The biscuits tasted nasty. As always, Anya fought down the urge to spit them out, preferably in someone’s face. Despite the fact that they were made of berries, and that the word ‘berries’ was synonymous with ‘yummy’ in the human world, the biscuits tasted foul. Anya had figured out the specific berry used long ago, yet she never remembered to complain about it. Raa’iy berries were the most disgusting of the bunch, yet Anya was given the privilege of probably being the only Dreamweaver that consumed them on a daily basis. 

The dark blue mess that she had spat on out onto the table had started running off to the side of the table on its own accord; Anya didn’t make a move to stop the seemingly conscious berry pulp from navigating across the cafeteria floor. Nor did she pay any attention to the two patients at her table; whether they were disgusted at her childish actions, Anya didn’t know or care. All she cared for, at the particular moment, was the bitter taste slowly crawling across her taste buds. 

“This is icky.” She announced, and stood up. “I’m never eating these again!” 

The man who served them their meals rolled his eyes, going back to his job without batting an eye. This was the four hundred and twenty seventh time the Dreamweaver had made that proclamation, only to forget the following day. He was surprised, however, by the young girl approaching the counter and holding out her hand. Giving her a questioning look didn’t help matters at all, nor did shooing her away with a swipe of his hand. 

“What do you want?” He said in short, clipped tones, barely looking up from his job. 

“Muffin.”

“No. Your body can’t process anything except those weird biscuits of yours.” 

“Muffin.” 

“You can’t eat it!” He raised his voice just a tad, but it was enough to elicit a negative reaction from the girl. Even while he kept his gaze down, avoiding her eyes, he could tell the girl was angry. 

“Can so! Give me.” 

The muffin was unceremoniously tossed at her like one would towards a stray dog. Anya didn’t seem to mind, however, nor did she hear the cafeteria man’s mutters of wasted food as she hopped away and took a seat at an empty table. The dull man and the kitty-lady were no fun, so why should she share her food with them? Not even into the first bite, Anya was interrupted by the arrival of Farrah. The blonde woman barely reacted to the sight of Anya ‘sampling’ the human pastry, spitting out every bite she took. 

Without a word, she brushed the remnants of the muffin away from Anya’s hand and handcuffed the Dreamweaver’s hands together, heavily restricting any movement on her part. Anya didn’t respond, and absently drifted after the blonde woman, eyes distant. She didn’t know where the yellow-haired woman was taking her, but she sure as hell didn’t want to be confined to her boring old room again. 

Plus, that man would be waiting for her. 

For a good while, Anya was calm and quiet, taking in the areas Farrah pointed out with childish wonder. It passed too quickly for Anya to take in anything properly, let alone commit the areas to memory. Like a mirage, she drifted along, almost colliding with the nurse as she stopped in front of a door. A very familiar door. 

All too soon, Anya realized where they had taken her. What lay beyond the door was a room quite literally out of her nightmares, with a sinister being lying in wait. Why was Farrah being so cruel and taking her back?

“No!” She protested as soon as Farrah swiped her card and opened the door. Even with the minimal view, Anya could see the dark shadow sitting on the dresser. A wave of panic gripped her and she bolted down the hallway, dimly aware of Farrah thundering after her. She wouldn’t go back to the room, not under any circumstances… would she?

Farrah’s strong grip wrapped itself around Anya’s waist, yanking her back with all the force of a weightlifter. What the hell was this woman made of? It left Anya extremely breathless and gasping for breath. It was already hard breathing in this world, and now Farrah had made it ten times harder. The nurse didn’t spare a second in taking advantage of Anya’s incapacitated state and flung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

[i]Breathe.[/i] 

Focusing solely on the suddenly agonizing task of breathing, Anya was barely aware of being thrown inside her room until she collided with the floor, her back absorbing most of the impact. As the infernal nurse slammed the door shut, Anya flung herself against the door, a split second too late. Balling up her fists, she banged them into the door, screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Only a few seconds later did she feel the aftershocks of a needle being inserted in her neck. She had no idea when Farrah had managed to jab a syringe in her neck but Anya could feel the sedative rapidly taking effect and, using the last remnants of her strength, she increased the volume of the commotion. Not even a second later, a fireball exploded against the door, all the no avail. 

Eventually, she slumped against the door, feeling her anger wash away and hopelessness taking its place. The man had watched the entire spectacle across the room, sitting in a relaxed position on the dresser. Studying the form with lifeless eyes, Anya eventually mustered up the energy to form words. 

“Whatchu want from me?” The sedative had done a good job – too good, in fact, as it had heavily slurred her speech. 

The man did nothing except smile as he slid off the desk. Tendrils of some kind slowly slid off his arms, making their way across the walls in a similar fashion as her previous nightmare. Once again, Anya cursed the nurse and her sedatives as she felt the drugs course through her system, rendering her incapable of moving. The tendrils slowly faded into dull darkness and enveloped the entire room, their cold grip wrapping around Anya’s body and dragging her in.