.the contract ii.

o2: abussos

When my eyes fluttered open, a white ceiling stared back at me. White. I must have still been in the institution—which meant I was alive.

I sat up only to notice two things: my back felt strange, and the room was different. White walls and a white floor glared back at me, but there was a refreshing tinge to the room and a faint cherry scent that I particularly couldn't help but like. The mental institution usually smelled plain, like how I imagined a syringe would smell.

I completely forgot about the intruding, prodding feeling on my back and simply tilted my head slightly as I gazed around at my surroundings. I must have been moved to a different room. My bed was shoved off into the corner; I realized, absently, that I also had new blankets. These blankets were warm and felt like cotton. I liked this new room. It was much better than my old one.