Survive

Chapter 4

Victor POV

The door slides open with a screeching noise, as my eyes open up. My vision focuses on the china vase first, as I slowly rub them. Vision clear, I glance around, to see a lady's figure walking into my room.

I can't see her face, but I know that her hair is in a solid French braid. As the moonlight hits her, she hides her face, covering it with her arm, while flashing to be a scar embedded through her skin.

She seems to be looking for something, digging through the drawers, searching for something that might be of importance to her.

My instincts tell me to turn on the lights, reveal her face, and scream for the Peacekeepers to take her away. However, I am a far distance away from the light switch, and a curiosity over what she's looking for.

"Victor Trinket, not asleep eh?" She laughs as I hear the crushing of papers, and her figure comes nearer to me.

"No." I reply, staring at her, as the light hits her again. Her pupils shine grey as I look at her.

"Well, you're a funny species." She says sarcastically, sitting down next to me. Her brown hair droops next to my shoulder, and I see the paper carefully. It's Dem's drawing.

"I never said I like physical contact."

"How honest." She laughs and gets up, stroking my hair. "But how cruel."

"Cruel humour. It's a good skill."

"Just like your aunt."

"My aunt's dead." I retort instinctively, moving away from the lady. A sound of smirking fills the air, and she gets up from my bed.

"What was her name again, Carmen?" She mocks, and I throw a pillow on her.

"Get out." I sternly command, pointing at the door. As her footsteps echo throughout the room, I hear her last words.

"Things aren't all like they seem, Trinket."

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Victor Trinket.

Come on.

Wake up.

I jerk up, feeling the sweat drip down on the back of my neck, as the alarm clock beeps furiously. I hurriedly remove the sweat, and look around. The room looks the same as last night.

What happened last night? I spin around, searching for Dem's drawing on the table, as it lays there untouched. Could it be a dream?

There are no pillows on the ground though.

It was as if the lady never existed, was never discovered.

Could it be?

Doing the simplest of necessities, I remove my sweat laden clothes, and change into a dry-fit material sweat shirt, and a pair of stretchable jeans with the same material which was laid on the table.

As I change, I look at Dem's drawing, and I realize it's the very same picture that I saw. It's my portrait. My features, annotated, with my eyes sparking with electricity, and my nose drawn higher than what is was supposed to be. I laugh, looking at the small notes left at the side, but something that wasn't there last night embeds itself in red ink over at the bottom.

Things aren't all like they seem, Trinket.

I fall back, and crush up the paper, throwing it in the dustbin. Nothing happened. I never saw this. Never.

I push open the door, and see Mum and Dad waiting for me patiently at the table. From afar, I can see Dem with a plate of sausage and eggs, sitting at the far end of the table. She doesn't glance up, and just pokes her fork awkwardly at the food.