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* * *

The faces were talking again.

Or at least I thought they were. Is that my name they keep saying? They were such distorted, exaggerated things. I wanted them gone.

But they just kept coming back. Just like the dream repeated over and over again, like clockwork.

One moment I would be driving down a road near my house, listening to my favorite band. Each time I went down the street, there were big overgrown trees drumming their leaves along the side of my car. I would roll my window down to get a breeze I could never quite feel. Somewhere down that road I become frightened. Darkness would claim the vehicle and me in an ominous swirl of black, and in the darkness, the faces would appear. Their voices never match their mouths. They talked backwards often, overlapping like poor radio stations.

In and out the darkness I would fall. Alone, weightless, as if I were in space. Sometimes it felt nice to be there. Was I dreaming? Don't leave me. 

I won't.

The faces. They were back. I tried to tell them to leave. I felt my body moving and yet I was immobile. Nothing made sense. Could the faces hear me? Why couldn't I speak? Hello?

Everything shattered into a kaleidoscope of fissured images and sounds. I tried to understand them but the darkness had returned, livider than before. This time, no faces appeared. There was no sound, too. I thought I was alone. Was I? No, I wasn't. Don't leave me.

I won't.

* * *

My eyes hit a white ceiling.

Beeping played incessantly in my ears. I looked around and everything was blurred. Oh God! Snakes. There were translucent snakes on my arms! I started ripping them out of my skin, but my muscles felt strangely heavy and I felt lethargic. Still, I pulled at them and the snakes became clear tubes. I started coughing, gagging, and pulled at a ventilator in my lungs.

"Faith?"

"Faith."

"Faith, it's alright. We're right here, baby."

New voices entered the room, becoming muffled. Hands clutched at my arms and legs as I thrashed. I was strapped down, sweating and shaking. My lids grew heavy and I relaxed. Familiar blue eyes drifted over me as my vision blurred again.

Mom.

* * *

"Well I'm happy to be the bearer of good news today," Dr. Helsing was saying, glancing again at the clipboard the nurse had handed off to him on her way out. He was young (for a doctor) and had thick black hair and twinkling emerald eyes.

"Your CAT scan results were good, and your vitals are stable," he continued, and glanced a moment at the colorful bouquet of flowers next to my bed. He scooted his gliding chair to the side a little, away from the nightstand. "Despite some bruising and cuts and a concussion, your recovery has been remarkable. Had you not been wearing your seatbelt, I expect we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"She's our miracle," Mom chimed in. She continued grinning at me in a straining, nervous way. Since the doctor had entered the room, she'd started squeezing each of my dad's hands until he winced and gave her the other one.

Marcy, my best friend and soul sister since childhood, with her short bob of hair, bright colored outfit, and hazel eyes, sat on the other side of my mother, and was holding a bunch of balloons. I felt like I hadn't seen her in years, but I'd only been comatose for a few days. She had walked away from the car accident unharmed and, like my parents, hadn't left my side while I was out.

"Thank you, Dr. Helsing," I said, and although I still felt perturbed by the whole situation, as the nurse said I would, I managed a small smile. "This is all so strange...but clearly I was in good hands here."

Dr. Helsing and I talked some more before he left. Soon after, Mom and Dad were getting takeout for us, and I remained in the hospital room with Marcy. I hadn't spoken much since I'd woken up, unless the nurse asked I. Truth be told, I wanted to get out of that room as quickly as possible. I didn't feel myself in there.

Something on the television that made me suddenly look away from it. There was a bird on the ledge of the window outside. I jolted and my heart rate picked up.

"You okay, girl?" Marcy asked, concern crunching her eyebrows together.

"Yes," I said simply, but I wasn't okay. I didn't feel like myself and honestly my life had never felt so...boring.

I also wished someone could stop the random flashes of anger and sadness I was getting. My emotions kept fluctuating at random moments, like when certain things popped up on the television or when certain things were said to me. I could never remember what triggered the emotions.

How long would I feel like I had a fried brain?

But I knew if I didn't act normal, I'd be in there longer.

I went to sleep that night, I tried to remember the accident. My parents had explained that I'd hit a deer the weekend after my birthday. I remembered driving. I remembered Marcy being in the passenger seat. I remembered losing control of the car and then hitting a deer. Then I'd get a horrible headache.

I glanced over at the nightstand next to the hospital bed. The once colorful bouquet of flowers that sat there looked wilted.

Something isn't right, I thought to myself. The thought dissipated and I shut my eyes to a dreamless backdrop.

* * *

Finally, I was home. Why did it feel like I didn't know this bed? This room? When I first entered it, it was cleaner than ever before. There were gifts on my bed that I couldn't remember opening. Some sweatpants, new headphones, ripped jeans, and black band t-shirts. My mattress was soft and cozy and perfect...and so foreign.

I put my favorite pajamas on, tucked Mr. Wiggles in next to me, and fell asleep with the lights on.

I sprung up from my bed in the middle of the night with a shriek and kicked my dark purple comforter off of me. What had I dreamed about? Besides some aches and faint weakness in my muscles, I'd felt absolutely fine. Now there was a wrench in my stomach and I was freezing cold. One of my bedroom windows was wide open and the thick curtains around it were twirling around like dark waves. For some reason, I imagined someone was standing behind one of the curtains, and as I neared, anxiety knotted in my chest.

There was nobody there.

After listening to the wind howl at me a moment longer, I shut the window, locked it, and peered out into the night. I remembered opening the window after I'd taken a hot shower. Now I was being paranoid. I slid my fingers away from the windowsill and felt something paper-thin slide underneath my fingers.

I bent down and picked up the fallen object. It was a poker card. The one side of it was the ace of spades, and the other side was blank, besides a cursive text that read: Qui vivra verra.

"Qui vivra verra," I read slowly, a frown knitting between my eyebrows. I knew this. No, I didn't. I lifted my gaze to peer out the window, where the trees in my front yard began to whip around from the wind under the streetlight. I knew this.

The more I stared at the card, and the more I couldn't the remember a stupid little phrase, the angrier I became. Would my life always feel like fragments were missing now? I ripped the stupid thing to pieces and discarded the pieces in the trash.

I wiped a tear that had slipped out from under my eye and looked around my room. Now I couldn't shake the feeling that things had been moved around in my room. There was a black canvas on my easel and fresh paint jars on my desk. They felt like they didn't belong...

I tried to maintain normalcy by painting a little, in an attempt to jog my memory and relieve my stress. Then I put away my new clothes and decided I needed more underwear. Where had it all gone?

When I finally forced myself to go back to bed, imagine my disbelief when I peeled back my comforter and found that same poker card lying on my sheets, unharmed.

A wave of paranoia overtook me. I looked over my shoulder, and then back at the card.

I picked up the card and a chill slipped down my spine.

"Qui vivra verra," I read outloud again. I fought the headache building behind my eyes and glared at the card. "She who lives...." I shut my eyes, wincing as the headache became unbearable. "She who lives...shall see."

The ace of spaces card lit to flames.

"What the...?" I dropped it with a gasp and it vanished.

"What a charming little bedroom, ma chère," an accented voice announced. "I see my lucky card followed you."

I spun on my heel and screamed. A beautiful man with purple contacts, a purple ensemble, and a top hat was in my room. There was a stranger in my room!

"Who the–who the fuck are you?"

He touched a colorful strand of his hair–casual, as if this wasn't unusual. "I mean I got a trim this morning, but I didn't think it was too dramatic...?"

"This is so not okay!" My immediate thought was to protect myself. I hurried to my closet and grabbed my old softball bat, arming myself.

The man looked at the softball bat, at me, and then at my softball bat again. I didn't leave him time to speak.

"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?" I demanded. "Answer me, French Man!"

The French man scratched his shaved jaw and leaned on his strange cane with the crystal at the top. He was way too young for a cane. And way too old to dress up for Halloween. Which had passed.... weeks ago...

"I can ask you the same thing." His fake violet eyes slid briefly to the bed and he arched a brow. "You called to me, ma biche? You were supposed to be within the portal. Is there something wrong?"

"Did you just? Did you just call me a bitch?"

"I said biche."

"I will literally hit you with this bat!"

"Ma chère... What is wrong with you? I mean you no harm." He stepped towards me with his hands up. "Whatever he told you about me–"

"MOOOOOM!" I screamed, startling the French Man. "DAAAAAD!"

Nothing. Fear tightened my chest at the thought that my parents had been brutally murdered and Bobby Flay diced and sautéed by this lively psychopath.

"Is this some sort of American foreplay?" Frenchy asked, narrowing his eyes. "I'll play along, I suppose. But know that everything in this house is held motionless at the moment, including your parents. Had a little trouble getting through the ward. You do know you have a horrid protection ward around you house, correct? It was rather impressive, but unfair against my touch. I've been cracking intricate wards since I was a little magician."

I swung at him with the bat. One moment, the French Man was in the path of my trusty softball weapon, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was to my right and held my bat in one strong hand. 

He'd moved like a jump cut in a film.

It was impossible.

I blinked up at him, speechless, and felt sick to my stomach.

"You're not very hospitable tonight, ma chère. Understandable, considering the boorish species you've been fornicating with." The French Man ripped the bat from my hands and tossed it back on the bed. "There. That's better. Now to the point–"

"You just...." I motioned to the spot he once was. "You were there...and then you...weren't..." I pointed at the spot he was standing now. "I've been drugged, haven't I?"

The French Man turned his head to the side a little and looked at me from another angle. He stared at me for a long time and presented me with a "WTF" face, until slowly, something shifted in his expression, as if he'd come to an troubling conclusion. 

"Breathe easy, ma chère." He lifted his hand and snapped. My eyes became transfixed by the multiple rings on his long fingers and felt my head slowly arch back as my eyes half-closed. He placed his one hand on my lower back, holding me up, and his other hand in front of my face, turning his palm towards himself. His fake violet eyes smoldered to a deep purple, and he appeared to read something off his hand.

"Bordel de merde..." He dropped that hand to his side and I inhaled sharply. My thoughts felt jumbled and chaotic as if my brain had been shaken. "This is a trick I have not witnessed in a long time..." He appeared intrigued at first, but then his expression was replaced with unease. "And I suspect...that I was not supposed to witness such a rancorous act of exile, of ostracism."

Finding my ability to move and fear, I stumbled back and pressed myself back against my bedroom wall. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been expunged from the supernatural world, ma chère."

* * *

*fan girl angry screams*

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