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Pomni wakes up to the sound of horrific screaming, then realizes it's herself.
Mouth stretched open wide, vocal cords vibrating in her neck. Her throat is burning, the cry escaping her brutal like barbed claws. Eyes bulging in their sockets, darting in every direction, and the darkness is everywhere. Clinging to the corners, slithering across the walls, inky tendrils reaching for her, yearning for her.
The Void longs for good company.
Where is she? It may be dark, but she knows this isn't her bedroom in her home. Her heart thunders in her chest, beating too fast, and she cannot breathe.
There’s something snarled around her, chafing her skin, and she has a visceral reaction to it. Her hands grasp like monstrous talons at whatever is binding her, yanking at it in pure, primal desperation, trying to get free. Her head spasms backward, and another yowling cry explodes from her lips.
It’s then that she realizes that her body doesn’t feel right. Like it really isn’t her own. The skin is pressed too close, like it’s been sewn on too tight, and her limbs are heavy and clunky.
What the hell is going on?
Pomni really starts to panic now. She struggles against her restraints, kicking and thrashing while her screams turn into high-pitched shrieks. The darkness feels like it’s suffocating her, her movements growing more frantic as she searches for a way to escape. The shadows cast across the room seem to take on a life of their own, the tendrils of murk reaching for her, coiling around her limbs, binding her tighter.
Run. Run. Run. Her brain is screaming at her to escape, to flee with her tail tucked between her legs, but where is there to go? Where even is she?
She can’t think straight. For some reason her thoughts are muddled, her memories scattered. It’s almost like she’s been robbed of both her body and her mind. She feels like a hollow shell. It’s horrifying.
The shadows seem to laugh at her, taunting her with their twisted, contorted forms. Pomni feels helpless. Her panic threatens to overwhelm her. This isn’t her world. This isn’t home. This isn’t…her.
Who is she?
Suddenly, there’s a muffled sound from somewhere beyond this space- knocking. Knuckles on wood, tapping, tapping. Distorted noises that aren’t quite the brays of animals, but rather words. Voices.
Pomni’s eyes go wide. Somebody. Or something. Someone’s there.
“…okay?”
“…going on?”
“…ove…got this…”
Clicking, clanking. The sound of something being tinkered with. Then, soft metallic grinding.
A door is unlocked and opened.
The open door is almost like a portal materialized in the darkness, bleeding forth light, and the shadows retreat a bit as if intimidated, the oppressive weight of them lessening for only a moment. Standing in the doorway are a group of figures, each of their bodies nonsensical and hard to grasp. These aren’t humans.
A tall rabbit bred not as prey but as the predator. Discombobulated shapes strung together with bendy joints, cursed with the burden to become conscious. A king without his queen, perpetually stuck in check. A twisted thing of ribbon. A doll with only one eye to mark it as something that used to be human. All of them, staring.
Cornered like an animal ripped from the wilderness and stuffed into a cage, Pomni shrinks into herself, trying to make her seem smaller, pressing close against—something. At the same time, her hackles have been raised, and she’s ready to bite.
She is wary of these people—things, unsure of what their intentions are. With their bizarre and distorted forms, Pomni doesn’t know what to expect from them. She is threatened, and she is scared.
She’s no longer screaming, but there’s some kind of keening whine building up in the bottom of her throat, and she’s breathing too fast. As her eyes rove the scene, she notices that she’s in a bedroom painted in blue. She’s on the floor, pressed against a bed, and a blanket is tangled around her limbs.
The doll-like creature comes forward, opening its mouth to say something, but then the rabbit brushes past it to speak first. It’s obscenely tall for a bunny. Purple fur and eyes of a snake. There’s a certain air of superiority about it. “What’re you screaming about, tiny? The night is for sleeping. Just because you’re stuck here now doesn’t mean you can go and disturb our routine.”
Stuck. Stuck. Stuck?
Pomni stiffens. Her teeth are clenched together tightly, and her eyes are darting back and forth between the group. Stuck? She’s here? Stuck here? And with them? Why? What did she do wrong? Pomni struggles against the blankets in her desperation to get herself up, but all she manages to do is entangle herself further.
“Maybe a little nicer, Jax,” whispers the ribbon.
“Nah, you gotta be blunt with ‘em!” the rabbit says. That name sounds familiar. So does its— his voice. And the ribbon’s voice.
In fact, they all seem familiar.
It’s so hard to think.
Stuck. She’s still caught up on that. Is that really what he said? Is she… no. No, no, she can’t be stuck! There must be a way out.
Pomni looks around the room frantically again. Her movements become more erratic, and the noises coming out of her mouth sound more like animalistic babbling.
“Pomni, try to take a deep breath,” says the doll. Her voice is much more gentle than the rabbit’s. Warm, like a mother’s. Pomni feels drawn to the tenderness.
“The first night is always pretty rough,” the king offers. “But it gets easier!”
The rabbit gets closer. “Yeah, you just gotta cool it! Snap out of it!” He then grabs her shoulder and gives her a shake and—
Scream.
Pomni screams.
It is blood-curdling and primal. An unfiltered, raw expression of her deepest fear and horror. This is the cry of an animal that knows it’s trapped in a place where it doesn’t belong. Something she instinctively knows beyond her comprehension. The shadows close in on her again, her legs trembling beneath whatever cloth is tied around them.
The rabbit steps back. “Oh, what the f[@#$].”
The doll comes forward, taking his place. She knees down in front of Pomni, her expression caring but concerned. “Pomni? Pomni, I need you to calm down, sweetie. It’s okay. I know you’re scared, but you’re okay. ”
It’s all starting to come back to her now, and it is most definitely not okay.
She’s trapped. She’s trapped in this place.
She’s stuck.
Tears stream down her cheeks, and she begins to hyperventilate. Her fingers knot in her hair, and she pounds her fists against her head in a dizzying frenzy as she cries out in sheer, raw panic.
This can’t be happening. She has to wake up. She doesn’t belong here. This isn’t her home. This is a place she shouldn’t be.
“Hey, hey, hey,” says the doll. “Don’t do that.” She reaches out to stop Pomni from hitting her head, and the feeling of her fingers around Pomni’s wrists sends her into spasms.
Pomni screeches again, her neck arching backward. Her gums throb, and she feels her teeth grow sharp.
A threatened animal is more likely to bite than a calm one. And while in such an extreme state of panic, Pomni is no better than a beast.
Her teeth find purchase in the doll’s shoulder, and she bites down hard.
Hot blood wells up around Pomni’s lips, and it tastes more metallic than it should normally be. Burns her tongue and scalds her throat. Still, she doesn’t let go.
She hears the doll hiss in pain, just barely keeping back a full shout. Someone else does shout, though. There are a series of yells, in fact, and they frighten Pomni even more.
“Ragatha!”
“Oh god!”
“Holy s[@#$]! The jester’s f[@#$%&!] rabid!”
But the doll doesn’t react like that, even though she has every right to. She doesn’t shove or hit Pomni in retaliation, and she doesn’t struggle. She remains calm.
A hand cups the back of her head. Another rests upon her back. She’s being held securely, almost protectively.
“You poor little thing,” says the doll, her voice so soft in Pomni’s ear, audible even over the pounding of Pomni’s heart. “You must be so scared…”
The gentleness makes Pomni’s head spin. Why is she being treated like this when her maw is dug into the doll’s shoulder?
The hand on the back of her head begins to rub softly, fingers stroking through her hair. Pomni can feel herself melting into the affection, despite the panic still raging wildly in her chest.
“It’s frightening, I know,” the doll says to her. “This place… It can be terrifying, I won’t lie to you. You have every right to react like this.”
Pomni’s grip on the doll’s shoulder tightens, biting down harder to the point where she could rip off a piece of her skin if she wanted to. But she doesn’t rip. She holds back. She doesn’t want to hurt her.
“There’s a lot to grasp in the beginning,” the doll goes on. She must be in pain. There’s no way she isn’t. But she’s staying calm, even as Pomni tears into her. “And it’ll take time for you to get used to everything. But you’re not alone, I promise. Ask questions if you need to. We’re all here for you, Pomni.”
The doll begins to move from side to side slowly- she’s rocking Pomni. Pomni hasn’t been rocked since she was a kid, and the sensation is soothing and comforting.
Pomni’s eyes get heavy, and her tears flow anew, but they are of sorrow rather than rage and fear. A whimpering whine bubbles forth from her mouth, muffled slightly by the doll’s shoulder, and the doll hushes her.
“I know, sweet girl, I know…” the doll murmurs. “I’m right here. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Pomni tries to make another sound, almost like she’s attempting to speak while still biting, and the doll shushes her again. “Shh, shh, shh… Nothing in your head right now. Just focus on the rocking and calming your breathing, sweetie. In, out. Deep breath through your nose, and out your mouth…”
Slowly, as she listens to the doll’s instructions, Pomni pries her jaw loose from the doll’s shoulder, and she leans back slightly, though not leaving the tender embrace she’s being held in. The doll smiles at her kindly.
“There we go,” the doll says. “Good girl. I knew you could calm down.”
But Pomni’s not calm. She’s still shaking. She’s still terrified. She’s still panicking, and the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. She buries her face into the doll’s chest and weeps.
“Let it out, honey,” the doll says, rocking her again. “Let it out. I’ve got you…”
So, Pomni does. She cries, and she cries, and she cries. It hurts, and it doesn’t stop hurting until she finally cries herself to sleep—or maybe she passes out from exhaustion. She isn’t sure. All she knows is that she wants to go home.
Silence has fallen in the room, and the group stands, unsure.
Gangle is the first to speak up.
“Ragatha… Your shoulder…”
“I know,” Ragatha says. A huge red splotch has faded through her nightgown from where she was bitten. The pain is an incessant throbbing sensation, but she ignores it. Her eyes are entirely focused on the jester curled up in her lap, asleep. Tears are still wet on the poor thing’s cheeks. “I’m fine.”
Will Pomni be?