Renata
It’s the noise that jostles me awake. The sound feels almost oppressive as it bears down on my eardrums like a banshee shrieking into the night. My head is throbbing and the rest of me isn’t so far behind.
I have no fucking clue where I am. Or who I’m with. And given my track record lately, I’m not super hopeful.
I’m nervous to open my eyes, mostly because I don’t want anyone to notice I’m awake. I can hear the sound of men talking. They’re yelling at the top of their lungs, but the sound of the chopper drowns out their words.
Wait… chopper?
I’m in a helicopter. And I feel utterly bizarre.
I’m in pain, but it feels like there’s a layer of numbness that’s blunting the sharp edge of it. It’s still there, lingering in the background like a monster in the closet. But something is keeping it at bay.
The more aware I become, I can’t keep to resist the curiosity of opening my eyes a tiny sliver and taking a quick look around. I’m lying flat on something. A bed? No, there’s a rail under my fingertips. A gurney, perhaps? But there is someone sitting right beside me.
His name is right on the top of my tongue. Frustratingly, it keeps slipping away, just when I think I finally have it.
Then he speaks. His voice sluices through the thunder of the helicopter blades, deep and rasping, weathered but strong. It’s not a kind voice. Not a gentle voice. And even though I’m drawn to it, it still terrifies me.
I wonder what that says about who I am. That I’m a masochist? A sucker for pain? That fear is what fuels me?
I don’t like any of the plausible answers to those questions.
Frowning, I open my eyes completely and turn my head to the side. The man sitting next to me notices that I’m awake. I want so badly to remember his name. But that numbness is hiding it from me. My tongue feels thick and uncooperative in my mouth.
His eyes land on mine and for maybe half a second, I’m able to admire the stark handsomeness of his features without the guilt. And then his name snaps back into my memory. And I reel back.
I can’t stand or straighten up. The moment I try, pain shoots up my body as though I’ve been electrocuted.
What has he done to me?
I start screaming because words just won’t come. Maybe I’m trying to drown out the noise from the helicopter we’re in.
I twitch a second time and again, pain rips through me. I collapse back against my makeshift bed, sweating from the effort. My screams dwindle somewhat, but only because I’ve shocked my body into retreating back into unconsciousness.
I’m losing sight again.
I’m losing sound.
It feels like I’m losing my grip on reality.
And at the moment, that sounds pretty damn good.
* * *
I drift in and out of dreams. Some of them are boring and forgettable. Most of them are scary. Projections of my deepest, darkest fears.
I think of him. I still refuse to say his name. To even think his name. The monster who stole my youth and made me his personal captive.
He’s not the only one who’s ruined me.
I think about the monster I was wed to. Married off, like I was nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold.
Drago told me it was my duty. That I needed to make sacrifices. But where were his sacrifices? Why was I the only one forced to suffer for the sake of the family honor? Why was I the one being fed to the beast?
Every time I see that beast’s face, even in my dreams, my body reacts, desperate to throw him off before he becomes fully realized.
I thought I buried him deep. I thought I had squashed his memory with strength.