When she's ready to face her teenage life, Zia Stephanie becomes enmeshed in a conspiracy that includes the survivors and her killer. What Zia Stephanie don't know, is that it won't be the last disaster to threathen her life. Pasts awaken, and memor...
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Zia Stephanie's POV
Exhaustion stepped into my bones the moment I opened my eyes. The fatigue had moved to my fingers. I sat at the cold floor. I gazed my eyes towards the surroundings. The forest was far-reaching, shadowy, and prospering. Its canopy was overshadowed by sycamore, elm, and spruce, who allowed adequate light to pass down for a hodgepodge of saplings to make use of the moss-covered grounds below.
Coiling branches dangled from many a tree, and a medley of flowers, which claimed quiet corners, clashed with the otherwise monotone forest grounds. A variation of noises, most belonged to birds, added life to the forest, and almost completely muffled the occasional sounds of breaking twigs beneath the feet of larger animals.
I stood on my feet, examining my body. "Where the fork am I?" I blinked.
Every little sound, a pebble scraping underneath my shoe, the wind pressing against the panes of the trees was amplified by the deafening silence. The forest looked like hollow sockets, empty and black, the life that once thrived within them, long gone, and abandoned.
I have a sinking feeling it would not be as straightforward as it seems. But whether there would be difficulties as immediate as arriving here in an unknown island. It's okay, I say.
I straightened my back and started walking. As I walked towards the pathway from the rays of the sunlight, silence filled my ears. But the more I walk further, I could hear the hollow echo of drilling...something was not right. It was as if there was a huge void.
There was a moment -- a pause -- before it harks its song and takes flight, spilling golden light upon the plains, across the hills, penetrating the deepest of forests, and scaling the tallest of peaks... I saw the sun.
But something was wrong. Where are my wounds from yesterday? Or was it yesterday? It sent shivers to my spine as I searched for the echoes. But I could feel someone was watching me.
Sure enough, I felt the tension gradually easing from my neck and some kind of liquid warmth filling my body as I saw the ocean.
"Where am I? Where are the others? I need Brent right now," I whispered to myself.
Memories from the past flooded my mind.
The white color on the walls in this room was complemented by the black and white Moroccan rug on the floor. Between the two was a mix of warm and cool influences from the warm woods of the coffee table and wicker poufs juxtaposed with the cool blues of the textiles on the couch.
I walked through the seemingly long passageway, with my pj's rolled up to my knees. "Mom!" I shouted, still preventing myself to yawn.
The room was so bright white that when you look at it, it blinds you for just a second and then you will come into view of its uniqueness. It was sterile, full of machines and beeping of sounds.
