A.N. General disclaimer for all things copyright. I do not own the characters, setting, or lore utilized in the creation of this piece. My work is inspired by the creative thought of the original authors

She awoke in a field of white flowers.

Her breath was harsh and her body ached, as if fresh from a run. She could smell a sweet scent wafting through the air, carried aloft by a slight breeze that ruffled her clothes so lightly. Turning slightly she looked up and beheld a night sky, solemn gray clouds threading through streaks of blue. The centerpiece was the moon, so large and vibrant it dominated the world above, glowing with a luminosity that she had never seen before. Tilting her head she identified the culprit of the sweet smell: hundreds of small flowers, each with five petals. They bobbed and danced in the slight breeze, giving a life to the field. It was beautiful, calm, and utterly peaceful. She let her head rest upon the cool earth, letting the aroma wash over her, stripping her of the worry, the hardship, and the pain that she had-

Her eyes shot open, a mixture of utter horror and total disgust held within the large orbs.

The locker. The filth. She was there, screaming, trying to get out of the nightmare that they had shoved her into. She pounded on the locker door, howled like a banshee for someone, anyone to help, to release her from such cruelty.

Nobody came. Students left without a care, either unaware of her plight or unwilling to cross those that had placed her there, afraid of the social repercussion. No students. No teachers. Not even one of the janitors. Nobody came to help. Nobody really cared. In the end, her life amounted for little more than just a game for the trio that had tortured her, and an excuse for the faculty that wanted a student to make an example of.

She wasn't there. The locker was gone, and had been replaced by a field of white and a forlorn sky. What had happened? Where was she? How could she have-

Her breath halted, caught in her through as tears prickled her eyes. She had felt the bugs, crawling through the filth, tearing into her flesh. They chewed on her skin and burrowed, eating at her insides as she struggled and thrashed in the confines of her prison.

She had wanted to die, felt like she was. Her body was bleeding from wounds covered by the hazardous material around her. Her strength was lost, her voice strained from overuse, and no one had come.

She curled up, holding her legs, limbs free of the damage that she had felt so deeply, and cried.

For her to be here from such a nightmare, in a field as tranquil and calm as this, meant only one thing.

She had died, and nobody had cared.