THE UNBREAKABLE PIECE (FIRST BOOK OF THE HIDDEN WORLD) English version

CHAPTER SIX: OCEAN

"Amy, you won't catch me!"

Chris's laughter echoed through the deserted hallway as my footsteps echoed on the unusual golden marble floor. Although I couldn't always reconstruct my brother's appearance, I knew he was there, present in the air, in some corner of my mind and my heart.

My bare feet moved forward in the darkness, on that endless path. My eyes could barely recognize the pale blue of the walls that held paintings enclosing those landscapes and different unknown faces in an eternal moment.

I was wearing a beautiful peach-colored dress with small flights that gave me the sensation of having wings. Something weighed on my head, a little scared and confused, I brought my hands to my temple, and I was surprised at the icy touch of diamonds. It was a small tiara.

"Christian! Please! Stop running, I can't catch you anymore."

My voice was insignificant, the voice of a girl who constantly chased Chris's ghost.

He kept running without stopping. The hallway became narrower with every step I took, the walls closing in on me. Suffocating the little air that entered my lungs.

The icy hand of death caressed my spine bone by bone and chilled my skin. That macabre laughter that sometimes possessed the wind around me was here too, removing the innocence in Chris's voice. Because that wasn't Chris. His memory had been corrupted.

"Come to me, Amy. Come find me."

I had been reborn, I was sure of that, as my senses slowly returned to me. The sweet scent of lavender, the soft touch of silk sheets, the constant and melodious sound of water hitting wood, and finally the sunlight forcing me to open my eyes. My eyelids eventually gave in. I was alone. From where I lay, the room looked much bigger than it was. Endless beds, all identical, side by side. It seemed like some kind of infirmary, but I was the only patient.

Perhaps I was in heaven, after the injuries I had suffered, it was most likely that I had died. However, my surroundings seemed real enough to disorient me. I lived constantly in an infinite loop of confusion. Lately, the word "impossible" was starting to lack meaning.

I lifted my torso, straining my muscles. My jeans and cardigan had been replaced by a pink silk pajama set. My wounds had been healed, and the pain still lingered in my body like a ghost haunting my skin and bones. Like the sound of the screeching tormenting my mind, the blood pouring from my ears, the wet concrete of Manhattan, the warmth offered by Evan's arms.

I was far from home, here there was no annoying noise of cars, no smell of garbage, no crowds. Only warm rays of sunshine and the serene sound of water.

The air in the room changed as the doors to the outside opened wide and my father walked in. Now I was starting to believe that I was dead. His steps were firm, and he looked relieved to see me. He was all in blue, as if the sky had given him a brushstroke. He wore a suit that fit his body perfectly and gave that little extra to his eyes. Almost as if the years had never passed him by, his face looked rejuvenated, alive, and warm.

He smiled at me, and for a moment happiness refreshed my face, I had never felt so grateful to see him. I tried with all my strength to get my feet off the bed, but my father quickly ran to my side.

"Amy, no," he ordered me. "Don't try to move. You've suffered too many blows."

Repressed anger tasted like salty tears, I wanted to scream at him, cry, and throw a tantrum worthy of a 3-year-old child. I had been worried about him for days, I had also started to lose my sanity and to top it all off I had been attacked by a beast that moments ago I didn't even know existed. He, on the other hand, looked as if he had spent the last few days at a resort in the Caribbean. Not a scratch.