/ HEIDI /
My eyes flicker open.
The sun's out; I can feel it on my face. If only it can burn out this unsettling emptiness in me.
I stare blankly at some unfamiliar brick ceiling, my bowls of emotions empty.
It's good to feel sometimes. And I wish I did right now. But I don't—no headaches, cramps… nothing.
Maybe I'm dead. Hunter probably finished me off, which could be a good thing too―
I don't know…
A door pushes open before an elderly woman hurries into the room. She sets a bowl on the small table near the bed I'm just realizing I'm lying on before saying something while smiling. But I don't hear.
Why can't I hear?
Her face blurs out, the jade centerpiece of her necklace gaining my attention.
I don't like how it dangles; swinging from left to right. Or is it because it makes me nauseous, bringing back the scenes I've tried to forget? Hunter's indifference, the gore of the mass slaughter, the explosion. Even the acute fear that consumed me for the very first time; that still eats me in the head, sucking, nudging, biting…
The feelings I felt hours ago rush in before the gruesome memory of the bodies and the sickening stench of blood stir my gut.
Without thinking, I lurch up to a sitting position and bend over the bedside to puke up what's left in my stomach onto the floor.
I feel someone rubbing my back, I even see the vomit splashing on her feet. Seems she doesn't mind. But it happens that I do when I'm done relieving myself and finally manage to catch my breath.
"Oh, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," I whisper, my voice hoarse and fragile.
The old woman stands up, tone rich with warmth as she offers a hand and speaks. "Come, child. You're burning up. There's the bathroom." She gestures toward a door adjacent to the bed. "You'll feel better after a wash. Don't worry about the mess; it'll be gone when you return."
I hesitate to do as she suggests, mainly because I'm unsure of my environment or who she is. The questions linger on the edge of my mind, dulled by the fog that lords over my thoughts.
"Go on," the woman urges. I nod and obey.
Inside the bathroom, the warmth of the tap water offers momentary relief as I rinse my mouth and splash my face.
I don't feel like throwing up anymore. But the heat beneath my skin pulses persistently, causing me to lean on the sink, my trembling hand reaching up to wipe off steam from the mirror before me.
I see a reflection of myself that isn't what I remember—eyes swollen and framed by dark circles, while a rash creeps under my hairline, even around the fresh bandage on my forehead… and for what? The man I thought I knew?
A timid knock sounds on the door, followed by the old woman's muffled voice. "Have you had anything to eat, dearest, shall I make you breakfast?"
I turn to respond. But as I look at the door, it ripples and shifts before my eyes.
The edges blur; splitting into two, then three, until the solid frame fades completely, giving way to a passageway—starved of daylight—illuminated by several rectangular LED panels.
The bright lights make me squint my eyes as I stare at the distorted form of a woman approaching me in the passageway. And she's followed by whispers that get louder; a chorus of distant hums and indecipherable words blending as a faint lavender scent drifts into my senses.
When the splitting images become one, I see the woman clearly. The woman? Nah, that's me. Or not?
She looks like a healthy image of myself from five years ago, only, she isn't clothed in modern apparel.
She's draped in a flowing robe, her neck, limbs, and hair adorned with intricate ancient-looking jewelry. Her sheen and thick strands are swept into an elegant updo, shimmering under the light.
And as she stops in front of me, we lock gazes—one pair of hazel eyes onto another alike pair, except, one set is radiant and full of life, while the other looks like the world's evils are hanging over them—guess whose set these are.
"Unlock the Kalviyre," she says softly. It sounds like my voice but mingled with an unfamiliar accent and a tone of serenity I don't recognize. "Did you hear?" she utters as if waking me from a trance. "Unlock it."
~
'Unlock the Kalviyre.' These words ring in my head, drowning out every other sound. I watch the woman's lips move without hearing the words; I don't care to read them either.
Everything starts to blur until her face fades to that of the old, wrinkled lady who looks genuinely concerned for me.
"Are you okay?" she asks softly, and I jerk back to reality, looking around with eyes wide open.
I barely registered the old lady's presence and would've stumbled on the latter if I hadn't held tight onto the sink.
I lean over it to splash my face once more—this time with force, as if trying to shake off the lingering fog in my mind.
What the heck is wrong with me? Why am I now seeing things? Oh, God. This was never me. Never.
I soon rise to my full height and stare at the mirror.
She doesn't ask—the old woman, I mean—but I figure she might be curious about this young stranger in her house who is acting weird.
"I started having these weird dreams after I met Hunter…" I begin, noting how the bandage on my forehead has disfigured from the scrubbing. "…and there's the unease." I grasp my shirt's neckline in a fist, kneading the latter onto my chest as if trying to weaken the knot tied in it. "I feel… something bad will happen again. I know it. Hunter… he's going to do something."
"Who is Hunter?" the old woman asks, and I turn to her the moment she does.
"You don't want to know," I reply, even hearing my tone heavy with fear. "You don't want to meet him either."
There's a faint clatter outside the moment I'm done speaking, which throws me into panic mode.
My pulse races as the noise sets off alarms in my mind—one that warns me about Hunter and the fact that he may have found me.