Part 1 – Threads of Haze
“The scariest monsters are the ones
that lurk within our souls.”
- Edgar Allan Poe
Chapter 1
Rule one:Always be aware of your surroundings.
Some things get old very quickly.
Take waking up in strange places, for instance. That shit got old three wake-ups ago.
A rush of adrenaline surges through me the moment I open my eyes, obliterating the usual sleep haze that clings to me when I wake.
This isn’t my room.
The stones that line the walls are a dark and polished gray, their smooth sides reflecting the sunlight that shines through a single window next to my bed. I frown, trying to find any sign of familiarity, but much to my consternation, the room is rather lacking in personal touches. Other than a wooden chest at the end of the bed and a green upholstered chair to my right, it’s bare.
Even without more to go off, I already know this isn’t Leon’s castle. The walls don’t match.
I don’t know this place.
My heart rate picks up, and I take a deep inhale, willing my pulse to calm down.
There’s no reason to panic. At this point, I should just assume I’ll be in unfamiliar territory every time I wake up. It’s not ideal, but at least I woke up on a bed. That’s a step up from waking up on grass.
Rubbing at my temples, I try to piece my life back together. It’s been difficult to remember things ever since I woke Leon. I’m assuming that’s yet another disturbing side effect of the bond.
But to my surprise, the memories are quick to come flooding back.
Leon trying to use our bond to get me to unlock his collar, his hands all over me, my refusing to free him, and the fight that ensued.
My breathing picks up as the memories flash by. Whether it’s from fear, anxiety, or both, I’m not sure. But my final waking memory is the one that just about stops my heart.
An unfamiliar voice and being grabbed from behind.
My first instinct is to crawl back under the blankets and pretend none of this ever happened. Maybe if I fall back asleep, I’ll wake up and learn this has all been a nightmare.
But as tempting as that course of action may be, I resist the urge. Not because of some ill-fated attempt at bravery, but rather because of sheer stubbornness.
I made a goal to be more aware of my surroundings, and I’m damn well going to stick to it.
Considering I’ve already managed to be transported to a new place without any idea where I am, I’m failing miserably at my goal.
I need to do better.
Think, Vivian, use your damn head.
My head really hurts.
Taking another deep inhale, I try to stop the throbbing directly behind my eyes.
I can do this.
When faced with big problems, it’s best to take things one step at a time and break down seemingly impossible tasks into smaller, more manageable goals.
