Sorry for the delay everybody! 

Detective Victoria Blackwood

Police sirens? I don't remember seeing police sirens at the warehouse. Maybe that bastard was playing tricks with me again. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights and the blaring sirens.

I was moving. No. This couldn't be happening. Panic surged as I quickly opened my eyes to find myself seated comfortably in the backseat of a police car; a blanket draped over me.

"Hey...Shhh... You are okay," came Xander's voice, soft and reassuring. I turned around so quickly that I thought I had broken my neck. There he was, sitting beside me, holding my hand. Tears welled up in my eyes at the sight of his face. It felt like it had been years since I last saw him.

He gently wiped away the falling tear. "How are you? It's been so long since we last met." He smiled, and I chuckled, appreciating his attempt to keep things light despite the situation. For a moment, his calm demeanor made me feel safe, grounding me amid the chaos.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Xander, what happened? How did I get here?"

His smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern. "We'll get to that, Victoria. Right now, just know that you're safe. We're taking you to the hospital to get checked out."

I nodded, squeezing his hand. Despite being missing for so long, he wasn't bombarding me with questions. I appreciated that about him. For now, I could take a moment to breathe.

But the more silence engulfed me, the more questions bombarded my mind. How did they reach me? How long has it been? Where did the masked man go? The last thing I remembered was him between my legs and me surrendering to him. It burned me. The next time I saw that bastard would be his last day on Earth.

After completing my visit to the hospital with no major injuries, I headed back to my house with Xander. I needed some space to process everything that had happened before dealing with the inevitable barrage of questions from everyone else.

"Vic, did he hurt you?" Xander's voice broke through the cacophony of thoughts in my mind.

"No." That was all I could manage. But he did hurt me. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that because, in some twisted way, I complied. I felt deep down that if I had told the masked man to stop, he would have.

Xander looked at me, concern etched in his features. He knew there was more I wasn't telling him, but he didn't push. "Good," was all he said.

"How long was I gone for, Xan? And how did you find me?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Vic, I know you want to know and trust me, I've been dying to tell you since the moment I couldn't find you at that warehouse. But right now, I need you to rest. I'm sure you have a lot of questions swirling in that pretty head of yours." I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "Don't you dare deny it. I know you. And your brain never stops. But the answer is no. You are not getting any answers until you get some rest and clear your mind. After that, you can kill me with all your questions."

I sighed, leaning back against the car seat, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. Xander was right. I needed to rest, to gather my strength before diving back into the chaos that awaited.

"Okay, okay," I said, a small smile playing on my lips. "But you owe me some serious explanations, mister."

He chuckled softly, squeezing my hand gently. "Deal. Just get some rest, Vic. We'll sort everything out when you're ready."

As we pulled up to my house, I felt a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. The familiarity of my surroundings was comforting, yet the recent events made everything feel foreign. Xander helped me inside, his presence a steadying force.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, concern still evident in his eyes.

"No, I think I just need to lie down for a bit," I replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Xan."

He nodded, giving my hand one last squeeze before heading to the kitchen. I made my way to my bedroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. Lying down, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Fragments of memories flashed before me—dark alleys, cold hands, and the masked man's voice.

And before I knew it, I was asleep.

"Noooo..No, please let me go! There is a man at my house! HE KILLED MY PARENTS!" I cried, tears falling non-stop from my eyes. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one bothered to listen to me.

I was on a hard, cold table. My hands and feet couldn't move; something tight was holding them down. The room was dark, and it smelled funny, like the place where doctors work. I could see scary shadows on the walls because the lights were flickering. My heart was beating so fast, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Pleaseee!!" I was tied. Mama and Papa had just died, and I didn't know where I was. I saw many people around me wearing masks and whispering, but I couldn't understand anything. Their eyes, cold and unfeeling, peered down at me through the slits of their masks.

"Who are you? What are you doing to me?" I cried, but no one listened.

A man stepped forward, his mask more ornate than the others, with dark, glittering eyes peering out from behind it. "Do you think we should do it? She is only 3 years old, Lucien," he whispered to another masked figure beside him.

The man, probably Lucien, replied with a chilling calmness, "She is going to be our greatest weapon," he whispered back. His voice sent shivers down my spine. "HOLD HER!" he shouted suddenly, his voice echoing off the sterile walls.

Panic surged through me as several pairs of hands clamped down on my arms and legs, their grips like iron. "NO! NO! PLEASE NO! LET ME GO! MAMA! PAPA!" I screamed, my voice breaking with desperation.

And before I knew it, darkness dug its claws inside me once again and the last thing I saw were Lucian's light green eyes.

I shot up in bed, gasping for air, my heart racing as if I'd just run a marathon. My skin was clammy, my pulse hammering in my ears. What the hell was that? I had never witnessed that memory before in my entire life.

For a few minutes, I sat there, trying to steady my breathing and calm my pounding heart. The room was silent, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. 3:47 AM.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, still shaky from the nightmare. I needed to clear my head, to understand what I had just seen. I made my way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would help dispel the lingering sense of dread.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I tried to make sense of the fragments. The masked men, the cold table, Lucien's light green eyes—why did it all feel so disturbingly familiar? And why now, after all these years, was I remembering it?

With a sigh, I grabbed my phone and made my way back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I opened a new note and began to type, capturing every detail of the memory while it was still fresh in my mind. I didn't know what it meant, but I was determined to find out.

Did it have something to do with my parent's death? The strange man with no eyes, Damien who killed them? Or with something much more dangerous - The Prophecy?

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