Sanity

4. Know Thy Enemy

She groaned, her eyes rolling around beneath her closed sockets. She could feel something heavy crushing her, something big and warm. No, not warm; it was hot. Almost overbearingly. She stifled a groan, furrowing her eyebrows as she attempted to lift her arms. Either they weren't attached to her body anymore or they were too weak to lift, because they wouldn't budge against the large, hot wool she could feel itching against her neck and chin. She quickly abandoned her attempt at moving and instead focused on trying to pry her eyelids apart so she could get a better idea of what was going on. She felt her brain pounding against her skull, unsure of why there were no thoughts or memories running through her head. What happened? Where was she? Had she gone insane? So many questions and so little answers.

She didn't know how long it took, but finally sound registered in her mind, a faint rippling noise that echoed behind her ears. She couldn't make out what it was meant to be: a voice, a door, a crash. It was just a noise to her.

Following the return of her hearing came the strength to open her eyes, which she soon regretted upon meeting the harsh light of day with her weak eyes. She squinted against the white, trying to lift her chin up as her eyes adjusted from darkness to get a bearing of what was going on. She was starting to remember things; snippets of things, really. Like when she was young, she ran the streets picking jewels and coins from the richies that passed when she thought no one could see her, and then found herself running even faster from the city guards who caught her. She remembered her first kill; the bitter-sweet feeling of thick, red blood running up her arm as the base of her fist sank slightly into the hole she'd stabbed in her victim's chest. She remembered running home crying, not able to get the blood off her hands even though they'd been scrubbed clean hours before. She even remembered her last contract; an elderly woman with two children and four grandchildren who'd apparently murdered and framed more people in her lifetime than Jaelyn herself.

And then she remembered her name. "Jaelyn," she said aloud, trying out her voice. It worked; it sounded croaky and horrible, but it still worked. She swallowed, her throat dry and her lips chapped. How long had it been since she'd spoken a word out loud? It must've been days.

"My lady?" a voice suddenly squeaked from her side, and Jaelyn grimaced, squinting as her eyes zeroed in on the figure beside her. The girl was small and fragile; it didn't look like she'd been in a single fight in all her life. Instead of patronizing the poor thing, however, Jaelyn drank in her surroundings with another quick once-over of the room she was in; it was pale and bright from the sunlight coming in through the balcony doors on the far wall. She was lying on a huge, soft bed that sat in the middle of the room, opposite a brass-framed door. The ceiling was painted in bodies, although Jaelyn couldn't recall why. She narrowed her eyes, licking her lips.

"Where am I?" she asked eventually, her gaze returning to the frightened girl at her bedside. The mouse girl quivered, mustering up the courage to speak.

"You- you're in your bed-chambers, my lady," she managed her voice loud and squeaky. "Forgive me, I did not think you would be awake yet."

Jaelyn smiled tightly, but didn't say anything. She'd never seen this woman before in her life. What was going on?

"Are you feeling okay, my lady?" the mouse girl asked next, clearly curious. "They figured out what you drank; it had a highly reactive effect to your organs. They think it was an allergic reaction of some kind."

"I was poisoned?" Jaelyn asked, eyes wide in curiosity. "What happened?"

Mouse girl tilted her head sideways and frowned. "My lady, I feel you are not in the right headspace to be thinking about these things; forgive me for bringing them up."