Hahaha, I just died and came back to earth to update this.
I have excuses why I wasn't able to update for about a month, but I know you're not interested, so I'll just leave it here.
Chapter Twenty
0813T hours
8:13 AM, Endo Domain, St. Vladimir's Academy
Class: If Looks Could Kill
The classes came. "If Looks Could Kill" wasn't bad at all when Eddie wasn't putting people to sleep without their permission. We usually practiced controlling our sleep patterns, attempting to manage our time of sleep, and to an extent, control our dreams. I found the practices Eddie (not Edison anymore, 'cause it's just a mouthful) put us through was only the "mellow" version of it. But then again, he could have just picked up a butcher knife and sliced us all up while we "slept."
I knew that I was paranoid, and there's no but in that. I'm paranoid, plain and simple.
About twenty minutes of Eddie's "mellow" version of his training, he said that I was good to go to the next level. I felt jittery again, and that's when I thought that maybe—just maybe—I was excited. Never have I been excited before and that was the reason why I found life so boring. Maybe I was a psycho—not able to feel any emotions, but can act them. But then, I couldn't even act that well, hence, I wasn't a psycho. And, well, I can feel emotions. At least some of them.
Edison helped me to another big room with coal black walls with only a few source of light. Many Academists have been there with Eddie's class, but here, there were only four, including me. And when Eddie left, another woman came striding in the doorway Eddie vacated.
The woman was pretty, very pretty. She had very long light brown hair that stopped at the curve of her rear, and eyes that could pierce the sharpest of objects. Her eyes, the color of pale molten silver, made me pause. Was she wearing contact lenses? That kind of eye color just wasn't real except when you're blind. And then, when her blind walking stick clicked on the ground and came into sight, I just knew that she was blind.
The woman was very tall, about six feet, and model-thin. She paused just in front of me and a slow smile curved her Cupid's bow red lips.
"I've been waiting for you," the woman said. Her voice, low and throaty, wrapped around me, enchanting me to close my eyes and feel her voice once more…
"Am I that popular for me to be waited by such a pretty girl?" I realized that I hadn't said those words, and I quickly looked around for the person who did.
At my right was a guy with unruly black hair and tall form. I knew who he was. Christian Ozera. I wasn't so surprised to see him here, and I knew that he was a guy with skills and guts, but what confused me was the woman in front of him.
It was the same woman in front of me too. I looked back and forth at her then to the one in front of me.
"Oh… You're, like, able to multiply. Like Echo-Echo in Ben Ten." Again, my TV addiction was taking their toll on me too.
"No. You are dreaming," said the woman who looked no older than Tasha.
My face involuntarily scrunched up. "Ew. Christian and I are sharing a dream? That's just…yuck."
The hand that wasn't holding her walking stick rose and flicked, making Christian and her other self disappear completely into the dark. "Not anymore," she purred. "You're dreaming, Rose." She said it like it answered all my questions.
I tried to raise one brow again, but to no avail. "Really," I crossed my arms across my chest. "I don't remember ever sleeping after Eddie woke me up."
"Eddie didn't wake you up. You were—are asleep."
I still didn't believe her. "Reeeaaally,"
Her blind eyes focused on me. She might as well have been seeing me clearly rather than just following my voice. "You are dreaming. I am your dream." She declared.
"Sorry to disappoint you, sister, but you're not exactly my type." I told her solemnly.
Her eyes, nearly colorless and piercing, flashed and brightened. If possible, her eyes got bigger, nearly swallowing me whole.
"Such humor, Rose Hathaway, might lead you to the path of a—" I noticed at how her voice got throatier by the second.
"Stand-up comedian," I finished for her.
A fleeting smile appeared on her heartbreaking face. "No. But of a dummy, yes."
What happened next convinced me that I was dreaming. No more than two seconds later, I was pinned on a wooden wheel; my limbs spread-eagle while the wheel spun slowly, agonizingly. My breath came in short pants, and my head spun, making my stomach paunch.
I managed to glare at the woman despite my state. "You better get me off of here," I said warningly.
She didn't pretend to not hear me. "Not yet."
I struggled against my restraints, but they were too strong.
"While you are locked there, let me tell you about myself," she said conversationally. She picked up one sharp knife with what looked like a granite hilt. I gulped as she tossed one into the air, and caught it lithely mid-air on the hilt. Her eyes, previously focused nowhere, came to meet my gaze. "I can be a dream, but I can also be your worst nightmare." She said it so casually we might as well have been talking about the weather.
With those few words, she threw one knife toward me. With a loud, nerve-racking sound, the knife landed just beside my ear. Fuck. I'm never getting out of this alive. If ever I was lucky enough to survive this, I'm sure I won't be getting out of here with my sanity intact. The excruciatingly slow sound of the wheel spinning put me through hell, while the lady's solemn exterior made me crazy.
The picked up one knife again and stroked it almost lovingly. "My name is Gretta Voight." She threw another knife, landing at the side of my stomach, barely missing me.
The fear that I held back came bursting out with revenge. Another knife went flying and it landed just inches away from my shin. "I'm half Kazakh, half German." Another one landed beside my wrist. My heart thumped madly in my chest. My breathing was so uneven I was on the verge of hyperventilating.
"I'm powerful. Eddie's my apprentice." She picked up another knife—a butcher knife—and heaved it in her hands. With a move too fast for my eyes to follow, she chucked it toward me with ease. It landed between my legs.
I tried my best to control my breathing. "What do I need to do to stop you from doing this further?"
She smiled a little. "Make me stop. Don't ask." She carelessly tossed another one, and I grew almost used to the sound it made. The slow spin of the wheel was what bothered me.
"Gretta, stop," I said with lack of confidence.
"Say it again, please," Thump, it landed on the other side of my head.
I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, picturing my father's stern dark eyes. I imagined him saying stuffs like "make them pay", "make them beg for mercy", "make them stop" and my composure built up.
"Stop," I said, but my voice was still breathless.
Thump, it landed just below my armpit.
"Not convincing enough," Thump, I didn't know where it landed, but I sure did feel a little breeze on my right leg. She might have torn my jeans.
"Stop," Shaky, still shaky.
"Again," Thump.
I squeezed my eyes shut as another knife came at me. But now, it didn't miss hitting my flesh. My right cheek got slashed and the knife stayed planted on the wood. My cheek stung, but I wasn't about to show weakness in front of her, even restrained and very vulnerable.
"Stop it." I noticed the change in my voice now. It was more commanding.
Thump. There was no answer from her but she continued doing what she was doing.
Thump. My temper spiked up as soon as I realized that she wasn't answering me. "I said stop the fucking wheel!" I shouted so loud it should have cracked a window in two.
The wheel stopped and I was a little glad that the wheel didn't stop upside down. Now, the only issue was…she wasn't stopping at throwing those fucking knives and I was still restrained.
"Release me." I commanded, and, to my surprise, the leather straps that held me captive opened and released me. I knocked off a couple of knives along the way. I pressed a hand against my bleeding right cheek and hissed in pain. "Apeshit," I cursed.
Gretta, who had stopped throwing knives for once, stepped forward, a small jeweled dagger in her hands.
"Why the fuck am I still asleep?" I demanded.
"Stop me from keeping you asleep," was her quiet response.
I growled. "I want you to wake me up this instant, Gretta."
Nothing happened.
"Now what?" I raked my hair with my finger in frustration and anger.
"You have to stop me, Rose. Use what the gods have given you."
Oh, hell yeah, she was testing me. "Trust me; you don't want me using them on you."
"Trust me; I want you using them on me."
With that, a part of me opened up and a rush of electricity crackled in the air around us. The momentary thrill I got from using my "powers" made feel like a kid in a candy store. A ball the color of pale gold gathered between my hands like nuclear energy ready to burst. Before the ball threw itself at Gretta, a flash of a smile escaped from her lips, and then she accepted the destructive thing I sent her with open arms. The last thing I saw was the jeweled dagger she was holding clatter to the floor as the ball of energy consumed her.
The end.
Of chapter twenty.
Question: Who is Gretta? What do you think about her? What do you think is her role in this story?