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The fact that they were in here, and not in my room, told a clear picture of who he attributed my success to—himself.
“Brandy?” he asked, holding up a decanter from his bar cart on the far wall. My hands were trembling, and my mouth was watering…but I couldn’t be a fool.
Ignorance was only acceptable for so long.
“Just one of those water bottles,” I murmured, watching his eyes flash down to my shaking hands in my lap.
“Suit yourself. It’s not very celebratory,” my mother said, pouring herself some of the brandy with a smirk, like she was mocking my paranoia about the drink.
Marco handed me a sealed water bottle out of his mini fridge, and I opened the lid and gulped down the cool liquid. My throat was raw from singing for hours.
“To you, princess,” Marco hummed, lifting up his glass of brandy. I smiled weakly, trying to convince myself to stay in the room for one more minute. They were taking this a lot better than I thought they would. Maybe they finally understood how close to the edge I was.
Probably not. But…maybe.
“So tell me, Olivia. What are you going to do on your little…break?” my mother asked. Her voice was still mocking, but without the usual rancor she had when she spoke to me.
“Rest,” I croaked, my headache getting worse.
“How wonderful,” she giggled. Giggled. She usually saved that for people she was trying to impress.
Wait…what was happening to her?
I blinked and leaned forward, trying to focus on her head because…something was wrong with it. Her eyes were sliding down her face. “What’s—” I whispered, rubbing at my eyes. The room was blurring and warping. The artwork on the walls was melting and shifting in a nightmarish display. Panic clawed at my throat and I lurched out of my seat, pulling on my sweatshirt as I struggled to stand.
"What's happening to me?" I stammered, my voice coming out garbled and distorted. My body felt heavy and uncooperative, like my limbs didn’t actually belong to me.
Laughter surrounded me, but it was demonic laughter, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere, like the room had suddenly filled with people while I’d been sitting in my chair.
“Help me,” I rasped, but I couldn’t make out faces anymore, everything seemed to be melting like hot wax, puddling onto the floor around me.
And still that laughter continued.
I needed to get out of here…call for help. I lurched towards what vaguely looked like an opening in the room, my movements clumsy and unsteady.
In the hallway, I clung to the cold, unforgiving walls for support, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My steps were faltering, and it felt like my legs were encased in concrete.
I tried to scream, but it was trapped inside me.
Step after step, I forced my way forward.
So many distorted faces. All wearing eerie masks of laughter. There were flashes of light, erratic and blinding…everywhere.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slid into consciousness, trying to open my eyes. But it was as if they’d been superglued shut. It took what felt like forever to finally open them, and then even longer until the room came into focus.
White. It was on every surface. White walls and a white ceiling. White tiles on the floor.
White sheets.
Sheets? I stared at them, trying to figure out where I was. A hotel?
Some kind of weird, monochromatic one?
I tried to move my arm and something chafed my skin.
There was a scratchy band around my wrist.
