Page 15 of Cain

My head is pounding. I feel like throwing up, as if I had drunk the whole party last night. My eyes open in a stupid attempt to wake up, but it’s clearly a mistake. Dazed and hazy, I try to get up from the bed I’m lying in.

The headache is unbearable, and the room is spinning. I sit on the bed and rest my head in my palms, pressing my throbbing temples, trying to ease the pain.

I need water. I always leave a glass of water on my nightstand. Without giving it a second thought, I reach for the glass next to me, and strangely, I see a pack of painkillers right next to it. Weird. However, this little bottle seems like a lifeline in my excruciating morning.

Is it morning? It’s still too dark. With shaky hands, I gulp down a painkiller and down the glass of water greedily, as if it will ease my pain faster. I am dehydrated.

How much did I drink last night? But, wait … I don’t even drink.

Suddenly, I lift my gaze to scan the room. It isn’t as dark as I’d thought; the space is dimly lit. This place doesn’t feel like home. Where the hell am I?

I lower my eyes to check myself and realize I’m no longer wearing the dress from last night but instead an oversized white shirt. It looks like a man’s shirt.

My heart starts pounding, and my skin crawls. In an instant, I feel like I’ve sobered up, and I dart my eyes everywhere, trying to understand where I am.

No, I’ve never seen this place before. The room looks opulent and endless, filled with heavy yet modern furniture, and there are three doors.

I need to get out of here. One of them has to be my way out.

I get up and rush toward the first door, the one centered on the wall, but just as I reach for the handle, it opens wide.

“Hello, there.”

“You?!”

Cain? Is this his house? What happened? Why can’t I remember? Did he kidnap me?

He takes a step forward, making me take one back, and closes the door behind him. My eyes stay locked on him, tracking his every move, every lingering glance he casts my way.

He looks different now. Darker, more sinister. The man who saved me last night now looks like the thing I should be running from. Every cold expression on his face, every shift in his stance, radiates danger.

He scans the room, and his eyes land on the nightstand.

“I see you took the painkillers.” He moves closer. “Your head must be pounding.”

“What?”

“Sit and relax. I will explain everything.”

Sit and relax? Dude, you kidnapped me, and you’re asking me to relax?

“Why don’t you open the door?”

He crosses his arms, making my stress accelerate. “It’s not locked. You can leave the room if you want. I just want to talk to you first.”

“I want to leave.”

His eyes are intense and persistent on mine as he uncrosses his arms and prowls closer to me. Unwillingly, I take a few steps back until I trip and fall onto the bed.

He gently grabs my chin and raises my head to meet his glance. “You’re safe here.”

I can’t breathe normally. I feel my breaths becoming shallow and my lower lip quivering in fear.

“What do you want?” I ask, my eyes refusing to look away from his.

He hums, his face expressionless. “Your safety, Katerina.”

My jaw tightens as tears slip down my cheeks. “Then let me go home,” I whisper, my voice trembling.