XVIII - Aeternalis

                                    

                                          
          
                          
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White.
                          
Perhaps this was the afterlife? Perhaps this was all in my imagination, and I was really asleep in my bed, peacefully comfortable in familiar quarters.
                          
I closed my eyes for a simple second before allowing them to flutter open again. White ceiling, white walls, white floor. Everything; oddly polished. Too clear; eerily so.
                          
I tried to lift a hand to push myself up, but found that it wouldn't move. I then became aware of a tight presence around my wrists and ankles; I glanced over to see that they were bound by ropes, down to the white bed which I was laying on. Shock and fear swept over me—what was this? Some kind of sick joke?
                          
Wait.
                          
I narrowed my eyes and frowned. The red on my hands and arms stood out vibrantly against the white sheets of the bed. What was the odd red substance—? The answer hit me like a wave of nausea.
                          
Blood.
                          
Everything flashed back to me. Lure had possessed me. He had used my body to stab Amanda, repetitively and savagely due to his anger. The image of her mangled, mauled body haunted my mind and instantly, a scream ripped through my throat. I tried, restlessly and helplessly, to break free from the ropes binding me to the bed. My screams became more ragged and weak as my throat became sore; soon, the hoarseness of my screams told me that no one was coming.
                          
Was I completely alone? Was this entire place, whatever it was, utterly desolate? Had Lure brought me here to die alone after tying me up so I couldn't leave? Was he trying to prove that without him, I was nothing but alone?
                          
I screamed one last time before the dizziness took hold of me and I began weeping. I wept and wept until my consciousness flaked out, and I was once again staring into blackness.
                          
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My eyes slowly peeled open. Once again, the white ceiling greeted me, along with the pure walls and floor. I absently tried to move my hands and found, with utter shock, that they were no longer tied down. I immediately sat up, rubbing my wrists affectionately, then paused, warily, when I noticed the blood was gone. 
                          
Amanda's blood was absent from me.
                          
"Dr. Lee came in and momentarily cleaned you." The sentence was spoken with evident enjoyment and a strange sadistic glee. Soft words; a faint, gentle hint of sheer anger, although it had been carefully disguised. The voice belonged to none other than Lure.
                          
I saw him leaning against the wall in the far corner, just under a small security camera which was trained directly on me. I ignored it while I inspected Lure's attire. His black clothes; a simple muscle shirt accompanied by black cargoes that pooled over his large boots, and the tight collar that clung to his neck. All black. His chestnut hair offered little relief, although the eyes it fell over were refreshing for his choice of color. His usual stormy eyes were now a vibrant red, flashing like lightning against a dreary dark sky.
                          
"Dr. Lee?" I inquired, fleetingly startled to find that my voice felt heavy and drained.
                          
Lure inclined his head in a nod. "Your personal doctor."
                          
I regarded him uncertainly before glancing around the room once more. "Where am I?"
                          
A slow smile crept onto Lure's pale lips. He pretended to be rather taken by his perfect fingernails as he loftily answered, "In a mental institution."
                          
A flurry of emotions whipped at me instantaneously. Shock, fear, anger, then shock again. No. He had to have been lying—a mental institu—no—impossible.