Page 23 of Demonic Cage
In the middle of the rock room stands Darya, with a long, black-haired woman. I’ve never seen her before. Looking at her, the hairs on my neck stand up. Her white skin is unnaturally yellowish and scaly. She drags her black, sharp claws along the edge of the large bowl in front of her. The bowl is held by a column, and from here, I can see it’s filled with water.
“How is she?” Darya asks, looking at the bowl. The absence of wrinkles makes the woman seem ageless.
“Sleeping.” Her voice is deep and her mouth doesn’t move. A golden band follows the curve of her head, ending in a golden circle in the middle of her forehead. A red eye nestles within it.
My curiosity overcomes me, and I step closer to the bowl. Only I am reflected back. From a distance, I could have sworn I saw movement in the liquid. I touch the marble, and the black-haired woman hisses. A cruel smile appears on her pallid face, and only now do I see how dark crimson her lips are. No, they’re not quite red; dried blood covers her lips. The red eye on the forehead band turns toward me.
“She is with us,” says the woman, fixing her black gaze on me so quickly that I shudder. I pull my hand away from the bowl. The woman’s spiky, unkempt teeth become visible.
I look towards Darya, my breathing quickening. With a calm, cynical look, he stares at me.
“Hello, Lotte.”
The room suddenly feels narrow. It moves, and the blue mist rises on my back, hissing, blocking the view from me. I step back, defensively placing my hand in front of my chest. Before the mist can engulf me, the woman whispers a word through her needle-sharp teeth:
“Kindra.”
I wake up, clutching my neck.
I breathe. I’m alive. I take deep breaths – the air is now dry. It was just a dream andnormal.
“Light…” I groan. As in the previous two days – or after my previous two awakenings – the yellow eyes open immediately. I have no idea how long I’ve been in the room.
It seems to me like more than two days have passed, maybe even a week. After the withdrawal symptoms following the overdose, I now feel for the first time that I can see through thefog covering my mind. It was like a cloud enveloping my field of vision. Of course, I know it’s not true, but I still feel that way.
I hear the yellow eye behind me opening, and instinctively I turn around, but only sigh. If it hasn’t harmed me so far, it won’t now.
“What the hell is going on here?” I ask the large-eyed figure. In response, it just blinks, and I shake my head. What is happening here? Why am I here?
Kindra. What does this word mean?
My stomach growls, and I reach for my bag to search for food, but I first check the medication pockets. I find nothing in them.
I take out a large bag with the emblem of Maison de Sucre et Joy. My eyebrows raise as I imagine Darya waiting in line for a sandwich. I carefully part the two slices of bread, already fearing its contents. Cheese. I hate cheese.
Nevertheless, I take a bite, thinking I won’t have many opportunities to eat normal food while I’m in this demon world. I look at the scratches covering my hands, acquired from banging on the door in the past hours, days.
I have to pull myself together. Enough days have passed with self-pity and withdrawal symptoms. If I can't get out of here, my only plan is to be prepared for whatever Darya has in store for me. And I need to find a way to get my fucking meds back. This plan is not yet lost.
The light hasn’t changed since they closed me in. I don’t know if it’s night or morning. My gaze catches on a gilded tub in the middle of the room. How did I not notice it before? The rising steam beckons, and I want to immerse myself in it.
I peel off Darya’s leather jacket, but when I strip down to my underwear, I turn toward the eyes.
“Do you mind?” It’s as if they hesitate, but eventually, the eyes close and the room is bathed in crimson. The extra lightfrom the walls is enough to keep me from falling backward. I take off my underwear and step into the bathtub.
The water is pleasant, and the warmth immediately makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. I see a small bottle at the edge of the tub. I take off the cap and sniff. Narcissus scent. It has nothing to do with the artificial flower-scented soap in the psychiatric ward.
I pour some into the water and let the cleansing bath soak me. I take a deep breath and submerge myself. In the past, this is how I escaped from reality, and now I plan to do the same. I want to forget those black skulls waiting behind the wall. Maybe I’ll forget the whole world that awaits me outside.
Underwater, my muscles relax, and my thoughts quiet.
“What do you want, Lotte?” a pleasant voice says in my head. “To remember or to forget?”
I smile.
“To forget,” I manage to say, with bubbles carrying my words up and out of the water.
“Are you sure?” the echoing voice asks. “How can you know you truly want to forget when you’ve never really remembered?”
