Chapter 4

Isabella’s POV

I woke up with a start, my lungs begging for air. The ringing in my ears made it hard to think or comprehend anything, and the ache in my head threatened to split my skull in two. I tried to open my eyes but even I knew that would hurt. Literally out of options, I peeled open my eyes gently, hoping the very act would somehow subdue the pain.

I was wrong, very wrong.

I winced as the first few seconds with my eyes open were blurry. I blinked back twice just to come face to face with pristine white walls that seemed to cave in around me, with a red source of light at the top. It seemed to be radiating some sort of heat, hence the really hot atmosphere. I took a deep breath and regretted it immediately.

I squirmed as it trailed a fiery blaze down my lungs. My skin began to itch, and I felt uncomfortable. My throat was parched, and my skin was sticky with sweat. The slimy liquid stuck to my clothes, making me all the more irritable and frustrated.

It took me a good while to realize I was sitting on a metal chair and an even longer while to realize I’d been tied up. I couldn’t feel my fingers or feet, and the urge to yell was rising by the minute.

I was hot all over. So hot I couldn’t even think straight. My gaze danced around frantically for some sort of comfort, relief even in the tiniest of portions, but there was none. Each wall was shut off to the top, with not a single space for ventilation. A foul odor filled the room and I couldn’t help but feel it was coming from me. Slimy liquid trickled down my face, and I swiped my face across my shoulder. It didn’t do much but it would have to do for now.

Water. I needed water, or I was going to die if this wasn’t worse than death already. I couldn’t breathe; I was sticky all over. I doubted I would be able to use any of my limbs again after this ordeal. If I survived whatever this place was, what else could be worse than this?

“Help.” It was nothing more than a whisper. I doubted anyone would hear it, even though I couldn’t hear it. “Help, someone, help me. Water.”

The universe must have heard my prayers because no sooner did those words leave my mouth than a door up ahead just slid open. To be honest, I hadn’t even realized there was a door, probably because it was coated in the same white paint as the room. Slow, steady footsteps bounced off the white walls as the stranger drew closer and closer. He stopped in front of me, with just a few inches of distance between us.

My eyes were hooded, but I could tell he was staring down at me intensely, too. It was a hassle keeping my head up. If I leaned back, I couldn’t imagine what would happen then. If I leaned forward, my neck would probably snap.

“Well, what do we have here?” The words rolled off his tongue in a velvety embrace. If it were under normal circumstances, I would be mentally swooning over the stranger’s voice, but no, not now.

I couldn’t speak. I felt every last inch of my strength leave my body in ways I didn’t think existed. He must have noticed, too, because the next image I saw wasn’t what I was expecting. Gray eyes came into view, holding up a pair of curly lashes. His nose was pointed and defined, his lips curled up in a smile, but it held no humor.

“Do you need something?” For a moment, all I could comprehend was the movement of his lips. I nodded anyway. “What do you need?”

“Water,” my voice came out croaked. My throat burned as tears formed in the back of my eyes. “I need water.”

He snapped his finger, and a bottle of water appeared in his grip. Someone must have brought it; they were the ones whose shuffling feet I had heard.

“You want this?” He waved the plastic bottle in front of me. I nodded eagerly, like a dog awaiting a treat from its master. I watched as he unscrewed the cap gently, slowly. It was torture, torture I was willing to bear so long as my thirst got quenched. “Here.”

It all happened so fast. One minute, I was anticipating my water, and the next, I was gasping for breath as the water rolled down my hair. I let out more gasps as the water seeped into my scalp and trickled down my face.

I sputtered as my eyes and nostrils stung, water going into places they weren’t meant to. Amidst the chaos, I slipped some drops down my throat, but they did nothing to lessen my pain. In fact, the water seemed to dry up off my skin and I could swear I saw myself steaming at some point.

“Ay.” My ears perked up at the Spanish accent as the plastic rolled to the ground. “¿Dolio? Did that hurt?”

There was something about his accent that got to me; it struck a chord deep down, and I just had to reach out to it.

“Perdóname, pardon me,” he said again, his accent still present. “Did your mother not teach you not to make demands of strangers?”

That question rang a bell, a distant bell in my head. I’d heard it somewhere, and it wasn’t helping that he was beginning to look like someone I knew or at least stumbled across once.

Papa? No, none of Papa’s friends were this young and the whole lot of them communicated in Italian, not a single word of Spanish in their blood. Not only did this stranger communicate in the forbidden language, his voice was thick with their accent.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me,” he hissed. “¿Por qué? Why? Why don’t you remember me, mi farfalla roja?”

Something about the way he called me made my blood run cold. No one else called me that after my mother’s death, except…

Who the hell was this man?