14
Seraphina
Iwake up in a white room feeling like I’m floating on clouds. The sun is shining through the open windows, the light breeze makes the curtains flutter, and I can just make out shining glass and steel buildings beyond.
Clearly, I’m not in the Catskills anymore.
My body feels weightless, and I wonder for a moment if there is a Heaven after all. But no, I’m not dead. I’m simply lying on the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on, the mattress covered by the softest sheets I’ve ever touched.
A jolt of muddled emotion travels through my body as I suddenly recognize the room.
Damien’s bedroom.
A wave of panic submerges me, just for an instant, when I remember he wants to kill me. I hear an electronic beeping near me, and realize that I’m hooked up to several machines. What the fuck is going on?
The door opens and a man enters. I recognize him. Doctor Farley, Damien’s private physician.
“Hello, Seraphina,” he says gently. “I see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
I run a confused hand over my eyes, then stare at him helplessly.
“I understand you’ve been struggling to speak,” he continues quietly. “But I hope you’re comfortable. We’ve given you some strong pain medication through that drip.” He points to one of the intravenous lines. “We’ve also tended to your…” He marks a pause. “… extensive wounds.”
He sits next to me and squeezes my hand. “I want you to focus on relaxing. You had a high fever brought on by stress, so it’s important that we help you figure out how to work through your emotions.”
A confused sort of anger bubbles up in my chest. I can feel the fury deep in my bones, but I can only vaguely remember its cause. I close my eyes, pretending to be exhausted so he’ll leave.
He stands up. “I’ll let you rest now,” he murmurs. “And don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
The minute he leaves, I exhale, relieved. I need to be alone. I need to remember what happened, to understand it.
The last clear memory I have is of running in the forest. Of terror clawing at my chest, knowing a killer, sent by Damien, was after me.
No. It wasn’t a killer. It was Damien himself.
He’d caught me, thrown me to the ground, touched me possessively. It was brief—toobrief—and then, he’d whipped me and left me there, sobbing on the forest floor, the stench of wet dirt surrounding me. Sending me back to that moment when I’d been buried underground.
And now, somehow, I’m not dead, but lying in a bed, in his apartment.
I can’t understand it.
Then, I think I do.
He hunted me. Whipped me. Left me for dead. And now I’m in his bed.
He’s toying with me. Mindfucking me. Doing what he’s always done, proving to me that he owns me. He can kill me, he can hurt me, he can keep me in his locked room and use me.
No. Not anymore. I won’t be sucked in by his lies anymore.
Suddenly, the door handle twists, and someone enters. I sit up, my heart palpitating, expecting to see him. But no, it’s Logan.
Somehow, the sight of him doesn’t fill me with dread like itused to. The memory of him whispering, “I’m not going to kill you” supersedes the rest. I’ve reached the strange conclusion that he doesn’t want to hurt me. I don’t know what it is exactly that he wants, but I have a feeling he isn’t my enemy.
“Doctor Farley said you were asleep,” he says, looking at me in slight surprise.
I stare at him as he walks slowly toward me. He tries to smile, but I can tell he’s upset. I wonder why.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he murmurs. “Damien’s gone.”
