Don't Forget

Tilia

Where are we? A second earlier, we were stuck in the prison yard, surrounded by guards and police. I can't believe Henry is a policeman. When I saw him in that uniform, it was like having the rug pulled from under my feet. Being in the system, it must have been child's play to incriminate me for all the murders. I imagine his amusement when I was charged. He probably even used connections to get Hugo to guard my hallway at night. I feel so stupid for letting myself be played by this demon since the beginning of our meeting...

I am drawn from my torpor by the shaking of the ground and I cling to the golden railings surrounding me. Looking around, I see that we are in an elevator with walls covered in crimson red velvet. I turn to Kenziel and gasp seeing that his face is back to normal. The wounds and his black eye are healed.

—    Your wounds... I marvel as I caress his face.

He touches the rest of his body as fascinated as me that all signs of torture are gone. We watch the elevator buttons light up on each floor we pass, finally stopping at the 25th floor. Amber-colored doors open into a dimly lit hallway with walls similar to those inside the elevator. Kenziel and I move hesitantly forward and I jump as the cabin doors close behind us.

—    Look, Kenziel says, pointing to the double doors opening at the end of the hall.

He takes my hand and advances in front of me, protecting me with his body. We enter the richly decorated room and I am speechless at its beauty. The walls are pale pink speckled with gold spangles and covered with paintings that look like something out of the Renaissance. The mahogany furniture accentuates the richness of the room, as does the four-poster bed to my right with its white satin sheets and heavy red curtains surrounding it. The decoration gives the room a royal air.

I approach the window facing the door, dragging my feet on the immaculate carpet. Through the window of the bedroom, I see the roof of a church, of breathtaking architectural beauty, struck by a powerful Sun. In the distance, green mountains embellish the landscape straight out of a postcard. I open the window and a warm pleasant wind caresses my face.

—    Are we in paradise? I ask Kenziel admiring the view with me.

—    No... We are in Italy, he answers perplexed, how is it possible?

—    I don't know, but I do know that sometimes it's better not to question the good things in life, I say as I head for the bathroom.

I push open the door apprehensively, only to be taken aback by the splendor of the room. Everything is immaculate white from the high ceiling to the ceramic tiling. A free-standing bathtub sits in front of the window like a gift from the heavens.

My reflection in the mirror brings me back to reality harshly when I see Kenziel's blood and prison dirt on my face and clothes. This one enters behind me with his clothes even dirtier than mine. So I take him by the hands to direct him to the porcelain bath. I smile when I see that it's already filled with hot lavender-scented water, and I take off my uniform. Kenziel looks at me confused, so I pull off his dirt and bloodstained gray trench coat. I unbutton his shirt and then help him out of his pants. He helps me into the tub and I motion for him to sit in front of me, leaning his back against my chest. I hug him tightly and he leans his head against my chest, closing his eyes.

...

—    They tortured you all this time up there? I ask Kenziel, stroking his blond curls.

Wrapped in padded dressing gowns, we lay on the satin sheets of the bed. Kenziel's head rests on my thighs as I lean my back against the headboard. He seems lost in distant memories as my hands stray into his blond hair.

—    I had to be punished for coming here without their permission, he says mechanically, brushing his fingers over the bare skin of my legs.

—    But if they didn't send you here, who ordered you? I ask lost.