Nothing jerked her into awareness. There was no warning sign or internal alarm. She came awake slowly, groggily. Her head ached, her eyes sent protests to her tired out brain as her retinas were subjected to something other than darkness. There was no color. She noticed this immediately. Just smears of gray, a monochrome canvas of abstract shapes and strokes. No definition, no composition. No hints of what the picture could be.<br/><br/>Then, finally, everything comes into focus. Rainie is mildly surprised to find herself standing; not laying on some medical cot somewhere. Where was she? How did she get here? She had  no recollection of coming to this place. Last she remembered...she had been....<br/><br/>Where had she been?<br/><br/>It was some grand foyer, something she might read about or sketch.<span style="font-style: italic">In charcoals,</span>she tells herself. The wood beneath her Converse shoes is old, creaking with age. The ceilings were so high, if she tossed a ball straight up with all her might, it had no chance of making contact. Everything is a dull gray, the same monotone from before. There are varying shades of it, and maybe a few of them have hints of an old red, dusty brown, or dull blue.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock</span>goes a large grandfather clock. Itâ€™s golden pendulum swings back and forth, ticking away like a slow heartbeat.<br/><br/>Itâ€™s cold. She hugs her elbows to her chest, pulling her knitted black sweater around her tighter. Her jeans were dirty. She realizes sheâ€™s been staring up at the dizzyingly high ceiling for far too long. Sheâ€™s beginning to sway on her feet. Her strange, eerie violet eyes lower to see the others around her.<br/><br/>Theyâ€™re all lined up around a grand circular rug; a rug, she notices, that seems to be the only color in the dÃ©cor. Itâ€™s a deep red, shades darker than her hair. It was a color she would use to represent old blood.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">â€The door has been opened.â€</span><br/><br/>Rainie glances around the large room, her eyes darting from face to face. Had they spoken? No, they looked as confused as she was. Who were they? How had they gotten here? Her head whips around, searching for some clue. Her fists are clenched at her sides.<br/><br/>So she turns, searching behind her, and finds a set of double doors. The brass gleams under the dust, and she decides to be the first to move. She leaves her place in the circle around the rotting rug, and goes to the door. She examines them quickly.<br/><br/>They only open one way.<br/><br/>They open inward.<br/><br/>So she gives it a hard tug. With dismal results. She tries again, grasping the handles and pulling with all her might. Finding this fruitless, she tries to open only one door while bracing her foot on the other. The handles are freezing, and begin to turn her fingers numb.<br/><br/>With a huff of frustration, she announces to the room, â€œLocked.â€<br/><br/>As if it werenâ€™t obvious to begin with.