Realising her situation, Eleanor halted. An overwhelming urge rose in her throat… the urge to scream, to make a sound, any sound, simply to prove that she existed within this void. She forced it down, straightening her spine, her hands clenched rigidly at her sides.
She tried to think, to reason, to mediate the situation, but the void offered no point of focus. Her thoughts echoed back at her, growing louder, stretched and distorted by the suffocating silence.
Fragments of her earlier life began drifting to the surface. One memory returned with painful, frame-by-frame clarity: an ordinary, insignificant day from her days of being a werewolf… the day she entered Tom Raynor's laboratory.
