Like most days, Maya had overslept when the doorbell jolted her awake. Assuming it was the electrician, she rushed to the entrance. However, when she opened the door, she was greeted by a woman in her late thirties with dark hair and murky blue eyes. One of her eyes had a distinct brown spot just under the pupil, which struck Maya.
The woman was dressed in a black formal uniform, but Maya couldn't associate it with any organization she knew. Her presence, unfamiliar and unsettling, triggered anxiety in Maya, as if she was the woman from her nightmares.
"Hi. My name is Daria—" the woman began.
Instinctively, Maya tried to close the door in her face, but the woman caught it, surprising them both. Instant regret washed over the woman, as Maya was now visibly panicking.
'It was her! She came to take me away. Just like she took my parents!' Maya thought, irrational fears screaming at her.
"I'm sorry. Maya, I need to talk to you," the woman said, trying to undo the damage with a soothing tone.
"How do you know my name?"
Panicking Maya found herself wrestling with the woman for the control of the door. Though the woman eased her grip, attempting to appear non-threatening, Maya remained on edge.
"Can you just listen? It is rude to shut the door in someone's face," the woman was now growing impatient.
"It is also rude to take hold of someone's door." Maya retorted, surprised by her own bravery in snapping back at a stranger. She had always thought she would just hide in a corner in such situations.
The woman let go, and Maya quickly shut the door, pressing herself against it defensively, as if expecting the woman to try and force it open.
"Can you just let me in so we can talk like civilized people," the woman called out, raising her voice so Maya could hear her through the door.
"You're not an electrician. Go away."
"Maya Watergate, I am not going to harm you. I don't have much time, so can you at least listen to what I have to say and then, if you wish, you never have to see me again."
Maya didn't respond.
"What did I do to deserve such a strong reaction? You don't even know me."
"Exactly," Maya snapped back, uncertain of her own actions, trying to rationalize her instinctual reaction.
"Aren't you a bit too old to play the stranger-danger card? You're soon to be seventeen."
Alarm shot through Maya at the amount of information this woman had about her.
"How do you know so much about me? Who are you?"
"I can explain if you let me in. It's a bit unusual to talk like this. I'll be short," the woman pleaded.
"No," Maya responded, shaking, fighting off a full-blown panic attack.
"Please, Maya. I truly mean you no harm. I am here to give you a second chance in life. Aren't you sick of it being bleak for so long? You must at least be curious."
"Go away! I will call the police."
"Alright. I guess I'll give you a pitch through the door," the woman conceded. "Goodness, this will sound even more ridiculous like this," she mumbled to herself, frustrated with the absurdity of the situation. "You must've noticed there was something different about you. Something special…"
"Last warning."
"You've suffered so much. I can offer you a chance for something better. Please, don't turn it down before you know what it is. What more can you lose?"
"I am dialling the police right now," Maya lied.
"Okay. I'm leaving. But promise to call me if you change your mind," the woman said, slipping a card under the door. "I hope you find happiness, either way."
With that, the woman left. Maya sat on the floor, her back against the door, shaking uncontrollably. What had gotten into her? She had never acted like this before.
When she finally caught her breath, she rushed to her room for the mood stabilizers she took with her depression medications. Then, she reached for the phone to call her therapist, as she was supposed to if she encountered episodes like this. While dialling the number, she suddenly changed her mind and set it down.
Perhaps it was from that point onwards, when she opened her eyes in a hospital, that life didn't feel as realistic as it had been before. There was a constant subtle sense of incongruity.
Like a character awakening to new powers, Maya constantly felt her senses needed to be recalibrated. A faint breeze gave her goosebumps as if someone was whispering into her ear. Soft grass and soil under her feet felt like she was walking on the surface of a giant creature. The heat of a candle felt tangible and malleable by pure will.
'Haaa… I must be going crazy.'
She'd been taking her medication regularly but still kept questioning her reality. Due to this, she began to dread her next therapist visit.
'If I confess what has been happening, would I be the crazy one again?'
Walking back to the door, she picked up a small piece of paper from the floor. The card looked professional and legitimate. It read:
Daria Zdunowski, Conquisitrix
Beside it was a phone number. There was a symbol on the back and with faint letters, visible only under an angle. It said:
De Praeditos Alumni Academy.
Like any sensible person, Maya searched the internet for more information.
Firstly, the word 'conquistrix' was rather ominous. Since it seemed to be related to some kind of an academy, Maya assumed it must mean the woman was a recruiter. However, Maya could not find any institution or business under that name, or that this woman existed. Her identity had no digital traces Maya could find.
'Was it some sort of secret society? Or a cult?'
Maya was only a little curious but knew she should stay away.
Staring at the business card in her hand, Maya considered if she should keep it. If for anything, then as a proof to show her therapist. Who could keep insisting she was delusional if she had this in her possession?
Someone seemingly familiar with her appeared at her door out of the blue. Someone who matches her delusions…
But did this woman match them truly?
Maya had a vague memory of seeing a shadow of a person that day of the car accident, just before it happened. Her young mind began to associate it with dark clothing. Through her shock and daze, an image of a shadow was all she could recall.
However, the woman's uniform was unfamiliar, and Maya could hardly imagine someone scouring the woods in such neat attire—let alone wearing such a distinct, identifiable item while committing a crime.
'Who was she really?'