There was a gray face speaking to her now, a gray face with a regal stare that called her name. He figure was imposing, familiar, but overwhelming. To admit that he existed here and now was still too much. Alexander. Was he mad? Did he hate her for deserting? She had known him only for a few brief moments, and the memory was foggy. White shapes that drifted about in a midnight blizzard. And eyes. Blue and yellow eyes. The same ones that were set in the face of the strange ghost before her. "<b>No,</b>" she insisted, "<b>No, none of this is real. None of you can be real.</b>" Determined to make this all go away, she screwed her eyes tighter, trying to just imagine blankness, emptiness.
But there was a pounding the drums of her ears, a pounding in her heart, a pounding in her head, that she could not ignore. <i>You were pushed. Someone pushed you. You trusted her and she pushed you.</i> But she couldn't believe that. So it wasn't real. None of it was real. "<b>This is all one very bad dream. Why why why why why?</b>"
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