Tucked against the back wall of the room, the bed was immersed in darkness. Were lights to appear, one would see that the sheets had become completely wrapped around the bed’s sole occupant, giving the appearance of a cocoon. At first, they lay unmoving, curled up into a tight ball, and they remained that way for some time. Eventually, however, small movements began to happen, shifts and twitched that were accompanied by whimpers and moans. Occasionally something that might have been akin to words could be heard, but what they might have been or what they meant was unknown. When the door lock clicked, all movements immediately ceased, replaced by rigid awareness. Inside the cocoon of sheets and blankets, eyes snapped open into darkness, and began shifting in response. Even as they settled, the figure made no movement or sound. 

When nothing else disturbed the silence, the figure began to move again. Soft tearing sounds came from the cocoon as the fabric caught and ripped, and soon the figure emerged, crawling to the edge of the bed. Back and forth it swept its gaze, then focused on the thin, distant strip that signified the door. For a moment it remained still, as if considering its options, then slipped from the bed and began creeping towards the door. The sound of voices on the other side made the figure pause. It glanced back towards the bed, then to the door, then back and forth again before continuing its advance. The voices sounded young, not old, similar to itself. Reaching out, the figure grasped the door knob with unerring accuracy, pressed its ear to the door for a moment, and slowly began to open the door.

At that moment, the lights came on in the room. 

Pain shot through the figure’s eyes, eliciting a shriek clearly audible in the hallway as it threw itself to the floor, hands clamped over its face. Now fully illuminated, one could see that it was a humanoid figure, garbed in nothing more than a light green hospital gown that did little to conceal its body. Or the shiny black scales that completely covered it, save for the sand-coloured hair growing from its head. 

It was at that moment, blinded and crying on the floor, that Stasya Volkov decided that the entire world hated her.

[@Lillium][@Airalin][@Vocab][@wolverbells][@HellHoundWoof][@Scarifar][@KahleenCuthald][@Jinxer][@SheriffLlama][@HecateProxy]