Page 7 of Lost Petal

Chapter 3

Petal

Instinct makes me jump away from the door, almost losing my balance as I shy away from the unexpected sound. My stance changes just like my focus does, now latching onto the door with fearful tension instead of cautious hope. I’ve been awake for long enough to no longer expect any benevolence coming from the other side.

That’s why it’s an odd relief to realize the door is not being opened, it’s just the hatch. Blinding bright light breaks in, causing me to cover my eyes while I take another step back. The light is much brighter than the dim light bulb inside the room. It’s so piercingly bright that it literally hurts, stinging like a whiplash against my face.

For a few moments, I just stand there, carefully risking glances through my protective fingers as I try to figure out what’s going on. Someone is moving on the other side of the door. I can tell by the shadows cast into the room, interrupting the strong beam of light in alternating places as the person moves. I try to catch glimpses of who that person could be by peeking through narrow eyes, fighting the pain the blinding light is causing me. But it’s to no avail, as the light is too strong and the shadows too vague to tell me anything. It could be a man, a woman, a child even.

“Hello?”

Apparently, this one single word is all I can muster when it comes to verbalization in my current state. At least now there’s a clear recipient for my single-word question. A listener who doesn’t deign me with a reply. I’m faced with nothing but strained silence as I freeze in my pose, even holding my breath as I listen for a response that never comes.

I swallow dryly, wetting my lips before I gather the courage for a more elaborate question.

“Who’s there?”

Again, I wait. I wait for anything, a breath, a whisper, a threat. Just a voice that would give me a clue about who I’m dealing with.

But I get nothing. I lower my hand, still squinting as my eyes continue to struggle with the harsh light streaming through the hatch. I can see nothing but a dark outline at the corner, most likely a head. There’s someone standing, or kneeling, at the other side of that door, looking at me, observing me, and locking me into place with his intense gaze.

His? Do I even know it’s a man? I have no way of being sure, but something tells me it must be a man. Because whoever it is, the person looking at me from the outside is not a nice person, not a gentle creature who wants to help me. It’s a bad person, a bad man.

But why doesn’t he speak with me? Why does he just look at me like that? Am I supposed to be doing anything? Is he waiting for something to happen? How should I know what I’m supposed to do if he’s not talking to me?

“Please,” I utter, unsure where to go with my plea. “Please talk to me.”

But again, I’m not deigned with any sort of reply. The quiet staring continues, holding me in a tight grip.

I reciprocate the gaze, unsure whether I’m actually looking at the person’s eyes, because I’m still blinded by the odd spotlight that shines with such glistening force that I’m sure its only purpose is to confuse me.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to ask, what else to do to evoke any kind of response from the other side of the door. Clearly, all I have done so far didn’t do the trick. It doesn’t seem like the mysterious person has any intention of speaking with me or interacting in any way. Maybe he’s just here to check on me? To see whether I’m still alive?

Is that what this is about? Am I supposed to be dead? Are they worried that I’m awake?

But why would anyone bring me down here to die? Why not just kill me and bury or burn my body?

Another taste of panic mixes with my confusion as I’m faced with these uncomfortable thoughts. They just jump at me, coming from God-knows-what fucked-up corner of my disoriented mind. I can’t help it.

But how can I blame myself? I have no idea who I am or how I got here. All I know is that I’m locked in here with nothing but a leather-button-tufted bench to lean on and a white nightgown to protect myself against the cold.

“Please,” I repeat, my lower lip trembling as I push away another wave of emerging tears. “Please, talk to me...”

I don’t even expect a reply at this point. For all I know, I could be standing here for the rest of my life, scared and confused, while an unrecognizable stranger watches me from the outside, possibly relishing in my tortured appearance. Time has lost all meaning to me, because there’s no change that indicates any passing of time. I could have been awake for hours, or minutes, or just a few seconds. How long has it been since the hatch has been opened? Since that person appeared? How long have I been standing here, wondering?

How long until the first word reaches my troubled ears?

Despite my tense waiting, I’m not ready when it finally happens.

Just one word, spoken in a soft but unyielding tone, and by a voice so deep it sends shivers down my spine.

“Kneel.”

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