I can't open my eyes. What's wrong with me? Why can't I open my eyes? My head. Holy shit, my head. Why are my eyelids so heavy? My face is wet. Is that blood? Why can I taste blood? I try to force my eyelids open, but they barely even flinch. Connor. Where's Connor? My head. I flicker my eyelids, and they stay open long enough for me to see the shape of someone above me. I groan. My head is going to explode. My eyes have closed, so I force them open again.

"He's waking up!"

What? The figure above me moves out of sight. I try to speak, but it comes out as a nonsensical mumbling sound. I try to move, but I can't even twitch a finger. There are footsteps, and there's a figure above me again, except this one's bigger, and they're reaching down to me, and there's a cloth in my face with a chemical smell, but it's--it's slightly sweet, and I notice it for just a few seconds because then it's gone. Everything's gone again.

This time, when I wake up, I'm buried underneath a feeling of dread so heavy that it suffocates me. Everything is wrong. I'm sitting upright. How am I--My back's against something. I'm leaning against something. It's easier to open my eyes this time, but my vision is still blurred. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness fills my head, and it's extreme. It's too extreme.

I want to die. I'm not exaggerating. I feel like I want to die.

My head. I go to lift my hand to it, but I can't move my arm more than a few inches. There's something cold around my wrist. What the hell? I try to move it again, but something pulls it back. My vision is becoming clearer, and I'm not in Connor's flat anymore.

I'm in an empty room. The floor is wooden, and its planks are jagged and chipped. Everything's so dark. There's a faint light filtering through the doorway at the far end of the room, but it's dark. I desperately try to grasp at a memory, a good one, one of Mum, or Dad, or Annabel, just--just anything, but everything is so dark. All I can see is darkness.

I want to be dead.

I lift my other arm, and it's free. I can move it. I try to look down as I move my free hand to touch my other arm, but the second I crane my neck even a millimeter, searing pain explodes in my forehead. There's nothing I can do. I'm stuck. Why am I even bothering? Everything is wrong.

"Don't waste your energy," a voice mutters from somewhere near, and Connor appears in the doorway. "They're solid steal."

What the hell is this maniac talking about? I yank my trapped arm again, and he rolls his eyes. My vision is practically back to normal now. It makes me flinch, but I muster the energy to move my head. I look at my arm to see a metal ring around my wrist, and it finally dawns on me. He's handcuffed my wrist to... to something. I shift my eyes further left. A radiator. He's handcuffed me to a radiator. He's a psychopath. This guy is a literal psychopath.

I yank again, but it's pointless. All of this is pointless. Why am I even trying? I'm never going to get out of here. The darkness in my mind weighs my entire body down. Why doesn't he just kill me?

"Annabel will find me. She can find my energy anywhere, you do realise that?" I try to snap at Connor, but it just comes out flat.

Connor bursts out laughing as he saunters over to me. "You're so clueless. It's cute. I'm not trying to be an arse, honestly, it's genuinely quite sweet." He smiles, and there's a twisted sincerity to it. "She couldn't step foot in this place if she wanted to."

What? What's he talking about? My confusion must be obvious because Connor bends down to my level, his face inches away from mine, and goes on to explain. I don't know why because I should, but I don't care about what he has to say. I don't care about anything. What's the point? I wish he'd just left me to die on his living room floor.

"My cosy little holiday home here is cursed," he says, which offers no explanation. He starts laughing again. "It's cursed. Pure spirits can't get anywhere near here unless I allow them, let alone sense any energy inside the place. Why do you think she didn't come to your aid back at my place?" he questions as he pulls something from his pocket. It's a clear stone. "Cursed," he affirms as he nods at it in his hands.

Am I supposed to understand what the hell he's talking about here?

"I put it in your pocket before things got too crazy back at mine," he elaborates. "Before she'd be able to sense any real trouble. Her being angry at you helped. A lot."

Shit. That's what he put in my pocket when I monumentally failed to beat the shit out of him.

"She'll probably just think you're dead." Connor ruffles my hair, but frowns as he pulls away, and there's a dark red liquid smudged on his hand. "Remind me to clean that up later."

I'll rub my goddamn head all over his goddamn ugly shirt. Cursed? I don't understand. How can't good spirits get in here, it doesn't--It clicks. Cursed. The opposite of blessed. It has to be. Places can be cursed? Connor stands back up.

"Why do you think you feel like dog shit? I was so happy when you lost your head in my flat, I can't even tell you. You're so sensitive to this shit. It's perfect." He rubs his stained hand on his jeans. "Bit of advice: try not to wallow in it, it only makes things worse."

This feeling. This hopelessness, this sense of there being no point to anything, it's all because of this place? Of course it is. If being somewhere blessed makes me delusionally happy, of course being somewhere cursed is going to make me feel like I'd rather be dead. How can I fight against this? I can't. This is so much harder than the happy state. I can't do this. I can't do this.

"You hungry?" Connor chirps.

The last thing I want to do right now is eat. I don't answer Connor, but he leaves the room regardless. I move my head to look around the room, careful not to make the pain in it any worse. I was right, it's completely empty. There's a window in the wall I'm leaning against, but it's boarded up with wood. There's no way out of here. I'll never get out of here. Where even am I?

What's the point?

I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a long breath. Stop. It's not you, this is in your head. There is point. There is so much point. My mind flashes to Annabel. To Mum and Dad. To Carmen, to Ava, to Tom, to Jamie. It's in your head. It's this place. I open my eyes, and ever so slightly, the heaviness has lifted. There has to be a way out of here.

Connor reappears with a paper plate in his hand. There's a sandwich thrown on top of it, and he drops it in front of me. I don't even bother looking at it.

"Eat," he demands.

I glance down at the food. It's a ham sandwich.

I fight a smirk off my face, then say, "I'm vegetarian."

Connor growls, literally growls like a goddamn animal, as he bends back down to my level, grabs me by my hair, and smacks my head back against the wall. Pain erupts through my skull, and I try not to make a sound, but it's agonising, and I don't mean to let it happen, but my eyes are watering. The heaviness that was weighing me down earlier is rapidly re-emerging, and I use all the strength I have to resist it. You're stronger than it, I lie to myself. I keep saying it in my head, over and over again until I convince myself, even slightly.

"I really wouldn't try to be funny, if I were you." Connor lets go of my hair. "Eat."

I open my eyes. My head is thumping. I look down at the sandwich, then back up at Connor as I pull the paper plate towards me. I don't shift my eyes from him for a second as I open up the sandwich, pull the ham out of it, and close the bread back up. I take a bite, and with a full mouth, shoot him the most sarcastic smile I can muster up.

Connor's jaw is clenched, and his hand is in such a tight fist that his knuckles are turning white, but in a blink, he opens his hand and relaxes his face. He sits back down opposite me, crosses his legs, and sighs.

"Look, bud, I didn't want to have to do this. You don't realise how much I care about you. All of this, what happened ten years ago, it was for you. It was all for you."

Is he kidding? He's joking, right? I have to stop myself from laughing. He knocked me out after slamming something really hard into my skull, dragged my unconscious body to where seems to be the middle of nowhere, and literally a few moments ago, slammed my head against a wall because he cares so much about me?

"When I saw you in the lecture theatre... I can't--I can't even tell you what it felt like. You look so much like you used to. Everything about you. The way you talk, your attitude, your mannerisms... They're all so you. I never even realised how much I missed you. Even when I got your email all those weeks back, I couldn't believe--"

"You got my email?" I interrupt him, and as I do, I realise how stupid and pointless of a question it is.

"You don't think you found me accidentally, do you?" There's a jarringly innocent look in Connor's light blue eyes. He lifts his hand, and I flinch, thinking he's going to hit me, but he brushes some hair out of my face. "I'll explain. Make sure you eat."

#

A/N: Seems like Felix has gotten himself into a slight pickle (if pickles can be slight, that is). A sort of heads up - things do turn a little dark over the next few chapters, but I try my best to keep the humour weaved in. It'll be interesting to hear you guys' feedback on that, for sure. Only time will tell!