Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
I blink my eyes open, a whooshing noise erupting in my ears as I find myself in the middle of a hallway. The walls are a familiar cream color, decorated with Mesoamerican motifs. The illustrated deities watch me from their lofty place near the ceiling, ready to mete out judgment on those who step out of line. A flurry of movement startles me, and I watch a few servant girls hurry up and down the corridor.
I take a step forward, but an insidious pain makes me gasp loudly. Slowly, I bring my hand to my shoulder. My fingers become coated in blood, the pain getting worse by the second.
W-what happened?
One moment I was in a forest... I was in a forest, wasn't I? My brows furrow together in confusion as I strain to remember. There's something inside of me that tells me I was doing something else—something important. It's on the tip of my tongue as I strain to remember.
There was another person with me too.
"Who was he?" I whisper. I can almost make out a tall, broad-shouldered figure in front of me. But as the seconds trail by, a thick fog descends upon my mind, the mist concealing all that important information until I no longer remember why it was important in the first place.
My wound pulsates, the pain assaulting my senses until I hunch over, breathing erratically. Taking one more look around, I realize I'm close to the staff kitchen—my initial destination.
Why did I stop in the middle of the hallway? I, better than anyone, know what will happen if Sergio catches me. Then it's not just going to be a bullet in my shoulder. It's going to be a lot more than that.
Pushing against the onslaught of pain, I hurry to the back kitchen, getting inside and closing the door behind me. Since this is a secondary kitchen, it's not often used, which allowed me to smuggle some sanitary items in case I ever needed them.
Going to the back, I open the pantry, looking for the hidden compartment on the bottom shelf. As my hand brushes against the handle of the secret door, I pull it open and take out the small first aid kit I stashed away. It's nothing fancy, since it's mainly comprised of items I've managed to steal from the drug testing facility. But it should be enough for now to ensure I won't get an infection. With Noelle so close to going into labor, I can't afford to become incapacitated. That would jeopardize her health and that of the baby, and I could never forgive myself for it.
I spread out the sanitary items over the kitchen counter, quickly surveying them and forming a mental plan. A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells me I have an hour to spare.
I purse my lips. Since time is limited, I need to work fast. Taking off my shirt, I undo my makeshift bandage and hold up a small mirror to see the extent of the damage. I wince at the red, angry wound and the red liquid oozing out of it. Every little movement hurts, the bullet wiggling inside my flesh and causing me more pain.
Goddamn it. Why did this happen today of all days? Why are we so unlucky? Since Sergio caught us attempting to escape a few months ago, it's been getting perpetually worse. He wants to make Noelle suffer for what she did to him, and he knows that he can do it through her baby and...through me.
I stifle a broken sob as I try not to think of the future. It's bleak anyway. As long as I can help Noelle and her baby survive this nightmare, I won't care what happens to me.
She has her whole life ahead of her.
Me... What is there left for me?
I have no family. No friends aside from her and... him . God, I have nothing but some broken and delusional dreams about a boy I once made the mistake of falling for; someone who for all intents and purposes might be married now, living his best life while I...
A tear rolls down my cheek.
There's no one waiting for me... At one time, I may have made the mistake of imagining what life would be like outside of the constricting walls of the hacienda—what I could do if I were free. But that's only brought me more misery for something that's never going to happen.
I've lived my worst moments on this land. But I've also had the most happiness. Maybe it was brief, but I'll always cherish the memory of the man who gave me a purpose...an identity. Because it's that identity that I'll take to my grave.
Somehow, that gives me an extra dose of courage as I pick up a pair of tweezers and douse it in disinfectant. I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in and out. The pain is unavoidable. I know that. I've had so much pain my entire life, I should be used to it by now.
"I can do this," I whisper to myself.
But just as I lift the tweezers to my shoulder, the door behind me opens. My eyes flare open with panic, just as the tweezers slip out of my hand, dropping to the ground. Before I can scream or run, a hand covers my mouth, the other circling my waist and bringing me against his chest. A male chest.
Terror suffuses me.
I'm naked from the waist up, with a gaping wound in my shoulder. I'm at my most vulnerable and now at the mercy of a stranger. I know far too well how this will end. After all, I might be shunned by everyone at the hacienda—the cursed one as they call me for my blasphemous marks—but what no one sees, no one knows. Sergio may have decreed that I'm worse than a leper, but that hasn't stopped his men from trying to assault me when no one's watching.
"Don't scream," a voice speaks in my ear. It's an oddly familiar one, and I frown as I try to recall where I heard it before.
"I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. If I take my hand off, promise not to scream? No one knows I'm here and I'd rather keep it that way."
His words are even more confusing, but I slowly nod my assent.
He drops his hand from my mouth, but his arm is still around my waist. Instinctively, I draw back, turning to face him.
"You..." I whisper in awe.
He gives me a lopsided smile.
"I'm a little late, aren't I?"
I blink, wondering if this is a dream— is it? How many times had I conjured him before me just like this? Yet every time, it had only been a mirage that shattered the moment reality intruded on the fantasy.
"What are you doing here?"
"I promised you I'd come," he replies effortlessly.
God, he's even more handsome than I remember. His hair is shorter, his body leaner. But there's no way I would never not recognize those dark eyes—the eyes that still haunt my dreams. For years, his face has been the only thing I could fall asleep to, his presence the most comforting thing I've ever known in my life.
And now, to see him here, in the flesh? How is this possible?
"Are you real?" I ask in disbelief. "Is it really you, Nikki?"
"I'm here. I'm just so fucking sorry it took me so long, Luce. But I promise you, there's a good reason for it."
I nod numbly. How can I care about anything when he's here ? In front of me. So close...
A smile trembles on my lips as I reach out with my non-injured arm to touch him, trailing one finger over the back of his hand. My eyes close and a shiver goes down my back at the contact. Not even the pain in my shoulder could detract from the utter delight of the moment.
"You're really here," I mumble incoherently, touching him some more—just to make sure he's real. Maybe on any other occasion, I wouldn't have been as bold. But as it happens, I've lost too much in the last years not to grasp onto this chance.
He catches my hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. He slowly brings it to his lips, laying a chaste kiss on the inside of my wrist that has me blushing to the roots of my hair. Yet what's most striking is the look on his face. He's staring at me intently, his eyes caressing my face. There's a dangerous hunger radiating from him. One I don't remember seeing before—or, maybe I hadn't noticed? His body tenses, his nostrils flaring as he continues to drink me in.
My eyes flutter in confusion.
"Nikki?" I ask tentatively.
He snaps out of his trance and gives me a wide smile—as if he hasn't been looking at me like a starved man. I'm about to return the smile with a timid one of my own when I note the dip of his gaze, his eyes zeroing in on my chest. That's when I recall my state of undress. And it's not just my naked body that I don't want him seeing but also the marks that cover most of my torso.
I quickly wrap my arms around my body to cover myself, but the movement is so brusque that I end up bending over in pain.
"Who the hell did this to you, Luce?" He's next to me in two steps, his big hands splayed over my shoulder as he peruses my wound.
"Sergio." I give him a tight smile. One word that encompasses both of our experiences in this goddamn forsaken place.
His features darken, cold anger emanating from him.
"He needs to suffer for hurting you," he grits out, and my heart speeds up in my chest at the fact that he'd so readily avenge me.
"Thank you for saying that," I murmur. "But right now, I need to take care of my arm. Will you..." I wet my lips, surprised at myself for putting my trust in him so readily. "Will you help me?"
"I'm here for you , Luce," he punctuates each word. "I'll help you with anything you want. But we need to get you to a doctor. It's not safe to do this here."
I shake my head.
"I can't." I tell him about the precarious situation Noelle is in. "So you see, I don't have time for a doctor. I need to get the bullet out and sew the wound."
He's about to disagree with me, but I slowly lift my hand to his face, fitting my palm to his cheek. At the same time, we both inhale deeply, our eyes connecting. Something flickers in my chest, almost as if my entire being sparks alive at the merest contact with his flesh.
"Luce," he rasps out.
"Please," I plead.
He doesn't speak, seemingly at war with himself. Eventually, he gives me a tight nod. Without a word, he bends down to pick up the pair of tweezers and goes to the sink to wash it before disinfecting it.
"Come here." He motions me to him. I take a seat on a chair while he positions himself in front of me. Placing a hand on my back, he eyes the wound with concern as he takes a deep breath. "This will hurt."
"I know."
"I wish I could take your pain onto myself, Luce," he murmurs huskily.
"Do it," I urge him.
He pushes the tweezers into my wound, doing his best to avoid hurting me more than necessary as he digs for the bullet. I close my eyes as I suffer in silence, not making even one sound. Somehow, I know that would distress him, his pain perhaps more profound than mine. How I know this, I'm not sure. There's only this certainty deep within, borne perhaps out of my own foolish romantic notions but also out of the friendship we shared in the past—a bond so deep, I've been living as a shell of myself since he's been gone.
To my surprise, he finds it fairly fast, pulls it out, and drops it on the table.
At the same time, though, more blood gushes out of the wound, and he hurries to press gauze to it.
"Can you sew it, too?"
He nods. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his breathing growing labored—more so than mine, and I'm the one with a hole in my shoulder.
He disinfects some needle and thread, and with a precision I wouldn't have expected of him, he sews the wound in just a few strokes. His features are tense as he focuses on his task. When he's done, he presses more gauze, wiping the last bit from my wound and cleaning it up with some disinfectant before he adds a bandage on top of it.
"How are you feeling?"
"Good," I wheeze. "It didn't hurt that badly." I attempt a smile.
He grunts.
"You did really good, Nikki. Thank you."
He doesn't answer as he takes the shirt I previously discarded, offering to help me put it on. I accept his help, and I try to ignore the way my nipples tighten, my skin covered in goosebumps. He tries to ignore it, too—I can tell. It's almost as if he forces his gaze not to stray to that area, realizing that it's making me uncomfortable.
After I'm dressed, silence descends between us.
"It's the first time you've seen my marks," I note softly. I told him about them since they were the reason I was the most hated person at the hacienda—the one even the other slaves snickered at. These ugly marks branded me as cursed, and that made people both fear and abhor me.
"You're beautiful, Luce," he says, his voice trembling with sincerity. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Never doubt that."
I blink in surprise.
"You... mean that?"
He smiles.
"You're the only thing that's been keeping me alive until now. The thought of seeing you again carried me through my darkest moments."
"I—" I bite my lip as I study him. "I don't know what to say, Nikki."
"You don't have to say anything now," he murmurs, stepping closer and touching his forehead to mine. He inhales deeply, and I can feel his breath on my lips. "I'll help you with your plan. But after that, you're coming with me," he states.
"I am?" My voice wobbles, warmth spreading through my limbs.
"You are. Now that I've found you again, I'm never letting you go. Never ," he emphasizes, his words sounding both like a promise and a threat. In fact, there's a slight edge to his tone, but it's not something I pick up easily on. In my euphoria, I can only see him, here, with me. In my naiveté, I don't ask any questions, simply satisfied with what he decides.
"We should go now," I stammer, still caught in his intense gaze.
"There are ten more minutes until we need to leave," he notes glibly, barely sparing a glance at the watch.
"But—"
"I've missed you, Luce. Tell me you've missed me, too," he says in a low, anguished voice.
"Of course I missed you. You were my best friend, Nikki."
His features darken.
"Your best friend? Just your best friend?"
"I... Well..." I moisten my lips as I gaze up into his eyes. He's so close... "Maybe a little more."
"How much more?" he rasps, his deep voice sending a shiver down my back.
Suddenly, there's no more physical pain. There's only a light pulsation that starts from the center of my chest, traveling up and imbuing all my senses with a euphoria I've never experienced before—one that makes me even more lightheaded than blood loss.
"You must know I had a crush on you, Nikki," I answer bashfully, my cheeks reddening.
" Just a crush?" He raises a brow.
"Maybe a little more."
"How much more? Tell me, Luce. Spare me from this torment I've been drowning in for the past two years. Tell me," he murmurs, the cadence of his voice changed. It's more suave, more... God, my face must be burning, and despite my injury, I don't think I have a fever. No, it's him—only him. It's his nearness when I've only dreamed about it before. It's his voice that makes me melt with every syllable he utters. And it's his intense gaze that has me pinned to the spot, so hungry and so desperate. It's almost as if he is drowning and I'm the only one who can save him.
"I was in love with you," I confess.
"Was?" he asks darkly.
"Am," I whisper.
A slow smile runs across his mouth, one that is as blinding as it is terrifying, and before I know it, his lips are on mine. His kiss is fierce and unrelenting, just like this side of Nikki I haven't known before. And though in the beginning I'm startled by this foreign sensation, I can't help but give in.
He's Nikki. He's my Nikki. The only man I'd ever allow such liberties because he owns my body just as he owns my heart.
His lips part over mine, his tongue skimming the seam of my mouth. At first, I'm confused about what he means to do, but as he brushes his tongue against mine, my entire body hums, a terrifying sensation enveloping me. One that threatens to overwhelm me with feeling.
Yet just as the kiss starts, it's over. He tears himself from me, his breathing accelerated, his features contorted in pain.
"Nikki?" I ask softly, bringing my hand to my lips.
"I'm sorry."
"I—What happened? Was it...bad?" I barely utter the last word as hopelessness forms inside me.
"Bad? What? No. It was too good , Luce. But I've been living for the past two years on your memory alone and that kiss... If we don't stop, we might never stop, and it's not the time for that. Not only do we have something to do, but..." He scrubs his face with his hand. "You're you , and that means you deserve more than just a quick tumble in the hay. You're also hurt." He shakes his head. "God, I'm a fucking idiot," he curses out.
I watch him in confusion, not understanding half of what he's saying.
"So you didn't dislike it?" I ask, needing direct confirmation.
"I loved it. Like I love you ," he says, his piercing gaze meeting mine just as his hand comes up to caress my cheek. "Was it your first kiss?" he inquires before I can recover from his confession. His voice is tense, almost as if he's already hating my answer.
I give him a slow nod.
He lets out a relieved breath.
"Good. Good," he repeats, more to himself. "You saved those lips for me, didn't you, Luce?"
I'm so embarrassed, I try to avert my eyes, but he won't let me, tipping my chin up so all I see is him.
"Tell me you saved your lips for me," he rasps, his hungry eyes on my lips.
"Yes," I whisper.
He smirks.
"You're telling me everything I need to hear, Luce." Leaning further in, his mouth stops next to my ear. "Me too."
I don't get to question him on what he means as he points to the time.
"We need to leave," he says, taking my hand in his. "Lead the way, Luce."
I give him a smile, once more marveling at the fact that he's really here, with me. It was something I would have never dared hope for, yet something I wished for ardently.
As we take Nikki's car to go to the nearby village for an errand, he tells me about his cover story and how he'd managed to get an invite to Sergio's banquet by pretending to be a high-level investor interested in the inauguration of his new drug.
"What happened to you, Nikki? What happened after you left?" I muster the courage to ask. His features darken instantly, and he averts his gaze.
"I would have come earlier for you. Believe me that I wouldn't have taken so long if it hadn't been out of my hands."
"What do you mean?" I whisper, almost afraid to know.
"I made it home all right." A dry smile tugs at his lips. "But within a day, I was in an accident that might not have been much of an accident ."
"Nikki." I turn to him, my eyes widening with worry.
"I was in a coma until a couple of months ago," he admits.
"What? Are you okay now? My God, Nikki..."
My heart is hammering in my chest at the thought of him in the hospital, fighting between life and death. Even before, when I'd never thought I would see him again, at least I was fine thinking he was happily living his life somewhere in the world. But to hear that it hadn't been the case? That he...
"There was something wrong with my head, but I'm fine now." He keeps one hand on the wheel, grabbing my hand with the other. "I'm not entirely sure what happened while I was in the coma, but you were there, with me."
"I was?" I blink.
He nods wistfully.
"I don't remember everything, but I know you were with me every day. We were by a waterfall, and I would lay my head on your lap while you'd tell me stories."
"That's... I don't know what to say, Nikki. I'm flattered," I murmur, a blush staining my cheeks. "I didn't realize you thought about me that way back then."
"You've been everything to me from the first moment I met you in those cursed tunnels, Luce. I survived only because you were with me, and later, because I knew I needed to keep my promise to you."
I stare at him, mouth agape.
"I thought about you, too," I confess shyly. "Every day, I'd wonder what you were doing. If you were happy. If you...were with someone," I whisper as I avert my gaze.
How many times have I hurt myself over the thought of him with someone else? With a girlfriend, or maybe a wife. I never regretted helping him escape and leaving me behind. But just imagining him with another woman has chipped at my heart time and time again.
"There's only ever been you, Luce," he states emphatically.
His eyes hold mine for a moment before he returns his attention to the road. But it's enough to convey everything with that one glance.
He loves me. He really loves me.
I'm still in a state of disbelief over the events of the last few hours, but this piece of information is not only the most precious one, but the most unexpected, too.
"I'll come with you, Nikki. After everything is done. After Noelle is back with her family, too. I'll come with you," I tell him.
"You'll never want for anything in this life. That I can promise you, Luce." He smiles as he brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. "I'll cherish you always."
"I know you will." I return his smile.
Happiness brims inside of me, but just as I lose myself in the moment, I find myself physically wrenched out of that scenario and thrust into another.
I blink repeatedly as panic suffuses my chest, my heart beating wildly as confusion simmers in my mind. The image of the car falls away, walls slowly rising up around me to construct a different environment. For one brief moment, I remember a name. Someone I was looking for. Someone I care about.
Ze...
Yet as soon as the sound of a door closing reverberates in my ear, my previous thoughts disappear from my mind. I don't question anything but the present and the fact that Nikki is in front of me.
"We can talk here. But quietly," I whisper to him. Noelle is sleeping in the other room, and I'm almost certain she'll give birth today.
"Of course." He nods, walking farther into the bathroom. I follow after him, surprised to see him pull a small case out of his pocket. As he opens it, it's to reveal pills nestled inside. He takes a couple, popping them into his mouth.
"What are those?" I point at the pills. "You said you were fine," I add, a hint of worry in my voice.
"It's for something else." He strains a smile.
I wait for him to explain, but he seems reluctant to do so.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," I assure him.
"It's not that." He sighs. "It's just that... It's something I had from before the accident."
I frown. "What do you mean?"
"It's not...physical. It's psychological. The pills help me function more or less normally."
"Nikki..." I take a tentative step toward him. "I would never judge you for anything. I hope you know that."
He gives me a tight nod.
"You remember the panic attacks I used to get?"
"Yes."
"After my accident, I was formally diagnosed for the first time." He smiles ruefully. "PTSD, severe anxiety and agoraphobia, among others. The pills work to lessen the anxiety and agoraphobia—in as much as they helped me get out of my house and come here."
"And you're here..."
"I'm here." He nods.
I can't imagine the kind of strength it must have taken him to come, especially since I remember the panic attacks he'd get—I used to help him deal with them in the tunnels.
"Is it because of your childhood?" I ask in a hesitant voice.
He strains a smile. "My childhood and my entire life." He shrugs. "But I'm getting help, Luce. It's not just the pills. I started seeing a proper therapist, and I'm taking everything seriously. I'd never subject you to someone unstable—someone who can barely function by himself. I promise you that I'm getting better," he hurries to say.
"Oh, Nikki. Don't you dare go there! Don't you dare think I'd ever see you as less because of that. How can you even think that?"
"Because I don't want to save you from a prison only to lock you up in another," he says on a ragged breath.
"You won't." I shake my head. "Just the fact that you're here, with me, despite all your impediments, means the world to me. You mean the world to me, Nikki. You always have."
"Sweetheart," he rasps, coming closer to me. His hand curves over my jaw, his thumb caressing my lips. His hand moves lower down my throat, stopping atop my breasts, just under my clavicle. "Does your shoulder hurt?"
"A little," I whisper. A little more. But I don't want him to needlessly worry about me—not when there's so much left to be done.
"Just a little?" He raises a brow at me. "Don't think I didn't notice you wince in the car."
"Okay, maybe a little more. But I'm fine. I'll be fine."
"So brave," he murmurs, and his hand trails lower, reaching the valley of my breasts. Instinctively, I grab his hand, stopping him.
"I—" I swallow hard, my eyes meeting his.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Luce."
"I know that. It's just that..."
How do I explain to him that I've seen too much violence against women in my life? That I may trust him above everyone else, but that my body still trembles with fear in his presence for the mere fact that he's a man? I've been leered at and groped since I was only a child. Because of that, I've never felt truly comfortable in another person's proximity. The only one who's managed to break those barriers has been Noelle, but she's different. She's a woman, and she's my best friend.
But this... I'm not sure how to react to this since I've never been touched with such gentleness, such kindness by a man. Yet at the same time, I can also sense the desire beneath his civil mask, a type of lust that both scares and intrigues me.
"Did anyone hurt you?" His gaze darkens.
"Not like that. I was one of the lucky ones." I force a smile. "But it's never been for the lack of trying."
A million emotions cross his face, from disbelief to sadness to pure anger.
"Who?" he demands in a harsh voice. He takes a step closer. "Who touched you, Luce?"
"They're all dead," I say. "Noelle made sure they're all dead."
"I am in your friend's debt then," he murmurs, bringing my hand to his lips, skimming them over my knuckles.
"Debt?" I frown.
"She saved you when I could not. For that she has my gratitude."
"It's fine, Nikki. Nothing happened. They just copped a feel here and there," I try to explain, but my words seem to make him madder.
His nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing at me.
"Where?"
"What?"
"Where did they touch you?"
"Nikki..."
"Show me, Luce. Show me and let me erase the bad memories," he says huskily.
I lick my lips, a shiver going down my back at the intensity I see in his gaze.
Do I dare to do this? Can I do it?
Taking his hand, I bring it to my breasts, then I press it to my back, right above the swell of my ass before lowering it slowly.
"They touched you here?" His voice vibrates, an unnatural growl coming from him.
I nod.
"Fuck! Fuck, Luce. And I wasn't here for you," he rasps, his features anguished.
"You're here now. That's all that matters."
"I'm sorry." He bends his head down. "I'm so fucking sorry it took me so long to come."
"How can you say that?" My eyes widen. "You were in a coma, Nikki."
"I should have been more careful. If only I hadn't gotten in that accident. If only I hadn't left my house that day..." he trails off, and I notice the regret mirrored in his eyes.
"Don't," I whisper. "You're alive. To me, that's all that matters."
" I should have killed them," he continues as if he didn't hear anything I just said. "But I'm going to kill that bastard Sergio. He won't get away after what he's done to you. God, it's not even just your shoulder." He shakes his head as he looks me up and down. "The calluses on your hands, the marks on your body..." he drifts off when he sees the change in my expression.
I avert my eyes.
If there's one sore subject I'm uncomfortable discussing, it's the marks on my body.
"I didn't mean it like that," he quickly amends. "You're beautiful to me, Luce. No matter what marks you have on your body. There's nothing more beautiful in this world than you."
"You're sweet to say that. But you haven't seen the rest of them. They're not just on my chest, Nikki. They're on my belly, on my hips, and on my thighs. They're everywhere ."
"So? Do you think I care?"
"I-I don't know," I stammer.
"Ah, sweetheart. I guess I'll have to prove to you just how much I don't care. But not now. Not here. And certainly not until your shoulder is healed and you're not in pain anymore."
I blush lightly, averting my gaze.
Is this too fast? Maybe. But it's been years in the making, too. I just never dared hope that my dream would become a reality. I always held him in my mind as my one ideal—my one connection to the outside world. I might be foolish to agree so readily to everything he's offering, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. So what if I'm still not very comfortable in my own skin, or that I'm a little wary about the intimacy that takes place between a man and a woman? I trust that with his help, I'll slowly break out of my shell—no, I know I will.
"Okay," I answer, my lips tipping up. "I just have one request."
"Hm?" he asks, returning my smile as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "Anything for you."
"Can we..." I clear my throat, a little embarrassed by my request. "Can we take it slow? Physically, I mean. I'm a little scared," I admit. I know Noelle assured me that sleeping with the man you love is not the same as the violent rapes I've witnessed, yet the images will not leave my head—nor the times I've come close to being a victim too.
"Oh, Luce," he exhales pointedly. "You don't even have to ask. I'll always go at your pace," he vows. "It's going to be something new for both of us, and I want it to be equally special and comfortable for you."
I smile, pleased with his answer.
Taking a step forward, I raise myself on the tips of my toes and plant a quick kiss at the corner of his lips. Yet just as I lean back, his image starts distorting, the memory shaky.
"Nikki?" I frown, reaching out for him. Before I can touch him, I'm thrust back by an unknown force, almost as if I'm being swept in a vacuum.
Before I can blink, I find myself between four familiar walls.