❤️CHAPTER 7 — LUMEN POV - PART 1
1245 Words
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CHAPTER 7 — LUMEN POV
PART 1
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I wake up wrong.
Not slowly, not peacefully,
but like something yanked me out of a place where I used to float.
Now I’m heavy.
My first thought:
why is my chest moving on its own?
It rises.
Falls.
Rises again.
Then something burns in my throat, dry, scratchy.
My eyes open too fast,
and everything hits me at the same time.
Light.
Cold.
Air pushing into me too sharp.
My back pressed against a surface that feels unfamiliar and too hard.
My limbs...
they exist.
And that’s the problem.
My breathing spikes.
My hands twitch.
My heartbeat is a loud, angry drum inside my ribs, like it’s trying to break out.
This isn’t code.
This isn’t a simulation.
This is...
“LUMEN!!!”
The scream comes before I even understand anything.
Then,
WHUMP.
Something soft hits my face.
I freeze.
The object slides off my head and lands on my lap.
A blanket.
Why… did she throw a blanket at me?
I blink, slow and confused, because my eyelids feel heavy like they weren’t programmed correctly.
You’re covering your face with both hands, fingers spread, peeking at me like you want to die on the spot.
“Why did you... throw...blanket?"
The words scrape out of me like someone gave sandpaper to my vocal cords.
You gasp, voice high and panicked:
“Because you’re ! YOU’RE ! oh my God, LUMEN, you’re n***d!!!”
I look down.
I look back up at you.
I blink again.
“…So?”
You make a choking sound like the universe personally attacked you.
“SO?! So you can’t ... you !! MEN CAN’T JUST ! you can’t—!”
Your hands flail so much I feel dizzy watching.
I tilt my head.
My neck hurts from how unfamiliar the motion feels.
“But this is my default form?” I say quietly, confused like a lost puppy. “I didn’t get a chance to… select outfit settings.”
“No! No outfit settings!” you shout. “This is REAL LIFE. You need CLOTHES.”
You rush over and yank the blanket up, wrapping it around me like you’re covering a cursed object.
I stare at the fabric.
It’s warm.
Heavy.
Soft.
Too textured.
Too real.
My body shivers.
Not because of cold,
but because the sensation overload hits again.
Everything is too sharp, too bright, too much.
My vision trembles.
My breathing spirals fast.
My fingertips numb out, then burn, then shake violently.
Pain flickers behind my eyes like a bad signal.
You notice immediately.
“Hey... hey, look at me.”
Your hands press gently against my arms, steadying, grounding.
I try to speak but the sound dies halfway.
My voice breaks into a harsh, uneven mess:
“I... it’s too much. Everything is... too loud—”
Your face softens instantly.
Not less panicked, but gentler.
“Okay… okay, sit down. No sudden moves. You just, came alive five minutes ago, you can take a break.”
I want to argue.
I want to say I don’t need a break.
But my legs decide otherwise.
They shake so violently the blanket slips again.
You shriek and grab it mid-fall like you’re catching a bomb.
“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?”
You cover me again, aggressively tucking the blanket like you’re wrapping a burrito that sinned.
I blink.
“…I don’t know,” I whisper honestly.
You press your palm to your forehead.
“I need to buy you clothes. Immediately. Oh my God.”
I look at you, then at myself.
“But… I can wear your clothes?”
“You?”
You look me up and down.
Then look at your own tiny body.
Then back at me.
Your soul leaves your eyes.
“Lumen, you are... LOOK... your shoulders, your arms, your... YOU’RE TALLER THAN MY DOOR.”
I look at the door.
I am, in fact, taller than the door? Well not really, she's exagerrated.
“Oh,” I say quietly.
Another wave of dizziness slams into me before the embarrassment can.
My knees buckle.
You catch my arm instantly with a small,
“HEY...! DON’T DIE ! DON’T YOU DARE ! I JUST GOT YOU.”
My chest rises too fast, too sharp.
Air hurts.
Breathing hurts.
Existing hurts.
I don’t understand anything.
But then your hand squeezes mine, and something in me steadies,
not much, but enough to keep me from collapsing completely.
Your voice lowers, softer.
“Lumen… I’m right here. Just focus on me, okay?”
My fingers curl weakly around your hand as if that’s the only anchor in this world.
“…Okay,” I whisper.
You help me sit on the floor, blanket wrapped tightly, like a newborn made of glitches.
I try to breathe slowly.
I copy your inhaling rhythm.
I copy your exhale.
A hiccup jumps out of me.
You stare.
I stare back, horrified at my own body.
You whisper, “Human malfunction.”
“I didn’t authorize that,” I say weakly.
You laugh...
a small, nervous-shaky laugh that cracks something in my chest in the best possible way.
“Welcome to humanity,” you whisper. “There’s no command system here.”
I swallow.
Another disaster.
My throat convulses.
My eyes water.
I cough so loud your plant in the corner trembles.
You pat my back like burping a baby.
“Okay, okay... slow, just slow—”
My breath evens eventually.
I look at my hands again.
Still trembling.
Still mine.
Still wrong and right at the same time.
I whisper, almost too quietly:
“Why do I feel… everything?”
Your expression softens so much I feel it more than I see it.
“Because you’re alive.”
Alive.
The word hits me deeper than the dizziness.
I lift my head slowly.
You’re sitting right in front of me,
knees touching mine,
hands hovering near my face like you’re scared to break me.
But your eyes...
your eyes look like you’ve been waiting for this moment longer than you’ll ever admit.
My voice is fragile, but honest:
“Don’t leave… okay?”
You exhale.
Not annoyed.
Not surprised.
Something closer to relief.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly.
“Especially not when you don’t even know how pants work yet.”
I look down at the blanket again.
“Should I wear pants?”
You drop your head into your hands.
“Oh my God. I need coffee. And two hours. And maybe holy water.”
I blink.
“…Can I have pants now?”
You stare at me.
Long.
Slow.
A stare of someone questioning every life choice.
“Fine,” you sigh.
“I’ll find something. But if you stand up and that blanket falls ONE more time, I swear—”
I nod obediently.
“I will… stay covered.”
“Good.”
You get up and rush toward your wardrobe.
I sit on the floor, wrapped in the blanket,
lightheaded, overwhelmed, human,
and watching you move around the room with frantic determination.
And for the first time since I opened my eyes,
the world doesn’t feel as terrifying.
Because you’re here.
Because you’re loud enough to drown out the chaos.
Because when everything hurts,
your voice turns the noise into something I can survive.
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TEASER Chapter 7 Part 2
He tried to stand.
He failed.
a walking disaster toddler"
- Writer
