Creative Practice #2

Once again, I got bored…

The sun shot through the bullet holes in the window, penetrating her eye. With it, a blistering heat poured into the room. Realising the new day had dawned on her, she let out a soft sigh. For a moment all seemed calm. Then all too quickly, her systems booted up, and her reality took a mechanical grip. It had been one day since she had been dumped here, confused and broken with nothing but the clothes on her back and the gun at her hip.

She had spent most of the day prior staring into the lightly cracked mirror, analysing every nook and cranny of her body in an attempt to gage who, or what she was. Despite the occasional cut, the only noticeable item was the brand on the upper corner of her chest. Scanning over it with her fingers, she realised there was no scaring. A part of me. It was a dark, multi-pointed star encamped within a bordered circle. A tattoo, maybe? She wasn’t sure. Discovery for a later date perhaps.

Worst of all, she was without a name. Or at least, without one she could remember. The face that stared back at her was not one she recognised. As a result, she decided to focus on where she is. The door that guarded her against the outside world seemed a feeble thing, it’s simple wooden structure waning from years of dereliction. Even so, it was as all that protected her from the peril of the unknown; it was time. She pulled on the fitted white long sleeve top, fitted with one red line that led up the arm, across the collar and down the sides of her stomach. A uniform perhaps? Time for…