Liana

 

 

 

I feel as if I’ve drowned in a big puddle of mud, immersed in a numbing darkness that pulsates inside me and around me like the heart of a giant beast. When I try to open my eyes, they refuse, as do my limbs when I try to move. They lay limp and heavy on the ground, as I realize that I am sprawled out on a wooden floor, unable to move or even see where I am.

There is no sound and no light, but there is pain. I have a blazing headache.

As I try again to open my heavy eyelids, I realize they are covered by something that’s been wrapped around my head. A soft and warm piece of fabric that’s pressed tightly against my skin, pushing my eyes shut and only leaving a small slit right below my mouth to allow me to breathe.

What the hell is this? What happened? Where am I?

I want to verbalize all these questions, but I can’t. When I try to speak, I’m suffocated by the same scarf that’s keeping my eyes shut. I need to get it off of me.

A strange-sounding groan leaves my mouth when I send another command for my arms to lift. This time, they obey. My hands feel as heavy as dumbbells when I move them up to my face to remove the blinding scarf. I expect there to be light once I manage to unwrap my head as well as I can without lifting my tired and throbbing head, but there is hardly any. I’m still consumed by darkness.

I find myself staring around a very dimly lit room when the scarf is removed. The only thing I can see clearly is a ceiling far above me, and a pitch of the roof to my side. A single light bulb is dangling from the ceiling and providing what little light there is. It provides nothing more than a low glimmer that helps me recognize contours and vague orientation of the room around me.

Wherever I am, it’s in a room on the uppermost floor of a rather old building with high ceilings and a wooden floor.

I remain on the floor, as if my body was nailed down to it. A terrible sense of foreboding sends trickles of fear through my veins, and it forbids me from moving.

Where is this? How did I get here?

I lazily turn my head to the side, only to find an empty wall about three feet away from me. There is nothing there, only a wall.

But then I notice something.

I’m not alone.

I hear another breath joining the faint sound of mine.

I roll my head to the other side and almost let out a shriek of panic when I see him. Suddenly, my entire body is painfully awake and my mind suddenly aware of the danger I might be in.

I jerk up to a sitting position so suddenly that I escape unconsciousness only by a whisker. An aching vertigo claims me as I tumble backward until my back is brushing against the empty wall, and I hold up one hand in a silly attempt of protection.

A short and violent cry fills the room as I try to cope with everything at once, the confusion, the pain in my head, that fucking dizziness, and the realization that there is a strange man sitting at the other end of the room.

Who the hell is he? Did he bring me here?

For what seems like an agonizingly long time, we just stare at each other while tense silence stretches between us. My eyes needed a while to get accustomed to the dim lighting, but now that they are, I cannot only detect the shape of the man sitting across from me, but I also get a better picture of the room we’re in. It’s small, the roof sloping on three sides, and there is only one very small window, which appears to be closed with a shade on the outside. An attic, that’s what this must be. I am in someone’s attic.

Probably his attic. The man is sitting on the floor, less than ten feet away from me, his legs crossed and palms resting on his knees, and his dark eyes are fixated on me. Even in his sitting position, I can tell that he must be rather tall, and powerfully strong. His shoulders are broad, and his upper arms stretch the material of the gray shirt he’s wearing, his muscles forming prominent lines.

All things considered, I have to admit that he is stunningly handsome. His dark eyes, thick eyebrows, and defined cheekbones give him a very sharp and mature look, even though he doesn’t seem to be that much older than me. A peppered stubble graces his chiseled jaw, and strong, dark strands of hair partly hide the left side of his face, as he wears it in a casual side-swept. It’s hard to tell many details under these circumstances, but I know that he is shockingly gorgeous. He would have taken my breath away anywhere else, but right now he does nothing but scare the hell out of me.

“Who are you?” I croak.

My hoarse voice breaks the silence between us, and even though it was nothing more than a whisper, my question comes out awfully loud and intrusive. I almost wish I hadn’t spoken.

He doesn’t reply, but I can see the hint of a smirk fleeting across his face.

Does my misery amuse him? Who is this sick bastard?

Instead of answering my question, he continues staring at me, the expression on his handsome face changing from a mischievous glare to a smile that frightens me even more.

I flinch when he suddenly rises to his feet, his impressive height towering over me.

“Beautiful,” he says with a deep, but low voice.

“Perfect.”