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Rober Remington had been in the room the entire time, but now I was free.
Had he loosened my restraints?
I looked down and found them still buckled up, untouched.
Confusion reigned in my head, and the horrified looks on Flora and Robert’s faces didn’t help settle me down.
“What did you do to me?” I asked, and Flora immediately kicked back into professional mode.
“Nothing, dear,” she smiled and ran her hand along my arm to soothe me. “Nothing at all. Mr. Remington simply thought the treatment was going on too long for you, but you look absolutely stunning. Doesn’t she look stunning?”
“Indeed. Alexander will be thrilled,” Robert Remington said, but his voice was flat and emotionless. He unsettled me, just his mere presence, but when he talked about me, I felt as if I’d done something wrong.
“Can I see?” I asked. “I’d like to know what the treatments do.”
I sat upright and pushed myself out of the chair. I wobbled for a moment as the darkness pulled again, one last tendril snaking out to try to drag me in. But I was too strong for it now. I was fully awake and aware of my surroundings, with my feet firmly anchored in this world.
“There’s a mirror on the wall,” Flora said, her eyes darting anxiously over to Robert. “Would you like to see it now?”
I nodded and walked behind the chair to a small mirror, stood in front, and examined my face.
I pulled back at first because I didn’t recognize myself for half a moment. Again, I was expecting something different. A harder face with etched lines from rough living, dyed hair, piercings. I didn’t look like the Willow I had in my head.
This Willow was beautiful. And I didn’t think I’d ever been beautiful. This Willow really was stunning, with perfect skin, perfect teeth, and beautiful, clear eyes. Smooth plains along the face, no wrinkles, no dry patches, nothing to indicate anything other than a life of absolute privilege.
“Did I ever look tired?” I asked, trying to find a way to get information without revealing the deep, unending emptiness inside of me, the hole where my life should have been. “Did I ever have pink hair?”
“Increase her meds,” Robert said with narrowed eyes. “She needs to stay focused until the wedding. I’m going to put this all in the report, but she needs more if she thinks she had pink hair.”
With that, his weighty, dark disapproval, he turned and left the room. He left me confused and ashamed that I’d done something wrong, but I didn’t know what it could be.
“Mr. Remington simply understands that this is a very trying time for you,” Flora said with a bright voice, but she couldn’t hide the tension at the corner of her eyes. I saw the skin twitch on her left cheek as she clenched her teeth together in a tight smile. “I’ll get your medications in order, and we’ll lay them all out. I can have them packaged for daily doses, so you don’t accidentally miss any.”
“What would happen if I did?” I asked. “Would it be such a big deal if I went off the meds all together? I feel like they’re making me sleepy.”
“No,” Flora tsked. “Not at all. They’re keeping you awake. You risk slipping back into another coma if you go off them abruptly. Dr. Norris will keep assessing the information we gather at each treatment, and he will determine if you can go on a lower dosage. But you must never dabble with it yourself.”
“That doesn’t make sense, though,” I said stubbornly. “How could pills be keeping me from lapsing backwards into the dark?”
“Seizures,” she replied. “Or it might be linked to a traumatic brain injury causing a type of narcolepsy. That’s why you feel strange when you see flashing lights or hear rhythmic beats. It puts you into a sleeping stage while you’re awake, like a coma.”
“I wish you’d told me this before,” I exhaled in relief. “I felt like I was going crazy. So the medication isn’t causing the brain fog, though?”
“No,” she said and frowned. “I don’t know why that’s lingering, but that’s a direct result of the head trauma. These treatments will help you knit everything back together. That, combined with the pills Dr. Norris and Mr. Remington have hand-picked for you, will have you ready for the wedding. Don’t you worry about that.”
“When’s the wedding?” I asked.
“At the end of the year, when you graduate,” she said. “You don’t remember that?”
“I thought college was four years,” I replied, scrambling around for any information about a wedding. There was nothing. I’d never wanted to get married. I thought that was kind of my thing. I was the anti-marriage girl, the kind who would shack up forever and offer undying love and loyalty but never a ceremony or a signed document of ownership.
“Two for women,” she said. “Unless you’re a Lower, like me, then you can opt for the four-year program as long as it’s a useful subject. I chose to nurse, so it was very useful.”
“I can choose to nurse?” I asked. “Is there anything else to get out of the wedding?”
“Why would you want that?” Flora asked with a puzzled expression. “You’re marrying the wealthiest man in school and becoming part of the most influential families in the country, if not the world.”
“I don’t know,” I replied, glancing up at the corners of the room, half expecting to see cameras. “I like learning and wouldn’t mind continuing my studies.”
