I woke with a jolt, my eyelids fluttering open as if emerging from a breathless sleep. A gasp escaped my lips, echoing the remnants of the terror that had gripped me just moments before. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, each beat a desperate plea for reassurance. My trembling fingers instinctively sought solace, tracing my chest in a frantic search for the telltale signs of a gaping wound, but found only unblemished skin. Confusion mingled with relief as I surveyed my surroundings, my eyes finally focusing on the familiarity of my own room.
The digital clock on the nightstand blinked in an eerie synchrony with the racing of my pulse. Its luminous numbers revealed the date and time: 5:30 p.m., Saturday, June 16th, mere hours before the horrifying attack that had forever scarred my existence. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy, charged with the remnants of a reality I had desperately hoped to escape. I could not dismiss the haunting truth that lingered within me - I had been granted an impossible second chance at life.
Questions swirled through my mind, a tempest of uncertainty and disbelief. Was it all a dream? A figment of my tortured imagination? But no, it was far too vivid, far too gut-wrenchingly real to be a mere fabrication of slumber. The trauma, a relentless companion, clung to me like a suffocating shroud, etching its painful imprint into the very fabric of my being. I longed for the solace of denial, the comforting embrace of a dream that would dissolve with the rising sun. Yet, the cold grip of reality refused to relinquish its hold.
A soft, delicate knock resonated through the room, jolting my heart into a frantic rhythm. Each beat thundered in my chest, a deafening reminder of the vulnerability that had consumed me. "Calm down," I whispered to myself, desperately seeking solace in a voice that quivered with unsteady resolve.
But how could I calm down? The memories of the brutal attack still lingered, their imprint etched deeply within my consciousness. What if they had returned, their sinister intentions unyielding, now aware of the disruption that had altered the course of fate? Questions spiraled through my mind.
In that moment, a flicker of hope emerged from the shadows of my fear. I remembered the ring, the talisman from my grandmother, meant to protect me from harm. With a trembling sigh of relief, I clung to that small glimmer of faith. However, even as the weight of the ring settled on my finger, it failed to quell the gnawing unease that permeated my very being.
A faint sound rustled at the door, drawing my attention like a magnet. An intruder or a messenger of fate? The uncertainty gripped me, squeezing the air from my lungs. With leaden legs, I forced myself to stand, my brain screamed curiosity while my heart screamed in fear.
Slowly, hesitantly, I approached the door, a trembling hand reaching out to grasp the handle.
A sudden movement caught my eye, a slip of white paper gliding smoothly beneath the door, defying the boundaries of my sanctuary. Curiosity mingled with trepidation, pushing me forward despite the chorus of caution that reverberated in my mind. I bent down, my pulse racing, and retrieved the delicate note, holding it as though it contained the secrets of the universe. This was the moment. It was now or never.
I unfolded the note, the words scrawled upon its surface gave me no assurance. "Alora. Meet me at the rooftop bar instead of the restaurant. I have something important to discuss. X."
Xavier?
He did try to save me but he was powerless against....powerless... I couldn't bring myself to say his name.
Was Xavier reaching out now so we could alter fate, and change my future by preventing my death?
Yet, doubt clawed at my thoughts, an insidious voice questioning the authenticity of the note. Was this a trap, a ploy to lure me into further danger? The conflicting emotions wrestled within me, a tempest of caution and yearning. In the end, curiosity overcame fear, compelling me to take a step back into my bedroom and dress up to meet him.
This time, as I stood at the precipice of fate, I vowed to myself that I would do everything in my power to prevent my own demise. The second chance I had been granted was no accident; it held a purpose, a significance that I refused to squander. Death had no place on my list of priorities in this moment.
Minutes later, another knock echoed through the door, its sound distinct, signaling the arrival of someone else. Glancing at the time, realization struck me like a lightning bolt. It was a repetition of the events that had unfolded before. This time, I would be the captain of my own ship, forging my own destiny.
I steadied my expression, mustering all the strength I could summon. With a swift motion, I swung the door open, and there before me stood Stacy, her innocent eyes gazing back at me.
"Stacy! You look absolutely beautiful," I greeted her, forcing a facade of warmth and concealing the anger, hatred, and disgust that roiled within me.
For a fleeting moment, I could have sworn I detected a glimmer of pure malice in her eyes. "Is everything alright? Aren't you dressed up yet?" she asked, her words laced with an underlying venom.
"Oh, just give me ten minutes, and I'll be back here with you," I replied, masking my urgency, barely managing to control the fear that threatened to consume me. With deliberate haste, I retreated into my room, ensuring the door closed without a sound, suppressing the urge to slam it shut in a futile attempt to silence my racing thoughts.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I took a moment to compose myself, to gather the shattered pieces of my composure amidst the chaos that swirled around me. Now, I needed to strategize, to think clearly and decisively.
"What do I do?" I whispered, my voice trembling, a plea for guidance echoing through the empty room.
"We kill her," a voice resounded with chilling clarity somewhere deep within my mind.
I spun around, a shiver coursing through my spine, utterly shaken by the intrusion. "Who are you? Where are you?" I whispered, my words hanging in the air. My eyes darted frantically, searching for any sign, any trace of a presence lurking in the shadows.
"Where are you?" Silence greeted me once again.
Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my words and drowning my panic in a wave of enforced silence. Instinct took over, and without thought, I lashed out, striking the throat of my assailant with a desperate blow. The figure crumpled to the ground, groaning softly, and as I turned to face my attacker, astonishment washed over me.
"Xavier? What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of confusion and concern.
"To see you, of course," he responded, his voice strained with pain. "You nearly broke my windpipe with that strike." He winced, struggling to regain his breath. "I haven't felt such pain in a long time!" He complained, eying me warily.
Approaching him cautiously, uncertainty lingering in the air, I asked, "Xavier, why did you come here? Your letter mentioned that you needed to speak with me."
Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Xavier locked his gaze with mine, a blend of intensity and vulnerability shining through. "Alora," he began, his voice gentle yet resolute, "there's something I need to tell you. It's about your ring."
My heart skipped a beat. How could he possibly know about my ring? Suspicion colored my voice as I demanded, "What do you mean? How do you know about my ring?"
Xavier's expression softened, his eyes mirroring a mix of sincerity and determination. "Alora, I know that Sei tried to kill you and send me back to hell, but somehow, we both remain here, somehow we are back to the past. The one capable of welding such power is..." He paused and continued " I can't explain what's happening, and I may not have all the answers you seek, but I know one thing for certain: My family wants you dead."
A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips. "I figured that out already, thank you very much. But why? What does your family have against me?"
A thousand questions flooded my mind, but before I could utter a word, Xavier reached into his pocket and pulled out an old picture painting. Staring back at me was a young woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to myself, but with a stark contrast. Her presence exuded an ethereal aura, her eyes gleamed with a piercing coldness akin to diamonds, and yet, her lips curved into a gentle smile, while laughter lines danced around her eyes. Seated upon a monstrous, intimidating throne, she embodied a breathtaking combination of beauty, kindness, and unwavering strength.
"Who is she?" I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why does she look so much like me?"
Xavier's breath escaped him in a heavy sigh, laden with the weight of grief and longing. "She was meant to be my wife," he confessed, his voice filled with a raw ache. "But she was brutally murdered. I was in grief and couldn't bear it. I went away for a few hours to clear my head.... and well murder all who I thought might have done it, but by the time I got back... her body was gone. I thought maybe her sisters came for her, I mean they have powers enough to revive the dead. I never gave up hope that she might still be alive somewhere, but I know, without a doubt, that you are not her. Yet, there's no way I can prove this to my family or the countless beings in the supernatural world who view you as her reincarnation, and it's possible that not only my family wants you dead, maybe half the population of the supernatural world does."
The absurdity of the situation threatened to overwhelm me. "You must be joking," I protested, my voice tinged with disbelief and frustration.