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Was I decomposing?
“Turn it off,” I grumbled to the one who had spoken earlier.
My muscle reflexes told me to turn my head left, but I couldn’t, despite my brain sending the commands.
“You’re up for all of five minutes and already grumpy.”
A voice I knew well joined the conversation from the opposite direction. The owner of it ranked very low on my list of voices I wanted to hear when I died. Or didn’t die. Who knew what was real and what wasn’t anymore?
The woman from earlier answered my prayers when she finally switched off the light. An angel, not a ghost. I misjudged her.
The room slowly came into focus. I wasn’t in a hospital, but in a room resembling one. Tucked in bed, I lay there, surrounded by two Galkins: Maxim and his sister-in-law Mila.
While I tried to make sense of the situation, Don walked in with Taya beside him.
An unexpected visit from him was always a cause for alarm. Someone must have fucked up.Royally.
I might be that stupid someone.
Upon seeing me conscious, Taya approached with caution. Maxim matched each of her steps with one of his own, reaching for the spot his hand so often occupied, eyes fixed on the very bedI lay in.
Was he guarding her? From me?
I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I couldn’t even control my own body. Not a single finger would move.
With a pointed look, she called him off, and the Russian’s steps halted midway as if an invisible barrier stood before him. Maxim never stopped staring, his posture daring me to move an inch toward what was nowhis.
What the hell was happening?
Taya neared the bed, about to explain, I was sure. Except the words came too fucking late. The image of her sitting on the bed beside me, her man’s protectiveness mirroring my own, created a déjà vu.
The realization hit me like a tidal wave. It took me under while the memories rushed back.
Men. Visions. Closet. HER.
Gasping for air, I choked on the emotions squeezing my throat.
“Alisa,” I whispered her name, a question and a plea in one.
Frantically searching the room for answers, I clung to hope. This tiny, little probability that would suggest none of this was happening.
I settled on the one I knew was always straightforward in her answers. But when Taya shook her head, sorrow controlling her features, I got my answer.
I gritted my teeth and let the anger pour out. The roar coming from me was a battle cry.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
THE END (FOR NOW)