Table Of Contents
Chapter 2
Conscious
Eying the artful parade of gourmet treats showcased in the vitrine, my tastebuds ached in anticipation. A splendid array of pastries, adorned with chocolate intricacies and cream garnishes, flaunted their edible allure across a polished silver tray. “My goodness, our star patient looks a little brighter today,” observed the woman presiding over the commissary.
“She does indeed,” Vanity chimed in, joining me from behind.
I giddily announced her, “I’m being allowed out today, a day at the beach!”
“How wonderful! You’re absolutely fortunate, my dear,” she exclaimed, promptly wrapping the slab of fudge that Vanity had picked for me.
Up until now, my stint in the hospital had been nothing short of pleasant. Wandering through the labyrinthine tunnels and enchanting gardens, it felt like I was languidly traipsing through a fairytale. The facilities’ expansive landscape felt intriguingly limitless. The days when the confinement relaxed and the vast outdoors beckoned became my cherished anomalies. My homeland, Krasimer, felt like a distant memory, separated from Luxmeer by an unending stretch of ocean, lingering on maybes and what-ifs.
But beneath this apparent tranquility, discomfort frothed. The ambiguity hovered around my “condition” like a malicious entity, its definition frustratingly elusive. All I knew was that whatever ‘it’ was, it was lethal and aggressively gnawing away at me. The answers to my ceaseless inquiries wavered within the realm of uncertainty, further concealed by the vague terminologies they employed. I sensed clandestine whispers echoing in hidden corners and hushed conversations abruptly interrupted on my arrival. My attempts at stealthily weaving my lingering doubts into casual exchanges gave birth to nothing but newer layers of obfuscation. My truths remained tethered away, incarcerated within a fortress of silence.
Rivers of icy chills would leave behind a trail of condensing droplets on my bare legs, painting a damp artwork on the canvas of my skin. Critters would scamper about within their watery domain, spiraling around in a dance that mirrored the tidal pools they occupied. The damp shoreline was my stage and I reveled in the sensation of grit caressing my every toe. A gentle zephyr whisked past on that day, playfully tugging at my hair. As the ocean’s fingers reached for me, I would retreat, pirouetting away from its intrusive grasp. My voice would ricochet off the waves with gleeful abandon, claiming, “Such splendor!” Amidst the bleach-white sands, Vanity perched atop a pristine towel, with Cody – her recent comrade – perched on her flank, and the enigmatic Azamoth claiming a space to Cody’s side. We were but a small ensemble, as alien to one another as we were to the beachgoers who dismissed us like specters barely discernible in daylight.
Bathing in the sea was like an elixir to the monotony of domestic days. Tired of the shoreline’s embrace, I ventured back to my so-called tribe, and eagerly participated in their exchange. “So, Primina, how did the sea treat you?” Vanity inquired, her voice laced with joy.
Bubbling with enthusiasm, I returned, “Marvelous!”
I would find my gaze ensnared by Cody’s smile, with its immaculate teeth and eyes dancing with proud sparks. His delight at my progress was insinuatingly infectious. “You seem to be gaining more control compared to the previous week. It heartens me to witness the effectiveness of your therapy.” I responded with a vigorous agreement, my own eyes alight with satisfaction. The early days seemed to be an unending nightmare where pain was my shadow; but in due time, the ache waned, and now was as insignificant as a pebble in my shoe.
Beaches are like memory fragments, echoes of history that remain buried in the recesses of childhood. But amongst the missing pieces, there lingered familiar faces – the vestiges of a bygone era.
Azamoth’s wolfish grin would inevitably cut through his icy veneer, his proclaimed antidote to pervasive ennui being, “Anything but this cursed boredom that swallows all joy.”
Even Azamoth’s cynicism couldn’t dampen Vanity’s laughter which bubbled up and lasted for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She ribbed him with a wry smile, “Oh, Azamoth, your pessimism is amusing. And on a day that has gifted us with the most fun in years.” Vanity was a beacon of reliability and over time, I began to see her as a harbor in a sea of strangers.
Cody was a constant presence, and though there was an air of intrusive surveillance about him, he was nonetheless, kind.
Amongst our triad, Azamoth was an enigma – always impeccably neat and reticent, like a Sphinx holding onto age-old secrets. My observation led me to conclude that he refrained from expressing much, following an unspoken code of reservation. The camaraderie at the hospital was congenial, a veil that conveniently hid the fact that I was the only one of my age. A realization that was at first surprising, yet the warmth that others extended made it easy to abandon such thoughts.
Intrigued by Vanity’s teaser, I queried, “What ‘interesting thing’?”
As Vanity and Cody shared perplexed glances, Azamoth’s eyes locked onto me. His single-worded retort resounded, “You.”
Cody’s first reaction was to raise a skeptical eyebrow, shooting Azamoth a pointed look of warning. “You’ve quite a talent for awkward humor, Azamoth. Keep her guessing about whether you’re serious or not.”
None of this seemed to affect me. However, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that he might have been sincere.
Vanity interjected, “Let’s put a halt to this, shall we? We are here to relax, remember? Let’s not devolve into petty disputes.” I picked up that they were shifting their focus towards me. Their intense scrutiny made me feel like prey under a predator’s gaze. Their silent insinuations gnawed at my peace and I found it increasingly difficult to disregard the creeping sense of unease that had taken root within me.
To top it off, they were cagey about the duration I’d been in “stasis.” Up until now, my means of extracting information was through seemingly innocent, small questions. With the group indulging in humor, this seemed an apt time to pose another of my nondescript queries. When I asked Azamoth his age, his response was a peal of laughter that jarred me.
Cody cracked a smile, his posterior straightening on the sand, while I could sense the artificiality of Vanity’s restrained amusement. It was the mask that they wore. I frowned, “What’s all the fuss about?!”
Unfazed, he volleyed back, “Well, how old might you be, dear?”
My face fell at the candidness of his question. “How old am I?” And it’s not that my mind didn’t want to remember. It seemed to have forgotten. How could I forget something so rudimentary as my age? It was as though my stasis had jumbled all my recollections; only fragments of an unknown past remained. I expressed my frustration out loud, “I…I donna think I remember it.”
His stare met Cody’s as he pronounced, “The youngest amongst us might just be the oldest. Isn’t that amusing, Cody? Why won’t you let her in on it?”
Throwing a rueful look at Azamoth, Cody confessed, “I don’t know.”
Azamoth was relentless. “But how old does she appear to be?”
Cody’s hostility melted away in response to Azamoth’s challenging gaze. Whatever Azamoth had insinuated, Cody wanted to keep things from me. “And what purpose does it serve to know?”
Undeterred, Azamoth pressed on. “Oh, come on. If you had to guess, would it be teenage? Or even younger? How old does she look?” Cody returned to his relaxed posture, managing regained composure. “Based on her physique… I’d guess she might be around twelve, could very well pass off as fifteen.”
I persisted, seeking an answer, “But how old am I actually?” Silence descended on us. “Right, you’re keeping it from me. I get that you hide the length of my stay in stasis.” Despite my attempt to sound whimsical, there was an unmistakable sadness in my voice. “I don’t get why you don’t want me to know.”
What Vanity offered was an evasion as she replied with, “We don’t have an exact record of your stay in stasis.”
And there it was – the veiled truth. The dam had been breached. So, I asked, “What else are you keeping from me?” What bewildered me was how it was possible for them to be unaware. Surely, my records would indicate the information.
Cody let out a sigh of resignation. “There’s a lot you aren’t aware of. We want to safeguard your innocence. We don’t want to burden you with information that isn’t vital to your well-being, Primina. A young one like yourself shouldn’t have the world’s troubles thrust upon you. Instead, you should rejoice that you’re safely out of stasis.” Cody’s face softened and he wore a sympathetic pout. “It isn’t my decision to keep certain matters from you. As much as they prevent you from knowing, I am restricted from revealing them as well. It’s tough on me too.”
As I awoke, my eyes greeted dazzling luminance. Upon realizing the wires writhing over my flesh, fear seized me. My screams pierced the sterile room, meeting the horrified eyes of the personnel – their faces concealed behind shiny plastic masks. A gloved hand was hastily placed over my mouth, muffling my horrified wails. As they restrained my body, a sickly taste invaded my senses, knocking me out cold once more into familiar oblivion.
I stirred in my bed, emerging from the bewildering blackness of unconsciousness. Vanity occupied the end of my bed, her countenance etched with a mixture of relief and anxiety. “You’ve returned to us,” she announced, her voice a soothing tonic to my groggy senses. My eyelids felt as if they were weighted with stones and my limbs were rendered useless, limp as wilted flowers.
As I endeavoured to rise, Vanity’s hand gently anchored me down. “Rest now,” she implored, “You suffered a seizure.”
A furrow formed on my forehead, a silent protest etching its way across my face. “No seizure,” I insisted, “I was at the ocean’s edge, and then… a room. Doctors, not seizures, Vanity.”
Vanity looked at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You had a seizure. You gained consciousness during the medical assistance,” she confessed, but I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The straightforward, honest Vanity was shrouded behind an opaque screen of deceit. “It’s alright, these things happen,” she added, a feeble attempt to mollify my worries.
Confusion seeped into my veins like ice-cold water, numbing me. Her untruth jarred with my understanding of the woman I knew. Why would Vanity distort the reality? What purpose could her lie serve? As I surveyed the fragments of my memory, they were disjointed and blurred, like a reflection in disturbed water. The tranquillity of the beach mingled with the discordant scene of white-lab coats and pungent antiseptic. Perhaps Vanity wasn’t fabricating facts, but augmenting them to protect me. The more I pondered over it, the more enigmatic the truth seemed – wrapped in a cocoon of uncertainty.
Months pass…
The antiseptic aroma of the doctor’s office permeated the air as the whir of mechanical servos echoed against the sterile white walls. Metal arms moved with an uncanny precision, creating a symphony of metallic clinks and the occasional sizzling spark as they meticulously assembled a glass tube. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the blurry form of Hellibor, his steps muted on the clinical tiles as he moved behind me, out of my sight.
My feet dangled like a child’s, barely brushing the cool stainless steel footrest of the chair, a contraption that morphed with soft hums and subtle adjustments to mold into an eerily comfortable seat. A needle pierced my vein, a painless intrusion I had grown accustomed to, as my life essence, a river of red vitality, left me to be collected in the glass tube. The constant rhythm of my heart played out through monotonous electronic beeps, a haunting backtrack to my predicament.
“This marks the third time this month, Hellibor,” I said, laying my head on the rest. My protest echoed in the room, mirroring my unease. Rules were defined, set in stone — a blood draw twice a month. It was supposedly for my benefit. An echo of the mysterious beach incident and my subsequent visits circulated in my mind. “Why the exception?”
Hellibor’s footsteps slowed, their frequency a mirror to my rising apprehension. Needle draws used to scare me. The initial phase was particularly gruesome, but over time, the discomfort became routine. Hellibor’s commendable punctuality played a part. Never a missed vein, ever the impeccable professional.
After a brief titter, Hellibor recomposed himself. “My, you do remember those pesky rules well, don’t you?” He approached me, the corners of his mouth lifting to give way to a warm smile— a facade of amiability that didn’t quite ring true. His smile was unnatural, like wearing a vibrant, flamboyant piece of clothing that simply doesn’t match your style. It was disconcerting on his usually stoic face. As I clenched the armrests, Hellibor continued, “Smart girl, Primina. We have a slight hiccup in your treatment. We must expedite the process as we’re losing precious time. We need additional blood samples to ensure everything is progressing as it should.”
His words sent a spark of rebellion coursing through me. These rules— iron-clad doctrines that bent and buckled for no apparent reason. Rather than ensuring consistent treatment protocols, they seemed arbitrary and solely applied to me. This sudden deviation from protocol was unsettling. “I didn’t consent to this,” I shot back.
At his full height, Hellibor patted the back of my leg with a fatherly touch, his laughter hollowly echoing in the room. “But dearest Primina, if memory serves me right, you never did consent in the beginning. You used to resist with unmatched vigor. Oh, the memories of you skulking in the vents to avoid these appointments. However, hunger always brought you back. You’re a gift, Primina, a truly miraculous being.”
As I eased back into the chair, a pang of reminiscence caught me. “What about the others? The man I often saw by the river, or the woman from the commissary— they’ve been absent lately. Where are they?”
Hellibor paused, his attention shifting to the crimson sample before him. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized he’d completed the draw. His graying blue eyes meeting mine, he replied nonchalantly, “Your guess is as good as mine. How about we do a little search for them after you’ve recovered?” But I knew we would never search. We never did.
The verdant grass under my moccasin-clad feet offered springy comfort that tantalized my bare legs, a playful tease that titillated my senses rather than chafed my skin. The tantalizing aroma of blushing onions and succulent steak, simmering in a decadently creamy red pepper cheese reduction, wafted its delicious siren call from the tinware plate set in my lap. The promise of a dessert of vivid, crimson cherries and a heartening serving of dark leafy greens illuminated my eyes. As I gingerly poked my fork into the steak, a stream of juice lazily flowed from the steak as if a hidden vein found release.
However, the tranquility was abruptly disturbed as an odd sensation awakened along my spine, a light ghostly touch that almost wasn’t there yet snatched away all my attention. “Vanity?” I queried aloud, a small murmur of confusion tangled with the question. Her gentle touch was not entirely unwelcomed, and in fact, I yearned truly for her soft caresses. The continual practice of maintaining a strict distance had worn me thin to perpetual loneliness. But I understood the dangers of such intimate proximity.
“Ah, you rascal,” Vanity’s voice wrapped itself around me like a warm shawl as she chuckled softly, “I don’t ever dine at this early hour, not until my shift ends.”
“But I’m dining now,” I offered in a petulantly childish retort. “After all, couldn’t we just switch our meal times? I could just as easily dine later.” My inquiry hung in the air like an unfinished melody as I lifted a loaded forkful of greens, glancing at her customary, crisp attire, almost a mirror image of my own, but immaculately white, save for the understated blue hemlines that highlighted her slender form.
A beautiful, serene smile graced her lips today, one distinct from her usual stoic facade. “Prina, your dietary schedule is curated specifically to replenish your energy after the infliction of those frequent blood draws. Our benefactor, Hellibor, seems inclined to increase their regularity even. Your nutrition is paramount, or else you risk falling prey to anaemia.”
“And yet, you aid in procedures that could potentially kill me,” I say, a daring edge sharpening my words. An intrusive, albeit calming sensation crept down my scalp, as Vanity ran her fingertips through my hair, each strand manipulated like it bore its own life. “You’re touching me…” The words slipped from my lips on their own, as if independent from my thoughts. “Vanity, this is not right,” I whispered, pulling at her persistent fingers, but they weaved their retort through my hair. “Vanity?” I repeated, this time more of a plea than a reprimand.
Her sigh breezed across my cheek, filled with lingering humor, “Oh dear Prina, your frown lines would rival Hellibor brimming with his ire. Ease your worries and soak in the tranquil beauty of our surroundings.” I glanced arm’s length away, taking in the panorama of mossy grounds intertwining with stone-paved paths amidst a wooden promenade, the sky mirroring the earth in a glossy landscape, distorting the world into a surreal canvas of a submerged life.
Despite my vain attempts to settle my nerves at her plea, my angst resurfaced, a crippling fear taking hold of me. “But Vanity, we run the risk of incurring more than just physical pain, we could be separated.”
“Prina,” she gingerly began, her soft voice breaking against the mounting tension, “Does it hurt?” Her question held a note of silent pleading. I shook my head absently, the truth of her observation silencing my anxiety. “Then, how can this be counted against us?” Her reasoning resonated, but my mind was already spinning wicked possibilities; a vision invaded my thoughts, with Vanity pulling at my locks viciously, ripping the very skin off my skull and exposing the raw flesh housing my brain. The grotesque imagery forced a knotted lump into my throat.
With each chew of the greens, I allowed myself the escape into the mindless, rhythmic act of simple eating, a temporary distraction from the horrors I had conjured. The fear that surged within me was new and overwhelming; each masticated gulp of food punctuated my growing anxiety. “But Vanity,” I muttered, “our transgressions will not go unnoticed.”
A curtain of midnight strands of Vanity’s hair tumbled onto my face, tickling my nose. I laughed at the playful intrusion, lightly pushing the weightless obstruction away. “Vanity, enough.” Her fingers began to move again, managing to coax out a delighted giggle as their feathery touch danced down the sensitive expanse of my ribs. And then, I was falling, collapsing onto the lush carpet of grass, my heart pounding in rhythm to the infectious laughter that bubbled out in uncontrollable waves. “Vanity, stop! Or I might embarrass myself thoroughly.” She settled next to me, a soft hum of her own laughter fading away into the open space surrounding us.
“That was quite exhilarating,” she admitted, and I found solace in her shared sentiment. But as if the universe itself indulged in irony, our stolen bubble of tranquility shattered as Hellibor boomed, his face contorted into an inhuman snarl. “Vanity! What breach caused this outrage?!” Fear stiffened her frame, she got up as if spring-loaded, her movement fluid and hurried, a sad mime act on a tragic stage. As he pointed a trembling finger towards the gate marking the boundary of our garden, Vanity fell mute, disappearing through the venue almost instantly.
I felt his anger then, simmering with indignation, as the word ‘You’ rang ominously in the air. Confession was obligatory, or the consequence had an insurmountable cost. “Hellibor,” I pleaded, “I take responsibility for my actions. It was I who broke our rules – not Vanity.” As my words were echoed back with deafening silences, I added in desperation, “I am sorry and I promise I will not repeat my actions. Give me a chance to prove it.” I broke under his stern gaze, my final plea sounding hollow, even to my own ears.
His response was an impassive shake of his head, “Do as you please, but as of now, finish your meal. I will counsel you on how to proceed later. You are to return to your quarters until further notice. Am I clear?” The frost in his words froze my heart instantaneously. My affirming nod most likely went unnoticed as he stalked away, leaving me stranded in solitude with an untouched meal and a heart filled with dread.
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