THE MONSTER INSIDE ME (#ONC2024)

CHAPTER ELEVEN: A HOPE

I am stunned. An uncle? Did my grandmother go crazy? I asked her.

"I do not have any uncles. What are you talking about, grandma?"

She responds, smiling:

"It's understandable that it appears crazy to you. He resides on Ablington Island. He's your father's brother. In actuality, he knew nothing about Fenton, let alone you, until recently. When he learned about your condition, he wanted to assist you. He is a good person."

Is it possible that this is real? Is it conceivable that my uncle is good? I'm not sure, but I don't want to spend any more time in a place where they don't trust what I say. I have nothing to lose by trying. From here, I'll only miss Selby. I need to talk to her. I know she'll understand.

"Grandma, I accept. But first, I'd like to say farewell to my friend Selby."

"That sounds good to me, Arabella. I'll notify a nurse so that she can come to your room."

I am quite grateful to Selby. I hope she will also leave this place soon. She is a nice person who deserves freedom and happiness.

I said farewell to Selby yesterday. I'm not going to give you any details. Today, I'm getting into a car with my grandmother and a man who will keep an eye on me to ensure that I don't escape. I have no intention of doing so. Where could I go?

After a short plane ride, we finally arrived on Ablington Island. It appears to be a wonderful place, much like Ireland.

The lush greenery and fresh sea air are a welcome change from the sterile hospital room I have been confined to for so long. As we drive through the winding roads, I can't help but feel a sense of hope and anticipation for what lies ahead.

The Order's building structure is massive and spectacular, featuring a big central terrace. Aside from the asylum, there appears to be a hospital, a prestigious college, and the offices of the famous Order, of which I am unaware.

An elderly blonde woman greets both my grandmother and me.

"Hello, Arabella. Welcome. My name is Georgiana, and I'll be your therapist," she says with apparent friendliness.

"Hello," I answer cautiously.

"I'm going to walk you to your room."

As we walk through the grand entrance of the building, I can't help but notice the intricate details of the architecture and the calming atmosphere that surrounds us. Georgiana led us down a long hallway lined with paintings and statues, each one seemed to tell a story of its own. Finally, we reach a set of double doors at the end of the hall, and Georgiana opens them to reveal a cosy and inviting room with a view of the sprawling gardens outside.

"This will be your room during your stay here," Georgiana says, gesturing for us to enter.

I take a deep breath, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement as I step inside. But I just have one thing on my mind, so I ask impatiently:

"I want to see my uncle."

"Here I am, Arabella," he says.

I peer through the door and see my uncle, Ryan Dagon. I cannot believe that; it is impossible. A spark of joy ignites inside me. 

"But you are the man who is going to help me, the one who is going to save me from the darkness!"

I rush towards him, enveloping him in a tight hug and feeling the warmth of his embrace. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize that I am finally safe, finally in the hands of someone I trust completely. I hold on tightly, not wanting to let go, afraid that if I do, he will disappear like a dream. My heart races with relief and gratitude as I cling to him, knowing that I am no longer alone in my struggle.

My grandma and Georgiana are surprised but they exit the room quietly, closing the door.

I turn away from my uncle and examine him closely. It's him. With his blue eyes, which were looking at me with a mix of love and worry.

"I'll help you, of course," he adds.

"You already helped me when you spoke to me in my darkest moments," I say.

My uncle gives a troubled expression and responds:

"Arabella, I never talked to you before. I think you may be mistaking me for someone else."

I search his eyes, desperately trying to find some recognition, some sign that he is not just a figment of my imagination.

"No, it was you," I insist, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

My uncle's expression softens, with a hint of sadness in his eyes, as he reaches out to touch my hand.

"I wish I could take credit for being there for you, Arabella, but I truly have no memory of it," he confesses.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks: if my uncle didn't help me through those dark times, then who did? And why do I feel such a strong connection to him now, in this moment of need?

"When I was going to drink that man's blood in the esoteric store, you told me not to, remember?"

My uncle's expression varies.

He says thoughtfully:

"I had a horrible dream a few years ago. I even mentioned it to Georgiana in therapy. I was in an esoteric store, and a young woman wanted to drink a victim's blood, so I told her not to," he explained. "I don't remember the young woman's face well, but it could have been you."

"Don't you realize? You communicated with me in dreams or whatever, but you did it. You can only get me out of this darkness."

My uncle's eyes widen as he looks at me, a sense of realization dawning on his face.

"It was you," he whispers, his voice filled with disbelief. "You were the young woman in my dream."

"Help me, please," I say, hugging him tightly.

His arms wrapped around me in a protective embrace. At that moment, I realized the deep connection we shared, one that extended even into the realm of dreams. With his help and guidance, I knew I could escape the darkness that threatened to consume me.