Trapped In Desire

C H A P T E R : 2 - C O R A

Just another day, another disaster.

I got a fortune cookie a few days ago with the message: 'Your destiny is calling, answer that.' I laughed it off at the time, thinking it was just a silly phrase, until I ended up trapped in this hell-hole.

Now, I realize, those cookies should have said: Your creepy stalker is calling, don't answer that.

Note to self: never laugh at the cookie prophecies again.

Rolling on the bed, My thoughts were consumed by the sinister sender, whose identity remained a mystery.

The memory of the black rose and the note crept back into my mind, sending a chill coursing down my spine.

I wondered how he knew which room I'd be in?

I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being a pawn in a game I couldn't understand.

I shook my head fiercely, trying to silence my rebellious thoughts, but it only fueled my anxiety. I had already spent a sleepless night, replaying every conversation with the leaders, wondering if I had unknowingly missed clues about this person. But there was no one to turn to, no one to doubt my fears.

The questions kept haunting my mind: Who is this person?

How does he know me?

When does he see me?

And what does the alphabet 'R' signify? Is it a name?

Shit, Cora, chill out. Mute your emotions for a sec. You've got a lot on your plate right now.

I need to focus.

This morning, the guard handed me a black invitation card, which I now held in my hands as I got out of bed. The party details revealed that it was tonight, prompting me to silently scream in frustration.

My life was a never-ending circus, one drama after another.

Why me?

Why do I always have to be at the center of chaos?

Can't I just have a dull, uneventful life for once? Yes, yes, I’m begging for it, please universe!

I reread the golden italic words: 'A Welcome Party for Lucky Candidates!'

Let's be real, lucky candidates? Who are they even referring to as lucky? Please.

As I started reading the invitation, I could almost hear a chorus of angels singing 'Party Like It's 1999!' or maybe that was just my mind fucking with me. Either way, I knew I was in for a night that would be fantastically, and regretfully wild.

Shit! I'm about to enter a real-life game of 'Survivor' without the surviving qualities. I don't feel lucky, I feel like a sacrificial lamb being thrown to the wolves.

But hey, at least the party will have an open bar, right?

At night, I took a bath and got ready for the party, but honestly, I'm literally being forced to wear a dress provided by The Secret Den organization.

Fucking great!

In the wardrobe, the casual dresses were basic, but the fancy ones? Lord have mercy, they looked like they belonged on a Victoria's Secret runway – all glitter, glam.

Newsflash: I'm a minimalist.

I mean, kudos to the high-fashion designer who created these masterpieces, but leaders, please, spare my body. I'll stick to my trusty oversized tees and pants, thank you very much.