Chapter Text
Falling.
Drifting further down, spiraling into whatever darkness awaited beneath her. She had thought she was flying by now, but she couldn't move too well, so clearly not.
Fractal stared up at nothing. Fractal didn't stare down, as that was where her back was faced. She didn't know what awaited her beneath, but she didn't really care, either way.
She expected this to go on for a little longer, before she landed rather softly on ground, suddenly in her usual work attire; a brown, long-sleeved collared shirt with a pocket on the left of her chest, an orange-red flower in her hair, which was tied up, and her tie loose, dragging onto the ground. She brought her head up. In front of her was the exit door she looked forward to seeing everyday, towering over her. The doorknob was humongous, and much too high for her to reach. She walked forward, pushing up against the door, attempting to open it... But it was no use. It wouldn't budge. She looked around her. No one else was there. No one behind her, beside her, and certainly not in front of her. Where was everyone? The exit was usually so crowded with people when it was time to leave.
"Hello?" Fractal called out, her voice slightly cautious, echoing in the unusually silent room, almost like a threat. She waited for some kind of response, but nothing came. A faint ringing came to her ears, and she heard some kind of... distant blaring? She turned herself back towards the door, sideyeing it. She might break the door. Fractal kicked it pathetically. She had no idea what was happening. It frustrated her. Why wasn't this door opening? Where was everyone? Harry, Jasmine, anyone? She proceeded to kick the door, the ringing getting louder. And louder... and louder...
Until she opened the door, falling through to see
her room.
Her alarm blared on her nightstand. The room was dark, and the sun had barely risen at all. Fractal blinked rapidly, wearing the sleep off of her heavy eyelids, and she groaned, slapping the alarm to shut it up, missing it a few times. Stupid. Stupid Fractal, stupid job. Go get ready, you big idiot. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, putting them on, eyes adjusting to what she usually saw: slightly scratched, blurry, but rather clear vision.
Fractal sighed dramatically, rubbing both of her hands over her eyes, pushing her glasses up. She grumbled to herself, tossing her blanket on the ground, the cold morning air hitting her bare arms and legs. Fractal's job is shitty. She doesn't like what she does. She presses a button all day. She presses it for what was all day, every day. And she was going to do that again, today, for eight hours straight. At this point, she had nothing else to do. Not really. Sure, she had her friends, but she felt like the distance was growing until ignoring them felt more natural than reaching out.
She was professional now. Professional meant bland and devoid, now, apparently. Professional meant admired for something that the elderly adults would find "attitude" in. Professional was something Harry and Jasmine watched shift in real time, worrying for her — whichever version they had seen her go through and switch. Fractal swung her legs off of the bed, legs not dangling over the ground anymore. Dumb observation. She hit the back of her socked heel against the metal that platformed her bed under a white sheet, looking at the alarm that read 4:00 AM. She could feel her eyebags physically indenting into her face, never able to rub them away. She hated it.
Oh, Fractal, what DON'T you hate?
She got up, feeling the cold floor through her socks with every step she took. The room was cold; her house was always cold. No one wanted to be in the gross, sticky, heat, all melted. Especially not her, regarding her material. She opened her closet door, looking inside. It reeked of super-sweet, artificial perfume that she had worn, what, two years ago? Like a necessity. She covered her mouth, careful to avoid the smell, and she took out her work attire, quickly closing the door once she got her outfit, and letting herself breathe freely again. She didn't put her outfit on yet though. She laid it out on her bed for later. She had to eat first, or she'd suffer with the food she got at her job. That stuff could be used as a death sentence to her.
Fractal walked away from her bed, rubbing her eyes as she opened her door, a small gust of wind getting shoved in her face from doing so, before walking to her small kitchen, yawning. She put her elbows on the counter leaning over it and closing her eyes for a brief moment. She was still barely awake. She walked over to the coffee machine, added the coffee grounds and water, then pressed the brew button. The scent of coffee filled the air as she looked in the fridge for something to make. Eggs didn't seem too bad. She'd only have to wash a pan, really. ... But she honestly wasn't feeling like it. She just grabbed the cereal box off of the top of the fridge, and retrieved the milk from the fridge, a bowl, and a spoon. She poured the cereal into the bowl, then the milk, pushing the cereal down so it wasn't too dry for her liking. Her leg bobbed up and down subconsciously, and she ate her breakfast rather quickly, drinking the milk after she had ate all of it, then putting it in the sink after she had rinsed it.
She sniffled, grabbing the cup of coffee she had spent her breakfast waiting for. It was hot and bitter, but she had learned to suck it up and enjoy it for the warmth it brought, at least. She remembered when she made everything so unbearably sweet, whether it was food, drinks, scent, or herself, simply — whenever she spent her time sugarcoating everything, and talking too much. Now her scattered focus was all, in some way, tethered to her stupid job. She felt like the only one seeing through all of the work — seeing how miserable it was to be like this, with this job. Sure, serious people were there. They were scattered, all around. Everyone around you was serious, in that building, like they were born for this. How did they do it? Fractal envied it. San, Lady, Judy... God, she was nothing like them. But away from work,
who was she? Who was Fractal without her work? Who was Fractal without her worry?
Her mind went silent at that, and she chugged the rest of her coffee down to wash down the lump that formed in her throat over time. It didn't matter. Whatever, whatever. She wasn't perfect, no one was! Yeah. That'd shut her up for a bit. She walked over to the sink, filling the cup up with tap water, to which she drank quickly before placing into the sink, by the bowl, and rushed back to her room. Twenty minutes wasted to thinking and breakfast. Was time that slow? She still had forty minutes to herself before she needed to start driving to work.
Fractal turned to the bathroom on the way to her room. Might as well, while she had the time. She opened the door, and flipped the lightswitch, the bright light hitting her face, almost painful to her eyes, to which she softly groaned at, shutting her eyes. She hated when everything was so unbearably saturated, especially when it hurt her eyes. She walked over to the sink, and took her toothbrush, running it under the water, before retrieving the toothpaste, and putting it onto the toothbrush, into her mouth, brushing. She found herself a lot more strict about this; handling cleanliness consistently. She tried to brush her teeth every night and morning, along with cleaning her room, which she was better about. She rubbed her eyes again, holding the toothbrush in her mouth for a second, before proceeding, and eventually spitting it out into the sink, and rinsing her toothbrush off, and putting her toothbrush away once more, heading to her room. Her gaze immediately went to the clothes on her bed.
And so, she undressed, putting her uniform on. She buttoned her shirt up, slipped on her skirt, and tied her tie. She got a gummy rubber band (as a normal one would just cut through), and put her hair up, styling it to her liking. She pulled on the 27th copy of the socks she usually wore, and, lastly, slipped on her strapped pumps. She looked in the wide-length mirror on the wall. She looked the same as she did any other day; eyebags, ponytail, purple hair, brown shirt, black skirt, white socks, and cute shoes — or, well, she thought they were fairly cute, to her liking. Nothing missing, and nothing new.
She walked over to the small desk in the corner of her room, taking her bag, and grabbing her keys off of her nightstand, yawning once more, before heading outside of her room. She'd be a little early today. How great... She walked through her house, glancing around to make sure she didn't forget anything. Her phone, along with her charger, was already in her bag. She left her laptop at work, always.
Was that it? That's what it looked like.
She opened the door, locking it behind her, and headed outside.
Here we go.