The Apollolis Furies

The whispers surrounded the room. It's all I could hear besides the incessant pounding of my heart. Even the breath of the stranger warmed my cold cheek. Was it merely a dream or a figment of my imagination? The concrete walls surrounded me. I knew that much. What I had figured was how I had gotten here. My body screamed. A dark shadow hovered over me and the violent memories of a distant past pushed me with force. If this was a dream, it was the most surreal dream I had ever been in. I flinched, and a siren rang through my body, causing me to scream.

The stranger caressed my cheek and wiped away the tear that was flowing down. I tilted my head to stare at the hallucination that had to be standing over me. The shadow of death remained hidden, the darkness clouded my vision.

I wasn't home. The warmth of my blankets would have reassured me I was safe. The smell of spaghetti and mushrooms would have tickled my nose. What day was it? Tuesday was family dinner. I prodded my memories. Deep within my cerebral cortex, the answer lay dormant. Fragments of pictures twirled in my memory, the broken shards of my memory tore my head in two. I took in a deep breath, my muscles relaxed, and the pain subsided. The room smelled of death mixed with a fresh brew of morning dampness.

Was death here to take me away? Was this the end? Trapped here on an island of isolation and death wasn't what was on my mind. Before, I used to know exactly where to go and now my mind was blocked. Everything about me seemed like a blur. The surging of bolts and electrons through my body reminded me of the tremendous pain I was dealing with. It was like a sharp knife stabbing through my chest. A slow and memorable pain that crippled all of my senses. The stranger lifted me up carefully. The pain shot through my body. He whispered into my ear. His voice was sweat and reassuring. I'm so sorry, he said. The pain took a hold of me and my eyes shut, taking me away from the discovering of finding out the mystery to where I was.

Mom always used to say the past has a way of slipping into the subconscious. A picturesque image of a captured memory. A memory from the past that I had believed was far from my reach slipped into my mind. A time that had an overwhelming hold over me. It was my ninth birthday. My parents had been arguing. The sound of pots clattering on the marble kitchen floor. My father had yelled for her to stop acting unreasonably. The clown and my party guests stared despondently at me. My legs were hanging over the chair and my auburn wavy hair was loose. When I couldn't take it anymore, I ran outside, my small legs kicking up sand. My tiny hands grabbed onto the swing. I bowed my head. Tears formed in my eyes. My eyes were burning. I clumsily wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. I plumped onto the swing and stared at the brick mansion that was a family heirloom. It was normal. I kept telling myself. The green grass, the rose garden and the statue garden reminded me that home would never feel like home.

My best friend came out of the house and sat next to me. No words of consolidation left her mouth. Only silence followed. The welcoming sound of silence. It evidently kept me from tearing up. We pushed the swing and the calming effect of flying and landing brought us to tears. She smiled at me. She always knew what to do to take away my pain. The door leading to the garden opened. My mother and father came outside holding each other's hand. There was a disrupting sound that caused the dream to crumble before me. My eyes fluttered open and glanced around. I was back in my room, the navy blue walls and my small bookcase that was almost empty. My desk had my blue journal that was on top of it. It was meticulous. No clothes lying on the floor and no pictures of hot celebrity guys. It felt too plain. A room that hadn't been lived in for a while. There was a lava lamp that was on my bedside table. Just where I had left it. A flat screen TV was on. A breaking news report comes on. I turned to stare at the dark-skinned pretty news reporter.

'" In breaking news, sixteen-year-old Aurora Austin, the daughter of billionaire mogul Derrick Austin. She was missing for a year and a half. She was found a week ago in an abandoned building. Her captors had disappeared, not leaving any traces behind. The Apollis police department is still searching for the criminals' that are in question. Mr. Austin has requested for privacy."

The door creaked open. A tall, slender man with gray hair and silver eyes waltzed in. He wore a white shirt with blue strips and black trousers. He smiled affectionately. He followed my gaze to the TV, picked up the remote and switched it off. He muttered something irritably. His face softened. This had to be a dream.

"Your brother must have left the TV on." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Aurora, honey." He paused. "How are you feeling? You gave us quite a scare."

My head was aching, my body was numb, and I felt lost in a world that was familiar. My father looked earnest, deeply concerned about what was going on with me. The clue that I couldn't pick on was how I got from school to here and why I couldn't remember. There were purple, brown half -moons underneath my father's eyes. His hair disheveled, and he wore a wrinkled shirt. There was a dark shadow that was buried behind his fatherly features. A sadness that dragged him to the depths of the fiery pit of depression. His gray hair was grayer than it normally was. My heart ached for him. I placed my head on my pillow. The confusion was taking a toll on me. My mind was in reverse mode. It would take a while to switch it back on.

"Honey, it's time for dinner. Mom whipped up your favorite." He kissed me on the forehead. "We need to talk." I nodded.

That wasn't good. Okay. It had to be about my results. The results usually came out a day after school closed. Or maybe it was about why I couldn't remember a whole day. Oh, my word. Did I do something uncharacteristically? Why couldn't I remember? My head started throbbing, the pain churned my insides, and bile was forming in my throat. He left the room. I slipped out my blankets, a sharp pain coursed through my body. I tried to focus on where the pain was radiating from. When I moved again, my belly screamed in fury. I lifted my pajama top and peered at the large bandage that was touching my skin. What happened to me? I shook off the surge to check what was under and limped out of my bedroom, struggling down the wooden stairs.

There was something different about the lounge. I just couldn't put my finger on it. My mom smiled at me from the dining room. Miles stared down at his empty plate. I took a seat next to him, Miles, who was now staring into the distance. The dining room had always been a décor haven, with my mom spreading her wings by hanging works of art and ornaments against my father's endless protestations. This time the wall was bare and the ornaments that had stood on the table on the opposite side of the paintings were now gone. Staring closely at my mother. She was much shorter than she used to be. My mom's hair used to reach below her shoulders and now it gently touched her shoulders. Her beauty still radiated off her and her lavender scent hadn't washed off. Her fragile, long, slender fingers looked worn out and aged. The atmosphere gave off a foreign scent.

Why wouldn't Miles stare at me? He looked older. Mom looked weary. Was I still dreaming? Mom stared at me with the deep sadness that dad had. My heart was pounding, my eyes painful, and there was a jab in my chest. I stood up, my legs wobbly underneath me. They all turned to stare at me, even Miles. Miles's green eyes now looked dark hazel. He trimmed his shaggy brown hair neatly. The stare that shot from him was like a knife blunt to the point. Our relationship was severed, destroyed. In his eyes, there was fear.

"Are you feeling okay, hun?" My mom asked.

My father took a sip of his orange juice. "She's probably parched." He turned to stare at Miles. "Son, get your sister a glass of water."

Miles stood up quietly and left the dining room. My parents' eyes wandered to him walking up the stairs. They didn't stop him or demand that he come back. He bunched his shoulders as he walked away. His head was bowing down. My mom sank into her chair. I had never seen my family so despondent. I wanted to run after Miles, to drag him back to the table, but I knew whatever he was going through in my presence would only make it worse. So I let him go. I still felt nauseous, I thought that whatever reason that I had been trapped indoors for had nothing to do with being bed sick.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" My voice was hoarse.

My father sipped on his drink. "It's been a long day."

"What matters is that we are all here today." My mom's voice quivered.

"I wish that was possible, but my stomach has been doing somersaults ever since I woke up."

My father smiled despondently. "Honey, let's eat as a family first, then we can talk later."

"I can't. I need air."

"Aurora, you haven't eaten in." He stared at mom then he changed his statement. "I think what you need is food." He was babying me. The concerned tone in his voice bothered me. The only time he acted concerned was when I was sick. My throat was dry and felt like sandpaper. Being trapped in this house with the humidity and hearing the faintest of movements was making me gasp for air. My head screamed out in fury. I rubbed my temples. The pain came back like a lightning bolt.

I ran for the front door after my feet scurried off the floor. My head was pounding profusely, disorientating my body. My legs felt heavy and the pain shooting from my belly cut me deeply. I needed air. I kept running until I reached outside. We lived in a gated committee. Thank God that was the one thing that remained intact. An orange - purple light covered the sky. Men wearing gray track suits jogged past me. The evening sun was setting in, the only sound visible was the sight of the jogging men. Besides that, there was no one outside. What day was it? It felt like a Sunday. The atmosphere of a winding clock ticking the hours before the hazardous tasks that Monday brought with it. My head was burning, my mouth parched, my legs gave in and banged against the gravel road. The wind gently nipped my face, searing my burning face with a soft, cooling kiss.

I closed my eyes. I felt a tap on my shoulder. My eyes opened and to my surprise, one jogger had his hand out. He pulled me up. He was a tall, stalwart, gorgeous young man with raven thick black hair, opal blue eyes and a charming smile. I couldn't help smiling at him. Just my luck. Here was this gorgeous guy, and I looked like I had just been run over by a truck. Not to mention my tangled hair. His smile vanished, his brows furrowed. I instinctively touched my face. The boy looked at his friends who were going down the road. He then glanced around and turned to stare at me. He was deadpan. What surprised me was when he placed his hand on my face? Realizing how inappropriate it was, he dropped his hand and licked his parched lips.

"I'm truly sorry about this." His voice was husky.

I smiled nervously. "It's okay."

"I just haven't ever seen someone who has gone through what you have experienced."

I stared blankly at him. "I don't understand."

"You're the kid who disappeared for a year and a half. People thought you were dead, then they found you in an abandoned building. You were in a state of shock when they found you." He paused. Pallor took over his face as his eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew." I backed away from him and ran back home.