[ Julie doesn't know how long she falls for. Time seems to stretch and bend in alien ways as she keeps falling -- she screams the whole time, never losing breath, never feeling gravity's pull hasten her to some splatter of an end. It feels like an eternity, yet the blob's touch against her mind unfurls at lightspeed, an infinity of swirls and colors and movements that seem to somehow exist in tandem as the nothing through which she descends.
There is no sound and yet so much sound at the same time, a billion different noises and voices all competing against each other in cacophony. It deafens her, drowns out even her own voice in her head. She can't parse any coherent thoughts of her own, too overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what the blob left inside her in that single, brief brush.
For decades (or is it milliseconds?), she is lost in that void.
And then everything happens extremely quickly.
The abysm through which she tumbles abruptly gives way to light, to sights, and she can't adjust fast enough to know where she is before she crashes through the roof of her own loft. She hits the softness of her bed so hard that it cracks and collapses, leaving her on her back on the mattress on the ground, staring up into a hole in the roof. She doesn't even manage to stop screaming until the breath is knocked out of her in the fall.
Her brain still hasn't caught up. Her whole body aches, her lungs on fire and her throat raw as she coughs. From outside, the music suddenly begins to blare through the hole she made, the lights neon again. Like her returned presence has flipped a switch. She can't really understand what's happening or where she is, stuck in some primal place in her own mind that's designed only to keep her breathing.
As soon as she can breathe again, she struggles to sit up with a feral sort of determination. ]
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There is no sound and yet so much sound at the same time, a billion different noises and voices all competing against each other in cacophony. It deafens her, drowns out even her own voice in her head. She can't parse any coherent thoughts of her own, too overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what the blob left inside her in that single, brief brush.
For decades (or is it milliseconds?), she is lost in that void.
And then everything happens extremely quickly.
The abysm through which she tumbles abruptly gives way to light, to sights, and she can't adjust fast enough to know where she is before she crashes through the roof of her own loft. She hits the softness of her bed so hard that it cracks and collapses, leaving her on her back on the mattress on the ground, staring up into a hole in the roof. She doesn't even manage to stop screaming until the breath is knocked out of her in the fall.
Her brain still hasn't caught up. Her whole body aches, her lungs on fire and her throat raw as she coughs. From outside, the music suddenly begins to blare through the hole she made, the lights neon again. Like her returned presence has flipped a switch. She can't really understand what's happening or where she is, stuck in some primal place in her own mind that's designed only to keep her breathing.
As soon as she can breathe again, she struggles to sit up with a feral sort of determination. ]