Black Iris

Not fine.

Rose

I came to with a shooting pain in my head and a metallic taste in my mouth.

Fighting to keep my eyes open, I looked up, groaning at the light shining on me, from a torch of some kind. I was on a cold concrete floor, in what seemed to be a huge concrete cylinder.

"Sorry," I heard a voice whisper, then the light switched off.

I blinked, groaning as I tried to sit up. "Gwen?" I asked groggily.

She made a murmur of acknowledgement.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Hell."

"Gwen," I murmured. She let out a sigh, then hissed. "Are you okay?"

As my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, I could see her nod. "Yes. I'm fine," she said, in a voice that revealed that she was definitely not fine.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" I asked. "Has someone hit you?"

"Yes," she said bitterly. "You know full well that there's someone that has hit me many, many times."

I was quiet for a moment, feeling guilty. Guilty to have left her with him. Guilty to have asked her that question. But I didn't ask it for a sassy response.

"Gwen, please," I whispered. "Did they hit you? After I was knocked out?"

This time, it was her turn to be quiet. Finally, she spoke. "No. These injuries aren't from that."

Something clicked. "The car. I saw the video. Did you hurt yourself then?"

"I'm fine," she repeated.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

I shifted my weight, pulling myself up and looking up. The room we were in looked almost like the inside of a tower, rising high, high up before ending in a big fan that was frozen in place, with the off-pieces revealing what looked to be the night sky. I could see the stars, peeking through.

Then, I heard another voice speaking out from the darkness.

"Ophelia?"

And I realised: we weren't alone.