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SASHA
Blood drips all around me.
In the silence, the sound heightens to a terrifying crescendo.
Darkness expands for as far as my vision can see. Fog condenses and floats in a seamless motion, mixing with the blood and flowing beneath and above me.
A droplet of hot liquid falls on my cheek, then another follows, and another…
I cautiously lift my head, despite the claustrophobic sensation expanding in my chest.
There’s something wrong with this situation, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to gauge what’s going on.
Sure enough, in the midst of the smoky darkness, bodies hang from the sky, their eyes bulging, tongues grotesquely hanging out of their mouths, and their clothes soaked with blood.
I’d recognize each and every one of their faces, even if I were old and gray and on my deathbed.
My family.
Tears fill my eyes, and I jump up, desperately trying to reach out and free their corpses, but a strong gust of wind interrupts me.
“You’re a failure, Aleksandra!” The booming voice comes from overhead as if they’re all speaking at the same time.
“A failure.”
“Nothing but trouble.”
“You shouldn’t have been spared.”
“Why do you get to live and we don’t?”
They mix, mash, and turn into a puddle of terrifying shrieks. Their blood soaks my shirt and clings to my skin, my eyelids, and my mouth. Everywhere.
I swallow the metallic taste, nearly drowning in all the blood and yelling.
I put my hands to my ears and scream.
My eyes snap open and clash with an old ceiling. No bodies hang from there, and no blood soaks me.
My concentration is groggy, and my head pulses with pain, but I focus on my surroundings. I’m on a bed in a small room. An old fireplace stocked with wood gives the place a vintage, cozy vibe.
What am I doing here…?
I rack my brain for the last thing I did, but I still can’t put my finger on it.
We were on a mission and—
Damn. The mission!
I lunge forward and pain explodes through my upper shoulder. Holy shit.
Just when I think I’ll die from the sizzling burn, the door opens. I back up against the headboard, my senses on high alert, and reach for my calf knife. Only, I’m not wearing a boot, and…did my breasts just bounce with my movement?
I look down and…what the…? I’m dressed in a cotton nightgown with spaghetti straps and a deep V-neck that reveals half of my breasts. There’s no sign of my chest bandage.
Please tell me this is a continuation of my nightmare.
“You’re finally awake.”
