Adoration

E I G H T : Not Me.

I was back in the four post bed, my limbs heavy and my eyes glued shut. I could feel myself stepping back into my body. I tested the strength of my wall, it didn't budge. I knew he'd be sitting beside the bed again, I wondered how much time I had lost. The memories of the previous day were still intact, though I wasn't sure if it was still the previous day or a day far away in the past. I knew what was happening, I knew how long I'd been there. I remembered the walk to the cottage, I remembered the photos on the walls, I remembered the basement. I tested myself further, allowing myself to think of more of the night. Bits and pieces of the memories came up, blonde hair, red hair, a gift, but I was missing some. There were obvious blank spaces, as if someone had picked up my brain and scratched with permanent marker over certain areas. There was something obvious that I was missing within these memories, but as I pushed for it, more holes appeared. The one relief I had was that there was no pain. Regardless of the holes, I was excited to share this with Elias, to let him know it was all still there in my head where we'd left it.

"Elias," My voice was hoarse, it made my stomach sink. I wondered again how long I'd been asleep, how long he'd been sitting next to me.

He was there, just where I'd pictured him. His face was soft and he had a book in his hands, one of the books I wanted to touch in the library two rooms down. He glanced up. He looked different today, lighter. I wondered if he was putting on a façade.

"Daria," He began. It seemed like he had reached a conclusion I wasn't quite able to come to myself. I wanted to ask him how soon we could start again, I wanted to remember more. He smiled at me, sticking the attached ribbon between the pages he was reading. He closed the book and leaned onto the bed. "We're going to take some time away from the memories."

My excitement shrank. I wanted to know why, but I didn't want to ask. I didn't have to ask.

"We got carried away with our last experiment," He began, it felt like he was being more candid than he ever had been before. "We want to give you time to adjust, time to let it all settle. Do you understand?"

I felt like there was an underlying concern, so I reached my mind toward him to try and grasp it.

A word floated up through my brain, muddled by what felt like heavy fog. I couldn't understand the context of it, but I recognized his voice. 

"Danger."

I froze and he nodded. "Daria?" He used his voice.

"Yes. I understand." I didn't.

"Good." He smiled again, a smile that didn't touch his eyes. The eyes that were warning me of something.

I need answers.

He had to have heard me, but if he did he ignored it.

"Perfect," He continued. "Get dressed. I'd like to show you a bit more of the house, if you're up for it."

I was hungry again, but the strangeness of his behavior felt more important.

"Of course, that would be wonderful." I was keeping this act going. He was going to tell me what was going on eventually. He stood and turned then, walking for the door before I could question him anymore.

I swung my legs from the bed and decided on a new routine for each morning I woke up here. I was going to start measuring my hair to track time. I didn't have a real way to do this, but I would make note of where the ends of my hair fell on my body. I stood and walked to the mirror, an outfit had already been chosen for me by the faceless and nameless. My old ripped mom jeans, a gray thick strapped tank top, a flannel. Stripping from the oversized shirt and shorts that had apparently become my sleep clothes in this strange house, I looked at where the ends of my hair fell. Now that I had scars (I didn't let myself think of why) I had a good canvas of landmarks. A scar, jagged and bright pink, looked newer than the rest and I fought the urge to remember more of last night.