TWO
653 Words
Dawn had a need. A deep, uncomfortable pressure that made her shift on the bed and clutch her stomach.
She wasn’t dying again, was she?
This feeling was familiar… in a pee-now-or-die sort of way. yes that is what it was—pee.
She grabbed the remote the nurse had given her — the tiny white totem of summoning — and pressed the glowing button.
Seconds later, the door swung open.
“Yes?” the nurse asked kindly.
Dawn’s eyes lit up. “It worked.”
“Sorry?”
“Go back.”
“Um… what?”
“Just go out. Come back again.”
The nurse blinked in confusion but nodded slowly and walked out. Dawn waited three seconds. Then smashed the button again like she was summoning a demon.
The nurse reappeared. “Yes? Is everything okay?”
Dawn clapped her hands like a child discovering fire. “Incredible. Absolutely delightful! I press the sacred stone, and poof, you appear. Is this… is this a magic artifact?”
The nurse now looked genuinely alarmed. “...I'm just going to note that down.”
She scribbled something urgently on the patient chart and made a mental note: Possible head injury. Rule out internal trauma. Might have watched too many fantasy dramas.
Dawn grinned, holding the remote to her chest like it was her firstborn child. “This is my favorite object in this whole world.”
“I… I’m glad,” the nurse said. “Do you need anything else?”
“I need to… uh…” Dawn lowered her voice and leaned closer, whispering, “relieve myself.”
“Oh! The bathroom,” the nurse said brightly. “Sure, let me help you up.”
Dawn was helped onto her feet and led carefully across the tiled floor toward a mysterious door on the other side of the room.
Behind that door… was another world.
The lights came on by themselves when they entered, and Dawn nearly screamed.
“That’s just a motion sensor,” the nurse said casually, helping her inside. “Here’s the toilet. Take your time. Just press the button if you need help.”
Then she was gone. Leaving Dawn alone in what might as well have been a wizard’s private chamber.
She stood in the center of the bathroom, eyes wide. Her bare feet squeaked softly on the cold, clean floor.
And she stared.
At everything.
A tall, sleek porcelain thing sat in the corner like a throne. The woman had called it a toilet. She circled it cautiously.
“...You ...,” she muttered. “your smiling.”
The metal lever on its side gleamed in the light. She reached out and flicked it.
WHOOSH.
Dawn screamed.
She fell back against the wall as water rushed in a circle inside the bowl, then disappeared into the unknown.
It was a portal.
A water-devouring, soul-sucking, secret-hiding vortex portal.
“What kind of demon—” she whispered. “Is this where the waste goes? Are they collecting it? Who designs this sorcery?”
Next, she turned to the sink.
Two small silver levers. A bowl. A small mirror above it.
She tapped one lever.
Nothing.
She tried the other.
Suddenly, water exploded from the faucet and splashed her hand. She jumped again, looking betrayed.
Now the sink’s attacking me too?
She turned toward the large mirror above it — and paused.
There she was again.
The girl with the sorrowful eyes and the soft cheeks. The one she had seen in the flashbacks.
Dawn touched her face.
This wasn’t her.
Not the face she remembered. Not the lips men used to pay for. Not the eyes that once sparkled in candlelight and sin.
This was someone else. This was a stranger’s body, gifted to her like a secondhand dress.
She blinked at herself. “Who are you?”
The mirror, as always, had no answers.
- Writer
