Page 17 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

Waves of panic raced up and down her spine. Her breaths became shallow and uneven, her gut twisted in a painful knot that pushed nausea up her throat, higher and higher…

She flew through the wooden door next to the bed, hoping that was what she thought it was, and found herself in a spacious bathroom decorated in the same shades of purple. A second after she knelt in front of the toilet, vomit erupted out of her in uncontrollable spasms. When it was over, she turned on the tap and splashed ice-cold water over her face.

Only after she was sure it was clean, did she dare to look in the mirror. Her reflection showed a tortured and tense complexion, red-rimmed eyes, and blonde hair falling over frail shoulders in a tangled mess.

For some unknown reason, her grandmother’s country house appeared in her mind. The room with the vast dining table, where they gathered during holidays, followed by the top floor with the two bedrooms. When she was very little, her parents would allow her to stay with her grandmother for days on end. Amelia loved the time she spent there, taken in as she’d been by her grandmother’s stories and her lullaby.

Almost in a whisper, she sang to her reflection.

Sleep, wind. Sleep, storm.

The little girl’s asleep and warm.

Wake her up when winter comes,

as every winter spring becomes.

After every night

there comes the light.

Wake her up when winter comes.

It seems as though the devil’s spawn,

But winter’s angel lives each dawn.

Wake her up when winter comes.1

Tears burned her eyes with the last notes of the song. It was the same sensation from three years ago. She let them run free down her cheeks, as she remembered that damned evening when her grandmother had called her to announce the tragic death of her parents and brother. The old woman’s voice hadn’t even trembled as she’d talked about the loss of her only daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. Although she carried her grandmother’s name, Amelia had never had that strength, and she probably never would.

But the mere existence of the elderly woman, the simple knowledge that somewhere out there was a person who shared her blood and whom she could trust, was a great comfort.

At least it had been, until a year and a half ago, when her grandmother had passed away in her sleep. That was when the panic attacks, depression and appointments with psychologists had started. She had barely managed to pull herself out of the darkness with the help of her medical studies, her job at the hospital, and her morning miles-long runs.

And now, just as she’d gotten over the loss of her family, life was throwing her another hard punch. What the hell kind of luck was this? Kidnapped by accident. If she’d been some spectator, watching from the sideline, she’d mock her pitiful existence.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the cabinet next to the sink with trembling hands. It was full of luxury brands of cosmetics, the type she’d never purchased for herself due to their sheer price. She picked up a small bottle that read, Body lotion with a delicate hint of pink roses. She hastened to return it to its place as if it was a vial of poison.

Back inside the room, she headed for the other door in sight. The damned thing couldn’t be more locked.

She was just giving it another try, when a vice-like tension gripped her skull, as if an invisible belt was tightened around her head. Amelia covered her ears with her hands, attempting to escape what sounded like a thousand buzzing bees approaching.

She looked around with frenzied eyes but spotted nothing, although the noise was even closer now. The room was suddenly spinning, forcing Amelia to lean on the back of the couch to keep her balance. Moments later, the tightening sensation disappeared as fast as it had come. The buzzing turned to whispers and, soon after, it also vanished.

“Hello, Amelia.” A woman’s voice disturbed the silence. Amelia scanned her surroundings, desperate to find the source. “Do not bother. You cannot see me. Yet.”

She darted towards the bathroom. Empty. Then, she checked under the bed. Nothing.

“The sooner you accept my existence, the easier it will be for you.”

She inspected the walls next – there had to be speakers hidden somewhere.

“I am sorry about the headache I caused you, but I had to ensure your undivided attention. Do not question my existence. I am a friend.”

Amelia froze in her tracks. I don’t have friends. And now I’ve clearly lost my sanity as well.

“Listen to me, Amelia. The roles are reversing.”

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