„How dare she! How dare she barge into my sanctuary, my private refuge, uninvited and unwelcome? What gives her the audacity to cross the boundaries I've painstakingly set? This is my domain, my space to retreat from the burdens of the world, and she brazenly violated it."
While Hanna cowered trembling in her hiding place, the man fell into a monologue, his voice quivering with anger. Then, she heard once more the abrupt clattering of a vase being hurled against the stone wall in a fit of rage, shattering it, causing her to startle within her own skin. With her free hand, she clasped her mouth, preventing any sound from escaping in terror as he raged in the adjacent room.
„Enough! Enough with the intrusion, the meddling, and the unwanted attention! How dare she barge into my sanctuary, my isolated haven, uninvited? I thought I had made it clear that I wanted to be left alone. Can't people understand the simplest of wishes?"
His voice trembled and lapsed into a scarcely perceptible whisper. With a profound inhalation, his anger transformed into a blend of exhaustion and melancholy.
„I came here to disappear, to fade away from the world that has grown too heavy to bear. Oh … Christine…"
Hanna perked up, startled. Christine? Who was she? Was she the reason for his seclusion, or perhaps even the cause of his fragile state, near death? Had he surrendered himself to his fate with open arms, an act of desperation?
Hanna's grip on the knife loosened slightly as a sense of pity swept over her, permeating her thoughts. This monologue provided ample room for interpretation. Had this woman left him? Or worse, could she be deceased? Was she his dear friend, or perhaps even his lover?
„This secluded abode was my solace, a place where I could embrace my sorrow, my grief … my impending demise. I yearned for the silence, the solitude … the sweet release of letting go."
His voice broke, leaving a lingering ache in Hanna's heart. It unleashed something within her, drawing her in as if she were experiencing his own emotions—the hatred, the sorrow, and... remorse? Hanna struggled to comprehend the overwhelming surge of feelings that threatened to engulf her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. With each pause he took, Hanna succumbed further to his voice and words, until eventually, the knife fell to the ground with a resounding clang. A silent sob escaped her lips as she absorbed his anguish.
„But … they found me. They found me! … When I was at my weakest … my most vulnerable." He paused, his anger giving way to a sense of betrayal, his voice filled with bitterness.
She yearned to express her remorse for trespassing into his abode so carelessly, conveying that it was never her intention to exploit his vulnerability. But her actions had proven otherwise: true, she had saved him from the clutches of death unbidden, but solely to ensure his guidance in escaping the island. What fate awaited him thereafter held no interest for her. How selfish, she mused.
And yet, not a syllable dared part from her lips, as tears cascaded for him; she remained huddled, transfixed, behind the grand piano, avidly absorbing his words.
„Oh … how I longed for peace, for the freedom to drift away quietly into the night … But fate had other plans. It tore open the wounds, exposed the frailty of my existence … and reminded me that I'm still here … still alive." His voice faltered in the end, as he whispered the last two words.
Hanna wiped the tears from her eyes, yet she could not cease her weeping. The world had become incomprehensible to her. It was as though he had ensnared her with his words and his hypnotic, anguish-filled voice.
„Die … to die is all I wanted … She said … she promised me … she would come back to bury me."
He struggled to continue and fell silent completely.
Hanna lingered in her position for several more moments, her shoulders quivering as she processed the tumultuous waves of his emotions. Never before had she allowed herself to be so receptive to the profound sentiments of anyone, particularly with a stranger with whom she shared such limited acquaintance. She didn't even possess the knowledge of his name! And yet, here she sat, marooned on this secluded island, enmeshed with this man, shedding tears on his behalf.
Gently brushing away the remnants of her tears, she retrieved the discarded knife from the ground and rose to her feet. With cautious deliberation, she traversed the space towards the door, the very threshold that separated her from him.
Eagerly attuned to any aural clues, any vestige of his presence lingering within the room, she surreptitiously yearned for his absence, unsure of how to navigate the terrain of his grieving heart. Furthermore, she dreaded the possibility of inciting another outburst of wrath upon her appearance.
Straining her senses, Hanna sought to discern the faintest modicum of respiration emanating from the other side. Alas, there was naught but an eerie absence of sound, an encompassing stillness that pervaded the atmosphere. A profound sense of relief washed over her, allowing her to exhale audibly as she gingerly set the knife aside, methodically disassembling the chairs that stood sentinel before the door.
In hindsight, she found herself unable to rationalize her own naivety in presuming herself safe from harm following his poignant emotional eruption, which had since transformed into an empathetic pity. This marked the second grave misjudgment she had committed, second only to the ill-conceived act of dismantling an antique piece of furniture in a futile endeavor to construct a makeshift raft.
As soon as Hanna had even cracked the door open, something constricted around her throat, cutting off her access to air. With her eyes wide open in shock, she stared into a pair of golden eyes that froze her in place. Gasping for breath, her mouth futilely grasping for air, she frantically tried to remove the thin noose around her neck with her fingers.
But it was in vain. Instead, she felt the noose tightening even further. The man forcefully pushed his way through the door, his slender frame looming menacingly over her. With a powerful shove, Hanna stumbled and landed on the floor. In that motion, she gagged, feeling her throat as if it were being torn in two.
Everything happened so quickly that her mind completely shut down, and raw survival instinct took over her body. She thrashed her arms around her as her vision grew dimmer. Gasping for air, hot tears filled her eyes. No, her desperate thought echoed, no, this couldn't be the end for her!
She yearned to unleash a piercing scream, to persist in her resistance, as he descended upon her with a menacing presence. But her vitality drained from her body, leaving her bereft of strength. In the fleeting moments before succumbing to unconsciousness, the constricting grip around her throat relented. Unwittingly, she commenced the desperate act of gasping for air, the attempts so painful that tears welled up again. The ache, etched deeply within her neck, lingered with such intensity that she drifted towards a state of faintness. Through a haze, she looked up at the figure looming over her, his face concealed by a black mask, allowing only his eyes to glimmer. Yet, there was a disconcerting element in his gaze that churned Hanna's insides. It was almost as if those eyes regarded her with a malevolent sneer, as if he were smirking in sinister satisfaction.
Feeling a sense of sickness at this sight, she lured her eyes with his. "You deceived me," her voice was barely perceptible, a feeble whisper. "I showed you compassion." His body flinched as he absorbed her words, almost as if experiencing déjà vu. His eyes widened momentarily before he regained composure and reached out for her. However, before Hanna could feel his grip, perhaps to release her from her suffering, her strength completely failed her and her body collapsed inward.
Hanna awoke with oppressive, throbbing pain in her neck. With her face contorted by pain, she slowly opened her eyes and recoiled on the sofa where she found herself placed. The man loomed over her, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his gaze probing yet impatient. The hostile aura surrounding him was practically palpable. She pressed her body as far back into the cushions as possible as a wave of emotions washed over her. But above all, one emotion overwhelmed her: fear.
Her body began to tremble, her hand flew to her neck, gently grasping it. Upon contact, she whimpered, eliciting a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She gritted her teeth. "Was that necessary?" she spat out, her voice hoarse and strained. She swallowed, causing a pang of pain to shoot through her raw throat.
How foolish not to question one's monologue. After all, he had performed this spectacle in her native language, knowing full well that she was listening. This cunning ploy left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue; she felt betrayed.
The man leaned his upper body backward and let out an artificial laugh. "Oh-ho!" Clapping his hands together, the loud and unexpected sound made Hanna flinch. "Not so brave after all, Fräulein?" Hanna wrinkled her nose at the derisive address. He moved a few steps away from the sofa and took a seat in an opposing armchair, crossing one long leg over the other, his hands folded in his lap. His eyes sparkled, as if anticipating a reaction, a response to his provocative words or address. The contrast between her vulnerability and his dominating presence intensified the tension in the room.
Hanna narrowed her gaze as the thought crossed her mind. She resolved not to grant him the satisfaction of succumbing to such a ridiculous ploy. If he sought amusement, then he ought to have a television installed in this somber, desolate place.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. "I merely longed to escape from here," she attempted to rationalize her actions. "I didn't consider..." That you would be on your feet so quick. „I apologize," she hastily added, casting an expectant glance in his direction. Yet, she detected no discernible reaction on his countenance; the mask veiled any hint of expression, while his eyes stared back at her devoid of emotion. All traces of amusement had vanished from their depths.
He appraised her, his eyes traveling disdainfully from her shoes back up to her face. Sensing a discomfiting vulnerability under his eyes, Hanna drew her legs closer to her body and cast him a cautionary look. She felt scrutinized, almost exposed beneath the intensity of his gaze, despite her clothes covering her form.
"Just enlighten me with one piece of information, Fräulein," he uttered. Hanna couldn't help but roll her eyes at the pet name. Had he not come up with anything more original? Or was he attempting to adopt an antiquated persona? "Why, may I inquire, have you graced me with your presence in the first place?" He reclined into the plush armchair, his hands disentangling, while one index finger tapped with measured precision on the armrest. Hanna scoffed at his words, as if she had willingly chosen to be here. She averted her gaze from his and let it roam around the room. She found herself in the confines of the opulent living room, a crackling fire emanating a soothing warmth in the hearth. Wilting flowers scattered among shattered remnants served as evidence of his outburst, woven into the performance with expertise.
"I am utterly clueless as to how I arrived here," she retorted. His response came in the form of a snarl, but that didn't deter her from voicing her thoughts. "To be frank, I haven't the faintest idea of my whereabouts." She glanced back at him, attempting to meet his gaze. "All I desire, Monsieur, is to return home."
He scoffed, a hint of anger in his voice. "Do you expect me to believe that? A convenient memory loss? You're lying. You must be one of them, sent here to torment me further." The golden orbs ignited with fury. Hanna flinched at the sight, memories of recent events flooding her thoughts.
Hanna's eyes widened in disbelief, her face marked by a pang of hurt. "One of them? I don't even comprehend your discourse," she retorted, her voice resonating with frustration. Could it be that his monologue earlier was not a fabrication, that there was a hidden truth behind this spectacle? However, his accusation left a bitter taste on her tongue.
She tried to see past that and tried to reason again. "All I remember is that I regained consciousness in the water, nearly drowning. But please know that my intention was never to disrupt your life. I only saw a fellow human in need and couldn't turn my back on that." His gaze remained fixed on her, unyielding and unwavering, as if he silently dissected her every move.
He shifted in his position, one hand disappeared into his tailcoat and just a second later a Lasso was resting on his lap, making Hanna shiver at the mere sight of the death bringing tool.
"I... I am telling the truth," she squeaked out, her body trembling with fear, afraid that he might unexpectedly put that noose around her neck again. Her hands flew to her throat, clutching it protectively. Alongside his anger, a sense of malicious delight mingled in his eyes as he took in the sight of her huddled in fear on the sofa before him.
"My friend and I went to an event," she began. "She persuaded me to perform this... past... past life something," she stuttered, as he observed her, gently kneading the lasso between his fingers. This gesture did not miss its mark at all. "I only remember that this old woman... maybe a gypsy... put me into a trance," she spilled out, her heart racing. "And then I ended up here."
She squeezed her eyes shut in fear, knowing what would come next. And oh God, did she deserve it! Who would willingly believe her story with a clear mind? Oh, why had she even saved his life in the first place!
Two large hands seized her with a firm grip against the sofa. She let out a faint, stifled cry at the sudden movement as he forcefully pressed her against the cushion. She dared not open her eyes and stare into his terrible, cold gaze, hidden behind the mask that concealed his corpse-like face. She knew that his sight and his assaults would haunt her for a very long time.
"You will leave this place and not utter a word to anyone about what you have seen here," he hissed in her ear. She nodded eagerly. Oh, she would do anything, as long as she could get out of here alive! Cold hands released her shoulders. Hanna's body collapsed in on itself, her heart pounding loudly against her chest.
Never before had she felt death looming over her so closely as in the past few days. First the abduction, the near drowning, the discovery of a corpse-like person, and now these assaults. Upon realization, the accumulated emotions threatened to crumble, and Hanna welcomed them with open arms as they enveloped her in a cold embrace.
Her shoulders trembled as she sat on the sofa, still huddled together like a bundle, and wept. Even the sheer stress from the high pressure at work, which weighed heavily on her shoulders, crashed over her and mingled with the raw fear she felt at that moment. She opened her mouth to a silent scream, afraid that her voiced sorrow could trigger anger in the man.
She didn't know how long she had sat on the sofa, weeping silently. Opening her eyes proved difficult, her eyelids were glued together, and her eyes were swollen from tears. The room's light, for a protracted and agonizing moment, appeared excessively harsh. Hanna, both physically and emotionally exhausted, exerted herself to rise from the sofa, moving through the room with languid steps.
To her relief, he no longer occupied that room. Wherever he was, it was better for her not to lay eyes on him anymore. She didn't even know how she would react at the sight of him. Would she freeze in shock, waiting for him to strike again, or would she immediately burst into tears?
Hanna was afraid. No, fear proved grossly inadequate to encapsulate the depth and complexity of emotions that assailed her at that moment. It was a strange sensation that had slithered under her skin, mocking her from within.
With an empty gaze, she continued walking. It was only when she stood before her laughable attempt at a raft that she snapped back to reality. She hadn't even noticed that she had been walking through the shallow water at the shore with her shoes on. Quickly, she stepped out of the cool water that had saturated her shoes and knelt beside the raft, resting on the dry stone.
She hadn't gotten far. It had taken strength and time to dismantle the chest of drawers in the first place. It was absurd, what lay before her feet: poorly nailed together planks, with wood splintered in some places. Gently, she ran her hands over the varnished wood of the raft, the same wood that had triggered his outburst of anger.
Hanna huddled down, crying, as the overwhelming emotions took hold once again. She would give anything to undo what had happened. To go back before she had even dismantled that chest of drawers, or back to the moment when she found him. No, she thought, back to the moment when I was at that event with Marie.
That had been the moment when the world had come crashing down upon her. This past life reliving... regression... whatever it was – it could only have been an excuse to make her disappear here.
Or, a thought crept out from the darkest corner of her mind, she was actually in this past life regression. As quickly as this thought arose, it dissipated once again. Though her thoughts were tainted by fear and terror, she could not entertain such notions.
Several factors spoke against it: for one, she still wore her clothes and possessed her belongings. Wouldn't this regression imply that she would wake up in a different body, or at least in her own body adorned with clothing appropriate to that time?
Hanna dismissed the possibility of a past life regression from her thoughts. It was absurd of her to even consider it.
She raised her gaze, casting her eyes upon the water that melded seamlessly into the encompassing darkness. The gentle, warm glow emanating from the house dissipated mere meters away, swallowed by the inky depths of the water. A lump formed in her throat as she swallowed back her trepidation. Somewhere out there, beyond the expanse, lay the elusive opposite shore. The man's words echoed in her mind, his mention of the other side being a mere few minutes away.
The thought of spending more moments in his tormentingly terrifying presence sent an icy shiver down her spine. She wondered how he was even capable of such an act. And by that, she did not mean his nature. No, how was it possible to recover so quickly? She vividly remembered the state she had found him in just a few days ago. He was on the brink of death, emaciated, and battling a high fever that he barely overcame.
Furthermore, he had scarcely consumed anything. It defied all reason. Maybe he was truly a vampire, she playfully jested in her inner musings. Swiftly dismissing such frivolous thoughts, she refocused her attention on her paramount objective: the escape.
She rose to her feet and delicately slipped off her waterlogged shoes. Casting a downward glance, she unhesitatingly divested herself of the remaining garments, leaving her draped solely in undergarments. Each scrap of fabric appeared superfluous, a burdensome encumbrance. The damp, frigid air bit into her bared flesh, a sharp assault on her senses. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, her fists clenched at her sides, as she fixated upon the depths before her. The water lay tranquil, caressed by a gentle breeze, causing minimalistic ripples to form.
Hanna took a step closer. Just a few minutes, she thought. Then she would be on the other shore, finding a way to make it home somehow. Wherever she was, in this eternal darkness. She took another step towards the water, feeling the crunch of sand beneath her feet as her toes dipped into the frigid liquid.
The chilly contact elicited a visceral shudder, rippling through her entire being. Advancing further, she immersed herself up to her knees, granting her body a fleeting respite to acclimate to the glacial temperature. Teeth chattering, she proceeded incrementally deeper into the aqueous abyss.
She knew it wasn't the wisest decision, not that she had made any wise decisions in the past few days. But it was worth a try. And if she realized after a few meters that she wouldn't make it, she would turn back immediately. She wanted to give it a shot. It was better than spending any more moments with him.
As she waded neck-deep into the water, she glanced back at the shore where her unsuitable raft lay. If she failed, she would confine herself to a room, finish building the raft, and then leave the island as quickly as possible. She turned around and stared into the darkness, the light only reaching a few meters ahead before vanishing into the gloom.
She just had to swim straight ahead, right? Without wasting another thought, she began swimming into the darkness, in the direction where she presumed the nearby shore to be. The cold water pierced her skin, gradually numbing it. Her breathing remained steady as she took her first strokes. Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to stay calm and composed, but soon she found herself completely enveloped by darkness.
She turned her head to the side, attempting to locate the shore she had come from. In the distance, she could still discern a faint light. However, after a few strokes, even that vanished from her field of view, and a veil of darkness enveloped her.
Hanna grappled with the panic welling up inside her as she found herself exposed to complete panic. She kept swimming, desperately hoping it was the right direction.
After a few meters, she felt her arms growing numb and weak in the cold water. It would be better to turn back, she thought. She had tried. Yet, in the utter blackness, it was difficult to discern where she had come from. As the realization of her predicament slowly sank in, she could no longer contain the rising panic. Her breath became frantic as she wildly looked around, there must be a light somewhere!
Her arms splashed wildly on the water's surface as she spun around herself. She swam frantically, desperately needing to escape. Somewhere, there had to be a shore. She couldn't continue wasting her strength like this. A sob escaped her lips as she played out the worst possible scenario in her mind.
She couldn't shake off that thought as she aimlessly swam through the water. "Hello?" she called out into the darkness, her breath erratic, hot tears landing on the cold water's surface. She could only hope that someone heard her. Maybe him.
No, her mind shot back. Anyone but him.
A small wave splashed across her face. A wave? But there were no waves before. Before Hannah could entertain another thought about the sudden appearance of a wave, she felt a noticeable tug on her body. It was as if the water was pushing against her.
Hanna gasped for air. "Hello!" Her voice echoed in the darkness. Panic seized her as she realized, with increasing pressure, that she was trapped in a growing current. She thrashed wildly in the water, desperately gasping for breath as the current took hold.
Her mind went blank, consumed by sheer survival instinct as she struggled to stay afloat. The current pressed against her numb limbs with such force that with each attempt to resist, Hanna grew weaker. Gasping for air, water intruded her parched throat, resulting in spasmodic coughs that wracked her body with pain.
Then, she was mercilessly thrust beneath the water's surface. For the second time in such a short span, she fought for her life in the water. Making repeated efforts to reach the surface, she found the pull too strong. It didn't take long before her gasps for air transformed into desperate wheezes, her vision obscured by the intrusion of blinding, luminous specks that danced before her eyes. She yearned to release a scream, a final cry born out of sheer desperation. But she had no strength left. Hanna had ceased to struggle against the current moments ago. Her limbs were exhausted.
She made no further resistance as darkness embraced her once again, for the second time that day.