ALISA:

I woke up, my t-shirt was drenched in sweat. I had one of the same dreams I had every night at the same time.

03:03

Most of the time, I can remember where I was and what I was doing in the dream. The faces, the voices, the screams. Feet dragging on the cold tiles of a hospital, the hospital is not empty and it's nighttime. I can hear machines buzzing, hushed talking, phones ringing at the reception. I am in a hospital gown, there is an IV in my right hand, and I'm clutching it tightly, my heart is racing so fast I think it will burst through my rib cage. It's cold, not just the tiles I'm walking on barefoot, but also the air is so cold that I can see clouds it.

I stopped, the loud sound of beeping made the blood in my veins freeze, one of the rooms I was passing by had their lights flickering, and I was scared for an unknown reason. But I went in. It's a normal hospital room with one bed, a table next to it, and a one-door closet in the far corner. White lilies are placed in a vase on the table with a teddy bear, and then I notice the kid lying on the bed. She is on a breathing machine, tubes sticking out of her mouth and nose, her golden hair in a braid.

The machine won't stop beeping and the multiple footsteps that are coming make me freeze in the position I'm in, holding an IV pool and standing next to the open door. Nurses, two of them, and a doctor in his mid-fifties came rushing in. I expected them to get me out of the room, but they didn't notice me. I watch as they get busy with the little girl. Another nurse comes in with the heart machine while the other one is.. Another, the little girl's hospital gown. They are trying, but nothing. The machine is still beeping until the flat line appears.

"Time of death, 03:03!"

One of the nurses announced something, and I fought the urge to fall as the sound of shifting and moving chairs caught my attention.

"They knew I was going to die; they just wanted to give it a shot!"

I winced. The girl on the bed and the one sitting in the corner looked identical.

"This is not real!" I exclaimed, covering my mouth with my free hand to suppress my nausea.

"Death is as real as life. No one lives forever! We exist as long as necessary, not as long as desired. For one life to begin, another must end!"

I wake up at the same time I have since I was fifteen. The sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding my left eye, and I try to shield it with my hand. I don't want to get up, groaning into my pillow, but I know I must-my aunt is waiting for me. As I leave the warmth of my bed, a chill runs down my spine, making me shiver. I slip on my slippers and head to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, the edge of my coat slips off, exposing the scars I've carried all my life, stirring feelings of shame. A wave of anger, agony, and self-loathing washes over me. I bite my lip, vowing not to cry again, and continue getting ready. My uncle is hosting an important dinner with clients, and he expects us to attend as ladies of the house.

The house was nearly silent, with servants scattered about-some setting wine bottles and glasses on tables, others holding rags and bed sheets. I wore a long, narrow silver dress that hugged my figure, featuring a high slit in the back. My large silver earrings and emerald necklace were gifts from my aunt. I smiled broadly as I watched my beautiful Aunt Diana in the foyer, chatting with a servant. She wore a dark green silk dress, her fiery red hair swept up with a few curls that reminded me of my mother. They resembled each other almost like twins. Sensing my gaze, she turned to me, and her light brown freckles stretched as she smiled.

"My dear niece," my aunt exclaimed as she approached. I made my way down the spiral staircase and embraced her warmly, the sound of our earrings resonating lightly together. "The guests have arrived; your uncle is welcoming them downstairs in the living room. Come and join us!" With a gentle smile and her hand resting on my shoulder, we proceeded through the elegantly designed golden wooden corridors towards the grand mahogany door. For some inexplicable reason, I felt a sudden pang of anxiety and an unsettling sensation in my stomach, akin to preparing for a formal introduction to my uncle's business associates.

The servants opened the double-glazed door for us, and a thick cloud of Cuban cigar smoke wafted towards me, nearly making me cough. My uncle, a tall, slender man with a neatly trimmed black beard and thick, curly hair slicked back, rose from his leather chair with a broad smile. "Oh, my God! My two little doves, come in!" he exclaimed, gesturing to himself, allowing me a moment to take in my surroundings. Everyone present was young, no older than 30 to 45 years. They all wore black suits, except for one. Our eyes locked, and a thrilling chill raced down my spine. Every hair on my neck stood on end. His cold, grayish-blue eyes, framed by thick black eyebrows, held my gaze. His chin was so sharply defined that it seemed capable of cutting through the air with a mere turn of his head. Black tattoos adorned his neck, stretching beyond the narrow black shirt beneath his leather jacket.

I inhaled sharply, feeling the air catch momentarily in my throat, which forced me to cough violently. Standing before me was a rock of a man, approximately 6'6 and it captured my attention in an unexpected way. My uncle, noticing where my gaze was directed, turned to me and spoke with a warm smile, "Hey Alisa, this is Zane Star, one of my oldest friends!" I stood there, momentarily stunned and somewhat taken aback by the introduction. It wasn't merely his physical appearance or charming demeanor that struck me; there was something particularly unsettling hidden within the depths of his icy eyes that made me uncomfortable. I couldn't quite identify what it was, but instinctively, I sensed I was confronting something menacing, something lurking beneath the surface. "Nice to meet you, little butterfly," he said, his deep voice resonating in a manner that wrapped around me like a firm embrace, sending an unsettling tingle through my feet and up my spine.

Honestly, deep down, I know that I am completely fucked, and the realization gnawed at the edges of my mind.