Created

She could see it. The shimmering surface of the water. But she was too weak, now. Clamoring at her bondage, she knew she wasn't going to make it. Still, she had to try. Nails digging at the rope, just trying to pull it away. To slide it over the raw skin around her ankle. It was so close. There! It was off. Floundering, she struggled weakly to make it up, but her legs just wouldn't move... Gasping, she broke the surface of the water--

Wait, what? I'm dry. Sitting up off of the table, she looked around wildly. Her heart still pounded in her chest, as she scrambled to figure out where she was. Am I at a hospital? Everything was so blurry, but it seemed like there were instrument trays propped up beside her. Bright lamps were shining above her, from left and right. She was... naked! Instinctively she reached to her left, picking up her glasses and putting them on her face. How... did I know those were there?

Alison... That was her name, right? It felt more as if someone had just told her that was her name. More importantly, her eyes were not aided in the least by the glasses. Everything was still hazed over heavily, but quickly coming into focus. She slowly slid her legs over the edge of the operating table, dropping to her feet. Her knees buckles immediately, but gripping the table she managed to avoid collapsing completely. Pain and weakness swept over in waves, causing her to slip down to her knees anyway.

What... is wrong with me? She was shaken from her thoughts by the intrusion of a much louder one. Way too loud to have been one of her own. Don't just sit there, get moving! She struggled to push against the ground, just barely managing to get to her feet. Seeing two doors, one ahead and one behind, she chose to take the one in front of her, darting over and peering outside before rushing out into the corridor. Though there were several doors along both sides, the end of one was dead and the other seemed to open into a large room.

After verifying that a couple of the doors were locked, she stopped wasting time and rushed out into the large room. It was truly gargantuan. Rows and columns of tubes lined the area before her, filled with... herself! Her wide eyes stared around at the scene with terror. They were all dead, or unconscious. It was hard to tell. With a breath like someone had punched her in her slender stomach, she followed the path with her eyes up to the large vat in the center. There it was simply another of her, and she was definitely alive, for she was staring right at her. What are you waiting for? Go!

The force of the thought almost knocked her on her back. She stared in awe, assuming that the barrage had come from the ...herself in the container before her. Confirming her thoughts, she saw the floating redhead jerk her head to the left, giving a meaningful stare. She looked both ways. Indeed, the left side was clear, and the right... had people charging toward her. Yep, she took off to the left, cursing herself for not trusting... herself.

Don't worry about it. It's a smart reaction. It's why you're going to make it out of here. Despite those encouraging words, several projectiles whizzed by her. There was no where to turn, and she did not dare to risk time trying to open a possibly locked door. Charging as fast as she could ahead, she saw the bullets ricocheting off of the end of the corridor ahead of her. As she approached the end, she could see that it split off into two directions. Receiving no instruction, she took the left again, seeing upon the floor as she passed tiny, red-feathered darts.

They are trying to capture me alive! Somehow that was even scarier than the alternative. If they wanted her alive, they would be all the more determined to find her. Second door to the left. She did not hesitate this time, darting into the room. The door was indeed unlocked and lead into a... bathroom. Well, whatever works.

Though she didn't believe they had any reason to check in here, as she wouldn't have known this particular door was accessible, she still made her way deeper inside. It was a typical 'public restroom' layout. Several stalls, and urinals. Oh great, I'm in the men's. Four sinks with a long mirror in front. Air and paper driers. There was a curiously large drain in the center of the floor.

Briefly she heard the sound of pounding shoes zipping past, and when none of them stopped to open the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Stepping up to the sink out of hygienal instinct, she turned on one of the hot water faucets, but... never made it under the water. She was too busy looking into the mirror.

I look like a monster. She was calm. Perhaps shocked was a better word. She had somehow forgotten her nakedness in the short struggle to run away. But from her first-person perspective, she hadn't been able to ascertain the shape of her body. Now she could see, long welting scars running across her body. Some of them still heavily stitched, others long(but badly) healed. Monster was a bad word. She looked more like a total organ donor, stitched up for the funeral.

Her hair was a wild mess, she was surprised she could see past it at all. Her face was smeared with blood and mud. Her hands, held in front of her, will covered with much of the same, caked under her nails. She desperately needed to bathe, ironic because her last memory seemed to be of drowning.

I know the situation seems grim, but don't lose hope. You're strong, and you're smart. Just don't freak out and you'll be fine. Don't freak out. Yes, that was sage advice. Freaking out was what always got her into trouble. At least, she thought that was the case. More pressingly, though, now alone and finally calming down, she had time to question her current situation. Who are you? Why can I hear you? Can you hear me?

Amusement touched her from without, infecting her with a slight quirk to the corner of her lips. Yes, I can hear you. I'm you, obviously. A pause. Or, more correctly, you are me. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Idly, almost unaware, Alison dipped her fingers under the hot water, and began dispensing a hefty amount of soap into her hands.

As she began to lather it into suds, the voice that was her own came again. I'm 'Alison Prime', as they would call it. She began to work the soap up her arms, above and below. Digging nail under nail, scrubbing between fingers. So I... Am a clone? Peering into her reflection, she inspected her rough and worn face as hands began to scrub soap into it. It did not seem to sting her eyes to get soap in them, for whatever reason.