullies would do when she was younger: pulling her pigtails and making chopping or snipping noises. Knowing that a quick slice wouldn't do it, she started by sawing her braid. Like the other one, it wasn't cut of cleanly. She had to work on it, tearing apart hairs. She gave a pull and broke the rest of the pigtail out. She set both of her pigtails on the edge bordering the water.

Boom. Haircut was over. She wasn't feeling the greasy braids brushing against her neck anymore. Her head still felt very nasty but it wasn't as bad. She looked down at her hands. The red blood was swapped for black hair. She dipped her knife in the water below her and put it inside of her bag.

She took out the porno magazine and thumbed through it. She found what she was searching for: a quiz. She left it opened in the right page and put it down.

She set her glasses on it and out herself on all fours. Then, without thinking, shoved her head under water. She shook her head underwater, waving what was left of her hair, washing the cut hair away.

The contact of the cold water on all of her head cut made her heart jump. She pulled her head out of the water, gasping for air. Without a towel, she used her shirt to cover her head. It did her job: soaked in the water and stopped some of thing to fall down on her her.

Dorothy curled up next bag, covering her legs with her leggings then putting on her short. She put on her socks then her shoe. She tucked in her feet inside of it, curling her toes in them. That was not fun but she didn't felt as dirty anymore. She laid down on the rock then shoved her hair through the hole of her sweater. She put her arms through the sleeves, happily feeling some kind of protection against the cold and the wind.

Her teeth were chattering and her body was shaking. Dot didn't really care because it was a necessary trade off to get a part of the filth on her body removed. She put on her glasses and looked at the magazine. There were a bunch of water splashes but the content was still readable.

The quiz was titled "How Accepting Are You?". Expecting something about discrimination, she was really, really wrong. The first question was about "water sports". Since when water polo had anything to do with sex? She answered honestly to the question, often wishing she had Google to search up some of the more weirder terms. After tallying her points like the ending section told her to do, she received an answer. She got a sad face with a gag on to represented the fact that she wasn't really open to all that weird kind of stuff but could make an exception for s loved one.

The time it took her to complete the quiz plus tallying her results without a calculator, her head was kinda dried apart from her hair that were still soaked. She removed the shirt she was using as a towel from head and threw it to the side. Dorothy didn't need it anymore, it was wet and would probably start smelling gross.

She stood up, looking at the horizon for a little longer. How many of them were left? Maybe 40? She tried counting them but she didn't even know who was kidnapped. Thinking about it, she caught herself trying to reach out for a pigtail but realized they were long gone. Her hair was now reaching the middle of her neck in an asymmetrical fashion. If she had a mirror, she could probably have done a better job.

She covered her head with her hood, grabbed her knife and slug her bag over her shoulder. She realized she had forgotten Lucilly's magazine so she bent her knee and grabbed it but she hesitated. She wondered if she were approving what she was doing in her moron - Dot was still very confused why that was considered a religious but she didn't judge - heaven. She was probably unhappy with what she has done but she probably understood that she defended herself. Iz was much of a defensive kill but she had it coming. Hazel was stabbed because she attacked Jae and Penelope was slashed because she taunted her, but she wasn't so sure they were dead. Dorothy didn't dare to stick around because in both case, there was someone with a scary weapon.

She still picked up the magazine and shoved it down her bag. She didn't lose anything from this short but cold interlude other than her dignity. She kicked her braids in the water, wishing farewell to her past self.

((Dorothy left this sad place.))