The world tilts and whirls, a chaotic dance of darkness pressing against my senses. My body feels weighed down, as if gravity itself conspires to keep me grounded. I strain to push against the cold floor beneath me, willing my muscles to respond. But no matter how hard I try, I remain frozen in place, the emptiness swallowing me whole. I don't move. Why can't I move? Pushing again, my fingers twitch. My eyelid moves, and light slowly begins to overtake the darkness.

It spins; the light is spinning. Round and round it goes colours mixing together. Round...and round...and round it goes. Colors burst into existence, swirling in a kaleidoscopic frenzy. Purple melts into blue, which flickers into green and ignites into orange, red, yellow, and finally white—a dizzying symphony of hues colliding and merging. They twist and churn as if my vision itself has become an abstract painting, untamed and volatile. My fingers twitch and my eyes flutter as the colours spin.

Over and over they go my head pounding with each turn. My fingers twitching and my eyes fluttering. Pound...spin...pound...spin...pound...spin...twitch...spin...pound...spin...twitch...pound...spin...pound...spin...pound...spin...twitch...spin...pound...spin...twitch...pound...spin...pound...spin...pound...spin...twitch...spin...pound...spin...twitch...pound...spin...pound...spin...pound...spin...twitch...spin...pound...spin...twitch...twitch...twitch...twitch...

My body crumples to the floor, the impact jarring my already disoriented mind. My eyes dart across the room, taking in the overwhelming whiteness that seems to stretch into infinity. Walls, floors, ceiling—all bleed together in a blinding sea of sterile light, obliterating any sense of clarity. With a monumental effort, I drag myself upright, my shaky legs barely supporting me. Each step feels like walking through quicksand, and then my knees collide with something unseen. The ground claims me once more, the world tipping and twisting until I can no longer discern up from down.

"Oh my giddy aunt' jad," a girl exclaims feet rushing towards me.

Warm hands slide beneath my shoulders, their grip steady yet gentle as they hoist me upright. An arm wraps securely around my back, cradling me with an unexpected tenderness. Their presence feels solid, grounding me against the chaos that still churns within. Staggering to what I assume is the door, the girl shouts, "I neid assistanc' her'."

My ears ring her voice echoing over and over again the words mixing in with the spinning white blob.

"Toilet."

"Huh?" The girl asks.

"Toilet," my voice comes out horse scratchy to even my ringing ears.

The girl and I stumble to where I assume the toilet is. The girl lowers me carefully, her movements gentle despite the urgency in her voice. My knees give way, landing heavily on the cold floor as my shaking hands reach for the toilet seat. The stark white porcelain feels foreign beneath my grasp, yet it's the only solid thing in my spinning world. The world sways precariously around me, each motion sending shockwaves through my pounding head. I cling to the ceramic toilet seat, its cool, solid surface my only anchor in this storm of disorientation. Every breath feels fragile, as though it might shatter the fragile calm I've managed to grasp. "Wer' in the loo," the girl shouts, the enclosed bathroom amplifying her voice twofold in my head.

The sound of hurried footsteps draws nearer, their echo amplifying the pounding in my ears. Voices overlap in a chaotic symphony as shadows move around me, their varied forms breaking against the unyielding whiteness of the room. The spinning intensifies, drowning out the details and reducing everything to indistinct shapes and sounds. They spin and spin and spin my head ringing and ringing and ringing.

And I hurl all the contents of my stomach into the toilet emptying what little is in there.

"That's it deary let' it aut', keip going it will pass." A woman's voice whispers gently beside me her hand patting my back as I heave my stomach trying to empty its already empty self. "Hazel can yau go get' jad' a glass of watuh."

"Yes Heather right' away," a girl says feet gently pattering away.

Coughing I spit into the toilet the white blob slowly settling down. The toilet flushes taking my stomach with it, and whatever it is that gave me this headache.

"Her'," turning to the voice Hazel holds up a glass of crystal water.

"Thank you," I whisper gently taking the water. The icy water trickles down my raw throat, its coolness sharp against the burning ache. The sensation makes me cough, the sudden motion jarring and relentless. Heather's hand finds its way to my back, her soothing touch tracing calming circles along my spine, grounding me in the storm still raging inside. Forcing all the water down my throat still aching no longer feels as swollen.

"I hav' nevuh sein anyon' lik' this befor'?"

"Me neither they were really rough with her."

"Do you know why?"

"Not' a clu'?"

The girls shut their mouths falling silent. Heather turns to me "Can yau walk deary?"

Nodding I push on the toilet "Yeah." My legs tremble violently beneath me as I attempt to stand, the weight of my body testing their fragile stability. With a tentative step toward the door, they falter, buckling under the strain and sending me crashing back down into the cold, unyielding floor.

Hissing my back throbs pain shooting up my back and down my legs, my temples pounding. My vision blurs the white mixing once again before calming like an ocean against the light breeze, disturbed for a second but quick to settle. I lay there in Hazel and Heather's arms my breath catching in my throat.

"Lean on us well help yau."

Nodding they wrap their arms under my shoulders the two of them taking most of my weight. My legs still shake with the little pressure on them each step painful, my back and my thighs screaming.

With painstaking care, Hazel and Heather ease me onto the lounge in the sitting room. The soft embrace of the plush chair catches me, its comforting texture a relief against my trembling, exhausted body. My legs stretch out in front of me, their aching protests muffled by the fleeting sensation of comfort. "I'll get' som' heat' packs," Hazel says rushing towards the kitchen.

"Bring advil and anothuh glass of watuh," Heather calls making my ears ring. "Jen get' som' cooling oil, Sarah warm up a light' saup, the others find som' cloth's she can chang' into they will be coming to get' her soon."

At Heather's command, the girls begin to rush around grabbing different things and bringing them over. Hazel comes back with three heat pads, she places one on my back one on my neck and the other on my stomach. "Her' tak' thes'," she passes me two pills.

"What are they?"

"Advil for the pain, it's not' much but it's all they will giv' us."

Swallowing the two pills I chug half the glass of water, coughing Hazel takes the glass moving out of the way for the other girls to come in. Everyone is bustling around me, the robe that I just realized was covering me is removed and replaced with some oil glistening across my skin. The girls massage my arms, stomach, and legs my body begins to feel cool and painless. I get turned onto my back the process of oil and then massage repeated.

367 seconds later I am wiped off with a warm towel and dressed in plain white and brown clothes.

"For comfort, a dress is best, here wear this jacket, what is your shoe size?"

"Aaa 6 and a half."

"Good we're the same size wait here I'll get you some comfortable shoes."

The girl rushes off her golden brown hair fluttering behind her. I glance at Heather, who busies herself tidying the remnants of our frantic preparations. My hand brushes against my skin, the oil leaving it unnaturally soft, almost foreign. "Why am I getting dressed up?" I ask hesitantly, the question barely audible amid the bustle of activity.

"Hmm," Heather looks up at me her blue eyes looking like pearls "Aaa a dress won't' irritat' yau down ther'," she explains with a calm certainty, her words carefully measured. "Pants wauld" she adds with a gentle nod, as though trying to reassure me that this small detail is for my comfort.

"No no I'm not talking about the dress I get that, I mean why am I getting dressed in clothes to go out?"

She stops what she is doing placing the oil bottles and towels onto the glass coffee table. "Deary yau passed the test'."

"Passed the test?" I repeat, the words feeling foreign on my tongue, as though they don't belong to this moment—or to me. My brow furrows, trying to piece together the fragmented implications of what she's said, but the answer hovers just out of reach.

"Yes, so they are taking yau aut' to get' clothes and books, and anything els' yau might neid to feil mor' comfotabl' her'."

"Taking me where?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper, yet somehow heavy with apprehension. The answer feels as though it might unlock a door I've been too afraid to open.

"A mall."

"bick vatever yau vant as long as it can pe carried," the man says. We step into the cavernous expanse of a mall, the towering ceilings drawing my gaze upward. Light pours in through an intricate lattice of skylights, casting shifting patterns on the polished floors below. The sprawling space feels both imposing and surreal, as though its grandeur is meant to dazzle and distract in equal measure.

People chatter as they walk around enjoying their day shopping. Kids cry out as they wait for their parents to buy them snacks or toys and girls hold bags in their arms with wide smiles. Shops I don't know line the walls with clothing styles slightly different from home, I am not in the US or Canada.

Two men that could come off as being my bodyguards but are more like watchdogs making sure I don't run away.

"Vats vrong Liebchen, ko into vatever sdore's yau vant pefore aur scheduled haboitment." The man says smoothly, his voice carrying an air of command that leaves little room for questioning. His piercing eyes flick toward me, expectant and unyielding.

I glance at the man beside me, he is dressed in a very well-made suit, even my untrained eyes can see that. Maybe the two men aren't just my watchdogs but this man's bodyguards. Who is he and why is he here?

He grins turning his crystal eyes toward my brown ones. Looking away I grab my wrist holding it tight in my hands. Glancing from store to store I enter the first one that catches my eye.

A clothing store with a style of clothes that I like, a more put together suit look, what did kids call it? Old money style? Something like that.

Grabbing the stuff that I like in my size I don't look at the price tag and just walk right up to the cash register and put the five shirts, three pants, two jackets, three belts, four sweaters, and one pair of shoes and put them on the counter. Everything is bagged and we leave the store.

I shop like I have no tomorrow going into stores I would never do back home with how expensive they look. Getting anything and everything from simple but nice dresses and suits to daily wear of sweats and hoodies.

The two men carry bags in their hands already rearranged by me to fit more.

"Okay Liebchen, follow me," the man shocks me as he speaks taking the lead. I rush after him stay two steps behind his black silhouette my bright white outfit a stark contrast between the three men dressed in pristine black suits.

Entering a hair salon a lady rushes over bowing to the man a bright smile on her face. He says a few words to her before taking a seat on a plush chair a drink falling into his hands before he sits down.

The lady rushes over to me dragging me towards a chair without a word.

To surprised to say anything I sit in silence like I have been since I left the room at the mansion. The mirror in front of me is tinted like misty glass blurring my figure.

The ladies hands move swiftly, she washes my hair dries it and washes it again before cutting it. I gulp as she does so my hair which should be blue lands on the ground as a dark brown as she trims the dead ends off.

Flinching my eyes tear up as the mirror now reflects me, but I am no longer me. My hair is slightly shorter from the trim but the ends which once were a beautiful midnight blue are a brown not much different from my natural hair colour.

The man stands up his glass taken away in a flash "Let's ko Liebchen ve schtill haffe one more habointment."

Whipping my eyes I rush after him brushing my soft hair as I blink away tears. We enter a waxing salon. Just like in the hair salon, the man says a few words to the lady before taking a seat a glass of liquor in his hands and I follow them into a back room.

I shave often I haven't shaved in who knows how long so my hair has grown a lot but not long enough to wax in most areas. Stripping I lay down on the bed and a lady comes in, no words are spoken between us as the lady works.

I flinch as the hair around my private area gets pulled out. I am already sensitive there but this is another level of pain compared to the other times I have had this done.

45 minutes later we leave the waxing salon my whole body beat red and burning.

Staring at the man his crystal eyes watch me the corners crinkled "yau can sbeak Liebchen."

"May I wash my hands?" I say keeping my voice quiet.

"Vy?"

"They are sweaty I wish to clean them," I wait keeping my eyes on his nose.

He stares at me his eyes like a wolf's taking in every inch of my face "yau haffe 1 minute."

"Thank you," I scurry off to the bathroom beside the store. Rushing in I pray to the heavens that another person is in here.

To my luck, an elderly lady is at the sink. "Excuse me do you have a pen and paper?"

The elderly lady smiles "I do deary, here you go."

"Thank you."

Quickly I write down on the little piece of paper a small note before handing the pen back to the lady. Washing my hands I stuff the paper into the sleeve of my jacket and run out of the bathroom.

"Yau are 2 seconds late," the man says. I gulp bowing my head, only speak when told you can speak. The man watches me for a second longer before turning away "yau can keep schobing."

Straightening up, my chest falls relief washing over me as my heart pounds. We enter a few more stores getting books and the necessities that we haven't gotten yet. Whatever the man says I can get I grab.

As we approach the exit, the shrill sound of the man's phone cuts through the bustling noise around us. He answers swiftly, speaking in a sharp, unfamiliar cadence that I can only guess to be German. His words flow with a precision that sends an inexplicable chill down my spine, their meaning eluding me yet carrying an unmistakable air of authority. The call ends, and his movements slow, deliberate, as he turns toward me. His piercing eyes lock onto mine, their glacial intensity slicing through me like shards of glass. There's a heaviness in his gaze, a quiet threat that coils in the air between us, leaving me frozen and breathless.

His steps are unhurried, measured, as if savoring the tension that thickens with each movement. When he speaks, his voice carries an undertone of restrained fury, the sharp growl of his words striking fear deep into my core. "Yau did ein pad zing Liebchen," he snarls, his tone as cutting as the blade of a knife. I gulp as he turns away saying something to the watchdogs his back rigged.

I swallow hard, the sound echoing in the silence as my legs wobble beneath me. My heart pounds furiously in my chest as I trail behind him, every step heavy with dread. The realization claws at my mind—he knows. Somehow, he knows.

Comment, vote, and share