Page 31 of Let It Snow
Then I go back to my room and stand by the bed for a while, still catching a slight scent of my slick in the air.
There is silence, and a feeling of loneliness returns, and suddenly I feel… tired.
Lonely.
I climb into my beautiful nest and fall asleep quickly.
???
When I open my eyes, the room is filled with sunlight.
Where am I?
Who am I?
Panic rises. I’m lying in a bed, but as I spread my hands out, I find a nest, big and solid, smelling like… safety! I recognize the dominant fragrance; I must have been the one who built it, saturating it with my scent secreted from my wrist glands.
It gives me energy, an impulse, a strange urge to push through the fog.
I know it has already happened before, a ‘reset’.
The nest helps me, soothing my panic attack, making space for order instead of chaos.
My memory slowly, gradually unlocks.
And suddenly, I remember who I am, why I’m here, and I know who the Nolans are, along with their… hot son, Snow.
I let out a slow, soothing breath.
Yes, finally! It worked!
My fingers clutch the nest.
I’m grateful; it saved me and gave me the strength to deal with the amnesia myself, without relying on others anymore. I’m happy about it.
Now, feeling calmer, I glance around. I don’t know the exact time, the laptop is off, and there’s no clock on the walls.
But the sun is already high enough that I can guess it’s at least eleven thirty.
On the nightstand beside me is a tray covered by a glass dome. I realize the food went cold long ago, but I don’t complain.
The toast is dry, and the pancakes are stiff. I wonder if Lake brought them, but when I lean in and breathe the scent from the handle, I know it wasn’t him. It’s the beta I saw in the kitchen the day I came here, Jordan.
After eating my cold meal, I go out on the balcony. I feel slightly tempted to go downstairs, maybe check on Ragnar and Sun.
But I push it aside when I realize my speech problem is still there. A breathy sound escapes me when I try to say something, just to test it, and it makes me give up.
So I sit in the little chair, adjust the umbrella to block the sun, and stay quiet. For some reason, I’m a bit calmer today, so I guess the nest made a real difference.
I take a deep breath.
A breeze drifts in from the lake, carrying the fragrance of flowers blooming in the garden. It settles around me like a soft mist. I relax… but not completely.
The low-key dull pain is still there.
It hasn’t disappeared. I just kind of get used to it. It hums like a nest of wasps at the far end of my awareness. I know itwill sting me the moment I break the rules, if I dare to reach for memories, for words.
Then I hear a sound. A soft, sweet tune. Snow is playing his harmonica again. The melody is wistful, sentimental, and longing.
