The floor beneath her was not wood. No, it was painted to look like wood, but the smooth, unnatural surface beneath her palm told her it was sothing far sturdier, far more impenetrable.
"Damn it," she muttered, forcing herself to push up off the floor. Her legs were shaky, weak—surprising, considering the amount of ti she’d spent unconscious. After being in a coma for three years, most people would have been nothing more than a fragile skeleton, struggling to stand.
But as she rose to her knees, sothing felt off. Her body wasn’t wasted, it wasn’t frail. In fact, it felt almost... healthy? There was muscle where there should have been decay, strength where there should have been weakness. She ran a hand over her arm, surprised by the solidness beneath her fingers. How?
Her eyes shifted to the side of the room, where a calendar hung on the wall. A mocking, bitter smile curled on her lips as she looked at the date marked in bold black ink—today. It had been three years. Three years. Who in their right mind would hang a calendar in a room for soone in a coma? Soone who never intended for her to wake up, perhaps. Soone who wanted to make sure she knew just how long she’d been trapped.
Es’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusent and defiance. Three years in a coma, and yet she was alive. Better than alive—stronger than she should be. It was a twisted joke, but she could feel the life coursing through her veins, and she wasn’t about to waste it.
Slowly, her legs still unsteady beneath her, she pushed herself to her feet, leaning against the bed for support. The world around her spun for a mont, but she gritted her teeth and steadied herself. She could still feel the aftershocks of whatever had kept her locked away, but the fight inside her burned brighter than ever.
She took a step, then another, each movent slower but more deliberate.
Es blinked, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared out the window. She’d expected to see a city, or maybe so creepy, deserted spot, but what she saw was... a neighborhood. A quiet, normal, almost too normal neighborhood. Houses with tidy gardens, kids playing in the street, people going about their day like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Her mind raced. Seriously? Who the hell kidnaps soone and sticks them in a place like this?
She frowned. It wasn’t a secret compound or so high-security prison—just a regular, suburban area. The kind of place where people go to get away from chaos, not hide a prisoner. It made zero sense.
Es was staring out of the window when suddenly, she heard a soft click—the sound of a door opening. She turned around, her eyes narrowing as she saw a woman entering the room.
The woman appeared to be in her forties, carrying a tray with a bowl of water. She smiled warmly at Es, but there was no shock, no surprise—just a look of relief, almost as if she’d been expecting Es to wake up.
Es’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion creeping up her spine.
"Who are you?" she asked, but when she opened her mouth, her voice didn’t co out.
Frustrated, she grabbed at her throat, trying again, but still nothing.
The woman—Eva Mallender, as Es would later know—watched her with understanding. "Oh, don’t try to speak," she said softly, setting the tray down. "You haven’t spoken in such a long ti, so it might be hard for you."
Es’s brow furrowed.
In an instant, Es was standing in front of Don, her movents so quick that Don barely had ti to react before Es’s hand was around her throat.
Then, bam! Es slamd her into the wall with such force that Don gasped for air, sweat dripping down her face.
Ouch! Don groaned from the impact, her hands scrambling to try and pry Es’s grip from her throat, but it was no use.
Es’s lips moved, forming words, but there was no sound. Don could see from her expression what she was asking, even though she couldn’t hear it.
"Who are you?" Es’s lips clearly said, her eyes locked onto Don with an intensity that sent a shiver down the woman’s spine.
Don blinked, gasping for air, trying to form words of her own, but nothing ca out. Her mouth opened, but she struggled to speak. "I... I..."
Es stared at her for a mont, her grip not loosening, but the pressure slightly lessening as if giving Don a brief chance to breathe.
Don, now on her knees, coughed violently, struggling to catch her breath. Cough, cough, cough... She wheezed and gasped for air, her body trembling as she fought for control.
Huff, huff...
Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, her body shaking from the pressure, and Es, though still standing tall, did nothing but watch with cold eyes. The silence between them felt heavier than ever.
Es’s warning was clear: try anything, and you won’t get the chance to speak again.
After a tense minute of strained silence, the woman—Eva—finally managed to catch her breath. She looked at Es, her eyes still wide with fear, then spoke, her voice shaky, "Hi... I’m Eva. I was the one who saved you."
Es’s sharp gaze remained fixed on her, eyes narrowed with suspicion. She studied the woman’s trembling form, noting the unease in her every movent. Eva quickly tried to clarify, sensing the distrust. "You—You fell... I found you... at the bottom of the cliff. The mountain cliff."
A cold shiver ran through Es at the ntion of the cliff. Her mind raced, and fragnts of mory began to piece themselves together. The sound of wind howling, the bitter cold of the fall, the feeling of the ground rushing toward her... Then, nothing.
She fixed her eyes on Eva, trying to read her, to gauge her true intentions. But the woman’s anxiousness only seed to deepen the mystery surrounding her.
Eva continued, her voice more urgent now, "I—I brought you here, to safety... But when I tried to reach out, to find anyone who knew you, there was nothing. No na, no belongings, no sign of who you were. You had nothing on you." She looked at Es, as if desperately searching for a reaction. "Nothing... at all."
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