Hanna’s blood ran cold and the darkness had begun spinning around her, suffocating her. The words Sol spoke already echoing in her mind.

“Because, Hanna. That’s the blood from when you killed me.”

“Hanna?” came Sol’s distorted voice. Whatever words followed sounded like a vinyl record being played slowed down and backwards. I killed Sol, she thought. And then the darkness engulfed her.

The morning light felt painfully bright. The birds singing only made the throbbing in Hanna’s head feel worse. How much did I drink? she wondered. She felt groggy and confused. She couldn’t remember going to bed. Then, slowly, she began to remember. The storm. The basement. Sol. Oh, not Sol.

Hanna sat up slowly and shook her head to clear it, which turned out to be a mistake that summoned nausea. But wait, she thought. Doesn’t that mean that it was all just a dream? Just a long, stupid, really scary dream? A sudden wave of dizziness had her sinking back into her soft pillows. “I’m glad it’s just a dream,” she mumbled, but her voice rang as muted and numb as she felt.

Why would I dream about killing Sol?

Luckily, she didn’t have to ponder it long, for a soft rapt on her door pulled her back to the present. It opened slightly before she could even form words to call out. Aema peeked her head inside. “Hey, you’re awake,” she said softly, pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping in with a silver tray. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank the entire Naval fleet under the table, lost a boxing match with Greg, and then got sat on by Harpagon until I nearly died. How are you?”

Aema chuckled good-naturedly as she gently set the tray upon Hanna’s night stand. “Well, you had quite an adventure for the night,” she sighed, picking up a bottle of medicine and measuring out liquid from one, then pills from another.

“What’s all that for?” Hanna asked as she eyed the tray, inventorying its contents. A glass of water, one vial of amber liquid, one bottle of white pills. A piece of buttered toast on a plate, a side of jam, a silver spoon, a cloth napkin, and a little golden bell. Oh, she was going to have some fun with that. Just as soon as her throbbing headache from her hangover receded.

Aema paused in her work to look at Hanna. “This one,” she said, holding up the bottle in which she took 3 small white pills, “Is for pain. You have to take three because we could only afford the weaker dose.” She gave a small, apologetic smile and handed the pills to Hanna, then helped her with the water glass.

“Thanks, Aema. I appreciate it,” Hanna told her sincerely. And she meant it.

“It’s not a problem,” Aema replied absently, picking up the silver spoon that she’d already measured liquid into. Cupping a hand underneath to avoid spilling onto Hanna’s bedding, she continued. “This one is to help you rest. The doctor paid a visit and said that you needed to take it easy for a couple of days, and rest as much as possible today. That’s an order,” she said, eyeing Hanna with raised brows.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Aema smiled as she spoon-fed Hanna the bitter liquid. “Your face always betrays what you’re thinking.” She followed Hanna’s gaze and gave a slight tilt of her head towards the tray. “For example, you’re thinking you probably won’t eat the toast, but you’re going to go nuts using that bell.”

Hanna grinned. “Am I so transparent?”

“Yes. And don’t think Chaos is going to be running back and forth doing things for you. He’s busy today too. It seems he caught a bit of a cold, so he’s in bed himself.”

Hanna gave a ‘hrmph’ and crossed her arms in mock sulking. “I never get to have any fun with my slave.”

As if on cue, a distant tinkling broke up the conversation. Aema gave a slightly exhausted look at the door. “He better not be asking what kinds of soups we have again. I swear, for such a low-maintenance guy most of the time, he’s really driving me crazy! Did you know he waited until his fever was dangerously high before he said anything? Between the two of you, I have my hands full,” she prattled as she rose and headed towards the door. “If you need anything,” she said, turning around, “Don’t be afraid to ring your little bell. One of us will come running. Or walking. ..Or dancing, apparently. Don’t ask.”

“Aema?” Hanna said, catching her before she could escape.

“Hm?” Aema turned to face her again.

“Where’s Sol? Is she back today?”

Aema’s eyes momentarily shifted away in discomfort, her face becoming a blank mask as she met Hanna’s eyes.

“Sol’s gone. Don’t worry about it for now. Just try to get some sleep.” Aema gave her a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes and backed out the door, closing it softly.

Hanna sank into the pillows, her blood running cold in her veins and her heart feeling slow and erratic. Sol’s gone, she thought. Gone. I wonder what that means..

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

But she didn’t have time to go down any mental rabbit holes, for her eyelids closed heavily, and she soon breathed in the deep rhythm of sleep.

-

Sleep came fitfully, but deep. Hanna had a series of nightmares, many featuring a skeleton strangling her or a blood-covered Sol looking at her questioningly, hands outstretched palm-up, or a pale, gruesomely eyeless Chaos, the black pits staring deep as his head jerked awkwardly into a tilt.

Hanna awoke in a sweat. She felt heavy and exhausted. The room was still bright, sun shining. On the nightstand to her right was a vase filled with freshly cut yellow flowers. Hanna tried to identify them, but her eyes couldn’t quite focus.

“Aren’t they pretty?” came Candace’s voice. Hanna struggled to look toward the sound and found Candace sitting in one of the fancy chairs by the balcony doors, sunlight streaming across her. She smiled at Hanna and clasped her hands. “I’m really glad you’re okay! We were really worried.”

Hanna tried to smile, but grimaced instead. The pain in her head hadn’t subsided, but settled into a dull beat. “Thanks,” she managed to croak out, her voice dry and cracking. It was as if the realization made her thirst awaken, her tongue like sandpaper, sliding thickly in her mouth.

“Oh! Here, let me help you,” Candace said, jumping up and rounding the bed to the nightstand on Hanna’s left. A pitcher and a glass of water sat on the table, but no tray was in sight. Perhaps Aema already took it, she thought dismissively. Candace helped prop Hanna up a little and aided her in drinking the water. Hanna wasn’t sure whether to be solely grateful, or embarrassed at having to be helped as though she were some kind of invalid, incapable of holding a glass. One look into Candace’s face, she saw the gentle expression and decided to be grateful. It wasn’t Candace’s fault she ended up like this. Was it? Hanna felt like she was forgetting something. But what?

Soohae.

“Where’s Soo?” she asked, her mouth now more of a thick paste than a dry wasteland.

Candace’s head popped up and grinned. “Oh, you know Soohae. She’s still in bed. Or maybe, in bed again? It’s hard to say. I think she’s just having a sleepy day.”

Hanna smiled weakly and allowed herself to slide back down into the pillows. Soohae was a ‘sleepy-bug’, as Sol liked to put it. It wasn’t unusual to see her yawning around the house or find her curled up like a kitten in a chair or sofa somewhere in the manor. Generally, she seemed to focus on the sunroom. Just like a cat, she inwardly chuckled. But her head felt groggy. She realized Candace was saying something, but couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Sorry, what?” she asked apologetically.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I should let you rest. I’ll come and visit you again later. Maybe we can have some tea if you’re feeling up to it.

“That sounds nice,” Hanna murmured. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes. She heard the gentle cadence of Candace’s voice saying something, but she couldn’t make out the words. In moments, sleep claimed her again.

--

Sometime late in the night, Hanna awoke feeling suddenly alert. It was already dark and moonlight poured across the room. The open balcony door allowed a breeze to blow the curtains in a gentle sway. It was strangely silent. No sound of the wind, no crickets chirping their songs outside. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her, but her body lay tensed and she swallowed hard.

After a few moments, when nothing happened, Hanna stiffly turned her head to her left. The nightstand held her favorite photograph in its frame, and the silver tray from before. A water glass, silver spoon, unused tea cup with saucer and the chrome teapot from the kitchen adorned the tray. Hanna tried to push through the confusion. Had Aema brought the tray back? Why did she bring tea and take away the water pitcher?

Feeling herself relax a little, Hanna turned to study the balcony, watching the curtains blow lazily in the silent wind.

“It’s good to see you awake, Hanna,” a voice said quietly from the darkness. Hanna’s eyes jerked to the shadows by the door and, after straining to see, she slowly began to make out the shape of the fancy chair Candace had used earlier in the day, a dark figure sat, one leg lazily crossed over the thigh of the other, some sort of book and writing utensil in the figure’s hands.

Hanna’s heart started and she missed a breath.

“S-Sol?” Hanna’s voice came out cracked, meek and unsure.

“I was worried about you, Hanna,” Sol continued, as if Hanna hadn’t spoken. Hanna’s mind swirled with questions and confusion, but only one thing was standing out. Something was strange about the way Sol was talking.

There wasn’t much inflection to her words. There was something flat..almost..clinical about the way she was speaking. As if she had used the words so often that they had no meaning, but she said them anyway, making to appease Hanna. The words were too measured, almost clipped.

“How long have you been here?” Hanna questioned, her voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, for quite a while now. I’ve been observing you Hanna. You seem like you’re doing better. Perhaps we’ll be able to get you up and around soon.”

Hanna blinked, studying Sol for a moment. That was when it clicked: she could see Sol! There was some unknown, dim light source illuminating the room. The much smaller room. Hanna felt confusion as she looked around her once luxurious room, only to find that she was in a small room, a strange green and beige paint on the walls. There was a large mirror taking up most of the wall across from her bed, and she could see her own refection.

The girl looking back at her had circles around her eyes, reminding her of a raccoon. Her hair was disheveled and unkempt. The thin metal railings of a twin footboard bed stood out and she looked down. Where a glorious queen bed with satin sheets and the softest down pillows on Ethos had once been, there now was only a stiff, twin bed with a thin, rough sheet and accompanying a thin, scratchy blanket. Instead of her own clothing, she wore some sort of strange hospital gown. The gown was also thin and scratchy, dotted with little pine trees on an off-white cotton cloth.

There were no windows in this tiny room, no balcony doors. No curtains. Only a narrow metal door to her left, where her large-framed walnut door once stood. A tiny window in the top of the door was dark, clearly shuttered from the other side. An observation window? What the hell was happening?

She looked back at Sol, her mouth opening to speak when she saw the white lab coat and some sort of identification badge. The dim light reflected off of the glossy card, so she couldn’t see what it had on it.

“I think we’ve made some really good progress today,” the strange Sol said, adjusting a pair of glasses Hanna had not seen before. This was wrong. All of it. It had to be a hallucination. A nightmare. Or.. Hanna decided that it had to be a fake Sol. Maybe she had drugged, or kidnapped and taken prisoner, and this was some sort of ruse to drive her crazy, or trick her into giving up some sort of information. She wouldn’t do it. But she could play the part until she could get her own information.

Hanna buried the fear she felt. It wouldn’t do her any good now, and she just had to get through this. Newly emboldened, and barely suppressing the smirk of her own genius, she looked at Fake Sol with the most innocent expression she could muster, eyes widening, mouth opening slightly.

“Have I been alright?” she asked timidly.

Fake Sol smiled, but it felt wrong. It was a cold smile, sterile. One where the light never reaches the eyes.

“As I said,” Fake Sol repeated, “I believe we’ve made some progress.”