92 Season Three: Chap 1

Regan was wide awake from her dream. She woke up with her face down in the mix of blood and water on the table, coughing up the crude mix of liquid he had inhaled during her lucid dream. She sat up straight, holding her throat tightly as if she was being strangled like the waves pulled her under before, and coughed up the water as she would have coughed up the salty waters in her dream.

That is… if it was a dream.

Regan looked down at her hands, opening and closing them and then wiped her face with them, watching as the pinkish water ran down her hand. 'Yea… it was a dream.' Yet the shivers continued to run down her spine and her throat dried up, the feeling of betrayal replaying in her head. The betrayal she did to herself. 

Regan looked up at the grey walls as they stared back at her with unfamiliarity. Slowly her eyes searched the wall looking for a reminder that this wasn't another one of her dreams where she was trapped in the same cold walls her reality held. There at the corner of the room was the same watch she glared for hours a day waiting for certain times in a day to arrive. It was close to one of those times. It was 7:50, 10 minutes before Vixen would arrive with dinner. 

She looked down at her wet clothes and the mess on the table. 'Shit.'

Quickly she stood up from her seat and reached under her couch to pull out handfuls of tissue paper. Quickly she ran them over the table trying her best to clean up the mess on the table. Her hand moved furiously, pushing more pinkish-water off the table than letting the tissue paper soak it in. She was panicking, again. 

Her wrist grazed the edge of the table and she jerked her head back in pain. The throbbing kicked back in, beating like a thumping heart. 'Arg!' Regan thought to herself as she crawled into a ball, trying to roll back and forth before slamming her head into her couch behind her. 

'7:51...fuck,' she muttered to herself as the throbbing of the cuts on her wrist seemed to increase, "he can't see this…ugh what was I thinking?'

Quickly she grabbed some tissues and used them for the original reason they were stashed, to wipe the wounds she caused on herself. Flinching at the pain she felt from touching the cuts, she buried her head in her knees. 'What will he think when he sees this? How much lower can I go in his books?' Regan thought to herself as she left cleaning her wound since the pain was too much to take. 'Will I be moved? To a side for actual deranged people where I don't even get to see the light?'

She looked around for her trash container and ran for it then ran back to her table and furiously started to throw the wet tissue paper away then grabbed more tissue, wiped and trashed. 

'Should I stop now?' Regan paused her motions, 'I mean, what's the point? It's like asking the stranger in my dream for a name, it wouldn't be a stranger it had one.' She continued cleaning again, 'and if it did, I know exactly what it would be named.'

'Sigh… my mind is bouncing again. I can't even focus on one topic without my mind slipping to another,' Regan chuckled desolately as she wiped the last drops of water on the table. She tried to silence her mind for a second, finish off her work without another thought that weighed and slowed her down and she was executing that pretty well until another thought came in.

'What the hell was that dream anyways? I haven't danced since the middle school dance years ago and even then I didn't know how to ballroom dance. But still…' Regan sighed as she placed the last wet tissue in the trash bin and re-wiped the table with a dry tissue just to make sure it wasn't damp, 'that dream was pretty unsettling.'

She thought about it, all the elements of her seemingly calm dream that made it even eerier. What exactly was the dancing? Who exact- no. She knew. But why?

Regan looked up at the clock again and sighed, '7:56... I'm fucking doomed.' She threw the last piece of tissue paper she used into the trash bin and hid the rest of her stash back under her couch then tired her best to hide the bin out of sight by putting it in the one large space inside her lamp's stand.

She felt the water beneath her feet as she ran to the spot she would wait for Vixen in. 'The floor's wet…' Regan thought to herself. She ran her fingers down her face, pulling at her skin, 'dammit Regan why couldn't you put something to catch the runoff water from wetting the ground while you were lamenting? If you're going to waste time crying or swimming in doubts at least make sure the rug doesn't feel that pain too.'

She glanced at the damp section of the ground and turned away with a shrug. "I'll just have to make sure he doesn't come this way. Shouldn't be that hard since he wants to avoid me anyway," she muttered. 'Not sure if he's going to be that way after he sees my wrist though.'

'What would he do- no… what would I do if I knew I would be doing this to myself later?' Regan asked herself, 'if I knew I was going to steep this low and roll around in the mud at the bottom of the pits, dirtying myself with more thoughts… would I save myself? Look upon myself with sympathetic eyes and try to help or walk away quickly, each step showing annoyance?'

A wave of forced laughter washed over her, "How would I save myself when I was already on the road to failure? If I saw myself in the pit, I would probably just nod my head and keep going since I was going to end up there anyway. There's no need to save someone that was your future since that would mean there was no one to save you when you fell. I would rather just wait for the time to come and bury myself then."

Regan ran her hand through her hair, 'Maybe that's my issue. I don't even trust myself enough to make changes in myself and even if I realize that it's a problem, I'm not even confident enough to try and solve it. Pathetic is an understatement really. My presence itself is nugatory.' She looked down at her wrist, 'these marks are a reminder of that.'

She glanced at the clock again and replayed Vixen's words, 'Well at least I don't shoot insults at others while being a useless creature wasting oxygen others can use. I want help. I'm just scared to get it and don't know how to ask. If only he showed me that I could mention something and not get scrutinized immediately then maybe I'll finally be able to crawl out of this hole.'

Regan sat up and rested her hands on the table. 'The slightest change? Would I even be able to step up to the challenge if it shows? I'm weak and attack myself daily, who am I to even try and reach out?' Regan sighed, scratching her head wildly, 'but.. I can't keep going like this right? I've gone too far, I need to stop now... Right? Yea.. maybe I'll do that. Just wait for the slightest change and reach out when that change is shown. But if he does- no. Not now. Positive thoughts for now. Please, Regan. You need this for yourself.'

It was 7:59 when Regan heard the knocks on her door. She immediately sat up straight and nervously pressed down her shirt.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Regan looked up at the door and ran her fingers through her hair one more time before clearing her throat. 

"Come in," she called out, pressing down her shirt again. "Good evening Vix-"

Her eyes widened and then fell with disappointment.

"Good evening to you too."