I open my eyes. I breathe in the warm air and it leaves me feeling at ease. I don't know where I am exactly but I do know one thing, I'm laying in the most comfortable bed I have ever been in. But, of course that may just be because I spent my morning walking through a foot of snow. Or that might have been yesterday. I don't really know. I'm laying on my left side, with my head on a fluffy white pillow. The comforter is thick and dark grey with a shiny gold design on it. My right arm is above the sheet, blanket, and comforter, pulling them all in close to me. The wall facing me has a window on it. In a trance, I watch the snow falling outside. The bright sun shining in through the window. The beams of light coming in and submerging the soft blankets covering me, making them even warmer. I go to shift my weight so I'm laying on my back.
Ouch. I'm so sore.
All of my joints began aching. The slight movement left my body wanting to pass out all over again. But, seeing as it didn't, I needed to figure out where I was. So, with a deep breath, I sit up. I look down at the blankets covering me and close my eyes, rubbing them with the back of my hands to wake them up. My eyes haven't adjusted just yet, so my surroundings are still slightly blurry. But, I can still see well enough to make everything out. The room is dark, aside from the light shining in and the large lit fireplace facing the bed on the opposite wall. Everything is a dark wood. The walls, floor, ceiling, even the tables, chairs and the bed frame. There is a fireplace directly across from the bed, a bookcase in the right corner along with a big dark red reading chair. Other than that, there are two bedside tables and two dressers. One on each end of the room. Taking in everything around me, I look back at the fireplace. Watching the flames come and go and come again. Listening to the cracking. Smelling the wood as it burns. Then the door left of the fireplace opens, and man walks in.
"You're awake," he has an unforeseen look on his face, "I wasn't sure if you were ever going to wake up." He chuckles and stops in the doorway not taking another step. He is tall and has dark brown hair. He is wearing a grey long sleeve shirt with black jeans and black boots.
I am frozen still, sitting up in the bed. I don't say anything. I'm looking directly into his eyes trying to sense if he is going to say anything else. We stay where we are in complete silence for a moment, just looking at one another. He shifts and leans on the left side of the door frame.
"Um, I made some food," he says while crossing his arms across his chest, "Listen, I understand if you aren't exactly ready to talk. Or if you just don't trust me." He looks down at the ground and takes a deep breath. "But, I'm not going to hurt you and will be more than glad to answer your questions." He looks back up at me. After another moment of silence he reaches for the door knob with his right hand and begins to back out of the room.
"Oh and there are some clothes on the chair there," he points at a folded pile of clothes sitting on a dark red chair in the corner next to the bookcase. They're mine so they won't fit very well but it's something clean to wear… see you downstairs." Then he shuts the door.
Downstairs…
At this point sneaking out a window was no longer an option. I try to formulate another way to get out without being seen. But, I don't know my way around this house, I haven't even seen it yet. Instead, I take one last look around the room before I get up out of the bed. I pull the thick, soft comforter and blankets off of me with my left hand. The air isn't cold, but also isn't as warm as being under the covers. I swing my legs to the right, over the edge of the bed. One at a time, I place my bare feet on the wood floor. My ankles are so sore. I slowly stand up.
I'm so physically exhausted and dizzy, I struggle to keep my balance. I sway back and forth trying not to fall as I take a couple steps toward the foot of the bed. Finally I reach for the foot board to hold myself up. Everything is spinning. I blink, trying to focus my vision on the chair, but I can't. I stand there for a couple moments, just staring. If my head would just stop spinning. I couldn't just stand here forever. Then I heard a knock on the door.
"You okay in there?" He paused, "I'm going to come in, okay? Say something if I shouldn't." He waited again, and I turn to watch as he opens the door. "I came to check on you. You were taking a while." He looked at me holding onto the wooden column of the foot board for dear life, then at the clothes in the corner of the very large room. Looking back at me, he takes a deep breath. I took that as a sign that he realized what was taking me so long. I watch as his right hand let's go of the door handle and he begins to walk over to the chair. I keep my eyes fixed on him with every step to make sure he doesn't try anything. He picks up the pile of clothes and turns and looks at me, "sorry, I should've known." He walks towards me placing the clothes on the bed next to where I'm standing, "You were just in an…" Then he stops. I listen, waiting for him to finish what he was going to say. Our eyes are locked.
I was just in a what?
"Never mind," He gives no answer, shifting his eyes to look at the ground, then back up, "I'll wait outside the door." Then he walks back out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
I look over my right shoulder at the pile of clothes. Loosening my grip on the foot board, I reach for the black piece of clothing on the top of the pile. As I lift it up, it unfolds, revealing a long sleeve with 3 buttons leading up to the neck. It's soft. I set it back down, and grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and off. My shoulders ache and my arms can barely get over my head. I let my shirt hit the floor, and slip on the black shirt. The sleeves are longer than my hands, so I have to roll them up.
Next, I unbutton my jeans. They are still damp from being out in the snow, I don't even know how long ago. I pull them down and off my ankles. The pants the man provided me with were grey sweats. Joggers with a pull string. I bend down and step into them. They're much warmer than what I had on before and I'm able to tighten the string enough that they won't fall off. I take off the socks I have on and put them with my other clothes on the ground. As I do that I notice my pink sweater hanging on a hook next to the door. That is my favorite sweater.
Now that I am no longer dizzy, or at least not as dizzy as I was, I slowly make my way to the door. I place my left hand on the knob and take a deep breath. I slowly open it, peeking my head through the crack in the door. I see the man leaning against a banister to the left of the door. He's looking down at the ground with his right leg crossed over his left and his arms folded. He doesn't see me, so I open the door little more and it begins to creak. He hears, and looks up at me. A small smile appears on his face.
"Sorry, I know it doesn't exactly fit, but it's all I had." He stands up straight. "Now, let's get you some food." He motions towards the top of the stairs with his left hand.
I walk out of the door and toward the stairs as he follows closely behind. Not out of eagerness, but more to make sure I didn't fall. It's colder out here so I pull my sleeves back down as we walk. The wooden floor creaks beneath us. I take each step slowly and carefully. My legs burn. The man has his arms out to steady me in case I lose my balance. We reach the bottom which leads on a long hallway with two large openings, one on either side.
"The kitchen is to the left." He points to the opening with his left hand, guiding me with his right arm behind my back. I have to say, his manners were very good. He minded my personal space, but still guided me enough that I knew he was there. We get to the opening, which reveals a large, dark wood kitchen. Directly across from us is a long wooden table and beyond that is an island which doubles as a counter and a stove. It has bar chairs as well. Beyond that is more counter space that stretches across the entirety of the wall and includes the sink along with it. Looking to the right, I see a fireplace with a cursive, metal, gold colored S above it. The only light coming in is from the windows, which are covered with open horizontal, wooden blinds.
"Take a seat anywhere you like," he motions me to the table as he walks farther into the kitchen, toward the island. There are two plates sitting on the counter already dished out. I can't tell what it is yet, but I can't wait to eat anyway.
I choose a seat facing the inside of the kitchen, nearest to the entrance we came in. I pull out the tall wooden chair with my sleeve covered hand, and sit down. There are already two empty glasses on the table. One is placed at the seat I happened to choose, and the other is placed the head of the table to my left. I watch as the man opens the large refrigerator behind him. It's wood like the rest of the room, so I thought it was a cupboard at first glance. He pulls out a container of orange juice and tucks it between his arm and abdomen. From there he turns around and grabs the two plates on the island counter and walks over to the table.
"Go ahead and start. You haven't eaten in at least a day." He sets a plate in front of me and begins pouring juice into my glass. The plate has french toast, bacon, eggs and mixed fruit. I have to say it looks very good. The scent of cinnamon fills the air in front of me, making me reach for my fork without even thinking. I begin eating what is on my plate and so does he.
"So, what do you want to know?" He asks right before wiping his hands on his napkin. I don't say anything. I continue to eat, acting like I didn't hear him utter a single word. He rests his elbows on the table and interlaces his fingers. "You know if you want answers, you're going to have to talk to me at some point. Ask me something. Anything." His gives me a deep yearning look. As if trying to pull the words out of me with just a glance. I set down my fork and rest my hands in my lap.
"How do you know my name?" I look at him, waiting for an answer. We just stare into each other eyes for a minute.
"Why don't we start with a simpler question." He glances down at his food and back up at me.
"Okay, what's your name?" I ask as I grab my fork and stick it into a piece of pineapple. I take a bite waiting for him to answer.
"Kai. Kai Parker," he takes another drink, "It's short for Malachai." He sets the glass back down.
"Thank you for saving me, Kai..." I looked him in the eyes so he knows I'm sincere when I say this, "but why hasn't my family been notified? Why aren't they here." I watch him closely waiting for an answer to my most concerning question. He doesn't answer right away. He just looks at me, breathing slowly. Maybe he is trying to formulate the best way to respond, or maybe he is trying to come up with a lie, but whatever it is I need to hear it.
"The answer to that is… complicated." He takes a long, deep breath, "Charlotte, what is the last thing you remember before waking up here."
"I remember you carrying me to the car an-" He cuts me off.
"No the last thing you remember before waking here in this town."
"Oh, uh, I don't remember many details. Just that it was my birthday and I was driving to my parents house I believe."
"And then, what happened next?"
"I- I'm not sure, it got really hot and there was fire everywhere. It felt like the whole world got flipped upside down." I stopped. That's all I remembered. I waited for him to give an explanation because he seemed as if he knew what was going on. "Do you know what happened?" I ask.
"Charlotte, you got in a car accident."
"Ok- Okay, but I mean, I'm fine. I'm alive aren't I? That's good, but that doesn't explain why my family isn't here. Or why I'm here or even how I got here." I begin to get frustrated, but I calm myself down. He hasn't done anything wrong that I know of, so I should be more patient with him.
"I'm going to tell you something," he adjusts in his seat so he is directly facing me, then he leans in close, "but you need to hear me out and give me time to explain." He raises his eyebrows and looks me in the eyes, "Charlotte, the morning of your birthday, you got into a terrible car accident. Your car went up in flames. By the time the firefighters got to you," he pauses, "... you were already dead."
