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(XXXV.)

Media: There She Stands by Michael W Smith

"Today, we honour the victims whose lives were taken away by the Satanic act of the terrorists. On that day, some of us lost acquaintances, loved ones, relatives... friends... mentors. Though we may not have them here with us, our love for them keeps their remembrance in our hearts. We still feel their presence in spite of their absence...."

Jessica tried hard to concentrate on the minister's words to no avail. Last night's events kept on playing in her head. Not the dinner part—the part after dinner.

The letter's message.

The Shifters hadn't forgotten her. Just as she hadn't forgotten about them. What puzzled her, though, was how Kieran had managed to hold a pen to write the note, since he was an intangible being. The paper itself wasn't of a material she'd seen before. At first, she'd thought he'd torn a piece from her journal. And the pen? The ink was not similar to that of her pen.

Was it ghost-writing? That was the only explanation she could come up with.

Her eyelids drooped and she heaved a sigh. Crazy encounters and too much thinking had made her have barely enough sleep. Worst of all, nightmares disturbed her subconscious the moment she'd closed her eyes.

The projector screen on the wall behind the pulpit flashed. A music video began to play. Jess recognised it as Michael Smith's There She Stands, a song in honour of the victims of the nine-eleven terrorist attack fourteen years ago. She dozed off in the middle of the song.

Someone shook her awake sometime later. She jerked her head up from the back of the pew. Her eyes blinked open and looked around. The service had come to an end.

On the car ride home, Jess continued her slumber while her mother's lecture on not sleeping in church faded into the background. She was first to get down from the limo and race into the house. She took off her dress and shoes in seconds, and fell on her bed in her underwear.

Sleep embraced her immediately.

The room was dim. The shady light came from a vent with thin slits somewhere up on the wall. She tried to get up but something pulled her down.

Metal clanked. She glanced at her wrists; they were fettered. The chains attached strongly to the stone wall. She was sitting on a flimsy piece of wood fixed to the wall as a bench.

Her eyes danced around, taking in her surroundings. All she could see were stone and ancient. The room was bare. There were alcoves hidden at some parts of the walls. She could tell by the shadows at those points.

A voice hissed from one of them. Her head turned to that direction. She squinted her eyes to see, but it was too dark to make out anything.

"Hello?" She paused for a moment. "Is anyone there?"

No one answered.

The hiss came again. Sharp and louder.

She jerked her arms forward to free her wrists but the metal cuffs were tight. "Who are you? Come out, let me see you."

"You don't have to."

Instantly, her body stilled. Her eyes rounded. Sweat broke out on her skin. Her breath quickened while her heart raced.

"Dad?"

"Jessie."

She continued with her struggle with the chains. "Dad, get me out of here. I'm trapped."