Trigger Warning: Violence

Nora~~

Someone yanks off my blindfold. And I find myself in a shiny black room where the floors and walls are both reflective. I'm tied to a chair.

         In the corner of the room, tucked behind Stefan and Hewn, is Charlie. Seeing him, my stomach tightens. Is he in trouble too or is he behind this? I strain against the ropes binding me. They hardly give. "Charlie?" my voice trembles around his name.

         On the other side of the room is Amant and a woman who somehow bears a striking resemblance to them. I can only tell the three men apart from the lengths of their hair. I don't understand how they can share each other's faces and resemblance.

         Someone places a hand on my shoulder. I flinch.

         "Charlie, what's going on?" I ask, my eyes fixed on him.

         He looks as if he's going to be sick.

         A woman steps around the chair to stand in front of me, her hand never letting go of my shoulder.

         A girl appears at my feet, her feet pulled into her chest, blood pooling around her.

         My breath hiccups, and she's gone.

         The woman crouches in front of me, never giving any indication that she saw the girl.

         Charlie tries to push past Stefan and Hewn but they hold him back.

         "Hello, Nora," she says.

         "What do you want?" I try to keep my voice level but fail.

         "It's not me who wants something from you." Her eyes focus on someone behind me. She nods and steps back.

         Is this what Charlie was warning me about? Why I couldn't ask clever questions?

         The woman raises her hand, tightened in a fist and strikes me across the cheek, my neck snapping to the side at the force. As the pain settles over my face and jaw, my eyes water.

         This is not what I thought Charlie was worried about happening.

         She lands a punch to my stomach and strikes my face with the back of her hand. My body screams at me to fight, adrenaline pumping through it, but I'm held fast by ropes.

         "Charlie, please stop this." I can hardly make him out through the tears clouding my vision.

         Hewn's hand is wrapped around Charlie's throat, and he's shoved against the wall.

         The woman continues. A punch to my cheek. A jab to the stomach. A slap against my ear.

         My eardrum rings, and the room tilts.

         "Just tell me what you want me to do." The words hurt to get out.

         She leans forward toward my face. "Sleep, Nora." Her face blurs.

         "Sleep?"

         "That's all."

         I hang my head, panting. "I don't know what that is."

         She purses her lips. "A pity." She hits my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

         Charlie claws at Stefan's and Hewn's arms. "Dad, stop this, it's not working."

         I raise my head. "Dad?"

         Charlie freezes. In my peripheral vision, a blurry figure steps alongside me.

         "What was that, Charlie? You don't think it's working?" That voice, it's Doctor Pace. Pace steps beside the woman. "Hello, Nora."

         Maybe it's revulsion. Maybe the abuse or maybe a combination of both, but I lean foward, straining as much I can against the ropes keeping my hands held behind the chair, and puke. Stomach acid splashes on the shoes of Pace and the woman. The burger Charlie bought me for lunch lies in chunks at my feet, blood scattered throughout the pieces.

         "He's your son?" I feel my hair clinging to the sweat on my face and sticking to my mouth. I throw up again, and it leaves me panting.

         Pace grimaces and sweeps my hair out of my face, his eyes fixed on mine, and I'm no longer in the room with Charlie. I'm in a classroom surrounded by teenagers, Pace standing at the front of the room. He looks the same, grimacing while he's eyes are intent. I'm still tied to my chair.

         I blink, and I'm back to where I was.

         "That's very good, Nora. Charlie is my son."

         Say you don't know what that means.

         I jerk my head trying to get his hand off me. He holds fast to my hair, tugging at my scalp until it burns.

         "I don't know what that means."   

         "But you do. You're the one who first said he's my son."

         "Just because I know the words are connected, doesn't mean I understand how.

         Pace lets go of my hair. "Continue," he says to the woman.

         "Wait!" Charlie breaks free of Stefan and Hewn. "Isn't this enough?"

         They haul him back.

         "It hasn't been an hour yet," Pace says.

         The woman jabs her fist into my stomach. I gasp, trying to double over to shield myself.

         Nora. Nora. You've got to stay focused.

         The voice sounds frantic.

         I don't want to focus. I want to forget where I am.

         She punches my jaw. I spit up blood.

         My eyes feel heavy but that could be due to swelling.

         Focus.

         What does it mean that Charlie is Pace's son? My gut twists each time I think of it, and somehow I must know it means something bad.

         That Charlie is bad? If he was bad, he wouldn't have been trying to warn me to hide my differences. Yet he introduced me to Doctor Pace, Stefan, Hewn, and Amant before this. Was this planned back then?

         The punches blend together.

         When I left work, I didn't get far down the alley before three men were on me, pinning my hands, covering my eyes. I called out to Charlie, desperate to hope he could help me.

         I was shoved in a car—I think. I could only feel the leather of the seat under me. I couldn't see it.

         Somehow Charlie knew where to find me.

         Time blends like the punches.

         I can no longer raise my head.

         Someone mentions it's been an hour.

         "We should continue," Pace says.

         "No." Charlie appears in front of me, shielding me from the woman, blocking me from his dad. "I'll do anything you want."

         "No, you won't," Pace says.

         "Name it."

         Pace grips Charlie's arm, pulling him toward him to whisper in his ear. There's a glint in his eye as he releases Charlie who only says, "Yes."

         Someone wraps a blindfold around my head. It digs into my eyes. My hands are untied, and I'm hauled to my feet. 

         I collapse immediately. My arms, numb from being tied behind me for so long, can't catch me.

         I miss the puddle of vomit. Small mercies.

         I groan, trying to push myself up.

         Arms wrap around me, and I'm lifted into the air. The arms holding me are thick with muscles.

         Whoever is holding me, begins walking. Every step they take jostles me, sending spasms of pain through me. I must be headed for a cell. How long until I'm strapped in that chair again? I would have told them whatever they wanted if they only told me what that was.

         The arms let go of me, and for a moment, I'm freefalling. I don't have time to scream before I land against a cushion. I brush my hands over the fabric, up what must be an armrest and then a backrest.

         The blindfold is removed—gently this time. A man's face is before me, his eyes brown and squinting. His hair is short and his skin a sepia, reddish-brown. I'd say late thirties.

         Everything about him is familiar, but I have a feeling that he's never been at eye level with me. This is a man accustomed to looking down on others.

         "Do you know who I am?" His voice is smooth, almost melodic. The blindfold lies over his thigh.

         I ache and throb all over. I put all my strength into pushing myself into an upright position.

         The man sits up straight as well. He's in a chair pulled in front of the blue couch I've been dropped on that I'm currently staining with blood. Behind him is a window that takes up the entirety of the wall. Somnia's skyscrapers loom upward, reaching toward the sky. The fence that stretches around the city cuts the view in half.

         I'm outside the city.

         "Do you?" he asks again, reaching for a silver tea cart rolled up beside him and lifts the teapot. "Would you like a cup?"

         "Water," I croak.

         "That's not an option." He pours a cup of tea and takes the saucer and cup in his hands, every move precise.

         My arms wouldn't be able to lift the cup let alone hold it.

         Tell him you've never seen him before.

         I've started talking to myself in second person now. Great.

         "We've never met," I manage to say. "Why am I here?"

         "Mr. Pace reported that you've been having difficulty with your memories."

         "Which Pace?"
         "Charlie. You work for him, correct?"

         The room blurs, and I squeeze my eyes shut. "He . . . he said I was having difficulty?"

         "He's the one who put you on our radar."

         "He tried to stop them. In there."

         The man takes a sip of his tea. "A guilty conscience. Nothing more."

         "Who are you?"

         He lowers his tea cup. "Doctor Cobbs."

         My mouth parts.

         Keep silent.

         His name dies on my lips.

         "You really don't remember me?"

         "No. Where am I?" Charlie works for the government—I do as well. Is that where I am? A government building? Or is this something higher than that? More powerful. Darker.

         "That's classified." He sets his cup and saucer on the tray and stands, taking the blindfold in his hands. "It's time for you to go home."