Days Are Numbered

50. Confrontations

The morning weighed heavily on Noah as he awoke feeling drowsy and lightheaded, resenting the pills even more. He had been completely knocked out the previous night, devoid of any dreams or even a flicker of consciousness. He had no memory of anything, not even the moment he had taken the pills. As he sat there, his mind struggled to regain its footing.

Reaching for the jug on his nightstand, he poured himself a glass of water and drank it down in one go, hoping to shake off the grogginess. With some effort, he managed to get himself moving, though his mind remained shrouded in fog.

In the shower, the water cascaded over him, washing away the remnants of sleep and gradually bringing him back to the present. Despite the water's invigorating touch, his mind still lagged behind, lost in a haze of confusion and uncertainty.

Exiting the shower, Noah felt no more awake than before. He mechanically went through his morning routine, going through the motions without truly engaging his mind.

A soft knock drew Noah from his thoughtless state, and he muttered a distracted "come in." The door swung open, admitting Mark, tall and straight-backed. "Morning, sir. Hope you had a blissful night," Mark greeted.

Noah cast him a blank stare. "I'm still alive," he muttered sarcastically.

Mark placed a tray with a glass of lemonade on the nightstand. "Suit yourself," he said simply, and Noah wasted no time in grabbing the drink.

"Thank you," Noah muttered before taking a sip.

Mark observed him for a moment before clearing his throat. "As you required, I had the butler, Arnold waiting to pick you up in Boston, I also forwarded his details to your email."

Noah paused, confusion flickering across his face. "For what?"

Mark met his gaze evenly. "Well, you're flying today to Boston," he stated matter-of-factly. Noah bit his lip hard as the realization sank in.

"Right. Stupid drugs," he muttered, setting the glass down.

"Help me pack up, I already laid the clothes on the left side of the closet," Noah indicated, his mind already racing with thoughts of the impending trip.

"And Mrs. Cordelia would like you to join her in the dining room for breakfast," Mark added as he headed to the closet.

Noah grunted a response, then paused, his mind fully recollected and his thoughts bursting in like an angry wind. He sat up reaching for a slate brown sweat vest and throwing it on over his white button-down, creating a soft combination with his coffee brown pants. Noah stood by the mirror as Mark neatly arranged his clothes in his travel case. His gaze dropped to the small scar on his earlobes, like an old cut, it went down his pierced spot, where he usually slipped in his earring made of diamond, and he reached to touch the scars. A cold wave hit him hard in the gut, as he shut his eyes. In a split second, the air turned chill, and the room faded, leaving him exposed in the open air against the snowy ground. He looked around in anticipation, breath raging with vapor forming a small cloud each time. From nowhere, Yaroslave surged like King Kong, grabbing his throat and causing him to start choking. The next thing he felt was a sharp pain jolting through his whole body as he ripped the earrings off tearing his flesh.

A voice cut through the air, a voice that didn't belong in the obscurity of his past. "Sir," Mark called as he placed a hand on Noah's shoulder. Noah snapped his eyes open, peering up at the man, his body shivering from the rewatch with heavy breathing.

Mark guided him gently to the bed where he sat. "I'm fine," Noah voiced getting back on his feet while rubbing his eye.

"I believe so. But I'll let Arnold know about your zone outs," Mark added, his expression also concerned.