Dawn

ONE

She wasn’t dead.

Or maybe she was, and this was the afterlife’s waiting room — white walls, weird smells, and a soft beeping noise that made her want to throw something.

Her eyelids fluttered open like they had been stitched shut for years. The ceiling above her was… smooth. Unnaturally smooth. White, flat, perfect — not a single cobweb or crack. Definitely not the roof of the brothel. She blinked again.

This is not my room.

Dawn tried to sit up, but something tugged at her arm — a thin, transparent tube that ran into her skin.

“What in the name of all ten gods—?” she hissed.

There was a needle in her. And it was connected to a bag of clear water hanging beside the bed. Was this sorcery? A curse? A new form of torture?

The machine beside her beeped louder, like it disapproved of her thoughts.

“Oh shut up, you snitching little box.”

The door opened. Dawn jerked her head toward the sound, fully ready to hiss at whoever walked in. But it was a woman — young, brown-skinned, hair tucked into a cap, wearing what looked like soft armor and footwear that was looking suspiciously like a seive. She smiled warmly.

“Good morning, Dawn. You’re awake,” the woman said gently. “Don’t try to move too much, okay?”

Dawn stared at her, narrowing her eyes. “...How do you know my name?”

The nurse laughed. “It’s on your chart. You were brought in 2 weeks ago. You had a… very serious fall.”

Fall?

Dawn’s breath caught. There were flashes — her feet on the edge, the wind slapping her skin, her heartbeat, her final thought.

I choose this. This is mine.

Then — nothing.

Her head hurts, it felt like a hammer was hitting her inside her head, she raised her hand to her head, rubbing on it to ease the sudden pain.

what was that?

" Are you okay? does your head hurt?" the woman asked. "no I'm fine "

wait! what language was she speaking right now? this is not her language and her voice was off too, what is happening?.

The woman checked the needle that was attached to her hand and adjusted the beeping box. “Do you remember anything before the fall?”

Dawn looked at her again. Her tongue was dry. Her throat tight.

Do I remember?

Oh, sweetheart. I remember everything.

I remember golden coins dropping to the floor after a man finished with me. I remember begging the madam to let me leave the brothel. I remember the aching disease twisting my stomach from the inside out. I remember dying — alone — in that empty room no one dared to enter.

And now here I was. In a room that smelled of soap and was strangely comforting. The woman was still talking.

“I’m going to run some tests and make sure there’s no internal bleeding,” she said. “If you need anything, just press this button here.”

She handed Dawn a small white remote.

Dawn stared at it like it was a bomb. “What does it do? Summon spirits?”

The woman blinked. “It, uh… calls me. If you need water or painkillers.”

“...Ah.”

The nurse left the room, leaving Dawn to sit in silence.

She reached for the water by her bed and took a cautious sip. Cold. Clean. No bugs, Served in a clear vessel so delicate it must have cost a fortune.

She looked around again. Lights that glowed without fire. Walls that hummed. She saw a flat black rectangle on the table near her — a glowing box. She touched it. It lit up.

A face stared back at her.

Not hers.

This girl had soft cheeks, wild dark hair, and eyes that carried sorrow like bricks. She looked barely twenty. Her mouth hung slightly open, like she didn’t know what to say.

She leaned back against the pillows, let her eyes close again, this place is strange and she was going to wait until who ever brought her here comes in.