Fantasy novel with 40 year old protagonist

Chapter 3

Sleep came lightning fast that night, but much later than it did any other day this year. Daciana was in bed 15 minutes after she had unlocked her front door. Still, that was still very late, as her deed this evening had been rewarded with several hours spent answering questions, giving info about herself and what had happened, waiting around in the cold, and then answering the same questions about herself to different people. They confirmed her name and her details. Yes, she really was born today, November 11. Yes, she threw the guy to the ground and kept him there until the policemen arrived. They were there when Daciana got up and let him go. Why were they asking this over and over again?

Yet despite the occasionally lifted brow at what she said and some not-so-funny jokes from policemen who, unlike her, had no other place to be, Annaisha's story matched hers, and eventually, she was free to go.

A young policeman was sweet and offered her a ride home. She protested on grounds of proximity, but somehow he saw right through her exhaustion and challenged her with a wicked smile:

"It will make me feel better knowing you're home safe after keeping you here for so long. Consider it a birthday gift."

And that was that.

Luckily, she did not have to ask for Annaisha's number. By the end of the evening, Daciana's internal battery was at maximum 5%. She was ready to shut down, and she would have completely forgotten about it. But the girl came to her. She thanked her, and she apologized for putting her in this situation. As if any of this was her fault. She already seemed better, and that sweet, happy, 20-something-year-old underneath was making her way back to the surface.

They did not talk long, and Dacy was grateful to be able to end this tumultuous evening.

As if going through this experience had not been enough, like in the case of stressful events in the past, the experience triggered her migraines. Badly. Between the moment she felt the attacker's intoxicating perfume and the time she hid in her dark room, 100 amplified scents made her want to throw up. She could feel it all: urine and garbage and vomit, disgustingly sweet food and cigarettes and the jacket that smelled like moth balls or maybe mould.

The lights were even more disturbing. Flashing lights, headlights, stop lights, street lights, lights from nearby buildings and traffic lights that were suddenly brighter than the sun. She could not keep her eyes open and was afraid she would collapse any second.

With her last bit of strength, she opened her door and dragged herself through the house with only the night light on. Despite every impulse telling her to keep her eyes shut, she tried hard to crack at least one eye open to ensure she did not trip on Chocolate, her black cat companion. But Chocolate had her set sleep routine and had long gone to bed.

When Daciana finally buried her head in her pillow, stretched her right arm to the other side of the bed, and rested her left on her torso like a hug, none of her usual dark thoughts were hunting her anymore. So she slept.

And like other times when her body was battling a migraine or a bout of sickness, her mind was haunted by nightmares that night as well. Some that she had before.

*

She was there again, crouching behind the very narrow crenel of the wall inside the fortress, trying really hard to see how the battle unfolded before someone saw her and yanked her away. A small loaf of dark bread in her left hand, untouched as the events unfolding today left her with no appetite. Her right hand had taken down her kerchief, squeezing it like her life depended on it. They were under attack.

Behind her, the sun was setting behind tall mountain peaks. As the light was abandoning them, a chilling evening breeze made its way through her short-sleeved hemp blouse and made her shiver. But not as much as what was happening below the walls.