Selene's POV
A suffocating silence greets me when I awaken. Lavender and something metallic, like cold iron, are the scents of the air. It is the type of scent that ought to evoke a memory, yet fails to do so.
I'm where?
A faint, almost eerie light seeps through the curtain borders. Under my skull, a dull ache pulses, and my head feels heavy—too heavy. The comfort of the bed lulls me back into position as I attempt to sit up. An odd solace I don't believe. Nothing feels familiar, but my mind is racing, urgently scratching at anything that does. The space seems strange, but it's too well-designed to be alien. It has a spotless, clean feel. Pricey.
I swallow and blink. Too much stillness in the air. Too flawless.
"You're awake."
For some reason, the voice sounds steady, low, and familiar. My spine gets a chill from it. It makes my heart skip a beat. I scan the area, but I don't see him—*him*, the voice—until it moves into view.
A male. standing in the corridor. Tall. wide-shouldered. His dark hair is slicked back, and his eyes, which are so deep and eerie, meet mine with a coldness that is deliberate. For some reason, my breath catches.
"Who are you?" My voice is dry as I croak, the inquiry escaping my lips before I can even consider it. All I can ask is that.
He doesn't recoil. Not even a little surprised. As if completely conscious of his impact, he enters the room slowly and deliberately with each stride. I detest that even when I feel every fiber of my body trembling, I am still pulled to him because of his powerful presence.
"You don't remember me, do you?" With a tone that carries a peculiar blend of humor and something sinister, he asks. "I suppose I can't blame you."
Sitting up is difficult for me. I grit my teeth and ignore the nausea as my head spins from the abrupt change in motion. "Where am I now?"
His jaw tightens and his face hardens for a moment as he pauses. The mask rapidly returns to its original position, and his expression partially softens. "They found you. Not conscious. "In the rain."
Even the mention of rain makes my heart race. Something there, an ache, a recollection, something stirring deep in my chest. The storm—the cold, the darkness—is nearly visible to me, but I'm not sure why.
"And you brought me here?" With a lower, more unsure voice, I ask.
"Yes," he says, moving in closer. "You needed help."
I dislike the way he puts it. The way *he* says it—so calm, so sure. Like everything is within his control. As if he already knows what happened.
I swallow hard as I try to recall something. "I... I don't remember anything."
The flickering in the depths of his eyes causes him to adjust his attention. As though speaking to himself, he whispers, "It will come back to you," before looking back into my eyes. "It's only a matter of time."
His composure is unnerving in some way.
With an intimidating presence, he takes a step closer. My body won't let me move back, even though I want to. He looks at me with a sharpened gaze, as if he's trying to find a weakness in me. Alternatively, he might be waiting to solve me, like I'm a puzzle. His gaze flits across me, stopping as it lands on my hands. After taking a step back, he nods as if his mind were clicking.
You will require new clothing. You must leave that place. His remarks are direct. He dismissively speaks.
I feel like a thing to him. Something needs to be fixed.
Something that's not genuine.
I should be upset. It should feel... However, I only sense a void and a chill that is beginning to creep in. "And what am I meant to do now?"
"Take a break. For the time being, that's all you have to do," he responds, moving to go but stopping at the door. His gaze flits back toward me.
"You're secure here. I will not allow you to suffer any harm.
He has a biting edge to his voice that I can't identify.
"Safe?" Almost bitterly, I repeat. I don't feel comfortable using that word. However, I pause and consider the rain and the icy, black storm that engulfed me, and I question: What am I to do?
He leaves me in the room by myself without waiting for a response.
I sit there for a long time, looking at the walls, my thoughts unable to locate a sense of grounding. Despite its size and luxury, the room has a stifling atmosphere. Like being in a cage made of gold. The fact that nothing is familiar terrifies me.
My limbs are being pulled by fatigue as I lay back down. My sleep is swift, but it's not restful. Suffocatingly, the shadows beneath my eyes close in.
***
A faint throb in my head wakes me up. It's dark in the room now. The shadows appear farther away and more profound, as though they wish to engulf me.
I have a dry throat once more. I feel constricted in my chest. I grab the side of the bed and sit up. My hands are a little unsteady. I feel like everything weighs down on me. I'm where? I *am* who?
And above all: *Why am I unable to recall?*
The man comes with a tray of food as the door opens again. His presence suffocates the air in the room. He looks at me after silently setting the tray on the table next to the bed. After looking at me for a long time, a slight smile appears on his lips.
"Eat," he urges in a quiet, authoritative voice. "Your strength is necessary."
"What does strength mean?" Not sure if I should trust him, I inquire in a chilly tone.
He shrugs slightly as he continues to watch me from the door. "For whatever follows."
There is a question that I am unable to answer. What will happen next?
I look at the tray. It appears to be okay: a glass of water, some bread, and fruit. The whole thing, though, seems strange. Something feels off.
Then, farther down the corridor, I hear a door click softly. There's another person present. My chest feels constricted. I swiftly get to my feet, ignoring the spinning dizziness in my brain, and walk for the door.
I hardly have time to move before he catches me.
My wrist is firmly grasped by his hand, which gives me an unaccustomed shock. "Never. His voice is low and threatening as he says, "It's not safe." Remain here. You will be OK.
I become motionless. He holds on to my wrist more tightly. There's no getting out. "Is there anyone else here?" In an attempt to sound stronger than I am, I ask.
With an uncomfortably close face, he leans in. His breath shivers down my spine as it brushes across my cheek. He becomes quiet, almost whispering. "You don't wish to find out."
I'm not much safer, though, after hearing his remarks. They give me a heart palpitation. In his eyes, who am I? What does he want me to do?
I urge, raising my voice a little, "Tell me." "What's this all about?"
The door behind him, however, flings open before he can respond. One of the women enters the room. She is as imposing as she is frigid. Her eyes fix themselves on mine; they are too familiar, but I can't remember where I've seen them.
She doesn't say anything. She's not obliged to. It's clear from her eyes that she knows me and is unhappy that I'm here.
"Who are you?" With a little trembling in my voice, I ask.
My question is ignored as she moves forward. Her eyes dart to the man next to me, and for a split second, I can't help but notice the tension in the air. She's familiar with him. He's familiar with her.
However, the question that has been bubbling within me is now more obvious: *Why am I here?*
For the first time, the solution appears to be just out of grasp.