She reeled, staggering from loss of blood and pain. Her vision was blurring. She knew the end was near. She prepared to hit the ground again, but this time, the ground was not there to meet her. She was falling, falling through the whiteness... falling... falling...

She startled awake. She opened her eyes, blinked blearily a few times, and sat up. Everything was white around her. Just white. No shapes, no forms, no textures. Everything white. I�m dreaming, she thought, I�m dreaming that I�m in the Matrix or something. This kind of amused her, in an offhand way. She remained sitting on the ground, folded her arms, and waited for her real self to wake up.
But she didn�t. She was sure hours had passed, and still she sat on the ground. She groaned with boredom. And still she stayed there.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she got to her feet. What a great dream. This is freaking riveting, she thought snarkily to herself. She started walking, even though she had nowhere to go, and as far as she could see, there was nowhere to go anyway. Nevertheless, she kept on walking, feeling more or less blind, but confident in her own immortality that usually comes in dreams.
She walked. And walked. And walked until she was tired, at which point, she laid down and started to drift into a comfortably numb slumber. She wondered whether she was still dreaming as more whiteness enveloped her mind.

When she woke up again, the whiteness still surrounded her. Agitated that her dream was still going, she rose to her feet, grumbling to herself. �What kind of crappy dream is this,� she muttered under her breath.
What happened next shocked her off her feet. A huge, consuming voice shattered the silence of the seemingly innocent white candor, blasting her onto the ground. �You aren't going to wake up." The voice was tremendous, yet at the same time, it seemed almost like a whisper, as it resounded around her until it faded lower and lower.
�W-who are you?� she stammered, still knocked flat on the colorless ground.
Her ears were met with only silence.
A few minutes passed. Finally, she managed to muster her nerves and rise to her feet again. She ventured a wary �Hello?� and when there was no response, said, a little louder, �Are you there?�
�No,� replied the voice condescendingly. �I am nowhere. Do you think you actually are somewhere?"
She began to feel a little dizzy. �What�s this dream about, anyway?� she asked, hoping the voice wasn�t going to smite her for being insolent.
The voice whispered down to her, in a voice that sounded like there was some big joke that she just didn't get. �It�s not a dream.�
She was extremely skeptical. Dreams were funny things sometimes. When I start to believe it�s real, I�ll just wake up. It�s not real. It can�t be. This is ridiculous. Why am I reassuring myself? Okay! Once and for all, this is a dream. I will wake up soon and life will go on. This has to be a dream. And with that, she started walking again. For no reason at all.

After awhile, she began to get fed up with the whole dream thing. �Look, whoever you are, I�m sick of this, so I think it's time for me to wake up!� she called impudently. She scowled.
The voice laughed, a harsh, piercing laugh. She cringed. �The sooner you accept it, the sooner you�ll see. You'll see how it really is." The voice�s laughter continued after the words had faded. Only it seemed rougher now. Rougher and louder, abraising her mind like sandpaper. The sound filled her head, driving out her other thoughts.
The laughter echoed over and over in her head, and still it went on. She shook her head violently, and screamed for the voice to stop, although the horrible laughter drowned out her cry. She broke into a run as tears streamed down her face. Trying to get away, scrabbling as fast as she could, like a rat trying to escape a burning ship. She pushed herself harder and harder, desperately trying to escape the noise that would drive her insane. She frantically thought that the voice was going to kill her, to rip her into shreds. Still it went on. She kept running, and still the voice�s laughter persisted. She felt like her brain was bleeding. She clutched her ears, the ears that felt as if they were on fire.
Eventually, the laughter began to ebb. She could feel herself slowing, as if she was being pulled backward. She felt numb, deaf, and very, very insane. She felt like a wreck, like she hadn't slept in her entire life. She pleaded with the voice breathlessly. "Please. Let me go... please..."
�Why? What will you do once you have awakened? You won't do anything. You have never done anything. You are nothing. Why were you even created? Can you answer me that?� The glee was apparent in the words the voice had chosen.
Now she was getting downright pissed that this being, this thing, whatever it was, had the nerve to bring her here, only to torture and insult her. He's not the nicest of omnipotent deities. I hope the real God is nicer than this. �I do too do things,� she retorted, trying to sound snooty, yet also fearful that the owner of the voice would crush her or even worse, laugh again, if you could even really call it a laugh.
�Ah, but things of any merit or importance to anyone else?�
�My family, my friends. They care about me. They love me.�
�And once they are all gone, will anyone remember? Are you really as important as you think?�
She thought hard for a minute. She felt worse and worse with every word the voice spoke. She couldn't think of anything to say back, as much as she wanted to.
The voice said, softer this time, �You�ll see. Eventually, I�ll make you see."

She was fully agitated by now, and started off walking again. She had recovered from the feeling of lunacy, and she was trying not to let the conversation with the voice bother her very much. After all, it was her dream. The ubiquitous whiteness seemed simultaneously endless and suffocating. Trying to get somewhere, perhaps a way out, an end, anything at all, was obviously futile. Everything looked the same, felt the same, sounded the same. It was just so frustrating. She seemed to go nowhere at all, but still tired after walking for as long as she could. The whiteness was so boring, yet she had nothing to do, so she continued to walk. She didn�t really know why. She started to hum a little tune while she walked, and even skipped a bit. She wasn't going to let the voice or the whiteness get her down.
�What are you doing?� the voice echoed.
�I�m bored and this is stupid. If I could just wake up-�
�Never again,� the voice interrupted.
�What do you mean?� she replied suspiciously.
�I mean that you�ll never leave. There are things you have to learn to accept.�
The voice�s smugness was maddening. �Well, fine! Why don't you just tell me what the point of this is? I've had enough, and I want out," she snapped. She began running again, a slow jog to ease her aggravation, but trying to run was even more frustrating. Like the voice had her on a hamster wheel. She hated that. I�m in control of me. No prissy voice is going to convince me otherwise.
�Why are you so eager to believe this is a dream? How can you be so sure that this isn't reality? Maybe this is what the world is really like, even if you don't see that yet."
�No,� she said as she slowed. Her voice grew softer. �That�s not true. That can�t be true. I won�t believe it.�
�You have to.�
Her voice cracked as she yelled, �Leave me alone!�
The voice started laughing again, the intolerable, overpowering sound that pierced her eardrums and made her mind writhe in agony. Faster, she tried to run, trying to drown out the awful voice, but to no avail.
�I didn't ask to be born!� she screamed through the endless white expanse. The laugh was everywhere. Her head felt like it was going to explode. She halfway wished it would. �I never asked to be born!�
�You�re beginning to understand,� said the voice, through the thunder of the horrible storm.
�I understand! I do!� She fell to her knees and then rolled onto her side. Her side heaved as tears began to roll down her face. �No one will ever understand.� She felt more alone than she ever had, or ever could. She screamed in her mind. She hated the voice. She hated the whiteness that imprisoned her. She hated everything, but what she hated most of all was the way it made her hate herself.
�Just kill me! You�re done with me!� she screamed.
�I'm afraid not.� She hated it. She hated the maddening superiority of the voice, the helplessness she felt. She wasn�t in control of herself, after all. She wanted to kill the voice, to torture it as it was doing to her, but she didn�t know how. And for that, she hated it even more.
�You know, hate gets you nowhere,� taunted the voice.
�Neither does anything I do!�
It fell completely silent, and her words echoed all around her, again and again. She hadn�t meant to say that, but she did mean it. And she knew it was true. She lay there, willing the ground to swallow her up. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was still the despicable whiteness. There was no escape. She felt like she was screaming, screaming with all she had, but silence fell around her.

She did not move. She didn�t want to get up again, now or ever. There was nothing she could do. She was powerless, just a speck on the infinite white screen. White. How could anyone think it so innocent, so pure. So honest, so truthful. But here, the white seemed to want to hurt her as much as the voice. The whiteness seemed so deceitful, hiding things from her more than any darkness ever could. She could never escape. The voice would never let her escape.
Suddenly, the blankness that had seemed so endless and open seemed to suffocate her, like a tight zip lock bag around her entire body. The whiteness pressed in on her from all sides, stifling, constricting. She still did not rise. It was pointless, stupid. Everything was stupid. And pointless. She lay crumpled on the ground, her sides feeling leaden. She wanted it to end, more than anything she had ever wanted. Maybe this was her way out. Maybe death was the only way.
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. She felt the same absolute nothing again, but her sides still rose and fell in time with her labored breath. She wanted to heave. She wanted to die. She wanted something, anything but the voice and the white expanse. Something to feel, something to care about. She wanted something to snuff her out. She couldn�t do a thing. She was weak, completely powerless over her own destiny. She didn�t care anymore. She only cared about death coming to save her. That was all that mattered.
In the silence that seemed as if it had never been interrupted, she seemed to fall halfway asleep. She wished it was real, a real, eternal sleep. Her mind went into a flat-line, a drone, and she remained there, tossed limply on the ground like a forgotten toy.
Something inside her told her to get up. She pushed back at the thought, shoved it away. She knew the voice was trying to get her again. It always did. I won�t get up again. I won�t. She absolutely refused. She defied the thoughts that urged her to persist, and still she lay there.
All she wanted was to die. All she had left was to die. Yet even death eluded her. She was defeated, defeated by everything. The lack, the endless lack, made her feel blind, deaf. Totally helpless. She couldn�t even will death to herself. She was exhausted of trying to live. She was exhausted of trying to die. She was simply exhausted of being.
She suddenly had an idea. Maybe, just maybe, she could make it stop. She could make it all stop. She was laying on the ground. The ground was hard. Her head was hard. Her teeth were sharp. She thought about her wrists, envisioning her veins, the blood coursing through them. She lay fascinated by this idea, growing more inclined to it with every second that passed. Mustering up energy she had forgotten she had, she sat up, then stood. She would have to do both. She wanted it to end, not just to cease temporarily. Numbly, wearily, she took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her eye.
She kept her arm raised to her face. She looked at her wrist. Gently, she pressed her lips to her wrist, and closed her eyes, causing another tear to fall. She could feel her teeth pressing on the delicate skin, and then, she sunk her teeth in. A bolt of searing pain shot through her arm, and she could taste the blood, warm, and sweet, filling her mouth. She lifted her head away, her eyes welling with more tears because of her pain and despair. She watched as the blood blossomed and spiraled across her arm. Tearing her eyes away, she lifted her other arm, again sinking her teeth in and being rewarded with the taste of the rich, intoxicating blood. The blood painted its designs across her arms and into her hands, dripping from her fingertips. Her heart was pounding, the adrenaline surging through her body. It would be over soon.
She flung herself to the ground, hitting her head as hard as she could. She reeled with pain and dizziness, but she had to keep going. She had to make it end. Her head hit the ground again, and again, and again. She gasped for breath, even though she didn't want it anymore. Blood trickled into her eyes. Her vision was blurring, but she could still see red spilled and smeared upon the whiteness of the ground. She wondered if her skull had cracked. Barely conscious, she struggled to continue, trying to escape in the only way she knew.
She readied herself to hit the ground again, but this time, as she hurled herself downward, she didn't hit the ground. She didn't hit anything. She went through the ground. She was falling again. Falling through the whiteness. Her blood had faded, disappeared, and the whiteness was complete again. Falling.. falling... falling...

She startled awake. She blinked blearily a few times and looked around. To her immense relief, she was back in her kitchen. I knew it was a dream. I knew it, she thought triumphantly. Thank God. She shuddered; the memory of the dream was still burning in her mind. She glanced up at the microwave, and remembering her burrito, reached up to zap it again� but everything was fading, turning to white again, as the laughter rang in her ears.