Each step echoed more loudly than Nina would have thought possible. The sound seemed to bounce off the cream colored walls, amplified by the narrowness of the space she was in. It rang in Nina's ears, the sharp beat of it nearly drowning out the soft music playing from some as of yet unidentified source.

The notes drifted lazily, soft and tinged with a hint of melancholy that struck a chord in Nina. A faint sense of foreboding settled over her, distant enough that Nina paid it little heed. Her steps didn't falter for so much as a second, steady against the hardwood floor as they moved closer and closer to the end of the hall.

Three steps away.

Nina became aware of a scent in the air—of moss and earth and the smell of ozone during a storm. It was familiar, but still not something Nina could name the origins of. Like sand slipping through her fingers, the memory the scent might have invoked became but a passing thought.

Two steps away.

Nina could see the shining black frame hanging on the wall, the light glinting off the glass covering the picture inside. She felt a small twinge of what might have been relief and wondered where the feeling had come from.

And then, she was standing before the frame. The warm lighting of the hall washed over a painting of a simple landscape. A small cabin, a place that seemed to have stood there through many a summer storm and harsh winter snow, stood in the midst of trees colored in golds and reds with bark as dark as wet earth. The sky was but a sliver of blue-gray behind the warm tones overtaking the scene.

As Nina stared at the picture, a feeling of familiarity rose in her. Memories stirred in her mind, images she couldn't grasp. Her mind felt strange to her—unfamiliar. That sense of foreboding returned, clawing weakly at the walls of her mind, muffled cries of attention that Nina simply couldn't be bothered with. She stared at the painting, serene and composed, while feeling trapped for a reason she couldn't quite discern.

The painting faded, the music stopped. Nina opened her eyes.

She was still lying in bed, the room still dark around her with shadows seeming to dance as the lights from the street filtered through the small gap left in the middle of the curtains. Long silhouettes stretched up against the wall, like spectres watching Nina while she slept. A chill ran down her spine. Her heart pounded in her ears as, with shaking hands, Nina shoved the covers off and got out of bed.

The lights turned on once it was clear she was awake, just as they were programmed to do. The brightness was jarring, her eyes needing a moment to get used to the sudden change in lighting. She didn't bother lowering the brightness. It would help wake her up—keep her alert. Remind her what was and what wasn't, of where she was.

She made it to the bathroom even with her legs feeling unsteady and her heart still beating wildly in her chest. Immediately, Nina moved over to the sink to splash some water on her face. As the frigid water hit her skin, Nina couldn't help but wish that it would wash away those memories that haunted her still.

Water trickled down her face. Nina's gaze traveled up. Even as her eyes gazed into what was unmistakably her own face—hazel eyes ringed by dark circles in skin that seemed dull beneath the fluorescent lights—she felt a now well known fear creep into her. Green eyes flashed in her mind and it was all she could do not to scream.

She stared back at herself through the mirror, but all she could think about was Alice's unwavering gaze.

Nina felt her mouth open, a laugh pouring out of it all on it's own. It reminded her of how distant her actions had felt in her dream, like any semblance of control she'd ever had over her body was gone—disjointed emotions and actions that were not her own. The thought made her laugh turn into a desperate sound, broken and bitter. She briefly wondered if that was what it felt like to go mad.

She wondered if that was Alice's goal. If Nina would become a broken, nervous wreck like Fearnley once her mind could take no more.

I know who I am, Nina reminded herself. She didn't question the way that simple phrase had become so much like a mantra during the last couple of hours, echoing in her mind at the slightest sign that something was wrong.

After a couple of deep breaths, she was ready to move on with her day. There was too much left for her left to do. Things that mattered more than her own irrational fears.

The television turned on as Nina walked into the living room just a short while later. A cheery woman was talking about the newest celebrity gossip while her morning show co-host pretended to be interested.

"A source close to the couple claim the rumors are true. . ." the woman went on, sounding positively giddy. On any other given morning, Nina might have rolled her eyes and changed the channel. She didn't bother to do either on that day.

The curtains covering the large windows in the living room opened automatically to display the barely waking city stretching out for as far as Nina could see. In the distance, the first rays of the sun were just starting to emerge from behind the horizon, coloring the dark skyes with streaks of pink and orange. Nina might have thought it beautiful if her mind were not otherwise occupied at the time.

Nina forewent breakfast, even coffee seeming like too much of a bother, and instead headed straight to the notebook she'd left on the living room's coffee table the previous night. Her notes were still there, the same mess she'd walked away from with thoughts of the things written on those pages still filling her head.

The conversation she'd had with Fearnley's wife, Sarah, the previous day came back to her along with the harsh truth she'd discovered. Still, sleep—however little Nina had managed to get—had done her some good. Nina knew he couldn't dwell on a single detail when there was still so much left to look into. So many questions that still needed to be answered.

"Pull the right thread," Nina muttered, even as she looked down at her notes with no idea on how to make sense of the information she'd gathered.

". . . he was released on bail last night. His girlfriend of five years . . . " the woman on the television sounded downright giddy at the juicy bit of news. Nina was a bit amazed at how much someone could care about something so unimportant.

She sat on the couch after a moment, pulling the notebook closer, intent on writing down the latest of her dreams. Nina did her best to remember every detail. Every scent and sound and the feel of hair that was much too long to be her own as it slid over her shoulder. Every conflicting thought that appeared as she walked down that hall entirely against her will. She noted them all down despite the feeling of unease the very idea of them brought her.

It was just as she wrote the last of what she remembered and closed the notebook—the morning show ending and replaced by the news—that Nina received a message. The sound of her phone vibrating from atop its place on the table startled Nina enough to make her drop the pen she'd been using just a moment earlier. Once the beating of her heart had slowed and Nina had convinced herself that all was well, she picked up the slim device.

She'd received a message from Nat. It was short and simple, just as she'd expect of someone like her friend, who preferred to get to the point as soon as possible. As much as Nina couldn't help but smile a bit when she thought of her friend, she wasn't sure about accepting Nat's offer of lunch. There was a lot Nina still needed to do, a lot that she had to work out in her own mind. As much as she wanted to tell herself otherwise, Nina knew all too well that she wasn't in the right frame of mind to meet up with any of her friends or acquaintances. Not when her mind was still so badly fractured.

Not when she wasn't sure of who she could trust.

The most unfortunate part of that was that she really could have used Ben's help. If she wanted to know what Fearnley had been up to the night of Alice's murder, Ben would have been a great source of information. Still, Nina had not always had Ben around to help.

Just call him, some part of her mind whispered. Nina pushed the thought away, telling herself that she could do it on her own—that she'd done it in the past. That this time she had no choice.

Her gaze fell upon her phone, the temptation to ask for help calling to her. Iris was another good source. Nina was sure that her friend would be able to be of some help, but there was still that fear she'd pushed to the back. The one that screamed at her that it could all just be lie.

"We don't have a daughter." The words echoed in her head while an image of the broken man who lived a lie flashed before her eyes. Nina shut her eyes to try to get rid of it all and was rewarded with green eyes staring back at her. When she opened her eyes once more, she felt sick.

Nina sat there, trying to get a grip on her emotions—on her mind—and only ended up feeling drained.

". . .research shows. Further testing is being done. . . ." Nina was only faintly aware of the news anchor's voice, the sound distant as was the rest of the world as of late—muffled by the scent of spices and flowers and the sound of a piano that Nina couldn't see.

In a moment of clarity, she stood and walked out of the room. Nina soon found herself back in the bathroom, cold water running down her face for the second time that morning and her eyes refusing to look up at the mirror, afraid of what she—or rather, what her mind—would find there. Instead, she stared down at her hands as they held onto the edge of the sink, their grip hard against the cold ceramic.

It was then that Nina knew she couldn't stay there. She couldn't stay in that house, swarming with triggers to memories she didn't want to relive. She needed to get out, needed a reason to walk out. Nina thought of the things she'd learned, of the things she needed to know, and knew what her next move should be—she had people to call, an interview to arrange. But she wasn't going to do it there.

Without wasting more time, she got dressed, and gathered her phone and the notes she'd so painstakingly taken from the start of the whole ordeal. All the while, she didn't once stop to think about the bare walls that had once held snapshots of her most precious memories nor of the mirror not covered with a piece of cloth, all things she couldn't bear to see in her current state.

Nina didn't think about much but what she had to do as she shut the door of her apartment and continued on her search for the truth. A truth that some part of her feared would be far more cruel than she could ever expect.

- - - - - - - - - 

Hey everyone! Hope you've liked this chapter, next one will be up on Friday, same as always. Please don't forget to vote and/or comment if you can and thank you all for reading! 

Have a great weekend!