Jane's POV
"What do you want to do with her?"
It was a man's voice. Who were these people? What had I gotten myself into? A few minutes before, they made me inhale some sort of effervesence.
The scent made my nostrils sting. I felt the burn spread, and then I was dizzy. I kept getting hallucinations. In some of them, I would see my mom. Her face was replaced with a blurr. But her words. They never missed their mark to haunt me.
"I am not going to leave her. Unless of course, My Lady asks for it," the male voice speaks again.
But who was he talking to?
Despite the fact that I was not blind folded, my sight was of no use to me. The effervesence was too potent.
"I am going to ask her a few questions. And wait for Master Theodore to catch up," another voice replied, sinsiterly.
Something about it seemed familiar. I had heard it. I just couldn't conjure the memory. Who did it belongs to? Someone familiar. Someone I dreaded.
But the list could be so long. It was hardly of any use to bang my head against this impenetrable wall of "guess who hates you?".
"Hello, darling," this time the voice was closer. From the faint silhouettes of everything around me, I could make out that I was in some sort of a room.
Not the tardy kind. Not the messy kind. Not the kind where they keep prisoners before gagging them and killing them. Just the normal kind.
"Who are you?" I asked, and he let out a chuckle.
"It's fine, darling. You will figure out soon. The magic seems too potent for you. A weakling, aren't you?"
I reach out my fingers, trying to get a feel of his face.
"Uh uh... Not so fast. I assure you, we will come to the touching soon. But can you tell me that little dream that you had earlier?" His tone seems to be complacent.
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
I didn't want to say things I would end up regretting. I was always watching movies where people get killed, and end up dead. Most of the killing part happened after they told the captivators what they wanted to know.
There was no way I was going to tell them what I saw. My chances at survival were growing slim.
What if this is another one of fantasies that my mind has conjured to protect me from the fear of getting arrested?
Paranoia was no one's good friend. Especially not mine. The fact that it had been two days since my last dose was deeply unsettling.
I needed medication. And I needed to escape this. Reality or not. Dream or not. I didn't want to end up like this.
"Do not worry. I won't kill you. Not with my hands, atleast," he tells me.
"I do not worry about that. I just want to know what I did. If this is real. And what do you want," I said.
And there was no lie about all of those things.
"We are here to check on a few things. Do you know why you were selected in the Montreal State - Novel Revamp project?" He was eerily close.
I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rising. I recognise that feeling.
"Professor Rafael?"
My heart skipped a beat. No it couldn't be. How could he? Why would he?
"I cannot believe you'd frame me for not writing a good enough story," I was truly devastated. What twisted sort of learning experience this was?
"I hate to say it. But I am impressed you figured it out too soon. Your existence is good for nothing," he chuckled.
"What are you being so mean about? I didn't do anything to you! I don't even know you," I tell him.
"Indeed that is true. Life is a wretched game. You didn't choose to be here. But the only thing fair to you will be your death.
The soul that chose you had written your destiny. And what better sweet ending than death itself?" His voice turned cold.
Such animosity.
"This is not a novel. I do not believe in souls. Neither do I believe in Gods. Truly you have lost your sanity. No sane man would make up stories about things to hurt women like this," I wasn't sure either. I truly hoped if this was a dream, it comes to an end.
And if not, I hoped I could gather the courage to push through the seams of this reality. It's daunting walls were suffocating me an inch within my own life.
"You'd think that just because you are born powerless, you are entitled to mercy. But that's not the case. That's not how the world works.
There is a clear hierarchy. The winners live. The losers die. And you, my love... Are just a pawn," he begins.
"You will think that life gives everyone equal opportunities to prove their worth," he laughs.
"That's not true. You say this is not a novel? I would say it doesn't matter. No story is fair. Neither will be yours," I felt his touch grazing my arm.
"What do you know about life? You are a pesky mortal that knows nothing about the world. You live in a world where the demons are of your own making," he slithered.
"But do you know what haunts you beyond these realms? When the opportune search for a moment of weakness? When you are deliberately reduced to nothing because of your bloodline," a faint and mocking laughter cursed the air.
"Excuse me? With all due respect, you cannot trauma dump on me. You need a therapist. And I need answers," I can still feel my annoyance despite the fear.
"Tsk. Humans. Only ever concerned with what's theirs to take and have. I was never wrong in hating you. All of you," he leaned in and I felt his warm breath on my neck.