Divine Selection

Chapter Three

Adrian

August, 22
Gotham: 3:14am

          I woke up in a suffocating cocoon of silk.

         I clawed at the bedding until I broke free from the humid prison of soft fabric; the cold air feeling foreign in my lungs.

        Upon assessing the fact that I was back in my own bedroom, I swung the Arabian purple sheets off of me, and rushed into the bathroom.

        Once there I twisted the nob of the vintage fosset, and splashed icy water onto my oblong face. My heart was beating feverishly and my breath rigid matching its pace.

        I fell against the wooden door, before sliding down to the checkered flooring. I pressed my knees into the temples of my fore-head; the storm colored fabric of my sweatpants absorbing the liquid.

        I have been plagued with nightmares ever since I could remember. Petrifying reminders of every awful that has happened in my miscible life.

        This one in particular has been starring in my dreams and thoughts of the late: The scorching fire closing in around me from all directions – smoke so thick, it was nearly impossible to muster a single breath without having the moisture evaporate from my lungs. The sense of panic flooding through my body and clouding my mind.

        The water crashing into the porcelain sink invaded my hearing once more. The pounding against my rip-cage started to subside.

        I rubbed my hands over my wet face and ran my beige fingers through my tangled hair. I hoisted myself up.

        I turned the fosset off, inhaling deeply as the last of the transparent liquid vanished into the drain. Taping my fingers rapidly against the counter, I came to a conclusion: sleep was overrated.

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August, 22
Gotham: 3: 18 am

        My movements were soundless as I crept through the corridors of the old manor, and into the kitchen.

        The chilly ivory and ebony tiles felt smooth against my bare feet as I scurried over to the stainless-steel refrigerator.

        The artificial light reflected off the metal plated ceiling, and bathed everything in a dim luminescence; the spacious room the was adorned with polished wood cupboards and white marble counter-tops, an old cast-iron stove, and ginormous metal sink that aligned the cream walls.

        I peered back into the fridge, where I saw an arrangement of fresh ingredients – all of which required effort to make edible.

        A vexed sigh escaped my chapped lips. I  began to close the door, when a brown object caught my eye from the top shelf; there stood on a porcelain plate, a singular piece of chocolate cheesecake wrapped in shimmery plastic-wrap.

        Joy blossomed inside me as I retrieved the delectable pastry, shut the refrigerator door, stole an antique fork from a drawer, and hopped up on the long island in the middle of kitchen.

        My toes leisurely scrapped against the flooring as my legs gently swayed over the edge of the counter-top. I dove my fork into the last bit of the cake and scooped it into my mouth.

       I jumped off my make-shift seat and placed my dishes into the sink.  I didn't know how explain it, but I couldn't shake the lingering feeling of eyes being locked on me – it wasn't due to the lack of light since my enhanced retinas gave me the ability to see fairly well in the dark. But I couldn't help but think that there was something – someone lurking just beyond the shadows of the kitchen.