“Where am I?” I scream at the walls. I sob as I realize I’m not where I should be. I should be home with my small brother and my father.

“Let me out. Please.”

A door appears. I grab the handle and open it, finding myself in a village being torn apart by flames. People run. There are bodies everywhere.

And then I see the ripped flag above. My village.

Is this real? Is this what I need?

I walk further into the burning village. The wind pulling at my clothes and hair. I feel tears stain my cheeks as I see my brother tripping. He’s stuck to the rubble.

I call out to him. He doesn’t see me. He’s watching something behind me. Tears stain his cheeks.

I turn. There’s a girl there. Fury in her blue eyes. Her hair is loose like mine. Freckles dot her nose. Her mouth is in an insane grin. Fire is at her fingertips and blood is all over her clothes and hands.

She looks like me.

Then she looks to me and her smile widens, ‘soon’ she mouths ‘soon’.

Sycker groaned…

Hurts…

Everything hurts…

He opened his eyes, greeted by darkness. The air was stuffy and warm, suggesting a sealed room. Underneath, he felt a firm mattress, with no blankets to cover it. 

Sycker tried to sit up. As he rose, a sharp pain stabbed into his head. He grunted and set his feet on the floor. The floor was cold and hard beneath his feet and ridged between tiles. Sycker searched the nearby area with his talons. 

One landed on a candle. He swore under his breath. He wasn’t good with precision jobs. 

Tentatively, Sycker held the wick to his nostril. Breathe in…  slowly… slowly…

And out.

A torrent of flame swept across the room. _Crap. _He _really _wasn’t good with precision.

Firelight reflected off of sterile white walls. Sycker could make out some of the room’s furnishings, but it was larger than he expected. He shakily stood and lit the lamps mounted on the walls. 

He stared at the fully illuminated room. Wow. Classy. It looked like a cave, hewn into stone with rounded edges. In the center was an extensive lounge area with comfortable looking seats and plush carpet. On the far wall, beside the washbasin, Sycker spotted lots of high quality cookware and a cupboard stuffed to the brim. _That’s odd… I _love cooking!

One of the lamps flickered out. Sycker felt a gust of cool air on his tail. He realized how oddly pristine the room looked. Not a single singed thread or scorch mark. The room was fire proofed. Someone had been expecting him.

Cautiously, he turned around. Light flooded in from a gap in a wall, much brighter than the dimmed lamps. A figure had staggered into the room, it’s body heaving with labored breaths. Sycker watched as a slow trickle of blood ran down its side and fell, soaking into the fluffy threads of the rug. The figure lifted its eyes. “Sycker… Gotta get out of here…” Jared collapsed on the floor, clutching something tightly in his hands. 

The bloodstain grew. Sycker was frozen in disbelief. Clanking footsteps echoed down the hallway behind Jared. Armored guards rushed down the hall. 

Sycker couldn’t remember how he got here. How he ended up in a prison cell made for dragons. The guard in front raised his visor; Sycker’s breath hitched. Despite the glamour that made him appear human, Sycker knew his own blood. 

“Brother. Welcome home.”

The Room of Wonders

Rafael woke up to the soft hum of an unfamiliar melody. It was faint but oddly comforting, like a lullaby from a dream he couldn’t quite recall. As he blinked his eyes open, he realized he wasn’t in his own bed. The ceiling above him was adorned with intricate patterns that shifted and shimmered like liquid silver. He sat up, confusion swirling in his mind, and took in his surroundings.

The room was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The walls were made of a smooth, seamless material that glowed with a warm, gentle light, as if the room itself were alive and breathing. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, a fragrance that instantly put him at ease. He glanced around and noticed there were no windows, yet the space was brightly lit. A feeling of serenity washed over him, despite the confusion gnawing at his thoughts.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and noticed that it was the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in—soft yet supportive, like a cloud cradling his body. The floor was covered in a plush carpet that felt luxurious under his bare feet. He stood up, and as he did, he realized that his clothes had changed. Instead of his usual pajamas, he wore a simple yet elegant robe made of a fabric that was cool against his skin.

“Hello?” Rafael called out, his voice echoing slightly. There was no answer.

He took a cautious step forward, and as he did, a small table appeared out of nowhere, materializing in front of him. On it was a plate filled with all his favorite foods: fresh strawberries, a steaming bowl of chicken soup, a perfectly cooked steak, and a glass of chilled water. His stomach growled, and despite his bewilderment, he realized he was starving.

He hesitated for a moment, then picked up a strawberry and took a bite. It was the sweetest, most delicious strawberry he had ever tasted. He quickly devoured the rest of the food, feeling more energized with each bite. The meal was perfect, and when he finished, the table simply vanished as if it had never been there.

“What is this place?” he muttered to himself.

A gentle breeze swept through the room, carrying with it a whisper that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. “This is your sanctuary,” the voice said softly, soothing yet firm. “A place where all your needs and desires are met.”

Rafael spun around, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was no one there. “Who are you?” he demanded, his heart racing. “Why am I here?”

The voice responded with a calm that seemed to resonate through the walls. “I am the caretaker of this space, here to ensure your comfort and happiness. You are here because you needed a place to rest, to heal, to find peace.”

A mixture of fear and curiosity filled Rafael’s mind. “How do you know what I need?”

“We know everything about you, Rafael,” the voice replied. “Your likes, your dislikes, your deepest desires, and your greatest fears. This room adapts to fulfill your every wish.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Then I want to leave,” he said firmly. “I want to go home.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, the room seemed to dim slightly. “You are not yet ready to leave,” the voice answered. “But rest assured, when the time comes, you will be free to go.”

Rafael’s frustration grew. “How do you know what’s best for me? Let me out now!”

The walls pulsed gently, as if trying to calm him. “We know because we are connected to you. This place is designed to nurture you, to provide everything you need. Trust in us.”

As if in response to his rising anxiety, a soft chime sounded, and the room began to change. The walls shifted colors, turning a soothing shade of blue. A gentle rain began to fall from above, but instead of water, it was a light mist that evaporated before reaching the floor. The scent of rain and fresh earth filled the air, and a sense of calm settled over him.

Despite himself, Rafael felt his muscles relax. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the strange mist wash over him. It was as if the room could sense his emotions, responding to his every need without him having to say a word.

Over the next few days—or was it weeks?—Rafael lost track of time. The room provided for him in every way. When he was hungry, food appeared. When he was tired, the bed enveloped him in its soft embrace. When he was restless, the walls would shift, revealing scenes of serene forests, tranquil beaches, or starry night skies. Each time he thought of something he wanted, it appeared as if by magic.

He should have been unnerved by this, he thought. But there was something about the room—about the way it seemed to understand him so completely—that made him feel safe, even cherished. He found himself talking to the room, to the voice, sharing his thoughts and feelings. The room always listened, always responded in ways that made him feel heard.

But there was one thing that continued to nag at him, a question he couldn’t shake. “Why can’t I remember how I got here?” he asked one day, staring up at the ever-shifting ceiling.

There was a pause, longer than usual. “You are here to heal, Rafael. Your past is a part of you, but it does not define you. In time, your memories will return, when you are ready to face them.”

Frustration flared again. “But I want to know now! I deserve to know!”

The room dimmed once more, the light fading to a soft twilight. “Patience,” the voice whispered. “All will be revealed in time.”

As the days turned into weeks, Rafael began to explore the limits of his sanctuary. He tried to push against the walls, to find a way out, but they were impenetrable, shifting and reforming with every attempt. He yelled, he begged, he pleaded, but the room remained unchanged, providing for his every need but never allowing him to leave.

Eventually, a strange acceptance settled over him. He began to appreciate the room for what it was—a place of comfort, of healing. He still longed for the outside world, for the life he couldn’t quite remember, but he found peace in the knowledge that he was cared for, that he was safe.

One day, after what felt like a long time, Rafael woke up to a different sound. Instead of the soft hum of the room, he heard birds singing and the rustle of leaves in the wind. He opened his eyes and found himself in a sunlit forest, the walls of the room now replaced by tall, ancient trees.

He stood up, his heart pounding with excitement and a touch of fear. “Is this it? Am I free?” he called out.

The familiar voice returned, but this time, it was softer, more distant. “Yes, Rafael. You are ready. Go, and live your life. Remember, you are stronger than you know.”

A path opened before him, leading deeper into the forest. With a final glance back at the place that had been his home, his sanctuary, Rafael took a deep breath and stepped forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Where am I?” I wonder aloud. A large bedroom appears before me. I have never seen anything like this before—wait, maybe it was in an ad. The decoration is minimal and everything is incredibly neat and tidy. Even the books seem to be organized both by size and author last name. There is a large bed with fluffy pillows in the center. It seems very relaxing…

“Wait! I can’t.” I have to get back to work. I need to figure out the calendar—I cannot stop until we get this new client taken care of. The other employees are helpless; they cannot manage for long without me. I need to make sure everything is running smoothly. I need…

“Monica!”

I jump. I’m back at work, but something’s off. My mouth has been open and I may have been drooling? Was I asleep? Oh, God.

“Monica, you have to go home and get some rest. You’re falling apart.”

I turn to see my coworker towering over my desk.“What? No, I have to get this schedule done—“

He reaches over and clicks my computer off.

“Evan!” I scold. My heartbeat speeds up. “This company’s gonna fall apart! I have to do everything I can to keep things running smoothly while this—“

“Monica,” he says, emphasizing each syllable. “You’re working so hard that you’re falling apart. When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

I thought. “I don’t know, maybe Tuesday?” He sighs. “But I can’t sleep! Not when people need me—“

“You falling apart isn’t helping anyone,” he says sternly, then his tone softens. “I know you thrive on being needed, but I promise you we’ve got this. You don’t need to worry. Please just go home and take care of yourself.”

I’m not sure. I don’t want to go home. I can’t relax when I know everything could break apart while I’m away. I know I work a lot, but someone needs to keep this company together.

“Please,” Evan begs. “You look terrible.” I give him a look. “You know what I mean. You’re not healthy, and frankly, you’re making a lot of people worry about you. Look, it’s not weak to take a break when you need one. Please, just go home.“

I sigh, considering. A nap does sound nice. “Alright,” I say. “You’re sure you guys can handle it without me?”

Evan nods, sincere. “Positive. Now, please go home and take care of yourself.”

I think of my childhood bedroom often. The sense of space it provided, the four, white walls colored with posters of people and places that were my life then but mean nothing to me now. The clothes in the hamper, for mother to do later. CDs lining the shelves, and band flags hanging around, with no rhyme or reason. There was no order to that room, but it made sense to me. When I think back on it now, I think of calm, peace, and a feeling I’ve been chasing for years, ever since I moved out. That room changed with me.

So when I wake up in the unfamiliar shed, I first think of my bedroom and the safety it provided. I think of my CDs … and then I see them there, in the corner. I think of a few posters I used to have, and then I see them on the wall, lining even the cieling. Only now, these items don’t provide me with any sense of security or safety. I don’t remember how I got here, and I want only to leave.

I watch as the door knob jingles with someone trying to get in and I don’t make a noise. “Anthony,” they call, singingly. “Anthony, you’re home now.”

It’s the voice of my mother who I haven’t seen in years. I reach out to grab the knob but think twice before turning.

“Anthony,” she says again, only this time the voice is distorted into something I’ve never heard before. “Open the door.”

I sit and wait, knowing that the bedroom wasn’t what I wanted all along: it was the sense of home, and that is now gone.

I sit back and pick apart the interaction. What the fuck was that? I then draw back to reality, someone tried to rape me. My heart surges and squeezes as disgust and anger flow through me. Despite my accusations, I half believed this stranger, his reaction portrayed sincerity that I doubt a guilty man could. But then again. You can’t even trust the nice ones. Before I can contain it a sob bursts out of me, uncontrollable, and unashamed. I couldn’t care less if he sees me weak, anyway. The thought that someone had gotten that near me, that Close. I retched at the thought, and so my better judgment dragged me to the toilet before I could ruin my sheets. I basked in the cool tile of the floor for a little while, its intense coolness quieting my thoughts. Pulling my sluggish self up off of the floor I slump onto the bed, allowing the mattress to sink and curve to my frame. Fuck this is comfy. Wait. This isn’t my mattress. Has he? No, surely not. Although I shouldn’t be surprised seeing as though I now have locks and reinforced windows. I want to know. And so I clear my throat, hoping he’s there. “Uhm, excuse me? Can you come here? Please.” I say into the unresponsive silence. Fuck, I look and sound like a mad woman. I wait and I wait. Five minutes pass, and I consider calling out to him again, until the lock clicks to my left. I instinctively go into myself a little, locking my arms with force causing them to ache. Yes, he might claim to be the good guy, but people can surprise you, and the way he handled that gun? Yeah, I’m not letting my guard down for a second. I once read that powerful people never turn their back to the room to close a door, and so as he kept his body turned to me as he closed it, I smiled a little to myself that it had turned out to be true. His gaze is penetrating, an intensity sits within it that leaves me unable to remain still. “Nervous?” He remarks, his lip quirking, as he watches me fidget.

“Should I be?” I counter, taking his appearance in. His shirt is changed, to cotton casual instead of his dress shirt from earlier. I peer at the way it confines his upper arms, strained and restricted. Which then draws me to the swirls of his tattoos, escaping upwards from my sight, beneath the material. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I feel his stare on mine, I realise he had been watching me gaping at his.. well... his body. He clearly notices my perusal of his form, and yet he says nothing, however his face says everything.

The smirk thrown across his defined face worsens the heat in my cheeks. As if his seemingly huge ego needed any more boosting. I bring my palm to my face to cool myself. “Do I intimidate you, princess?”, I note the way his use of ‘princess’ is entirely sincere, not a hint of condescension as men usually would use that term.

“Hmm let's see, you've locked me in my room, given me no information on why, and stolen my ability to contact anyone. And to top it off you barge in with a gun, acting like everything is dandy. But no! Of course not, you put me at complete ease.” I roll my eyes at the entire situation, more pissed than scared anymore that he is yet to give me an explanation.

His face contorts into blatant amusement. “This isn't your room, just an excellent replica, I did well don't you think?” he says whilst sweeping his eyes across the space. I fucking knew that wasn’t my mattress. My blood chills at his use of ‘replica’, why on earth would he want to copy my entire room?

“Okay explain now and fucking quickly, you psychopath.” I ramble, uselessly inching further against the headboard. A deep throaty chuckle comes from within him, the walls consume the sound as it reverberates.

“You don't swear much do you? you look uncomfortable to say such things,” he remarks, more to himself than me. A thought spoken aloud.

“Avoiding my questions once again, what do you have to lose? You have the power here.” I shrug, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He of course doesn't, but he can drop his guard If he thinks I've given up.

“Is that so?” He grins full and wicked, my eyes drawn to the sharpness of his canines. The smile is full and feral, showcasing the gleam of his excellent dental hygiene. Surely psychopaths wouldn't be so health conscious right?
“You think a lot don't you? I can see the cogs spinning, I'd kill to know the thoughts occupying that pretty head right now.” He drawls, emphasising a word I’d rather not hear given the circumstances. He lowered his head fractionally, mimicking something of a Kubrick stare.

Okay if he won’t answer my questions, fine. I have to get out of this fucking hell hole, the only way I knew how, I couldn’t fight my way out, I was hopeful but not an idiot. His muscles would have me dead without him breaking a sweat, no I had to be tactful, and play the victim. Play the man.

“You really want to know?” I say sweetly, a hint of seduction to my tone. I mimicked what I had seen other girls do, it’s just acting right? Playing a part. I just have to do it well.

His eyes narrow slightly, probably fucking bewildered I’d gone from raging bitch to sensually sweet. He rose from the chair in front of my bed, dragging it closer until he neared the point where I could smell his cologne.

We only had about 6 feet between us, and given the energy now buzzing around the room, the distance became futile. He sat back in his chair, openly staring at my form, taking his time.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” he spoke after some time, ugh, my brain fries when he addresses me with those names. Dick.

“I shouldn't, I can't be thinking these thoughts,” I half panted, attempting to sound dazed and flustered.

His brow lowered slightly, lightly confused with the way I was acting. He does the unthinkable, his palm goes to his belt retrieving the same beretta from earlier and proceeds to toss it across the floor. The drag of metal was the only noise to be heard. Wait. He didn't put the safety on. Unless he hadn't adjusted it from earlier, but my hopeful self refused to believe that. I didn't need to fight, all I had to do was aim, and _shoot. _If needs be.

“Sophie. I don't like waiting. Tell me.” He insisted with a little impatience. An unspoken warning in his voice. I hated the way my name sounded in his mouth. With that treacherous voice. I hated the way his lips looked as he said it, the intimacy shook me a little.

“Thoughts of.. You.” I admitted, lowering my head a little to display my supposed shame.

I don't miss the way his muscles contract following my words. Did this? No. Surely this didn't actually effect him.

“Me? And what about me?” he mused, darting his tongue out to wet his lips, entirely aware he was dragging this out more than was necessary, but he seemed like the kind of guy to enjoy mind games.

“I get this feeling when you say certain things, or look at me a certain way.” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Where the fuck did that come from? I can only pray it works and sounds believable. Yeah, maybe a little too much. __ __ “Describe the feeling,” he commanded, a fierceness to his expression. He looked, tortured? In pain?

How the fuck do I describe a feeling I’ve never had? The only thing I had to go on was fiction. Men had never made me feel that way. Nor women, yet I knew I was attracted to men, but I’d never actually felt the feelings described so colourfully in my books. In my 20 years of living, I’d never had that ache, that longing. Well right now I need to fucking pretend. Just think Soph! What would the female protagonist say?

“Your shirt, you changed it. The one before capturing your forearms, your veins were prominent. But this one, it's confined, tighter. Your tattoos, they..” I clear my throat, flustered. “ I don't know why, I've never really had an interest in them but, on you they make you look darker, intense. Dangerous. And your eyes, they hold such scrutiny, I feel burnt whenever you lay them on me, across me. And I.. I like it. You make me _ache, _in places I shouldn't. Given, I don't know you, given you scream danger and yet my body responds to just about everything you do. Did you not notice the way my thighs clenched, when you took a certain tone with me? If your stare became a little too intense? Or the way my name sounds in your mouth?” I don't realise I'm panting until I stop talking, blush pours across my cheeks. I can hear the crackle of tension in the air.

I'd forgotten to watch him as I spoke, to see if my words had any sort of effects. It's only when I raise my head to meet his gaze, that I realise. It worked. His chest rises and falls heavily. His fits clenched, and white at the knuckles. And then I take my gaze to his eyes. Fuck. Intense is too loose a word to describe the heat currently circling within them. The silver of his eyes has fled. His cheeks are tinted pink, he's flushed. I made him fucking flush. While this was a hostile situation, I couldn't help but be proud of myself. There was this beast of a man, and little old me had made him blush. _“_Do you have any idea of the amount of restraint it's taking to not come over there and fuck you senseless?” I'm quickly taken aback by the gravel of his voice, it warms me more than it should. More than is right. Moral. Surely i.. I cannot want this. But as I think about my words, about each one that came out of my mouth, I find them to be true. Fuck, I meant them. __ __ “Tell me what you're thinking baby” he pleads, a softness in his eyes. I'm struck by the gentleness he possesses, but also the power. And the way he can so quickly switch between the two. My head utterly spun.

“I shouldn't have felt those things, I just realised that..I never knew what it meant. For a man to, make you ache, heat. I'd read about it, but.. I’d never felt it, never understood it.” I admitted, my voice drawing to a mere utterance. Why did I just say all that? I immediately palm my face, and the embarrassment of my words surges through me, god I sound like some desperate virgin. Honestly just take me now, kill me right now. So I never have to live through this awful moment again. And my books? Ugh! That felt too intimate a detail to share with this fucking grown man.

I drag my gaze to him, forcing myself to face this, face him. He looks entirely entranced by me. As though he is shrouded with desire. “If this were one of those books, what would happen now Sophie?” He spoke low, positively curious about my admission.

“End of chapter?” I manage to say, under his dark scrutinous gaze.

He chuckles, dark and throaty. “Hmm, I don't think so, Sophie. I think this is the part where I tend to that aching you so beautifully described.”__ __

I was walking in an alleyway when I come across a homeless man. The man was begging for money and was in what looked to be rags. I threw some coins in his cup that he left out but he did not seem pleased. The man got up from his spot and grabbed me. The man began to repeatedly punch me until I was knocked out. Blood was getting everywhere and I couldn’t tell if it was mine from being punched or the man’s from punching me. But soon enough I couldn’t see anything and everything was blurry.

I woke up in the middle of a white room. My head was still spinning and my heart was pounding. Where am I? I thought. I got up and looked around the room. There was no door in the room at all. I ran to the wall and banged on it as heard as I could, but nothing happened. I then began to punch over and over again until my knuckles started to bleed.

“Where am I!” I yelled out.

I could hear the echo of my voice repeated over and over again. I looked at my watch to look at the time. It was 11:30 am.

“That’s weird…”

The first time I looked at my watch which was when I saw the homeless guy, it was 2:46 pm. How fast was time going by here, or how long was I out for?

“I wish I was home.” I told myself.

But just then I was suddenly in my room. I felt loads of relief and I ran to my door which was next to my bed. I tried to open the door but as I reached my hand out to grab the doorknob, the door turned into pixels. My heart sank again, I then realized I was still in the room.

“I wish I was home!” I yelled.

The room turned into my living room. I ran to grab the doorknob to my front door but it also turned pixilated. What is this? I thought to myself.

“The room turns into whatever I say.” I told myself.

I then thought of an idea.

“Water!” I yelled.

A tall glass of water appeard in front of me. I ran to the water and tried to grab it, but the water wasn’t real either. Everything the room showed was an illusion, all of it was fake! I ran back to the wall and continued to punch it over and over again and again. My knuckles started to bleed again, but I just kept punching. Little did I know that I would never get out of that room.

I’ve been stuck in this room for what feels like days, but I know it’s probably been years. I cry myself to sleep at night, knowing I will soon die of starvation and dehydration. All I can do is sit here in this room and wonder what I did to deserve this torture.

I move my body languidly, stretching until a wave of serenity swells throughout my body. Silk caresses my skin as I stir, waking. The scent of clean cotton and citrus overwhelms my senses. I rub my eyes until my vision whirls and dances before me. I look out into my bedroom staring out at the pink hue of the sky. My gaze falls upon my photo frames sitting on the wall to my left. Oh. Thats odd. why are they all in perfect lines? I jump out of bed to peer closer, are my eyes just decieving me? Okay this is weird, I hung those myself, their slant was a permanent state, why are they all perfectly aligned? I look around my room to check if anything else is different. Nothing. I check my draws and my heart stutters before i can even register what sits before me. Hundreds, easily thousands of dollars of my favourite beauty products sit perfectly in my draw, this has to be a joke. I moved just over 100 miles away from my family and friends when i started my new job, this can’t be them, so how on earth did this get here?

I brush it off, i have to, logic has escaped me. I decide to shower the strangeness away. As the water cascades down my back i sigh a breath of relief, allowing it to scold me as my muscles relax. I grab my favourite shower gel, ready to tip the remenanents into my hand. Confusion fills me as i feel the weight of the bottle. This is brand new. I would bet my life this was nearly empty yesterday. As I step out of the shower, I cling to my towel as if it were a lifeline. My heart begins to thump a little harder as i scan my room, inspecting it with a magnifying like stare. Yep, ive officially lost my mind. Only explanation. I change and head downstairs, needing some food to line my stomach. A weight pounds my chest as my handle stops two quarters into turning it. Ive never had a lock. I use all of my force in an attempt to open my door, deluding myself into thinking that maybe its jammed. Okay these aren’t just silly coincidences now, this is real, someone is doing this,I tell myself. In a panicked state i scramble to find my phone, dialling 911 my fear worsens as i read my screen. No sim card. I have no way to get out and no way to contact anyone. Wait, the sky. I practically bolt to my windows, to find that they too are locked. This has to be a dream, this just doesn’t happen. Any minute now brain, don’t take your time. I pinch myself, botching my arm with how much i want this to be false . My gaze turns to my chair, fine I’ll smash my way out. I do a run up to gather some momentum, using every ounce of strength to obliterate the cage i have found myself in. And nothing, not even a sound comes from my efforts to smash it. I stand dumbfounded. My mothers words flood my mind, If nothing else, scream. And so i do just that, i scream with eveything i have. And once again, nothing. I back up until my legs hit the bed, sitting on the silk i loved moments ago. Confusion and fear flows through me, i try to rationalise everything before i go completely insane. My room has suddenly been altered to absolute perfection with not even a margain of error, i now have locks because of course thats normal for them to just appear. My phone is missing its simcard, i lost that stupid tool years ago i couldn’t have even done that myself. And now my windows are reinforced. This cannot be real. After an hour of staring at my floor deluding myself that what seemed to be happening, wasnt happening, I weep, uncontrollably. I wished i was one of the strong women who ultimately faced situations head on and tackled anything effortlessly. If i was, id have a plan by now. But some of us arent. Okay lets get this straight, some creep has put locks on my door, fitted my windows with some reinforced whatever, and made it so that i have no way of contacting anybody. Who the fuck would do that, what happened to simple kidnapping? Oh but at least I have showergel. I suppose i would rather have my room than some dingy cellar. You know what no, i’ve seen too many films to become just another statistic, if i can’t get smart, fine. Ill just get angry. I smash my beauty mirror across my desk, and of course it doesnt break, what the fuck is this made of, cement? Ding! My head whips to the sound, borderline snapping my neck in the process. A noise similar to an airline tannoy sounds throughout four black speakers placed in each corner of my surroundings. My heart picks up pace rapidly, thumping against my ribcage “Behave, or i wont be so kind as i have been, sweetheart.” The voice drags and husks as he speaks with an agonising pace. This is really it, this is actually happening. If I was panicking before I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling now is called. He sounded, young? I thought greying 50 year old men did this kind of shit, not men with _that _kind of voice. Not the time, soph. God I’m gonna get Stockholm, I know it. I laughed internally, kind?!, he must be joking. I suppose he did buy me all those things. But I can’t bask in my delusion any more. Someone has actually fucking taken me. My stomach falls as i realise this isn’t some random guy with low intelligence, he’s contructed it for me, solely me. He knows my room by the inch. The intimacy of the act churned my stomach, i sprinted to the toilet emptying everything from out of it. I jumped back horrified, the liquid I spew being pure black in colour, what the fuck has he given me? I feel my heart slowing, myself sinking, the walls swirling, as my body gracefully hits the ground of my bathroom.

Fuck my eyes feel heavy. I swallow to rid the dryness perched in my throat. It feels like days have passed. I suppose I wouldn’t know. No soph! Enough with the self pity. I force my eyes open, is that? No it can’t be. The roar and crackle of a fire burns to my right. I appreciate the warmth, whatever shit came out of me earlier had me hypothermic. I stretch my body to rid myself of the gnawing ache in my joints, how long have I been out? “Feel better baby?” The sound husks over me, through me. That didn’t come from the tannoy. I sit up immediately, with a militant pace. I keep my eyes to the bed, my peripheral catching the figure to my left. I force my eyes up, the suspension of not seeing the figure worsening my panic. He sits arrogant, relaxed in the chair beside my bed. His Jean covered legs spread, my eyes don’t miss the weapon placed atop of his thighs. His hand grips the piece , I hone in on the tattoo of his tanned flesh, the veins prominent, something swirls in my gut, fear? Has to be. My eyes travel to his biceps, straining against his black shirt, fuck he could actually do some real harm to me. Yeah no shit soph, he does have a gun. I hesitate to bring my eyes up fully, but I suppose I might aswell, it might be the last face I see. A whimper escapes my lips as I see the man infront of me. Really see him. His eyes pin me with their intensity, a silvery grey that in turn makes me shiver. His full lips form a smirk, he darts his tongue out to lick them as he watches me. His dark hair tousled, and yet every strand still sits perfectly in place. We sit there watching each other, pray and predator. “Not so talkative when you’re conscious huh? I’d kill to know what you dreamt about,angel ” He spoke in a low husk, leaning forward. My nose found his scent, it somehow matched him, matched his voice. I cleared my throat forcing myself to speak, “what do you want from me?” I pulled my knees impossibly close to my chest. His eyes glinted with mischief and something else, was that warmth? My eyes darted to the sound of his gun clicking , I inched away screaming into a pillow. And when nothing came of it I peered back at him, ”Easy baby, just putting the safety on, I have no wish to harm you. Ever. So please rid that notion from your mind.”

I forced my eyes to meet his, refusing to cower. “ kinda hard to do when you’re holding a beretta, you didn’t answer my question either.” I said on a whisper, I had courage, but little of it. His eyes darkened at my words, if I wasn’t mistaken they swirled with a certain heat. “ You know your guns princess?” He leaned further forward, leaving half a foot between us. He smelt spicy, the rich scent infiltrating my airways. I shrugged a shoulder, half thankful the conversation had veered to something that could calm my rampant heartbeat, something constant. Something normal. “A little yeah, from my dad.” Why on earth did I just tell him that? “What did you give me?” I blurted out before I could consider my words. “Give you?” He questioned, genuine confusion displayed on his face. “ I was sick earlier, it was black”, I said meekly, the memory resurfacing alongside with the feeling. A rage took over his face for half a second before I blinked and it disappeared. “Do you really want to know?” He asked, severity colouring his tone. I’m not sure if I did. But I couldn't stand this uncertainty, the not knowing was worse. “Yes just tell me please.” Of course I still had manners in a hostage situation, always a people pleaser. “someone attempted to rape you. The black vomit was from the rohypnol you ingested.” He said, the words escaping his mouth as though they were shards of glass. His words echo through the room as though they’d come from the tannoy. I couldn’t process them. I couldn’t whole heartedly believe this was happening, moreso I didn’t want to. I had to know. “How far did he get?” I didn’t need him to tell me it was a man, that was an unfortunate given. His eyes portrayed confusion momentarily, quickly retaining their usual state of calm.

“He lost his hands long before then, mi amor.” The sincerity his eyes held struck me like a punch to the gut. “How do I know you’re not lying? What if it was you that drugged me, you that raped me? I’ve been out cold for god knows how long. You still haven’t answered my question, So I’ll ask you for a third time, what do you want from me?” I huffed out in a fear fueled rage. The adrenaline surging throughout my body was truly the only thing keeping me coherent right this minute. The silver of his eyes fled, disgust read through his expression. And fury, so much fury. “You think I?… you actually think I could?” He spat out, his chest heaving. “ what do you expect me to think?! You’re giving evasive non-answers, why should I think any different?” I matched his volume, equally furious.

And before I could get in another word he rose from his seat and left, closing the door with an unexpected calmness.

As I opened my eyes, I saw the light that came into by bedroom from my window. I was blinded by the light (reference to a song🤣). I turned on my led lights and got out of my bed.

I turned my fan off and picked up my phone. I hopped onto daily prompt to start writing but something caught my eye. Something I didn’t see before. I look out my window and instead of seeing a grand forest with a blue sky, I see a brick wall. What?

I hear nothing but my breathe. I look to the door. It looks just like my original, no locks. I got to my closet and opened it. All of my clothing were on their appropriate hangers, and everything was organized as it should be.

I picked a shirt and put it on. Right to my size, huh, weird? I tried to open my door to make myself a breakfast but it would not budge. I go to my window, and look out again. Brick wall. Thats it. It was right on my window. What was this.

All of a sudden I heard a knock on the door and it started to open, then I woke up. I awoke to the pleasant sound of birds chirping outside my window and the bright rays of the sun pouring through my window.

The trees covered most of my view and the blue sky, the rest. I looked at my room in suspicion. Checked the closet, opened my door and looked in the hallway. All normal. I went back to my room and closed the door and got dressed.

It was all just a very weird dream. I sighed and opened my phone. KNOCK KNOCK. I looked to the door, expecting my mother, instead came a tall man with a black mask.

“Welcome! To your worst nightmare boy.”

Perfection Reflection No cares Silverware Glistening gold Evertold