1. The White Room
1
THE WHITE ROOM
~GEMINI~
T he first thing I notice is the silence.
It’s not the kind of silence that comes after a storm or the quiet that settles in the early hours of the morning.
This silence is absolute, and oppressive, as if the world itself has been muted. I can’t hear my own breathing, the rustle of my clothes, or the sound of my footsteps as I shift my weight.
It’s as though I’ve been plunged into a vacuum, where even the faintest whisper of sound has been stripped away.
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the stark whiteness of the room. There are no walls, no ceiling, no floor—just an endless expanse of white that stretches in every direction.
The light is soft, almost ethereal, but it offers no warmth.
It’s sterile, cold, and utterly devoid of life.
I look down at myself. I’m dressed in white—a simple, flowing gown that brushes against my ankles. The fabric is soft, almost weightless, but it feels foreign against my skin.
My hands are pale, almost translucent as if the light is passing through them. I flex my fingers, watching the tendons move beneath the surface, but there’s no sensation. No warmth, no cold, no texture. Just… nothing.
Where am I?
The question echoes in my mind, but there’s no answer. No memory of how I got here, no recollection of what happened before. My thoughts feel fragmented, like shards of glass scattered across a table. I try to piece them together, but they slip through my fingers, elusive and intangible.
I take a step forward, or at least I think I do. There’s no sensation of movement, no shift in the air, no sound of my feet hitting the ground. It’s as though I’m floating, suspended in this endless void of white.
And then I see it.
A black bunny.
It’s small, its fur a stark contrast against the blinding whiteness of the room. Its eyes are red, glowing like twin embers in the darkness. It doesn’t move at first, just sits there, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
I take a step closer, and this time, I feel it—the faintest brush of something against my mind, like a whisper I can’t quite hear. The bunny tilts its head, its ears twitching slightly, and then it hops toward me.
Each movement is deliberate, and calculated, as if it’s testing me, probing me.
I crouch down, my gown pooling around me as I reach out to pick it up. The moment my fingers touch its fur, a jolt of something— fear, recognition, memory — shoots through me.
It’s warm and alive, and yet there’s something unnatural about it.
Odd…maybe?
The bunny doesn’t struggle as I lift it into my arms.
It’s light, almost weightless, and its red eyes never leave mine. I stare into them, searching for answers, but all I see is my own reflection staring back at me—pale, wide-eyed, and utterly lost.
Who are you?
I want to ask, but the words don’t come. My throat feels tight and constricted as if the silence has stolen my voice along with everything else.
The bunny’s nose twitches, and for a moment, I think it’s going to speak. If that’s even possible in this place… But instead, it shifts in my arms, its warmth seeping into my skin, and I feel it again—that whisper in my mind, faint but insistent.
It’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t understand it. The harder I try to grasp it, the more it slips away, like smoke through my fingers.
I frown, frustration bubbling up inside me.
What is this? What does it mean…what is needed from me?
And then, as if in response, the bunny’s eyes flash, and I feel a sharp pain in my chest.
It’s brief, fleeting, but it’s enough to make me gasp.
My grip on the bunny tightens, and for a moment, I think I see something — a flash of memory, a fragment of a face, a name on the tip of my tongue.
But before I can hold onto it, it’s gone, leaving me with nothing but a hollow ache in my chest.
I look down at the bunny, my fingers trembling as I stroke its fur. It’s soft, almost comforting, but there’s an undercurrent of darkness in its aura, giving off a sense of danger.
A warning…a reminder…a piece of a puzzle I can’t quite solve with so many pieces still missing.
"What am I trying to remember that is so important that it keeps nagging at me?”
The bunny doesn’t respond.
It just watches me, its gaze unblinking, and I feel a chill run down my spine. There’s a familiarity that I should recognize, but the harder I try to remember, the more it slips away, leaving me with nothing but a gnawing sense of unease.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, holding the bunny in my arms, staring into its eyes, searching for answers that never come.
The silence presses in on me, suffocating, and I feel a growing sense of panic bubbling up inside me.
What’s wrong with me?
How did I even get out of this white prison?
Just as the panic threatens to overwhelm me, I hear it — a voice.
“I like bunnies.”
The sound is soft, almost childlike, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. I spin around, my heart pounding in my chest, and there she is— a little girl, standing a few steps away from me.
She looks like me.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.
She’s younger, her features softer, her eyes wider, but there’s no mistaking it. The silver hair, the sharp cheekbones, the faint scar above her left eyebrow, and the big nerdy glasses that sit low on her nose. it’s me.
The me that got bullied, abused, and rendered useless to the world…
She’s dressed in white, just like I am, but her gown is simpler, more innocent. Her feet are bare, her toes curling against the cold, white floor. She’s holding a white bunny in her arms, its red eyes glowing just like the one in my grasp
But it’s her expression that catches me off guard.
She looks serious, almost solemn, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowed as she studies me. There’s no warmth in her gaze, no curiosity, no fear.
Just…calculation.
She takes a step closer, her movements slow and deliberate, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. The bunny in her arms shifts, its red eyes locking onto mine, and I feel that whisper in my mind again, louder this time, more insistent.
Remember!
The word echoes in my head, but it’s not her voice. It’s deeper, darker, more familiar. It’s a voice I know, vibrations that have made my skin crawl with goosebumps and brewed anger in the depths of my emotions.
Their identity is at the tip of my tongue, taunting me so effortlessly, and then it’s gone.
The little girl stops a few feet away from me, her head tilted to the side as she studies me. Her gaze is piercing, almost unnerving, and I feel exposed, and vulnerable, as if she can see straight through me.
“Do you remember?” she asks, her voice soft but firm.
There’s no emotion in her tone, no hesitation. Just a simple question, delivered with the kind of certainty that makes my stomach twist.
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out.
My mind is a jumble of thoughts, memories, and emotions, but none of them make sense. They’re fragments, shards of something larger, something I can’t quite grasp.
The little girl watches me, her expression unchanging, and I feel a growing sense of frustration bubbling up inside me.
What the fuck am I supposed to remember.
It’s almost nerve-wracking, impatiently standing here, knowing time is revolving around me and yet I can’t grasp the answers to the growing questions bubbling within this porcelain space.
The whisper in my mind grows louder, more insistent, and I feel a sharp pain in my chest again, like a knife twisting in my heart.
Remember…
The word is a command, a plea, a warning.
It’s everything and nothing all at once, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I struggle to hold onto it. But it slips away, leaving me with nothing but a hollow ache in my chest.
"What's precious to you is in danger." The little girl's voice carries a sing-song quality that sends chills down my spine. Her eyes - my eyes from years past - narrow as she studies her white rabbit, fingers trailing through its fur with calculated gentleness.
Something about her touch seems wrong - too precise, too measured for a child. Her gaze shifts to the black rabbit cradled in my arms, and I follow her line of sight, breath-catching as I notice dark liquid seeping from its crimson eyes.
"It's bleeding," I whisper, watching black droplets fall onto the pristine white floor. Each one spreads like ink on paper, staining the perfect surface with steadily growing shadows. "Why is it bleeding?"
The little girl's lips curve into a smile that holds no warmth.
"Because he's in danger. He'll die if you don't find him."
He. Who’s he? Who is he to me?
"Who?" My fingers tighten in the black rabbit's fur, feeling its heart race against my palm. "Who will die?"
"The man you love. Men…I guess, but this man. This man is extra precious." She strokes her white rabbit's ears, but the gesture feels possessive rather than affectionate. "This one represents him - the one who made your heart beat differently."
"I love many," I argue, though something cold settles in my stomach at her words. "My heart yearns…six? Or was it five..."
Does that even make sense? Five men…with one girl? That’s not right…
Her laugh sounds like breaking glass.
"Oh yes, your heart grew so big, didn't it? Made room for so many Kings." Her eyes find mine, carrying knowledge far beyond her years. "But this one was different. He empowered you first. Not like this one."
She lifts her white rabbit suddenly, arms tensing as if preparing to slam it down.
Wait!
I lunge forward without thinking, barely managing to snatch it from her grasp while keeping hold of the black rabbit. The movement sends pain shooting through my muscles, but I cradle both creatures against my chest, putting myself between them and my younger self.
"You can't hurt them!" The words emerge fierce despite the growing ache in my bones. "They're different but both valuable! Opposite…but they live and care differently!"
Fury transforms her childish features into something feral. Her tiny fists clench at her sides as she screams.
"The white one hurt us! Made our life miserable every chance he got!" Spittle flies from her lips as she continues, "Now he gets to suffer. Ultimate pain that will remind him his existence only matters because of US!"
Her eyes gleam with dangerous light as she adds.
"Without our attention, he's nothing but a lost soul in this sinful world."
I shake my head, trying to make sense of her rage, but coherent thought grows difficult as new sensations assault my body.
Tiny points of fire erupt across my back, as if someone is pressing lit cigarettes against my skin. Before I can process that pain, my stomach cramps violently - the specific kind of agony that comes from ingesting something toxic.
The little girl watches my suffering with obvious satisfaction.
"Can't you feel it? Everything he did to us?"
My legs buckle without warning, muscles spasming as phantom pains race through my nervous system. Only my death grip on both rabbits keeps me from collapsing completely, their warm bodies anchoring me as waves of remembered torture crash through my frame.
The white rabbit trembles against my chest while the black one remains eerily still, its bleeding eyes leaving dark stains on my gown. Each drop seems to sear through the fabric, marking my skin with memories I've tried so hard to bury.
"Why are you doing this?" I manage through gritted teeth, fighting to remain upright as my body betrays me. "Why make us relive it?"
"Because you forgot!" she shrieks, her silver hair wild around her face. "You forgot what he did! What they all did! How they broke us piece by piece until there was nothing left but hatred and rage!"
Her words hit like physical blows, making my vision swim. But something about her fury feels wrong - too practiced, too calculated for the child she appears to be.
This isn't really my younger self, is it?
The rabbits press closer, their combined warmth spreading through my chest despite the agony wracking my frame.
The black one's heart beats steady and strong while the white one quivers with barely contained energy. Together they create a rhythm that helps me focus through the pain, helps me see past the fury radiating from my younger self's twisted features.
"You're wrong," I whisper, the words emerging stronger than expected. "I haven't forgotten anything. I've just learned there's more to the story than black and white, more to people than their worst actions or best intentions."
"Lies!" She takes a step forward, and the pristine white floor cracks beneath her bare feet. "You've grown weak! Let them infect you with hope and possibility when you should be focused on making them pay!"
But I hold my ground despite my trembling legs, despite the fire in my veins and ice in my bones. Because I finally understand what this is - not just a dream or hallucination, but a test.
A challenge from some part of myself that refuses to let go of ancient hurts.
The rabbits in my arms represent choices - paths forward that could shape not just my future but the futures of everyone I've grown to care about.
And this twisted version of my younger self wants me to choose destruction over growth, vengeance over possibility.
But she's misjudged how far I've come.
How far I need to go to finally seek the vengeance I seek.
"I don't need to remember everything to know my objective," I tell the girl, straightening despite the pain radiating through my limbs. "Fate can conjure whatever game it wishes. The board remains the same."
The bunnies in my arms pulse with life as I cradle them closer, their heartbeats syncing with mine in a rhythm that feels ancient and inevitable. The black rabbit's bleeding has slowed, but each droplet that falls leaves an indelible mark on the pristine floor – a testament to wounds not yet healed.
"This chess match?" My lips curve into a smile that matches the girl's earlier coldness. "I'll win it before anyone can move me off the board. I'll decide all our fates."
My younger self's eyes narrow as I speak, calculation replacing rage in those too-familiar irises. She watches me with the predatory focus of a creature waiting for weakness, for vulnerability she can exploit.
But I've spent too long being prey to fall for such obvious tactics now.
I lower my gaze to the rabbits nestled against my chest, their contrasting fur – midnight black and pristine white – stark against the pale fabric of my gown. The symbolism isn't lost on me; these creatures represent choices, paths, and possibilities that stretch before me like diverging roads.
"These bunnies," I whisper, fingers brushing through soft fur as I hold them closer. "They're more than just symbols, aren't they? They're anchors to what matters."
When I lift my eyes again, my resolve hardens into something unbreakable.
"I'll play that winning move – the one that grants checkmate no one sees coming."
The little girl glares back, her childish features twisting with emotions too complex, too calculated for her apparent age. Then slowly, terribly, her lips pull into a smile that turns my blood to ice.
"Too bad," she huffs, her voice dropping an octave lower than any child's should. "I'll just have to make sure you forget!"
She claps her hands with theatrical flair, and the endless white world plunges into absolute darkness.
The transition happens so abruptly that my senses reel, struggling to adjust to the void that surrounds me. Before I can recover, pressure slams against my chest with crushing force.
I gasp, lungs fighting for air as the weight increases.
It feels like being caught between a concrete wall and a freight train — each compression driving more oxygen from my body, more hope from my spirit. The rabbits squirm in my grasp as I fight to protect them, to keep them safe from whatever seeks to tear them away.
Another compression hits harder, sending lightning bolts of agony through my sternum. I hear the crack of bone giving way, and feel the nauseating shift of my rib cage beneath relentless force.
Still, I clutch the rabbits closer, determined to shield them with my broken body if necessary.
A third compression comes, and with it, the sensation of hands reaching through the darkness — grasping, pulling, trying to snatch what I hold dear. I feel the white rabbit being tugged from my grasp, its small body sliding against my palm despite my desperate attempts to maintain my hold.
"No!" The scream tears from my throat, raw and primal.
The darkness seems to absorb the sound, swallowing it whole as the rabbit slips further from my fingers. Panic surges through me, fueling one final, desperate declaration.
"I am the ruler! The Queen! I control my story!"
The words explode from me with unexpected power, carrying force beyond mere sound. The darkness shatters like glass, white light flooding back with blinding intensity. I find myself gasping, trembling, my entire body seized by violent shivers that threaten to tear me apart from within.
Cold — a chill so profound it transcends normal sensation — rushes through my veins, emanating from a point in my thigh that burns with paradoxical ice fire.
My teeth chatter uncontrollably as the freeze spreads outward, climbing my torso with glacial tendrils that wrap around organs and squeeze with merciless precision.
Through watery vision, I look down, expecting to find both rabbits gone.
Instead, the black bunny remains clutched in my left hand, its crimson eyes meeting mine with startling clarity. I recognize the emotion reflected there immediately.
Fear, raw and undiluted, mirroring my own.
The connection that passes between us transcends understanding. This creature isn't just a symbol; it's a lifeline to something – someone – desperately fighting to survive. The realization makes my heart clench with renewed determination as I lift the trembling rabbit to my chest, enfolding it in a protective embrace despite my quaking limbs.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against soft fur, my voice fractured by violent shivers. "Wherever you are, I'll find you."
The rabbit's heartbeat pulses against my palm, rapid but steady — a counterpoint to my own erratic rhythm. Its warmth seems to fight against the ice flooding my system, creating pockets of sensation in a body growing increasingly numb.
"I'll protect you," I continue, each word a struggle through chattering teeth. "I'll save you...because you saved me."
Images flash through my mind as I speak — not memories exactly, but impressions, feelings, moments captured in emotional amber rather than perfect detail: A hand extended when all others pulled away.
A voice offering truth when others spun comforting lies.
Eyes that saw me – truly saw me – when the rest of the world looked through or past me.
"You found me," I murmur, tears freezing against my cheeks, "when I thought the world would never give me an ounce of justice."
The cold intensifies, turning my breath to the crystalline fog that hangs suspended before my face. The edges of the white room begin to blur, its perfect boundaries dissolving like sugar in water.
Reality itself seems to be unraveling around me, fading into nothingness one molecule at a time.
Still, I hold the black rabbit, my fingers buried in fur gone stiff with frost.
"You saved me from my own destruction," I tell it, my voice barely audible now. "So now it's my turn."
The rabbit's eyes never leave mine as the dissolution accelerates, the white room disintegrating into motes of light that spiral away into an expanding void.
I feel myself going with it – consciousness unspooling like a thread from a bobbin, identity breaking apart into constituent pieces.
Somewhere in the distance, a voice whispers a single word.
"Remember."
The command floats through disappearing space, intention clear despite its softness. But as the last fragments of the white room scatter like stars across newborn night, I find strength for one final act of defiance.
"Forget," I whisper back, a smile playing at lips gone blue with cold. "I can win without being plagued by baggage that no longer serves me."
The black rabbit's eyes close as if in benediction, its small body dissolving along with everything else. But the warmth of it — the essential truth it represented — remains, a coal of certainty burning in my chest even as existence itself fades to nothing.
I am the Queen.
This is my game to win.
And I will write the ending, no matter what forces rise against me.
The white room vanishes completely, taking with it light, sensation, awareness...
But not my resolve.
Never that.
The universe contracts to a single point of purpose, and then?—
Nothing.