Aspen Heights, Book 2: Forgotten

Evianna

"Sir, the lights are on..." I sputtered. The room looked so much different in the light. There was wood paneling on the walls, I had forgotten. The room was so much bigger than I remembered. I couldn't recall the last time the lights were on. "I'm aware, thank you Evianna," the Abadon replied. The lights caused a glare on his bald head. "I just didn't know that you were interested in the lights anymore. Would you like me to open the blinds as well?" I offered hopefully. This room could use a little sunshine. "No, I still prefer the darkness," he replied, his voice completely emotionless. "Then why are the lights on now?" I asked. "Evianna, don't worry about it. What is it you want?" he asked impatiently. As usual, he was keeping me in the dark, even I, Evianna, his right hand man, was never told the plan. He treated me like an idiot and sometimes I wandered why I was still working for him. "I-I just wanted to...um..." "Spit it out Evianna!" He sneered. "Right, um, I actually just came from your daughter's quarters," I explained nervously. "Is she well?" he asked. "Of course! She's doing fine. Being taken care of a usual," I assured him. "Then what is the matter?" he barked. "Just, um, I...where do you think they go?" I blurted. He leaned forward in his throne, looking annoyed. "You don't have to answer it, obviously!" I said, instantly regretting my stupid question. He relaxed and looked thoughtful. "Well it's not like I haven't thought about it. Where do you think souls go when they're not dead, yet not present on earth like us?" he asked. "I don't know," I replied, unable to think of any possible explanation. "There's a Greek word, Limbus. It means border. Some call it limbo," he explained. "So, what are they on the border of?" I asked. "Our world and whatever comes after that," he said. "The afterlife?" The room had seemed warmer than usual at first because the lights were on, but now a shiver went down my spine. "Do you believe in heaven?" he asked. "Well yeah, but I believe these people, the ones we do this to, they're stuck. We trap them," I said, feeling guilty about my evil ways. "Ah, you are very smart. So if these people are stuck, if we trapped them, what does that make them?" he asked. I felt like I was taking a test, as if he was quizzing me. "I don't know, brain dead?" I guessed, wincing at my own dumb answer. "Excuse me? he spat, his eyebrows furrowing. "Nothing- I, uh...sorry sir," I stuttered. "No, I like it! People in a coma, People barely hanging onto life, people only surviving with the help of a mechanical heartbeat given to them by a machine. It's kind of like what we're doing here, except we don't have to help their heats beat, they do that on their own. We just move their minds somewhere else," he explained. But I was still confused. "So...they're lost? Where do they go sir?" I asked. "Darkness. They run, but they get nowhere. They hide, but they don't know what they're hiding from," he mumbled, entranced. "What if it isn't dark sir?" I questioned. "What else could it be?" he replied. "Light," I guessed. "The lights went out around here a long time ago," he reminded me. "But they're on today," I replied.

"Charlotte?" I whispered, taking another step closer to her unmoving body. I took a deep breath before saying what needed to be said. "I know it's been awhile since I've visited you..sorry about that. I was talking to your father the other day and he was talking about where he thought you might go...where you are. I still believe you're lost. I'm going to try to start convincing him to, maybe, stop this whole thing. Let you be free, or at least as free as he'll let you be. Your daughter looks just like you. She's got your eyes. The first time I saw her, I had to remind myself that it wasn't you, it was her. She's very strong. She got out. It makes me think that maybe you could also. I know it's a different situation, that we took control of her body, whereas your body is just laying here. But I still have hope. Please, just give me a sign," I begged her. And then I heard it, the faintest whisper, so quiet I wondered if I just imagined it. But no, it had to be real. "Elita," she had murmured. It was just a tiny whisper, but it was there and it was real. There was still hope.