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The night air was quiet and chilly. Even while buried underneath blankets, the young woman couldn't stop a shiver from going through her body.
She couldn't go back to sleep. As easy as it was the first time, now that she was awake in the dead of the night, she knew that going back to sleep was going to be difficult. Why did I leave the window open?
Her first instinct was to curl her body even tighter, hoping that occupying a small space will be enough to heat up her entire body. The young woman felt a small, furry body brush against her. A plushie? She opened her eyes.
Sitting up, the blankets falling from her face but still being held up, it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dark. This wasn't her room. It's so easy to tell that this is NOT her room. A room much bigger than her bedroom, appeared much older and more... broken down. Ramshackle was, for some reason, the perfect word to describe it. There were cobwebs in the corners and it was obvious that the place hadn't been clean in years because of the layer of dust everywhere.
Where...? She blinks. A second passes... two, three. Ah. I remember.
The events of earlier—or rather, yesterday— flood through her brain. A horse-drawn carriage. Fire-breathing weasel-cat. A magical academy and its bird-like headmaster. It all felt like a dream. In fact, the young woman was sure it was all an elaborate and terrifyingly realistic dream.
The shock didn't hit immediately. She slips out of bed, away from the safety and warmth of the blankets (that were bound to have been infested with mites. Ew.) She creeps her way to the nearest window and looks out. Outside somehow looked creepier compared to the bedroom. So, she thought, the dream was real. This ISN'T my world.
She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. There exists another world where magic is real—like, ACTUAL magic. The kind one would usually read about in books and comics, where princesses were woken up with a true love's kiss by heroic princes. The kind that had curses of sleep-inducing thorns and can transform people's bodies. And here she was, not dead (unless those horses actually DID kill her) and very much breathing. Her body is her own and none of her family members are here. Oh.
Family. The young woman's family wasn't here. She was alone while her family is in her original world. She was alone.
Her eyes began to burn as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. Alone. The word repeated in her head, like a ghost that was mocking her. Alone, alone, alone. You're alone and your family isn't here. You are alone. I am alone.
God, the woman couldn't help but hate herself, instinctively trying to stop the tears from falling—such a crybaby—but she couldn't stop herself as she fully realized how ALONE she was. None of her loved ones are here. Who knows what's going on in her world. Her family is bound to have noticed her absence. What is her mother doing now? Her younger siblings and father?
At this point, the young woman is trying her best to quiet down her sobs. After all, she doesn't want to wake up the weasel-cat thing still asleep on the bed. Grim. But her family. Her family isn't here and she is alone.
Alone. There was that word again, a terrible reminder of her current circumstances. No friends and no family. All alone in a strange world that she's practically a stranger to. An unfamiliar world and here she is without the people she loves.
Home was the next word the popped in her mind, accompanying the thought, I wanna go home. The phrase repeats in her head. Home... Home, I wanna go home. I wanna go back home. I miss them and I'm alone and I just wanna go back home.
Her shoulders shake. She's crying and she hates herself for it—I'm such a crybaby—but she wants to go home so BAD. She wants to be with her family again and relax and laugh. Home, I'm so alone and I wanna go home!
Her hands cover her mouth, an attempt to silence her sobbing. She makes her way back to the bed, sniffling with each step. The cold became too much and the thought of burying herself once more in the blankets was very appealing. But these are not MY blankets. She lies back down on the bed, not MY bed. And silently cries herself to sleep, the final thought of being away from home like the nail in the coffin. Alone.