Breaking the 4th

Shatter was never one to turn to religion or seek guidance in an invisible higher being. Normally she was one to find peace in rationality and facts, patterns and logic being her reliable safety net. It was a simple trade-off; when her fanatical mind went off on its occasional rampant rage-fest into fantasy or paranoid delusions it was the focus on reality that grounded her.

But this day it was as is something much too far out of her control wanted to test that balance.

The first sign that something was not quite right was in the air. It was cold, just enough to chill her skin in the brisk early morning, just as she liked.
But the smell was all wrong. The familiar fragrance of lavender and cotton of her bedroom was gone, leaving the space feeling empty and void. And yet with every inhale Shatter took, she felt the scent of rain, wet stone, and sweet moss scrape the back of her throat. And why the hell did she smell dirt?

The girl finally opened her eyes and blinked. Unsure of what she was seeing, she blinked some more. It took a few moments for her mind to catch up, finally shaking off the remaining fog of deep slumber. Her body followed suit, her stiff muscles tensing into a stretch. Muscles groaned in protest and an involuntary exhale escaped her as she righted herself.
“Ugh,” she grunted when a crack sounded from her back.

She was about to start cussing out her bargain brand mattress when her eyes landed on the rocky dirt ground she had been lying on. Then it finally dawned on her.

Cautiously, Shatter sat up fully, afraid to make sudden movements or noise.
This was not her bedroom, not even remotely close. In fact, she didn’t recognize the surroundings she found herself in.

“What…the…” she choked, her eyes wandering around.

Shatter was never one to turn to God for answers, so it was some twisted joke to find herself in an ancient, broken down stone-walled church. But regardless, the girl found a way to put her scattered feelings into words ever so eloquently.

“Oh…fuck me.”