The Unstoppable Force and the Immovable Object

**I know this is short, I don't know what I am going to do with it except I had an inspiration and a small inkling of where to go, but please rip it to shreds and let me know what you think about it**

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A sharp pinch in the crook of her elbow woke her up, but something inside her head kept her from opening her eyes. They felt glued shut, as if she had been crying before. She gave herself a moment to wait for her brain to catch up to her. It seemed like a habit, although she didn’t know why. She stared at the insides of her eyelids, their fiery red glow shattered by darker veins threading their way across in intricate designs, taking things unimaginable through their tubes. She didn’t know how she thought these things, obviously she had been educated somewhere, but what was education?

Did I just ask myself a question? She thought. Then, fast as lightning, she answered herself. Obviously.

Am I talking to myself?

What?

Who is myself? Who am I? Why did I just ask myself who I am? Shouldn’t a normal human being know the answer to that?

And yet you are talking to yourself. You are not normal.

Who says so?

I say so.

Shut up.

I’m trying thank you very much, so shut up yourself!

That’s not very nice.

Well, you started it. I did not.

You are the one who thinks you are having a conversation in your own head with yourself. Wake up idiot.

With a gasp she flung herself into a sitting position, breathing hard, her eyelashes hurting from where she had detached them from her skin all too quickly. Already, the trace of the conversation that had just conspired began to fade until she couldn’t remember it at all while she blinked in the stunningly bright white light.

A hand was suddenly on her chest, pushing her back down, but she couldn’t see who it was since the light was overwhelming and a high pitched ringing filled her ears followed by someone hitting her on the head with their fists repeatedly. She was suddenly screaming out for them to stop as she jerked herself away and into a ball, wrapping her hands around her head. But the same hands that had pushed her down onto the slab now grabbed her own none too gently and forced her to lie flat again. She screamed at the hands to stop hitting her head and shut her eyes as fresh tears poured down her skin.

“She’s not ready,” she heard someone say, each word disconnected from its meaning.

“Its been more than four months Sir, perhaps it is just a side effect of being woken so abruptly from the Sleep,” came the reply.

“All of the others did just fine when they were woken, so why not her?”

“I don’t know. She must be different.”