Chapter 3 3

Heat.

A burning sort of sensation that radiated from the back of her neck all the way to her chest and face. Mykah could feel the weight of the heat pinioning her to the awkward surface and for a fleeting moment she tried to open her mouth and groan but the discomfort of it only brought a pathetic mewling sound from her mouth.

She could not feel her body, nor did she know where she was.

Not until her eyes opened and the tears clouded over her vision making it near impossible to focus.

She closed them again as a sharp throbbing pain began in the back of her eyes, moving towards her temple. It was as if someone had picked a hammer and began pounding away at her skull.

Mum.

The tiny voice began to come like a plea in the depths of her chest. From the endless darkness within she heard that infantile cry lift and echo across the walls.

Mum.

Scared. No, terrified and confused was the child. A tentative calling that made her voice tremble. She was calling for the first person she could think of, and it shocked her to the core that it would be her mother.

She wanted comfort, she wanted reassurance. She needed the light, some light. Whatever light that would break forth in the darkness and shine on her face like a searchlight, some voice to reach down and reassure her that it's okay. She's okay.

Mum I don't know where I am–

I don't know–

Stop that. The reply was sharp and reckoning. A curt tone that silenced her weepiness and brought a tense calm. Focus, the sane part of her was speaking now, focus and understand where you are.

Okay, okay... try and think... try and think...

Thoughts came bleeding like ink on paper behind her eyes, previous memories of how she came to be... what she could last remember.

I was driving. No, I had just left the research facility and was heading to the bank. I stopped to withdraw some money and deposit a grand check, then decided I wanted dinner with Hopkins.

Hopkins.

Is he here? Am I at his place?

The panic in her chest simply seeped away, like fluid running down a partly clogged drain. She was safe in Hopkin's place. Maybe they had way too many drinks during the dinner celebration, although drunkenness was a rare occasion for Mykah, she would not rule it out given the environment and circumstance called for it.

Safe. I'm... sa...fe

Darkness began to cloud from the corners of her eyes and she felt the weight of its hand slowly enclose around her ankle and drag her down, down, down... deep into the cradling arms of the abyss.

She did not resist but yielded to it with a sort of calm.

For eight hours Mykah remained knocked out on the bed. She did not stir until her throat felt far too parched and, with a strangled groan, opened her eyes once more.

This time the room seemed to waver in and out of clarity before focusing on a particular dresser at the foot of the bed. It was dark and polished to a keen shine. It looked... old.

I didn't take Hopkin's for an archaic kind of guy, she mused groggily and blinked some more as her eyes dragged across the room and towards the bedside table where a glass of water stood beside a pitcher.

Mykah's throat constricted at the sight of condensation bejeweling the outer walls, the tinkling of ice still floating at the top as if it was brought in not long ago.

Instinctively, she lifted her arm towards the glass–

And screamed.

A bolt of pain tore up her limb and she jerked away as violent shudders coursed through her body like an epileptic. Mykah shivered as the limb dropped back onto the bed and she wept for a bit, tears streaming from the shock of it. A fire she had not experienced in this lifetime. Minutes passed before she was able to catch her breath and fight back the black dots that spotted her periphery. She could feel it, the tentacles of unconsciousness tethering her legs once more but she fought it off, blinking dazedly at the structure of her left arm.

Hidden beneath a makeshift cast so thin she could nearly see the splint of wood pressed against her inner arm to steady and straighten it.

Jesus– my hand

She stared at her arm like it was a foreign object, something extraterrestrial attached to her body. Eyes wide open and alert, Mykah glanced around the room still breathing hard as sweat beaded her upper lip.

It was a spartan room and minimal. A single dresser, night stand and seat in the corner. Other than that nothing else could satisfy her growing terrified curiosity.

"Hopkins?" Her voice was strained from disuse and her throat still jerked sharply as she tried licking her bruised lips. It hurts to speak. "Hopkins?" Silence greeted her, and distantly she heard the gentle patter of rain beating against the window.

It was raining.

Where was Hopkins?

"Hey... Hopkins?"

She considered calling out to him but her head was pounding again and the glass of water looked enticing with every passing minute. Mykah considered using her arm again yet stopped herself and instead took inventory of her body.

When had she broken her arm?

What else had she broken?

Had she been in an accident?

If she had been inebriated... she did drive–

And then it all came crashing into her like a boulder careening on a path she happened to be standing on. The shudder of memories rushed through in tid bits, she was driving in her car heading for the Dome.

The stupid dome.

Why? Because of research. Because of curiosity. Because she happened to want to prove something to the board of scientists about lycanthropes... and try as hard as she might, the flash of blue eyes wrinkling at the corners in wonder as that familiar mouth praised her efforts... Mykah knew that it was more than just the board.

She wanted his approval and the thought of that lodged itself like a bone in her throat.

"The Dome," she murmured while pressing her uninjured hand to her eyes, thinking. "The Dome... I left Hopkins at the restaurant and continued... something happened." Something must have happened between the car accident and now.

The throbbing of her head had begun again and she could feel the seductive tangle of sleep webbing around her, trying to lull her back into its embrace but Mykah tried to fight it off.

Not yet.

Her eyes opened and peered at the walls. This was not a hospital but rather someone's home.

Whose.

She tried to process just how she ended up in someone's home, to deduce the possibility that it was a sane, kind person. Preferably one who was not a murderer. But her thoughts came back muddled and darkening still as each word slurred out in hesitancy.

Someone's... home...

Darkness crept in once more, and before she could fight it, she was sinking into the abyss.

Hours passed.

A day went by.

When Mykah awoke again, this time she was slightly perched on a higher pillow and the curtains had been drawn shut leaving the room in utter darkness. For a moment she thought herself to be blind but one clumsy rise of her fingers to her eyes concluded that she was wide awake and staring into the mouth of darkness.

She could make out the bedroom door and a golden slant of light spilling into the room from the space beneath the door. There was no movement beyond, and she wished thoroughly that whoever it was had left the light on just so she could drink some water.

Her whole body felt achy and the tops of her eyes hurt from a lingering fever.

Everything was a haze, and she considered calling out to Hopkins once more, completely forgetting that he did not own this home.

When she heard a door opening downstairs.