Eyria woke up in bed, with a slight headache. Moaning a bit, she sat up. Although uncomfortable, she had thought that she would be more hungovered than that but she seemed quite fine actually. Rubbing her eyes slightly, she brought her hand to search for her phone and nearly fell off the bed. She blinked, waking up correctly now.
In front of her,
there wasn’t her gigantic tv, nor was it her living room. Was she in a hospital?
All around her was the white of the curtain on all four sides. She opened them,
only to be met with the view of a couple more beds in front of her which
curtains were all opened. Beside her, there seemed to be no one in this vast
room. She brought her feet closer to stand up, freezing in the process. What
happened to her? Why were her legs so short? So, o… she hurriedly lifted her
hands, they were so short. Her eyes widened, panic kicked in. Stumbling, she
stood up to search for a mirror; she needed to see her face!
At that moment,
the previously closed door, opened with a young man smiling at her. A foreigner
of mixed blood. Short brown hair and light blue eyes. She stopped and stared.
Who was he?
“Oh, you’re
awake. How do you feel?”
His voice was
light and easy, his tone as if it was normal for him to inquire such as if him
being here was part of the norm. What was going on?
Ignoring the question, she kept on examining him: he was wearing a long white coat, his
brown hair filled with gel. Meanwhile, he came closer, fixing his small
rectangular and frameless glasses on his nose.
“You slept through
the first period, are you feeling well now? Feel like you can return to
classes?”
She frowned,
“Classes?”
The voice coming
out of her own lips startled her into speechlessness. She turned stiff and
pale.
The man in front
of her put a hand on her forehead.
“Still not
better?”
“Don’t do that.”
She warned, stepping back. She didn't like being touched. He lifted an eyebrow at her reaction.
“What a temper,” he mocked.
She clicked her tongue, not liking the way he was looking at her, as though she was a child throwing a tantrum.
"Does your head still hurt, princess?"
Eyria's mouth twitched but she reigned in the urge to scold, merely looking on as he marched to the table and sat behind the desk, beckoning at her to come closer. There was a chair in front of him, so she took place.
"It is the third time you come to sleep here, want to talk about it?"
Eyria kept silent, mostly because she had no idea what he was talking about or who he was.
"I heard your family had an additional member, want do you think of your brother?"
Eyria pursed her lips, fisting her hands on her thighs, dropping her gaze to her skirt. Right now, she knew naught of what the man was talking about nor where she was. She wasn't even sure the words were addressed to her. An additional family member? What a joke!
Looking down, it dawned unto her that she was wearing a uniform. She couldn't recall which school uniform though. A blue pleated skirt, a white shirt with blue sea collar and a blue bow tie. It was familiar, this much she realized.
"Did you talk about your brother to your father?"
Eyria frowned and lifted her face. The man seemed to consider the frown as she didn't want to talk, he sighed then asked another question,
"How is your relationship with your sister?"
"I don't have a sister," came out the reflexive sentence. It was almost automatic, to whoever asked about her sister, she would correct long before she even realized she said something.
"Don't you like Clarinda?"
Eyria frowned, this conversation too, seemed oddly familiar but for the life of her she couldn't tell why.
“I’m sleepy,” she ended up saying. "Can I go back to sleep."
The man sighed again, scribbling something in his notebook. Tough it was upside down, she could still read something about calling her parents.
"No," he said gently as he closed the book, "you need to go to class, princess."
"My head hurts" she insisted. She felt like, if she went back to sleep, then maybe she would wake up and everything would go back to normal again instead of whatever it was that she was living at this moment. But the man was unrelenting and urged her to back to class. Who could tell her what king of nonsense it was? Her body looked like that of a primary school child, was it that she, this thirty-something adult, was supposed to mingle with children and be taught all over again? It wasn't even like she knew which class she was supposed to go back to!
She insisted, insisted, insisted. In the end, he scribbled furiously some more in that book before letting her do as she pleases.
Thus, she went back to
sleep. She really didn’t feel like exerting brain material on the happenings. Maybe when
she’ll have enough sleep those nonsense images would free her mind.
Or so she thought.
That man woke her up later to let her know that the classes were over and the driver was already here. The man who newly came felt vaguely familiar two. Had he been two decades older, she would have said he was her father's driver, Phil. But this one was far too young. Maybe his child. She followed behind him as he held a backpack that was near the bed she was sleeping on.
As she walked down the stairs and corridors, the familiarity of the establishment wasn't missed on her. It was a school she knew. She wondered which. She had changed schools so much through her life that she couldn't tell.
She followed behind the man all the way to an expensive black car. The man polite opened the door for her and she saw, already sitting there, were two children. Upon closer look, it was a small girl around nine years of age and a small boy around twelve.
The spitting image of her stepsister
and her adopted brother in their younger years.
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