A headache the size of a canyon was pounding through her head. She was lost in a fog. Everything was humid and thick. No light. She struggled to move, and barely managed to. A small moan escaped her lips.
Muffled voices traveled to her from outside her fog.
"Who is that?" a man's voice asked. "Is that the host personality? I thought she was eradicated?"
"Don't worry about it," another man's voice said. "Either way her memory has been wiped clean. Give her some more Thanidol. We have a lot of work to do..."
Then before she had time to ponder these words, everything was gone again. The headache, the voices, the fog. There was nothing. She had lost consciousness.
* * *
She was running at night. She came to this realization suddenly. She could hear her own hard breathing as she ran, felt her heart pounding in her chest. She was wearing shoes it was easy to run in. The woman running ahead of her was not. She wore low heels, pumps. She was chasing this other woman, apparently.
The woman in front of her kept looking back in fear. She was Indian, had her long black hair up in a neat bun. She wore a dark suit with a skirt. It also looked hard to run in. They ran along a residential sidewalk, with a row of bushes to the left and a quiet street to the right. They ran under a streetlight, then back into semi-darkness. She could hear other feet running too, ahead of the woman. It was a man with dark hair in a suit. Both of the people she chased carried briefcases.
She wasn't in control of her own body as she chased these people. She was just aware of herself doing it.
The Indian woman, losing ground, screamed with a mortal fear to the man in front of her, "Charles!" Almost a screech.