Russian Roulette: Family secrets [2021 version]

Ch. 11: Yeah, I know, you'll kick my...

The bed felt amazing.

It had been a long time since she had slept that well, but something felt off. Mackenzie let herself nuzzle into the sheets, stretching to wake up her body. Something was definitely off; she did not sleep in a t-shirt. Either a lace nighty or nothing, but not a t-shirt, ever. And the t-shirt surely belonged to a man. It was way too large for her.

It was too soon.

There had been no warnings this time.

"No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, sitting up in the enormous bed, then she doubled over and threw up over the side of the bed.

Beads of sweat formed all over her skin, her hands got clammy, and her breathing became erratic. She clutched her chest and heaved for air, and it felt as if she had a heart attack, like she got held down by a crushing force, inhibiting her breathing. Her hyperventilating reached a point where she became lightheaded and her vision blurred.

The nightmare would begin again.

Mackenzie looked around, searching for clues as to where she was.

From the looks of it, she sat in a bed in a beautiful and luxurious bedroom. Warm maroon painted walls, light grey carpet, and light grey curtains pulled closed to keep out the sun, also not giving her a chance to look outside to see known landmarks. A small sofa in light leather with a chair and a light wood table stood placed near the window. A low dresser and a vanity also in light wood occupied the far wall. Framed pictures of breathtaking landscapes on the walls gave the room some personality.

Yes, a beautiful room, indeed.

The bed she sat in was big and comfortable, with maroon silk-satin sheets. She could not see her clothes or her purse anywhere, which worried her a lot. She wore a black t-shirt and, to her horror, no underwear.

But the expected smell of cigars, she could not detect. The lack of that sickening smell, infused in her worst nightmares, was what had her confused.

That was the one thing even more off than her strange surroundings.

The door got slammed open and a small woman in her late fifties rushed in, looking around to see if there were intruders. Her greyish hair she had pulled back in a neat bun, and her uniform, of a white shirt and a dark blue skirt with a little apron, looked meticulously ironed.

The woman rushed all flustered to the bed, eyeing the pool of vomit on the floor, careful to not step in it.

"Dear child, are you ok?" She looked at Mackenzie with concern over the rim of her gold-framed glasses.

"Where is he?" Mackenzie's heart sat in her throat. She could barely breathe, let alone think. She was ready to cry or flee. Neither had helped her in the past.

The woman nodded in understanding. "He's coming, I'm sure."

"No, I can't. Not again, not yet," Mackenzie pleaded with the woman while all color left her face, and she backed up in the bed like a trapped animal until she sat pressed against the headboard and pillows.

From the hall outside running footsteps sounded, a lot of them, and before Mackenzie knew it, Gareth came crashing into the room, moments later followed by Jace, Cracker, and two others.

"Are you ok?" Gareth asked out of breath as he rushed to the bed, none too gallantly pushing the woman aside to sit next to Mackenzie. He did not notice, or maybe he did not care about the vomit.

"I'm sorry," Mackenzie stammered, unsure how to react to Gareth's worried facial expression, and the way he tilted her back and forth to check if she was hurt. "I just thought... I think I had a nightmare. And I didn't know where I was." She glanced at the woman, hoping she would say nothing about their earlier word exchange. Mackenzie needed to breathe deeply. She felt paralyzed. Every fiber of her was in flight mode, and she shook like a leaf.