The Last Night She Was Herself

1

The first thing I felt was pain.

A dull ache spread throughout my body, settling somewhere deep beneath my skin. My head felt heavy, my limbs strangely weak, and there was a bitter taste lingering on my tongue.

I slowly opened my eyes.

White.

A white ceiling stared back at me.

I blinked several times, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Where am I?

I tried to move, but even that felt strangely difficult. My body protested with every small movement.

Slowly, I pushed myself upright.

The sheets slipped from my shoulders.

I looked down.

A white sleeping gown.

My fingers froze against the fabric.

This wasn't what I had been wearing.

My heart skipped.

I looked around.

The room was unfamiliar.

The walls were painted a soft cream, almost warm beneath the dim light. Heavy curtains covered the windows. A bedside table stood beside me, holding a glass of water and...

Medicine.

My eyes lingered on it.

Why was there medicine here?

I swallowed.

My memories felt distant, scattered pieces I couldn't put together.

I remembered leaving.

I remembered-

Julian.

My chest tightened.

What happened after that?

I couldn't remember.

I pushed the thought aside and carefully moved toward the edge of the bed.

Something pulled at my leg.

Clink.

I froze.

For a moment, I didn't understand the sound.

Then I looked down.

A metal cuff circled my ankle.

A short chain disappeared beneath the bed.

My brows knitted together.

I reached down, fingers trembling as they touched the cold metal.

"What... is this?"

My voice sounded foreign to my own ears.

I tugged at it.

Nothing.

My breathing became shallow.

I tried again, harder this time.

Nothing.

Panic began crawling up my chest.

Then-

Click.

The door opened.

My hand immediately fell away from the cuff.

I looked up.

A man stood in the doorway.

I didn't know him.

At least... I didn't think I did.

He was tall, with dark, slightly messy hair and a face that would have been almost painfully handsome if not for the unsettling calm in his eyes.

He held a tray in his hands.

Food.

Water.

Medicine.

My eyes moved from the tray to his face.

He didn't speak.

Neither did I.

He simply looked at me.

Not with anger.

Not with surprise.

With something softer.

Something I couldn't understand.

I instinctively pulled the gown closer around myself.

He noticed.

His expression didn't change.

He stepped inside.

My body stiffened.

The door closed behind him.

Click.

My eyes never left him.

He walked toward the bed slowly, deliberately, as though he didn't want to frighten me.

But I was already afraid.

He placed the tray on the table beside me.

Then he looked at me again.

For several seconds, neither of us said a word.

I couldn't understand why he was looking at me like that.

Like he had been waiting.

Like he already knew me.

Then, finally, his lips curved into a faint smile.

"Good morning, Elara."

My blood turned cold.

I stared at him.

He knew my name.