I could hear voices, far off somewhere — muffled and garbled as if I were lying buried in water and concrete. They started ragged and wrenching, with a conflict between them that was impossible to mistake despite the fog permeating my head.
"Why did you bring her here alive?" A female voice spoke.
A pause followed. Then his voice sliced through the dark scarily composed.
"Her death isn't supposed to be easy."
My chest tightened.
"She has nothing I want," Kieran continued, each word deliberate. "Her stupid family already left her for dead."
A scoff. "Well, her death had better be quick."
Footsteps.
Coming closer.
Fear surged through me like electricity.
I tried to open my eyes.
Nothing.
Black.
Panic exploded in my veins as I realized I couldn't see—not because of the darkness, but because something was covering my eyes. My head throbbed violently, the dull ache of sedation still clinging to my skull like a fog that refused to lift.
I tried to move.
Pain shot through my shoulders.
My hands were tied behind my back.
My legs—tied.
My mouth—sealed shut with tape.
I tried to scream, but it came out as nothing but a choked noise.
"Mmmm!"
No response.
I tried again, harder, my chest heaving from the pounding of my heart against my ribs.
"Mmmm!"
Still nothing.
The creaking of a door opening shattered the quiet.
There was the sound of footsteps in the room – boots on floor-tiles.
"No one will hear you," the girl's voice echoed through the room. "And even if they do…"
Her footsteps circled me slowly.
"Nobody would care enough, to help you."
Each step felt like a countdown.
I struggled to listen, to understand where I was, what sort of room I had been imprisoned in. The smell in the air was of nothing, a bit of expensive wood polish and something metallic. The silence was too heavy, like a place constructed to swallow screams.
She stopped moving.
Then fingers grazed the back of my head.
The blindfold was ripped away.
Light stabbed into my eyes.
I was gasping, my vision swimming and room melting into blurred shapes and shadows. My eyes stung from barely being able to adjust, tears gathering immediately. The world was slowly, painfully swimming into focus.
I was in a bedroom.
Not a small one.
A massive one.
The room yawned around me, lit by a crystal chandelier hanging from a high vaulted ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows were framed with dark velvet curtains, the storm outside throwing squiggly shadows across the walls when a flash of lightning pulsed.
Within the room, the furniture politely invited passengers. Sure enough, it had been carefully selected to create a splendid atmosphere, from its king-sized bed—a grand one large and somber black headboard lay perfectly smooth and unmarked next to pure silk sheets that seemed scarcely believable, as they in fact were, testifying again to the room's spotless state. By the window, a puffy lavender cushioned sofa was perfectly placed to sit and watch the outside world in motion. In one corner stood a glossy desk, surface clean as a mirror, void of any objects save for a lone glass containing rich amber liquid that caught the light and glinted gently.
Everything about this room was meticulous. Each object in it had obviously been selected with care.
Suddenly, before my eyes a shadow grew The previously quiet surroundings filled with air on edge as if instantaneously changing.
As my eyes gradually adapted to growing darkness The shadow was in the process of becoming more definite and more substantial before it had transformed altogether into a woman's figure.
Her beauty was striking, yet not accidental but deliberately fashioned— the work of one who would take your breath away could be produced beneath her hands if such an exquisite piece had ever been sculpted into living flesh. Her brown eyes, however, seemed cold with an unspoken distance that made people feel uneasy when they looked directly at her. Her full lips hinted at a faint smile trying to bloom on her face, but the expression did not extend to her eyes, which remained obscure and impenetrable as if there were many layers of complexity beneath an outward composure.
She was dressed in black from top to bottom: a tight-fitting long-sleeve top, formfitting jeans, a leather moto jacket falling over her shoulders like armor. A black belt around her waist held it together with a gold buckle, and she wore lace-up ankle boots that clicked softly as she shifted her weight.
She looked like she belonged here.
As if she had faced death many times in the past, and never flinched.
"Hello Doctor Hurt," she said breezily.
She knelt in front of me and tore the tape from over my mouth in one swift movement.
I gasped, sucking in air like I had been drowning.
"W—where am I?" I stuttered, my voice hoarse, barely recognizable.
She didn't answer.
Instead, her eyes traced my face slowly, appraising, assessing.
"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" she murmured.
She stood and walked away, her boots echoing across the vast room.
"Answer me!" I shouted, panic bleeding into anger. "Where am I?"
"Shhhhh," she said sharply, turning back. "I hate it when people get loud around me."
She tilted her head, studying me like a bug pinned to glass.
"But not that it matters," she added sweetly. "Even if I told you… you won't be here to see the next day."
She giggled.
The sound turned my stomach twist.
Her hand reached for her jacket.
A metal gleamed.
I caught my breath as she took a black, shiny handgun from her jacket. She gave it a casual twirl and then picked it up.
The muzzle was at my temple.
Heart thudding against my chest, louder and harder than the last one as if it was trying to escape. I could feel it in my throat. In my ears. In my fingertips. I was shaking all over, adrenalin running wild through me.
She pulled the gun back.
I sucked in a shaky breath—only for her to step behind me.
The barrel pressed against the back of my head now.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, fear crawling up my spine in icy tendrils.
My heart was racing so fast it hurt.
Too fast.
Like it might explode.
Her lips brushed my ear as she leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me.
"It's time to sleep now, Enora."