“So, Emily, what brings you here today?”

Jacob was in his late 40s with large glasses and ears that stuck out slightly. While waiting for me to speak, he fiddles with his hearing aides. I take a deep breath and begin.

“Well, about three years back I did something really stupid. You see, I decided to write a book fictionally based on my college days and most of my friends took offense. Kimberly in particular. Even though she was one of my closest friends sophomore and junior year of college, by senior year, it was obvious that I did something to displease her and she went about turning all my friends (who I introduced her to) against me. She would have gatherings and deliberately exclude me and I suspected (and now know) she was badmouthing me behind my back. In any case, I thought as now grown ups in our 40s, we had gotten past that and we could be civil. I was wrong.”

I take a deep breath and continue,

“About this book, I figured that I didn’t say anything bad about any of my friends and focused on my first love and heartbreak. Kimberly did not see it that way and wrote a “review” that was really her personal lists of grievances against me. I was so hurt by what she said, that I distanced myself from everyone who had a personal connection to her, including Abby. Abby, up to that point was one of my best friends despite her closeness with Kimberly. I essentially ‘ghosted’ her, stopped answering her calls, disappeared from her life without an explanation.”

Jacob stopped fiddling with his hearing aides and adjusted his glasses, “And?”

“I wrote a second book, which ironically, was based on the one truly fictional character in the first book. However, there was a secondary character that had a few things in common with Abby. Kimberly saw this book, accompanied by the ghosting, and went on a complete rampage in her review, holding nothing back in her dislike and contempt of me. She accused me of bashing Abby with that character and she was angry on her behalf. I did my best to move on ‘drop it’ as my father and other friends had suggested. I thought I did a good job until a year after I unpublished both books and took down my author blog, I get a private message from Gloria, Abby’s sister. Gloria lives out of town and I guess somehow on her visit home she and Kimberly had a talk about me. Gloria started her message with ‘I know a good lawyer’ and ended with ‘F*** you.’ So you see, despite my father’s advice to drop it and my mother’s stupid cliche sayings like, ‘Empty barrels make the most noise, the tongue wags but the brain lags.’ I can’t drop it, because they won’t let me! And my family doesn’t understand how bad this has gotten. I haven’t even told them about Gloria because I just know they will minimize it.”

I am screaming now,

“I never meant to hurt anybody.”

Jacob scratches his chin thoughtfully,

“So, has Gloria contacted you since?”

I shake my head and Jacob continues. “It looks to me like you have a classic case of anxiety. As for your parents, everybody has their problems. My dad comes up with cliche sayings all the time. ‘Jacob,’ my dad advised, ‘you know a bird in the hand is worth two in a bush.’ Empty barrels make the most noise...that’s a new one.”

He chuckes and waves his hand dismissively, “This isn’t a big problem.”

I can tell then and there that Jacob really doesn’t understand at all, maybe even less than well meaning friends and family do. In the coming weeks, I research anxiety, and this drama really has nothing to do with the obsessive version that Jacob has diagnosed me with. I have good reason to believe that Kimberly, and by extension those around her, actively dislike me because I have history and proof of her actions. Maybe because he is male and does not understand female friend dynamics or maybe because I didn’t make my point clear enough, but I am annoyed by Jacob’s pat diagnosis and his invalidation of my problems. I see him two more times and I tell him what he wants to hear and when I get a $1200 bill for 3 sessions, I realize I should have gone with my first impression that this wasn’t a good fit and he didn’t understand what I needed.

What would you have done if you were in my shoes?

It happened suddenly. One night, I had gone to sleep, a normal man. The next morning I got up, a thoroughly abnormal individual.

At that time, I was a moderately well-to-do writer. I had no living relatives and lived alone in my apartment.

That morning, I switched on the TV. A cartoon was being shown but the sound I heard was not the sound of a cartoon but of news being read. Was something wrong with the TV?

Had two channels somehow got mixed up? Then I heard the news reader announce the date. I sat bolt-upright. How could it be the 25th of May, today? Yesterday, when I had gone to sleep, it had been the 20th. What was going on? Had I slept for four days – a modern day Rip Van Winkle? I ran outside, picked up the newspaper lying on my doorstep and looked at the date. Twenty first of May.

So, after all, I had not slept for four days.

That was just the beginning. That whole day, I kept hearing voices: Voices of my friends, my neighbors, the voice of my sweet heart, and my own voice. What was going on? Was I going mad? But there was no insanity in the voices I heard.

I thought hard, struggling against a rising sense of panic. Slowly, almost shyly, a tiny idea raised its head. I had a hypothesis. It was fantastic. Nevertheless, I decided to test it.

Next morning, I switched on the television. Once again, the picture on the tube didn't match the sounds. I heard the date being announced, and it was the twenty sixth of May. Hypothesis proved!

No matter how fantastic, it was probably true. My sense of hearing had extended four days and a couple of hours into the future.

First, I went into panic. Then, recovering, I quietly sat at my writing table for hours, mentally working out the ramifications of my condition. There were various things, big and small, to take care of. For instance, if someone rang the doorbell, I wouldn’t hear it. I had to have some kind of visual indication for it. Then there was the phone. This was one instrument that would become almost totally useless to me. And what about conversation with people? I could talk to them and they would hear me but when they talked, I would have heard it four days ago. How then to have a coherent conversation? The only solution was to tell everyone that I had gone totally deaf. Let them communicate with me via writing or sign language.

And life went on with all its strangeness.

*              

My pre-sonic condition had its advantages. I made it a habit of hearing the business news bulletins on the TV, and armed with advance knowledge of the market, I started playing the stocks. Inevitably my income became healthier and healthier. In turn, I became quite a philanthropist and had no end of fun.

No one knew about my abnormality till I heard himself telling my sweetheart about it and didn’t hear her scream or panic. So four days later, I did tell her about it and she, after a brief adjustment period, accepted it and said so in writing.

And one day, I wrote a note to her, asking her to marry me. She accepted and soon we became man and wife and lived happily for quite some time...

...till the time – yesterday - that I heard my wife crying with grief. And this grief was over my death.

I immediately got busy straightening out my things, preparing my will, loving and cherishing my wife.

Today, I heard my friends come to bury me.

And then my world went dead silent for some time.

And then I heard a terrible voice say: "Who is your God?"

And now I have three days to find the correct answer to that question.

THE END

Scenes flash in my mind. A beer. Tequila shots. A car ride home. All of the usual parts to my hangover. But not this one.

Nothing came to my mind as I sat in that hotel room in Mexico City. The air burned with desire to fall back asleep. I shunned the sunlight and closed the drapes as soon as I had woken up. My head throbbed, begging me to let it rest for just one more hour. My stomach rumbled as the thought struck me. How in the world did I get to Mexico City.

I thought about it for minutes, which felt like hours before giving up. How do I get back? What about my job? Where are my friends? What am I even doing here?

Thoughts raced through my mind for possible explanations. An abrupt knock and voice rung through the air interrupting my rush of thoughts. I glanced over at the clock, which flashed a bright red 10 am before allowing the room service lady to enter.

"Um, m'am, do you know when I checked in last night?" I nervously asked, mentally slapping myself on the forehead. Why would she know that?

She stared blankly at me before continuing her cleaning.

Right, I'm in Mexico.

I decided to grab the room card on the bedside table before heading out to the lobby. I was going to find out how I got here.

"M'am you checked in at 2 am last night," the hotel manager stated.

Great, now I just have to find out what happened between 10 pm and 2 am last night. So easy.

I left with my two best friends for some drinks and dinner at our local bar at around 9 pm. I remember taking a couple of drinks, a beer and three tequila shots. Was I roofied?

Suddenly, the sky turns dark and it becomes night again. The stars above shone brightly as I was greeted to a scene. Me. Ally. Dark. New York City. Guy.

An unspeakable moment of gory was presented to me. So I was roofied.

I look up at the stars once again and I realize that I am not looking up, but that I am looking down. Am I still drunk?

A shadowed figure approaches me.

"My dear, you are not drunk. You are dead."

I awoke with a startle and stared at my surroundings. The air burned with desire to fall back asleep...

It wasn’t the fact that there was a dead body on the ground that shocked Audie, or the blood making a small pool below the torso. No, it was the fact it was Audie himself whom he saw standing above it. Torn T-shirt and jeans were stained with rough dirt. His face was slack, and his blue eyes dull and glassy. A bloodied knife held so tightly in his hands, the knuckles were white. His victim’s hair sprawled around the head like a bloody crown.

Audie shot up on his bed, pale faced, a cold sweat covering his forehead and brows.

Strange as that was, Audie could still hear the heavy thumping of large feet on the ground, the threatening growl echoing in his head, and the hard clap of thunder and lightning.

He turned toward the window and realized the thunder was coming from outside. A shuddering breath overtook him as he wiped a hand over his face. And it happened again. The nightmares came back. He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to forget the dreams that unnerved him each night— hour by hour through the dark.

“Easy, now.” He told himself. “It’s fine. It’s all over now.”

The clock on the bed stand read a little after 3 AM, or some other ungodly time like that. Glancing around their little motel room, Audie caught sight of his father Silas sleeping on the rough, sitting chair. His small, old notebook with psychological notes about patients lay abandoned on his lap in peril of slipping from his limp hands.

Audie flipped off the reading lamp; it’s dull light ceased to illuminate the small room. ‘He must’ve fallen asleep reading,’ Audie thought, getting up to throw covers over him and picking up the book.

Audie looked bewildered at the text. He scarcely made out of his father’s chicken-scratch hand, but the words seemed to shift and drift off the page, becoming “halluci…” and “nigtm…”

Squinting in the dark, Audie could make out an ominous, dark thundercloud drawing with lightning strikes taking up an entire page. The black ink seemed to droop of the page as though it were still wet. The clap of thunder hit overhead looked out the window to see a dark, cloudy sky.

The weather was strange, because Audie thought the sky was supposed to stay sunny for a while after the summer. Another flash and he shut the curtains completely.

Climbing back onto the full-sized bed, he still couldn’t shake the nightmare. It was—to put it simply—a dismal, living with these chronic nightmares that often lingered into killer morning headaches.

But the worst part was knowing Audie couldn’t do anything to make them stop,

except wait for the sun to show.

“Another dream?” His father poured Audie the milk—the milk he so-clumsily forgot—in his cereal bowl. They were at the Breakfast Center in the motel. The Rigg’s Motel is in Marietta, Ohio, the town they just moved into. Just until Silas can find a new place. Again. It’s been a way of life for Audie that they move to a new town every two or three years. Audie knows it’s his issue with middle school. Or more like the middle school can’t deal with his issues or his “mental situation” as Silas preferred to call them. He doesn’t understand it—his father can be very evasive for reasons Silas says he will explain to Audie when he’s older—and, when it comes to explaining, it’s unlikely Silas’ reasoning will.

Audie muttered, “how’d you guess,” over his steaming cup of coffee, grabbing a fistful of sugar packets.

Getting his own tea and toast with eggs, Silas took a seat. He shook his head, “We need to set another appointment with someone. The nightmares are getting worse, aren’t they?”

Audie squinted his eyes in confusion. “Someone?— You mean with Dr. Joyce?”

“No. She had to go for a family emergency—“ Silas waved his hand dismissively “—or something like that.”

“Oh.” Audie said, trying to hide his disappointment. He had been getting used to Dr. Joyce, and she had been the closest to having him open up.

“Don’t worry,” his father gave him a encouraging glance, taking a sip out of his tea mug. “We’ll get someone new.”

“Great!” He cringed. Audie’s pretend excitement came out pathetically faux.

Silas must’ve seen Audie’s deflated expression, because he then said, “We can—” his father looked at him with soft, dark brown eyes “—we will get through it, Audie. Y’know,” Silas grinned, “as a family.”

Audie caught Silas rub his forearm, and his eyebrows rose in alarm at large scratches.

“How did you get those?” Audie asked, eyeing them. They were red and pink, so they must’ve been fairly new.

Silas followed Audie’s eyesight, but showed hardly any emotion on his face. “Oh! I tripped on my way to work… on asphalt.”

Audie frowned at the injuries that didn’t match with a simple fall. They looked a lot more serious.

Silas smiled, trying to get Audie to look at him and not the scratches, “Hey, I’m okay.”

Audie found comfort in those eyes, and he gave a small smile and nodded in response.

Audie then remembered. “Did you hear the thunder storm last night?”

Audie glanced at his father whose eyes turned strangely dark. “You heard thunder?”

“It was an intense thunderstorm,” Audie noted.

His father didn’t answer, and it was silent at their table. And Audie, itching to make conversation, decided to ask about last night.

“What were you writing in your notebook?” Audie asked.

“I wasn’t wri—” Silas cleared his throat and rectified himself. “You always ask too many

questions.”

“No, I don’t.” Audie objected. “You write some things. And there was a picture of a

thundercloud.”

Audie watched as Silas looked at him in confusion, internally frustrated by Silas’ never-ending cycle of evasion.

Silas opened his mouth. Probably to change the subject. “It’s that old therapist of yours. She’s getting you to believe things that aren’t true.”

Audie stopped him, “Dad, don’t— Don’t just talk to me like—like I’m crazy or some nutcase—”

“Audie!” Silas hissed.

“Just— Just… Don’t avoid the question, dad.” The thirteen year old pleaded.

At Audie’s determined gaze, Silas sighed and gave him a withering look. Then he answered simply and swiftly, “There were no drawings in my book, Audie.” And he showed him the same page Audie had seen last night, except for no dark thundercloud in black ink.

“You haven’t been getting enough rest have you?”

Audie finally looked to face his therapist. Actually, his new therapist. His old one went missing or on a trip, so his father had to assign him Dr. Tanner.

“I’ve been sleeping,” Audie lied, quickly averting his eyes to the window that presented the suspenseful, stormy sky—which has yet to rain—but continued to thunder its warnings.

“Oh, come now. We both know that’s a lie, Audie.” Dr. Tanner looked at Audie with a piercing gaze; her stare pinned him down to his seat. Audie shifted in his chair as she continued to stare and pulled at the loose string at the hem of his blue T-shirt. Despite the odd, glassy eyes, Dr. Tanner followed his every movement attentively. Like a large cougar.

Audie had a mild—no—intense distaste for his therapist. He’s had this abhorrence for her for many months now, but when asked by his father why he hated her so much, Audie just couldn’t admit that he was afraid of her.

Plus, he couldn’t disappoint his dad by not participating in the appointments he scheduled. Silas had enough on his plate, working over time and taking care of an insomniac son. Audie just needed to tough it out for a little while longer.

He could feel her predatory gaze boring into his scalp as he continued to keep quiet. She had a narrow head with dark eyes in slits like a hawk. She licked her thinly pressed lips and stared, like she did so often. “Would there be any other reason for you falling asleep in class?” She probed.

Still, slightly embarrassed and slightly angry, Audie kept quiet and tried to avert his gaze to anywhere but his therapist.

“Was it your nightmares?” Dr. Tanner asked in an effort to gain his attention.

‘What else could it be?’ It was always the nightmares.

Not waiting for Audie’s affirmation, Dr. Tanner asked again, “What was your dream about?”

Audie hated that Silas thought he needed this. His dreams never bothered anyone but himself. Audie can handle himself.

“But can your father handle you?” ‘Did she hear me?’

Dr. Tanner’s expression wasn’t at all what he was expecting: her fury quickly diminished, and a cold smile replaced it.

“Freakish, boy,” Dr. Tanner laughed and it came out like a guttural growl from the back of her throat.

“What?” And when he said that, there was the biggest thunder crack he’s ever heard. He saw the lightning flash again, and looking outside once again, Audie saw no rain.

‘What the hell is going on with this weather,’ he thought.

“There is nothing wrong with the weather, Audie.” Came a voice that sounded like someone was in dire need of a Halls cough drop.

“What do you- What the hell!” Audie jumped and fell back from his chair that fell with him and broke. Audie watched what used to be his therapist jump on her desk on her hands and feet and obtain a raised height and a dark tone, reaching ebony skin with dark patches of fur, and grow long, rusty-colored nails and a curved back. Large feet with backwards legs, sickly satin red tongue, and horns extending out of its head, contorted and twisted with anger.

Blood red eyes stared at him, and Audie with utter horror recognized them immediately.

The lightning flashed again, bringing to light the large looming figure before him, and the violent thunder rumbled soon after.

“Can your father handle much more of you?” The being’s musings came as a deep rumbling sound.

Audie yelped as he backed closer and closer to the door.

“Oh! You don’t know real or not, do you?” When she laughed it sounded like multiple voices all yelling at the same time. “Your dreams explain it all.”

Audie spotted the stray, broken leg of his wooden chair. The end was thinner than the other side, and the larger side was dangerously frayed with pointed and sharp edges.

‘Why the hell not,’ he thought and grabbed it, hiding it behind his back.

Audie couldn’t speak or move except for the little that moved his hand to the doorknob, shaking and twisting the bolted door in vain.

“Where are you going? The party’s hardly even started!” The monster continued to creep up to Audie. Then as quick as the lightning, she slammed a large paw on Audie’s chest and pushed him to the door with great force. He cringed as the sharp stick was positioned uncomfortably behind him.

“You don’t even know my name yet,” she said.

Her claws were long enough to dig under his chin. Her mouth curved into an unnatural, wolfish grin.

“It’s Tannin.”

She opened her large mouth, great jaws lined with sharp, canine teeth. The stench of rotting flesh filled Audie’s nostrils and he held back vomit.

As she dove down, Audie brought up the chair leg and drove it up her neck. The sharp object stuck, and Tannin screamed—all the voices screamed—as she staggered back.

A large inhumane wail rang throughout the room. Audie ran out of the way to try another door.

He shook the knob violently, ramming into the door in an effort to break it. Closing his eyes, he knew he would wake up soon.

It didn’t budge.

His ears started ringing. He could hear that and his heart beating crazily. Following that, a shrilling cry of a woman. Audie finally opened his eyes and the room was clear. There was bright sunlight pouring from the windows into the cerulean room. The furniture was beautifully polished. The only disorder in the room was the broken wood chair and the sticky red painting the immaculate cream carpet.

Dr. Tanner, wholly human, bleeding out on her own carpet. Audie could only stare in shock as the woman choked on her own blood.

Audie heard loud footsteps run to his direction, and the door busted open, revealing Silas,

looking disheveled.

“I—I didn’t—I don’t know what happened.” Stammered Audie, pale-faced.

Silas looked at the therapist, who was very much dead on the ground. He sighed, scratching his head, not looking as bothered as Audie expected him to be. He muttered something to himself, pulled his notebook out and wrote something down.

Tears started to spill down the boy’s face as he came upon a realization with a soft “oh.” It was a nightmare again. Audie will have to wait until he wakes up.

“I’m dreaming.” Audie assured himself. “It’ll be fine. It’s not real.”

“It’s not a dream.” Silas said.

“Yes, it is.” Audie blubbered, “I would never hurt someone—”

“You would. And you have. Several times.”

Audie shook his head. “No. No. No, I—I wouldn’t— couldn’t.” Audie looked into the eyes of his dead therapist and the stick of wood in her. ‘How did I do that?’

Silas gripped Audie’s shoulders. Staring him in the eye, Silas said, “Listen to me, son. This. Has. Happened. But your mind makes you forget every time. I have done my best to protect you from people who would take you away from me, and well, my hands are as clean as yours.”

Audie looked at Silas in realization, “Dr. Joyce…”

“She found out. Found out everything we did. Killing. Moving everytime. Repeat.”

“You took her out to coffee…”

“My plan had to resort to a rather unpleasant trip in the woods.”

Audie stared at Silas with horror, “You—You…”

“Yes. You know why.”

“You’re a killer.” Audie whispered. “You’re going to kill me.”

“I will not!” Silas screamed, stilling Audie’s shaking. “I protect you. You will always be safe from the real monsters that want to take you away like they did your mother. I would never, EVER let that happen. I am not evil… I’m a father.”

Audie was silent.

“We need to leave, Audie.”

Audie didn’t respond. Silas tapped him again, “Audie. You’re not gonna get in trouble. Not as long as I’m here. So trust me like you’ve always done before. Can you do that?”

Audie’s head was spinning, but Silas’ voice kept him grounded. Audie stared at his hands, crusted red from where the blood dried.

“Okay.”

Bright light wakes me and burns my eyes. I look to my left and try to find the clock that usually rests on my nightstand only to realize that there was no nightstand and I definitely wasn’t in my room. The room was plain and seemingly unordinary and if it wasn’t for the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling I wouldn’t have suspected a thing. It took me a stupidly long time to realize that I was in some sort of fancy hotel that I definitely couldn’t afford. I searched for a sign of another person but the room was empty. To my right, on the dresser, there was a glass of water and what looked like a bottle of Advil. Only then did I realize the horrible pounding in my head, I know I drank too much last night.

I slowly placed my feet on the ground, which was an extremely soft shag rug for the record, and stood on shaky legs. I was thankful to realize that I still had all of my clothes on and I walked over to the water. Next to the glass was a note that when I flipped open it said

“Stay as long as you like, everything is paid for. xoxo ~ M”

Okay, that was weird. I had no friend with names that started with an M and no way could any of them afford this place, living like college students. Only then did I start to panic. I know, it took me long enough, I was hungover, give me a break. I stumbled over to the window and when I pulled the curtains back I was faced with the most beautiful city I have ever seen. The view looked like something straight of a postcard, but despite the beauty, it definitely was not the city I recognized. Where were the trees and mountains that Colorado was so well known for? Past the city, I could only see dry land. I looked down and low and behold there was a huge billboard that said “¡Bienvenido a la Ciudad de México!”

Oh, shit.

How drunk was I last night and how the hell did I get to Mexico? And who the fuck is M?

Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok.

Gahhhd.

Why is that light so bright?

It's the sun, you prick.

I know, but why is it so bright?

Again, it is the sun. So...you know...bright.

I really dont need you AND the pounding at the same time.

Then dont think stupid thoughts.

Sand.

Yes, that is sand. You are laying on your face in sand.

Sand sucks.

Sand really sucks.

Your point?

I want to turn it all to glass.

Then you'd be face down on glass. Your head would probably break it. How would that be better?

Fine. Then turn it into cotton so I could sleep.

Where the hell am I?

On the Sand.

I hate you. Oh gahhhd my head. How much did I drink last night?

More than some, less than others.

Why do you interjet if you have nothing of value to say?

I hear Spanish.

Yes I do. But I can't see. My eyes wont open. Eyes! Open!

Oh yes, they respond notoriouly well to vocal stimulous.

SIT UP!

Nice one.

You aren't helping.

I know.

Sand sucks.

You already said that. Several times.

Wait...where are my pants?

I like that ocean breeze on the glutes. Quite relaxing.

I really need to stop doing this.

Where's the fun in that?

Ok, so I'm laying here, naked, on a beach, in Mexico, hungover, having a conversation with MYSELF, OUT LOUD, WITH SAND IN MY CRACK!

Yeah, a typical Tuesday. What's your point?

My life rocks.

Ditto.

#Challenge of the Month VII: May

Tequila in my blood, lust on my mind.

Where am I at, where is a sign?

Another dawn of delusion, who lured me here?

No one around, no one to overhear.

The bed looks empty but I smell of sex.

My head is hurting, so hungover, so hexed?

Why cant I wake in my own bed.

Lone in a peculiar place instead.

I see the tequila on the bedside.

I take a shot to calm my insides.

I lay back and close my eyes.

When am I gonna mature and get wise.

Why do I party with strange men alone.

I guess I like living in the dangerzone.

So as I lay down and try to doze.

I spy someone slowly waking and I arose.

I say good morning and look beyond.

The man just winks and says ¿Qué onda?

I know where I’m at now, I should of known.

I woke up over the border in Mexico!

The desert heat compressed out my will to move another inch, yet I found the strength to surpass my limits. Barely able to stand, I had leaned on a rather massive boulder to support myself. Sweat dripping from my forehead, clothes dried out from the massive gleam of the glowing inferno in the sky, I felt as if I was being baked alive at 450 degrees, ready in fifteen. Mind circling as flashbacks from the night prior invade and escape my vision. A beautiful gal, about my age I’d like to assume, dragged me around as she performed a mystical, entrancing dance. Her father wasn’t pleased at all; throwing an empty beer bottle and missing by a long shot. I thought it was a good idea to ridicule the old drunkard, but as soon as I turned away for a sip of my margarita I snapped back to reality. Begging wouldn’t get me back to that, so I dragged my broken, exhausted body down the dirt road. A McGuyver survival guide would have come in real handy about right now, it’s a shame Terrance threw it away, no idea why the dude held such a frustration for the guy...

I did not know where I was. From the minute I opened my eyes, I could tell something was terribly wrong. The light coming in through the tall square window hurt my eyes and my head felt like it was on fire. I was almost convinced that I spent my previous night gulping down shots of tequila. But no, it couldn’t be. The last memory my mind could reach out to was my feet boarding a plane to Italy. My best friend was in the hospital and I had made a promise to visit her the following week. I remembered boarding the plane at around twelve at midnight and falling asleep in my seat. But I couldn’t remember how or when I got off the plane.

After minutes of arguing with myself, I decided to go out of my room and question the hotel clerk. I jumped out of bed and walked over to the door. As I was about to open the door, I looked down at my outfit.

“No,” I drooled incredulously.

Black ripped jeans, a plain back t-shirt and black boots. The last time I wore jeans was on my tenth birthday party. I detested jeans, t-shirts, and dark colors, especially black. My instincts told me to look in the mirror but I couldn’t to bring herself to do it. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hi,” I said in a croaky voice to the clerk.

The clerk looked at me and smiled.

“Good morning Miss. Eva. How can I help you?”

“Where am I?” The question sounded daft coming out my mouth.

“You’re at a hotel. One of the finest hotels in Mexico,” she replied with a honeyed voice.

“I know that,” I sighed.

A few minutes of scanning the room led me to believe I was in a hotel. The food, small lotion bottles, and fancy pens were all the proof I needed to confirm my hunch.

“I mean,” I added. “Where am I? What country, city, or place-“

I stopped halfway through my sentence and lightly shook my head. It was as if I had only heard the ‘Mexico’ part right then.

“Mexico?!”

“Yes ma’am.” The clerk smiled and looked at me strangely. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I replied more to myself. “And why did you call me Miss. Eva?”

The clerk looked frightened. “I thought you said we shouldn’t call you Eva.”

“My name is Elena Parker!” I ran my hand though my long, wavy hair and clenched her hands into tight fists. “What happened last night? Did you see me coming in?”

“You came in last night at around two in the morning. You were really wasted.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“How do you even know my name? I’m sure you get like a thousand visitors.” I forced a smile on my face to ease the clerk. I couldn’t understand why she was frightened by me.

“You own this hotel ma’am. Actually, you own a lot of hotels here in Mexico. This is the finest so far and everyone knows who you are.”

I was too tired and confused to ask more questions. I was too scared to find out the answers.

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more complicated, I found a man looking out the window in my room.

“Let me guess, we’re married,” I mumbled. I hoped it wasn’t true.

“Can I help you sir?”

The figure slowly turned around. When he was facing me, he smiled.

“Eva.” He stuffed his hands in his huge black coat. “How stubborn are you?”

“W-what?” I stuttered.

“I told you to leave Mexico last night.” His voice was flat and spine-chilling. “Stubborn child.”

Before I could say anything, the man pulled out a gun with a silencer and pointed it at me.

Shivers were going down my spine when I was trying to wide open my trembled eyes, feeling as if I hit my head on a rock. Still hungover, I gazed into the mysterious depths of the forest alienated in an unknown country. It felt like a free falling from hundreds of miles, when I’m sitting here still. No direction, no reason, no meaning when I feel like lingering here longer. The woods look lovely, dark and deep but I got promises to keep and miles to find my way back before I sleep.