Page 3

I startle awake, breath ragged, sweat beading along my brow.

“What…” I whisper, grounding myself with a hand against my forehead. Slowly, I take in my surroundings. I am in a room. A fire blazes at my feet in a hearth lined with ornate stone. Gaudy decor adorns the walls. Night presses against the windows.

I run my palms along the soft surface beneath me. A bed. Silk sheets. A canopy that holds warmth. I trail my fingers up to my scalp and down my torso and legs; every muscle in my body feels liminal. My head hurts and my heart slows, a turtle pacing inside my ribs. Fatigue clings to every limb, and a cough scratches at my throat.

Is this the house on the cliffs?

Cradling my head, I brush a bandage fastened from my cheekbone to my hairline. Who saved me?

Sliding to the edge of the bed, I settle onto a soft bench. The fire’s warmth laps at my skin in bright orange waves. Standing up, the fabric of my clothing snags on a small peg. I let out a startled laugh, noticing I’m no longer wearing shredded tatters. Someone replaced them with a cotton dress that clings to my frame, making me feel buoyant. I free the fabric and approach the small set of furniture near the hearth.

The man who carried me. Was this his home?

On a small table sits bread and a steaming bowl of soup. My stomach growls, betraying me aloud. I take a piece of bread, ripping it into smaller pieces and shove them into my mouth, caring only for the hunger that settles deep into my bones.

Footsteps echo on the other side of the partially open wooden door.

A young woman flourishes in, slipping through the opening, bright and fluttering, almost fairy-like. Her skin glows in the soft firelight, her cropped pixie cut casting shadows across her delicate features.

“You’re awake,” she sighs, twisting her fingers together. She wears a monochrome ensemble of beige that appears oddly washed out as though the salt from the sea had faded each thread.

Swallowing the dry bread, I say, “Who are you and where am I?”

Behind her, shadows dance along the hallway. Candles flicker in procession, living things that peer into the room with intrusive curiosity.

“This is the Lazarus Estates,” she says softly, sweeping her hand around in a small twirl. Her hands are small compared to mine, painted a soft, whimsical pink. Mine are bare and jagged, evidence of neglect.

When I don’t respond right away, she says, “Please eat. You’ve been asleep for a few days, I was concerned.”

A few days. It seemed like only an hour had passed between collapsing into darkness and awakening here.

“What’s your name?” I ask, wary.

“Daisy…I’ve lived here with the Lazarus family for a little while.” She offers a small smile.

My shoulders loosen and I lower my head. “I don’t know how I ended up in the water. My mind is blank.”

“You remember nothing at all?” Her brow furrows.

My eyes drift around the room, searching for something I cannot name. A presence. But a shrill noise dances its way through my skull.

I glance over at the windows overlooking the sea. From here the water taunts me.

Find him. The voice is deep and gravelly, barely audible.

“Are you still hungry?” Daisy interrupts the voices in my head.

“Yes,” I answer, the rumbling of my stomach providing its own proof.

She gestures to the platter and encourages me to sit before the fire. I grab it and lower myself to the ground. As I balance the plate on my lap, a jolt of pain ricochets through my skull. Flashes of jagged memories sweep through me, floating like broken constellations across a dark sky.

I clamp my eyes shut, unable to withstand the searing sting.

“Deep breaths,” Daisy instructs. “Inhale. Hold. Exhale.”

I obey until the pain loosens its grip.

Daisy crouches beside me, taking my hands again. She guides them close to the fire, warming the cold from my fingers. Her eyes glow with ‌the flames as she speaks. “If you were in that water any longer, you would not have survived.”