I float in the air. It's strange but the motion is relaxing as if it's pulling me into a pit of nothingness, lulling me to sleep. A soft breeze caresses my face, my neck, and my bare feet while the hem of my silk dress is moving lazily in the air. Then I see a movement, and it's white. It reminds me of those white linen sheets Lydia hangs in the backyard on sunny days, or my blank drawing paper, or the dress the woman wore that afternoon in the woods.

The entity is streaming next to me but I can't make out its whole figure. Is it a bird? Or a person? Or a fairy? I turn my head to take a better look but my eyes remain shut. Wait, how could I tell it was white if my eyes had been closed all this time? Is it an angel then? The one that visits our dream, like the angel Gabriel did the virgin Mary's dream?

All of a sudden, the wind blasts, dragging me away from the angel. No, please. Take me back to that beautiful creation of God. I can feel how dull and empty my heart is now that I'm drifting apart from it. Another force of wind hits me, jerking my body back in the direction of the sacred creature. I move closer and closer, a little too fast this time, and when I want to stop, it's too late. The angel is now hovering over me in extreme proximity.

Then I open my eyes, and my heart skips a beat. The angel has long brown hair waving in the air and so is the white cloak it's wearing. It has no face but it speaks to me, "Open your eyes, Gretta. Let the boy help you."

The voice is followed by a jolt charging through my body, prompting a small scream to escape my throat. In the next seconds, gravity starts to pull me down, sucking me into a silent panic. I search for the faceless angel through my dancing hair but it's nowhere to be seen. My body dives down and down, through the darkness, through the light, through the stillness, until my back hits a soft surface.

"Gretta," another voice echoes in my ears but it sounds different this time. It's not soft, alluring, and comforting like the one that spoke to me earlier.

While slowly opening my eyes, I try to make out my surroundings. I see a ceiling but that is not my bedroom ceiling. I see the door but why is it so far away from where I'm lying down now? And that's also not my door. I jerk my head to the side, ignoring the heaviness in my head, and the pair of eyes that are staring at me make my breath hitch in my throat.

Out of panic, I prop myself up and scramble out of bed. I trudge back while eyeing him until my back hits the wall. Damien holds his hands up, signaling me to calm down.

"You were screaming in your sleep," he says.

How on earth did my sister's boyfriend end up in my bed? Did Mother ask him to watch over me? Why not Lola? And why doesn't he wear a shirt? "What are you doing here in my bed?"

"First of all, we are in my room, and this is my bed," Damien replies, his voice tentative.

I scan the semi-dark room with my eyes. "Why...how? Oh my God. I want to go home now. My family will be looking for me," I mumble as my eyes dart to the floor to look for my shoes.

"Please, Gretta. Will you at least sit down and listen to what I'm going to say? I will take you home after this, I promise."

I cross my arm around my torso, hugging myself tightly. "Why am I here, Damien?"

"We went here after we talked to Mary yesterday," Damien says, and thank God that the man stays rooted to his spot. "Don't you remember any of that?"

"No." I shake my head. "W-we talked to Mary?"

Damien nods. "Yes, to find the answer about what happened in the woods that afternoon."

"Huh?" I don't know what he's talking about.

"And it was her." When I give him a blank expression, he adds, "The woman in the wood was Mary, but it was just an act; she wasn't really injured or died. What you saw three days ago in the woods was real, Gretta. You weren't hallucinating."

I gulp but my throat feels so dry, still hard for me to grasp all this sudden information. "Mary is alright then?" I mutter under my breath. "H-has it been three days you said? But last night..." He must have caught the confused tone in my voice because his face is turning softer.

"You were here with me last night. You went to town yesterday morning. By yourself. And we bumped into each other near the bakery store."

My stomach churns as I recognize the familiarity of the predicament. It's happening again. I had another episode of blank memory, and it was going on for three days!

I close my eyes, forcing myself to remember the scene of me going to town alone. How did my family let me go without a chaperone? It doesn't make any sense! And how on earth did I end up in Damien's place? Did he offer me to come? Did I ask him to? Does Lola know about all of this?

Yet, nothing comes up from my chaotic mind.

My eyes shoot open and roam over Damien's room once again to see if something can poke my memory about yesterday's occurrence, but I find nothing. My heartbeat picks up as panic starts to creep in, followed by my struggle to breathe at normal pace.

"It's alright, it's alright. It's totally fine if you can't remember anything. Just give yourself some time to digest it. Okay? No need to panic." Damien's voice snaps me out of growing uneasiness. "Please, sit down, Gretta, and I'm going to get you water. Just calm down and everything is going to be alright."

My body tenses up when Damien moves, but he scoots to the other side of his bed which makes me less jittery. He then puts on a black shirt he snatches from his dresser and walks to the fridge on the other end of the room. My eyes keep following his every movement while a thousand questions bounce up in my head.

What did Mary tell me yesterday? How did I find her? Did I go to the bookstore? Or did I call her beforehand to make an appointment? And how did Damien get involved with all of this?

I tense up again when he turns around and saunters in my direction with a glass of water in his hand. He halts when he catches my anticipation, a sadness flashing in his eyes.

"I swear I'm not going to hurt you. Just please, sit down and I will put this glass of water on that nightstand next to you. You need to drink before we talk more."

After assessing his expression, I silently nod and carefully settle on the black reading chair next to me. My bag and my denim jacket are hanging on its backrest which I assume I must have sat here yesterday. Damien places the glass next to me before sitting down at the edge of his bed and facing me. At least, he's giving me my space by taking his distance.

Despite the summer sun glimmering in the sky, Damien's grey curtains block most of the light from coming into the room, but it's clear enough for me to see how uneasy he is right now, and I find this weird. Ever since Lola introduced him to me, Damien has been a confident guy and he never bothers with anything around him.

"I know you will forget about what happened when you wake up. You told me this last night," he starts once I finish drinking the water.

"I did?"

"Yes. You said that you sometimes forget stuff and remember it later, but it's also possible that you won't recall anything at all. That's why last night you asked me to tell you about the talk with Mary yesterday. You wanted me to make sure you don't miss anything."

Hanging on to his every word, I look down at the glass in my hand. My grip is so hard that I'm afraid I'm going to break it at some point. I wonder if we have built some rapport in the past two days. Have we become friends now?

He then tells me the details about bumping into me in the town center. He also tells me about the trip to Mary's house and about her revealing the whole truth regarding the bloody scene in the woods. And he tells me why my family did such a despicable thing to me, but it's hard to believe that part.

"There must have been some misunderstanding. My family won't do such a thing," I say, yet one teardrop, two teardrops, and more teardrops fall down my cheeks. Just thinking about it already makes me sad. Lola and Mother can always ask if they want me to share my inheritance. I would be glad to hand it to them if it would bring a better outcome. And they know that.

"I'm sorry. It must be painful to learn about this. You adore your family, but–"

"My family loves me, Damien."

"I want to believe that too, Gretta." He extends his hand to try to hold my hands, but I pull my hand inwardly.

"This is a misunderstanding. I'm sure of it."

Damien brushes his hand through his dark locks, looking frustrated. "Alright. Let's get ready and drive to Mary's house. She must be waiting for us now. And maybe Mary can make you see this from a better angle."

Feeling relieved that I can finally leave this place, I put back the glass on the nightstand before taking my jacket off the seat backrest. Deep down, I start to think if Damien or Mary is telling the truth but how is that possible? If anything, Damien and Mary are strangers to me. As Father always says, I must trust my family.

But what is his motive to tell me lies? Is it money? No, he would not get anything from this because if the horrid plan to get rid of me was successful, he and Lola would be in the next line to receive my fortune. He wouldn't be trying to stop the plan if he wanted my inheritance. Something just doesn't add up, and I don't know who to believe now, not even myself.