Hugo Müller-Downing, 27 Jun '12

The woman looked down into the water. She looked at herself in shock and slowly began to take in every single detail. The tight wrinkles around her eyes, laughter, she supposed. Then into her eyes, grey, like a pebble sitting sunken in the sand. Her mouth was drawn out, lips almost pursed, ready to speak but not quite there. Her hair fell in curls down to her shoulders, it grew in wisps and was as pure white.

She couldn't remember. No matter how hard she tried, nothing floated to the top of the muddy waters that were her memories. She tossed the bowl of water onto the floor in frustration. The water spilled out and the bowl shattered into tiny fragments, spun off into the shadows.

She'd had enough. She got up and started walking around the unfamiliar house. It was a peculiar sensation, to know, yet not know, where she was. She instinctively felt for the light switch as she entered the kitchen but it felt as though she had never been there before.

She opened a draw and brought out a knife. It was cold against her rough skin. The blade sliced through the translucent flesh, ripping it apart. The blood rushed to the surface and spilled out, splashing onto the floor. She felt a sudden rush, the world around her was now wild and vivid. Her heart pumped faster and faster, more and more blood. Amidst the chaos, all she thought was, 'Jill'.