Cally wasn't one to have horrible nightmares often.
But when she did, they were really bad.
She'd never forgotten that room. The dirty, bare walls. Grit she could feel with her bare, freezing feet. It wasn't the first cell that had ever held her, but it was the worst. She was there again, that familiar sense of impending death creeping over her.
The door to the room opened, and she expected that face again. Sharon. Boomer. Athena. Whatever you were supposed to call her. The Cylon she'd shot, the one that killed the old man. She looked up, her face full of that same fire and contempt that kept her spirit from being broken.
But it wasn't Sharon.
"There you are," the rough-faced man said, a smile curling across his lips.
"Ga--Galen?" Cally stammered. Even in her dreams, his appearance brought forth both comfort and dread.
"I have a surprise for you," Galen Tyrol said, stepping out of the doorway to let another two people in.
Cally's eyes froze, staring wide and scared. It was her. And her. Two exact copies of herself.
"You've always been one of us," Galen said.
"No... no, that's not true," Cally said, gritting her teeth as she started to cry. "No!"
Galen started to laugh, but soon the laugh changed timbre and pitch, grew more maniacal and raspy. "Oh kid, you should see the look on your face," the new voice said.
Cally looked over. No longer did Galen Tyrol stand there. A man, skin scarred and burnt peeking out from a red and green striped sweater. A brown hat sat on his head, and his right hand wore a glove with vicious curved blades along the four fingers.
"Who... what are you?" Cally gasped.
"Oh kid, don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you," the man said. Suddenly Cally found herself up against the wall, her face pressing into the cold concrete. She could feel his hands on her, his disgusting breath on her neck and ears. "I'm just here to have a little fun."
"Get. The frak. Off me," Cally growled, but she couldn't move.
"Fine. I'm just going to send a little message, got it? Hold still. This is going to hurt. A lot." The man laughed again, and Cally howled and screamed in pain as she felt the skin of her back slicing open, strips of it falling away with a searing, sizzling intensity.
Cally woke up screaming in her bed, feeling the pain still, feeling that damp wetness as blood from her back began to puddle and sink into the sheets and the mattress. It wasn't merely a dream. Whoever, whatever it was that had found her, he was real enough.
[ooc: For the person who is probably in that same bed.]