7.

Do not dwell on the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind, learn to project ... and exact a revenge on all you believe deserves it. Make them pay, for someone needs to pay the costs for what has been taken from you.

She lived in perpetual darkness for as long as she could remember, since childhood at least. It was her way, her normal and it worked for her. She lived her life her way, she survived her past and deals with her present, so who was anyone to tell her otherwise? Who was anyone to suggest to her that she would be better off in this place or that or to if she'd be better off with this person or with someone who could aid her with her daily life? For she done perfectly fine all by herself. She managed until; one may argue ... she didn't, and even that would be debateable, especially with what may or may not be known as truth.

As a child she imagined a night sky, clear and calm. The moon is full and fixed, as the stars are too. They would guide her, save her, and allow her to move on. She imagined tea-parties and wonderous things, and of all the adventures she'd never get to have. What loss of sight took away, sound, touch, and smell replaced. A lot more would be taken, and she'd learn to adapt. The moon and stars do not move, she does ...

When one sense is gone, or was never there to begin with, then other senses can and do pick up the slack, and then some too. In some circumstances, it may appear that the person with less has gained something more, a super-human ability in trade for what it is they go without. Like a blind person may detect the presence of a loved one simply by how they smell or how they sound when they move. Such an ability may seem magical, mystical even, to a regularly sighted person. If her truest ability could be known, would it be believed.

The night, she loved the night. She knew the night brought darkness and it brought others more onto her level even if it is a level incomplete. Where light was, so too was sound more so than smell, night was most definitely the opposite. Its smell is distinct and altered depending on the time of year, and it's sound, or lack of, was much more evident. The night always brought so much more than what the day ever would.

Alice knew every inch of her home. Everything had its place. She could tell you what items she had at any given time and where exactly each little piece should be, and she could often tell when items had been moved while she had guests over. She often spent at least half an hour of her day properly rearranging things once a guest had departed.

Some talents had taken time to acquire. Food for instance, she knew what she had and how much of it, by the feel of packaging and the strength of her memory and so on. A standard weekly delivery of perishable items came like clockwork. She'd be informed of a change of delivery person well in advance and she retained the right to appeal on whatever grounds she felt necessary. Back up brands were known so to fall back on when the one she wanted was out of stock. Such are her sense that she could almost tell the difference before being informed.

A point came, slowly over a number of days, when she began to feel uneasy. Something wasn't quite right, and when she thought she knew what that something was, she passed it off as just her own nature being too cautious, the concerns of others simply catching up with her. Her father was the worst. He'd have her home with him and mom if he could, especially after what had occurred so very many years ago now. In truth, he could hardly look after himself though it is his nature to worry.

But Alice needed her independence and dad had to allow her such a thing, not that it ever was a choice he could grant. She needed to lice her life, her way and her choices just had to be accepted by others. With that however, she has many good people in her life, she'd be perfectly fine and for a long time ... she was.

It comes to a head. In her own home, she is not alone. Everything tells her this. There is no doubt. This was no time for shadows, they were of no use. So uneasy as she is, surely, she has given away the fact that she knows someone is here, inside her home. Alice can't stay still, and confirmation of what she knows, comes in her own movement. A small table in her living room. She has moved to it and feels for what gives her that confirmation.

A trinket, a small musical jewellery box is slightly out of place. It had been moved ever so slightly and enough for her to know the difference. Earlier in the day, only a couple hours prior, it had been right where it should have been, to the fraction of an inch, and now it is off center, and there had been no visits to cause this alteration.

Alice also had another point of contention to rely on. Over the past three days there had been the odd light shuffle or so in the shrubbery outside her home just as she was arriving home, enough of a ruffle for her to notice and for her to recognize it was out of place, when others wouldn't notice at all. Someone must have been watching her.

What may have been in the shadows for others, turned the tide to fit the bill. Daytime, rather than nightfall, being the port of call. Yeah, such a person is aware of certain things. Use of advantage goes some distance.

'Who is there?' she asks, appearing calm on the outside, anything but on the inside. '... There is no point in hiding it, we both know you are here.'

Fifteen feet behind her, someone stands silently, right at the entrance to the kitchen. Alice's senses are such that even while being so uneasy, she can detect the difference in airflow with the kitchen door being open while someone blocks the way. In seconds the intruder is upon her, and she doesn't have a chance.

A swooping movement rushed her, and a chloroformed rag knocks her out but not before she can hit a panic button, and this action does unbeknown to her attacker. The triggered alarm is silent, and the button press had gone unseen with the intruder positioned behind her. There are no mirrors, and a darkness will soon begin to set in so the intruder has as many disadvantages in this situation, perhaps more than what the intended victim would.

***

A difficult wakening comes. If she were in a hospital bed, then this moment may be the beginning of a recovery, mental to begin with, physical depending on the effects of being taken against her will, but she is anywhere but a hospital bed. Down here, the cold floor is whatever bed you can make it be. It could be anything though authenticity rules best. Incoming treatment will not be that of any kind of recovery. Just the opposite one would think, if a place and position like this one was to be survived.

Groggy, lightheaded, weak, still there is much to discern about her situation. She is chained at the wrists and ankles. The floor is hard, concrete more littered with straw than the straw being something of a provision. There is wood, plenty of it but this place is no barn. It is likely something underground, a basement probably.

The panic, once the realization comes, is unlike anything she has ever felt. Life has taught her control, though the panic cannot be eased, she knows to take in as much of her situation as possible. If there is anything close with which could be of advantage to her, then she needs to know of such.

If she were to call out for help, she'd be quite sure none would come, but that does not mean that there is no one already here. She does not need her eyes to know she is a prisoner in a place where it would be futile to even consider escape. Death has occurred here, she can smell it, and death will likely come again. It is impossible not to consider that her own is imminent. Can there be another outcome? If there is to be then she may have to be the one to instigate it.

'Good, you're awake ...' speaks a female voice.

'W-who are you? ... Let me go ... please ...?' Alice asks with a frantic demeanour taking her.

It kinda make her look like a mad woman to her ... companion, though it doesn't take much to notice that there is something off about the newcomer. The room is dark but is not in complete darkness. Alica will only see what her senses allow her to see, or what she allows herself to see. Is there recognition here?

'I would if I could honey, though it ain't I who is holding us captive.'

Nothing appears obvious.

'Captive? It was not you who came into my home?'

'No, not chance of me doing that, not recently anyhow. I've been right here for a while now. So, he took you from inside your home, did he? He must be feeling brave. He led me on and took your predecessor from a dark outdoor place. He had been watching us. And how he done me ...'

He, ... yes, Alice knows that the person who took her was male, or at the least, taller, and stronger than herself. Yet he too is vulnerable. She can take it that the other person here is as much a victim as she is, or at the very least, not the one who took her. Her predecessor, the death she somehow senses. She seeks confirmation.

'The other person you speak of, she is dead, right?'

'Yes ...', she shivers and alters her position to sit against the pole she is chained to. 'The bastard didn't even have the decency to remove her before committing the act ...'. Her right hand begins to tremble, and tears begin to flow. 'He killed her right in front of me, made me watch every damn second of it ... he only removed her remains in the moments before he brought you in. She had been ... been dead a good day and a half. It was if she were sleeping, while I just sat here, staring, scared out of my wits that she'd wake up looking to feed on me or something like that ... lack of sleep, frightened as hell, with a dead body just feet away ... does some strange things to ya, ya know ...'

Alice is at an almost complete loss for how to react to this. She simply waits and listens to what her companion tells her ... and the obvious, or perhaps not so obvious down here, is about to be asked.

'You're blind, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'Well at least that's something, he'll surely do a repeat performance, this time with my death occurring in front of you. You won't see it, of course. I've never been so afraid in my life ...'

This other lady begins to cry, her fear seems real. And if what she has been told is truth then Alice could debate the fact that she would still fully witness such an event, if indeed it is to happen. What she'd feel during such an occurrence will let her know it's real.

Yeah, the quivering in her companion's voice, more than suggest that a truth has been told, no debate will occur obviously enough.

'Hey, it's alright. We have time to put this right. Tell me, what's you name?'

'Rei ...'

'I once knew a Rei, a long time ago ... I'm Alice.'