A ghost floating above. Not a ghost. More of a spirit, a vision. It was nothing more than a silhouette of a person. A hallucination seemed to float towards him. She was dressed in rich white robes that billowed out behind her as if a breeze was blowing. It was definitely a she he thought as he looked closer. There was no breeze yet her hair, long and pale, flowed out behind her. She seemed to be coming closer. She was like an angel. An angel that wished to pick him up. An angel that wished to take him to wherever the dead go. It stopped just short of him.

Liar. Liar.

An imaginary voice, musical and soft, danced around his head playfully. One word repeated twice, the start of children's song. A personality. A sin. The figure, though featureless, seemed to smile at him. It glowed in the darkness of the room like a lantern. No. like the moon. It seemed only to be reflecting the power of something greater than itself. It was channelling the energy of another. A host. This woman was the host of something else. The host of a god, perhaps?

Liar. Oh you failed again.

Take a drink,

fix how you think.

The words were soft and calm. They reassured him somehow. Words spoken like a poem or a song. A brighter light drew his attention to her palm, held out towards him. There was something appearing there. A cup. It's outline as pale and mystical as it's possessor. It steamed in the cold air of the room. The dark store-room where he was locked.

Fix things.

Instructions that he would gladly follow, if it weren't too late already. He wanted to fix things. He would fix everything. If he could. The cup seemed to become more solid the more he stared at it. It grew more colourful. The smoke was a mixture of all colours. It made a pretty spirals in the air above him. It certainly wasn't a normal drink. Soon he was sure that it could simply slip through her hand. He took it before that could happen. It felt smooth and warm. There was a clear liquid inside of it. He would think that it was water aside from everything else about it.

Take a drink

He couldn't trust this strange figure, however heavenly they seemed to be. Actually, their heavenliness should leave him trusting them even less. The drink could be poison for all he knew. Poison designed to take him to the underworld. The woman could be trying to kill him.

You want to fix your mistakes?

This time the words weren't in his head. They surrounded him, flooding the store-room with noise. The figure tilted her head as if she were the one asking. She probably was. She leant towards him.

One sip won't hurt.

He couldn't understand why but he felt himself giving in. Wait, no, he could understand. There wasn't any other hope, was there? For the first time in years he felt a tear slip don his cheek. There really wasn't anything else he could do to, was there? He held the cup to his lips. Preparing to give up everything just to see what would happen next.

Do you remember when they told you to stay? Do you remember being near death? Do you remember your saviour? Do you remember trying to escape again? After all the promises you made? Do you remember how you got here?

After all, the art of deception is not just to convince someone that you are telling the truth when you lie but also to convince them that you are lying when telling the truth. No?

He shut his eyes to the barrage of guilt aimed at him and tilted the cup to take a long gulp of the liquid.