You start to become more aware of your surroundings as you start to slowly wake up from a slumber; your back was in pain and stiff as you become more awake and stir on the hard floor. The sound of ocean waves could be heard just outside your window...yet you don’t recall living near any sort of ocean at all.

Curiosity grew within you, as you sit up within the decently lit room — a plain white square room that was a bit small and held no furniture of any kind...this certainly wasn’t /your/ room, where were you? Are you, perhaps, still dreaming? Sitting up from the hard wood flooring, you stand to your feet; the window grabs all your attention, and eventually you find yourself standing there looking outside with no recollection how you even got there.

It was nightfall, the full moon was in the sky littered by a light overcast, the moon’s light allowed you to see the ocean perfectly, yet all there was, was water. No solid ground to be seen anywhere.

Just the ocean.

You could easily feel the cool night air upon your face, as everything seemed to become more relaxing and you begin to forget that you were even within a strange and unfamiliar room to begin with... How could this be? Surely this room wasn’t floating in mid-air? There had to be some sort of solidity somewhere. This was too surreal. As you look around the small white room after some time of getting lost in a moment, you find a simple wooden door; where did that even come from? Wasn’t there nothing before? Just four white walls that surrounded you, leaving you a sense of dread earlier...and now, there was a way out?

This had to be a dream. Or rather, a strange nightmare. Heading over to the solitary door, you reach over for the cold handle door, but it was locked. Why locked? You turn the handle once more, but still to no avail as you couldn’t get past the door and out of this room that was starting to make you feel more uncomfortable with every passing second. The hairs on your arms and the nape of your neck stand as it suddenly got cold, and then just as sudden, the window slams shut with a loud ‘thud!’ and the lights go out instantly.

Silence.

There was only silence for a few seconds, before you hear a ‘click’ of the door becoming unlocked and then opening slowly by itself, leaving itself just slightly ajar.

There was a ray of light entering the room from the cracked open door, before finally without hesitation you further open the door to reveal a long corridor. It was well-lit and the feeling of dread started to leave your body...this was oddly welcoming. You enter the long hallway, and you can view different paintings on the walls. Nothing seemed off about them other than the fact that they were obviously old. At least this was a bit more...warm?

Was that the word to describe this moment? This feeling? You felt so alone...but now you felt more...comforted?

It was strange, even though you were still alone; it must’ve been the paintings. They had faces, which in return must have made you feel at ease. Though….at the same time, you felt watched. Eyes were on you, and it almost seemed as if the eyes of the paintings were following your every move, each and every step you took as you went further down the long corridor...there was just that eerie feeling of an unfamiliar force staring at you…

Just as everything seemed a bit better, the lights begin to flicker. Maybe it was because this place seemed so old…? That’s it, this house, wherever you were at, was old. Even the wood floors would creak under your feet, which didn’t help with the spine-chilling atmosphere. The lights would continue to flicker for another moment, and then you finally meet halfway within the hallway and you just realize the door at the end, a new destination, another step to getting out of this place. But within a blink of an eye, there was suddenly a woman there.

How did she get there? Was this still a dream?

You pinch yourself and hold your breath, but it seemed all too real. This was, in fact, not a dream? Your feet were touching the ground and you were not hovering, and when you looked away from a painting and looked back, it would be the same. Every aspect of this was reality, this was real, and it was not a dream, because nothing would oddly change,

everything was the same and not distorted in any manner. The woman stands there; she was wearing a plain white dress, and had long beautiful black hair that reached her waist and adorned her frame nicely, like a painting. And then...just as she had randomly appeared there, she was then gone. Vanished. Just...disappeared into thin air.

The lights then cease to flicker; everything went back to normal. Confused, you wonder what had just happened, who was that? Was that a part of your imagination? Was she even real? Perhaps the lights flickering messed with your eyes just a little and you were imagining things...maybe it was just your own shadow.

Not putting much thought into it, you decide to proceed further down the hall until you finally reach the door at the end...but then you start to feel a bit weary and faint...you begin to have a dizzy spell. A knot turns in your stomach and your face turns cold; your vision goes black and everything around you becomes dark and weightless, you don’t even feel yourself fall to the floor. Lying there at the end of the hallway, you hear a faint moan mingled with whispers...a woman’s voice.

“It was all he cared about…” she would say, yet you couldn’t see who was speaking...it sounded as if she was far off in the distance from where you were located.

“It’s his fault…” she would proceed to say, though the voice seems to be coming closer and closer...apprehension starts to build up within you as you remember that woman just seconds ago,, was it her? Was she real? You weren’t imagining things after all.

“HE DID IT!!” she would then scream like a banshee into your ears so abruptly.

You feel terrified, someone was with you, someone you don’t know...an unfamiliar voice screaming at you, all you can do is bring your hands to your ears trying to mute out the sounds from this woman you cannot even see. As the screaming fades, however, your vision starts to come back, and you no longer feel heavy. Finally, you are able to stand up, even if you did feel vaguely faint. Hopefully that feeling of sickness leaves your stomach at some point.

Almost with eagerness, you just want to leave this place. Your mind feels like it’s beginning to break, you don’t know if you’re going mad or not, you can’t even tell reality from hallucinations at this point.

Without hesitation, you walk through the door, and you enter into a room that held a canvas at its center. Said canvas was covered, hiding whatever artworks was underneath. Strange, your surroundings seem a little blurred, and you can’t distinguish any other details around you; only the canvas as if it was drawing you to it. You feel interested, and for some reason you want to see whatever painting was underneath that cover.

Step by step, you get closer and closer.

You reach out...but just as your fingertips were about to even touch the cover to the canvas, the room begins to melt.

Wait, melt?

The walls begin to droop and melt away as if it were made of candle wax, The room became distorted before there was nothing left; even the canvas you wanted to see so bad was beginning to melt away and become nothing, as everything started to fall below you where you stood; darkness yet again surrounded you.

Then...there is the smell of spiced vanilla chai in the air...that was oddly embracing and a nice change to the atmosphere.

You wake up, opening your eyes rather wide into a bedroom. A room with furniture. To your left was an open window that sounded like there were ocean waves gently crashing against the sand outside. It was morning…

“ A dream…” you’d mutter quietly to yourself, bringing your hand to forehead out of desperate relief. It was no dream, it was more like a terrifying nightmare you never wanted to experience again. But then again, you never seen this room before. Another unfamiliar location? When was this going to end? It was like an eternal loop of unfamiliarity.

“Finally awake?” a gentle tone would speak out, as you turn your head to see another face, one that wasn’t within a painting, but someone was actually there, talking to you. This was undoubtedly real. Though, you couldn’t recall who this was...a stranger? This was possibly his home...but how did you get here?

With this strange man, he had a tray that carried a small tea cup of spiced vanilla chai readied by the end table next to the bed, along with a banana nut muffin for breakfast.

“You’ve been sleeping for so long, I was wondering when you’d wake up. That is for you.” he’d then say, the stranger sitting on a chair just a fair distance from the bed; it would seem as if he had been waiting for a while. You question to yourself who this man is, and why were you inside his home. How you even got there, and why you were even there to begin with. Perhaps something had happened to you before...so many thoughts started to course through your mind though it was a little difficult to concentrate at the moment.

Lowering your arm, you realize you had multiple bruises that littered your body.

“Ah yes, you had been sleepwalking again last night. It was rather difficult getting you back to your bed.” the man would then state, seeing you’ve realized the bruises on your body.

“Unfortunately, you had fallen down some stairs during the night. Left quite a nasty bump on your head…” he would then say, getting up from the chair he was sitting at so that he may walk over to the side of the bed and gently run his fingers through your hair, softly pressing his fingers down on the bump atop your head as mentioned. A small wince would leave your lips, but at the same time you felt comforted knowing that you weren’t alone, even if it was with a stranger. His hand and the way he massaged those fingers through the locks of your hair felt rather nicely, you had almost wanted to go back to sleep.

It was so nice… It left a warm feeling at the pit of your stomach, you didn’t want this moment to stop but at the same time if it had continued…

“You don’t remember where you are, do you?” he would break the genuine moment you two had together; secretly you’d whine to yourself that he had retracted his hands to place within his own pockets.

“...You’re suffering from amnesia...do you at least remember that? You have no recollections of your past or of who you even are.” After such a statement, you would soon come to realize that you, in fact, don’t remember anything at all. It was true, you couldn’t remember not even a single detail from before, not even the night before. It left a terrible feeling within you because you so desperately wanted to remember your own name, but you couldn’t even come up with a single hint as to who you even were, what you did for a living, your childhood, nothing.

“Please help yourself to some tea, I made it myself just for you.” he would state, which oddly made you feel warm again like before...why was this man so nice? Why was he caring for you? Did you two know each other? Though, putting those thoughts aside, you decided to reach over for the tea cup, its porcelain surface was so smooth to the touch, and sip on the warm spiced beverage that was welcoming upon your tongue and enticed your senses immediately. It was almost unlike anything you had before.

“You should take your medication...and then we'll head to the art room.~” in a giddy tone, the man reaches over to the tray next to the muffin; two unnoticed pills were sitting upon said try, as the stranger brings them to your lips. Oddly, you trust him and part your lips so that he could help give you your medication, swallowing the pills and drinking more of the tasteful spiced chai. The medication was possibly for your head? You did experience dizzy spells quite often. That was what you had assumed, for now at least. Allowing you to finish your breakfast, the man would later help you out of bed; you were covered in a white long-sleeved nightgown that reached your knees, everything about this place was so comforting, you wish you could just live here every day for the rest of your life.

You didn’t even know the name of this man, yet you trust him and you felt so warm when he touched you; you experienced delight every time those hands would rest upon your skin… You almost craved it some more. Why didn’t he do it more often? Maybe it was because he was the only person you knew...you had forgotten everyone else due to your amnesia, he was all you had. Possibly the only one that cared.

“You may call me Mr. Fitzgerald…” finally, a name was mentioned. An attachment. And finally, you feel those same gentle hands around your slender frame; he was carrying you bridal style. It was so consoling. After such a terrible nightmare, it was the best thing you could have at this very moment, was being so close to someone and within someone else’s arms.

You were now within a hallway...peculiar...it was strangely similar to the hallway in your nightmare with the paintings. Going down said hallway, you examined each painting, yet it seemed almost never-ending. Minutes had gone by, shouldn't you have been within the art room by now?

Slowly, there would be weird black marks on the walls that only got heavier and heavier as you continued down the long corridor. It was very thick and oozy, almost like thick black paint. The faces on the paintings would become more blurred, and the faces were no longer distinguishable. This had to be the same world, surely you haven't fallen asleep already, you’ve just woken up. You come in-and-out of reality and what seemed to be a nightmare world.

During your dizziness, you didn’t even realize that you were placed upon a smaller bed; another room? Looking around, you at least were able to distinguish a canvas and some more portraits within the room, it was odd...the theme to these paintings seemed to be covered in red.

“Now now...you seem to be getting dizzy again…” you’d hear an echo around you, it sounded similar to Mr. Fitzgerald’s voice.

“Aww, but look at you…” he’d then continue, pressing his thumb against your lower lip, though that hand would slowly slither down your frame — your collarbone, chest, stomach and much lower until his hand was teasing the inside of your upper thigh, he’d even invite himself to push the edge of the white nightgown up a bit more so that more of your skin was revealed under the dim lighting of the art room.

That warm feeling soon turned into that of uncomfortable, yet for some reason, you couldn’t move.

Why couldn’t you?

It was like you were paralyzed, your body didn’t feel like anything, just nothing.

You were numb, and yet you could feel, as you could easily feel those finger tips playing with your most sensitive area from above the cloth of your cotton underwear.

How dare he!?

He was so gentle and nice, how could this man become so vulgar?

Shortly after, you’d feel your body be moved, yet your vision was blurred still...you couldn’t see anything but feel. Your senses relied on this, for now. What was going on? Just as you had questioned this in your head, your nightgown was pushed up even further until it rested just above your waist, and your body was positioned in an embarrassing pose that made you evidently more exposed and completely at the viewer’s disposal. In this case, Mr. Fitzgerald.

“Ahh.../yes/~. Just like that…” he’d mutter under his breath with enthusiasm. You were stuck like that for quite some time, stuck in a position that left you feeling entirely vulnerable. But...over time...you felt as if you could become easily enticed if he were to touch you again, and at some point, you had almost craved that same touch you had felt just moments ago. Your body burned, it was getting so hot. If you could just talk right now, you’d probably even beg for it. You just craved attention, to be taken care of...and he was the only one around to give you what you had wanted.

You felt teased.

That touch, those fingers rubbing at your intimate parts in such a sensual manner left you with a sensation of want. It left a sick feeling in your stomach and a foul taste in your mouth. How could you have such thoughts? It was sickening.

“You’ve been daydreaming so much lately. Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit out of it again…” that voice would would speak out, as you felt yourself come back to your senses.

“Should we stop? I don’t want to keep you for too long.” he would say; as you were finally able to look around with your returned vision, you examined your surroundings only to see Mr. Fitzgerald sitting on a stool at the canvas painting.

Of what?

You couldn’t tell from this angle. However, looking down at yourself, your gown wasn’t pulled up...and you were simply lying in a decent position with a normal posture, your hands above your head and laying on your side…

But...what about...feeling exposed? Your gown was above your waist and you were completely exposed, weren’t you? You couldn’t even remember anymore, it all seemed to be so strange, you can’t even put the pieces together. Mr. Fitzgerald would stand from the stool to stride over to the small bed he had placed you upon, bringing his hand to your forehead to check for fever.

“Oh dear...you feel so warm. You’re sick…” That must explain the hot feeling...you were delusional and hallucinating still. Perhaps you were sick?You must’ve blacked out again, because the moment you closed your eyes and opened them up again, you were at the dining table within the dining room, and before you was some hot soup and a glass of water. You then felt a hand touch your forehead again; it was Mr. Fitzgerald.

“Feeling any better…? Ah...but you’re still hot to the touch. Poor thing...you must feel terrible. Here..” being the kind man that he is, Mr. Fitzgerald reached down to get a spoonful of the hot soup, and even blew on the soup placed on said spoon before bringing it to your lips.

“Tell me if it’s too hot for you, okay?” Though, the moment he placed the soup into your mouth, you looked back down at the bowl of soup...but it was no longer a bowl of soup, it was a bowl of grotesque flesh covered in maggots, and flies were buzzing everywhere. Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t seem to be bothered by any of this.

No!

You were hallucinating again!

But that didn’t help the terrible feeling you were building up at the pit of your stomach, and before you knew it, everything came back up and then some, as you couldn’t help yourself from vomiting everything up you had into your own lap and onto the table.

“Ah...poor thing~.” Mr. Fitzgerald only smirked to this reaction, pushing aside some hair that carried a little vomit on some strands. The nausea you were experiencing was so dreadful, that you were forced to fall out of your own chair and to the floor, dry heaving as you were practically stuck on your hands and knees, expelling nothing but air by this point.

You just wanted this to end.

“You should take your medication again, dear…~” that voice was so gentle and amused, even when it should be concerning. Shaking your head ‘no’, you didn’t want to take medication when you were feeling this way, how could you even handle to swallow any pills when you couldn’t even keep anything down by this point?

Though, despite your current condition, Mr. Fitzgerald simply got down on the floor next to you, and pulling out something you didn’t quite catch seeing during your fit from his pocket.

“Are you done yet?” he would then ask, pulling you over to his lap so that your back was facing him. You felt weak, and all you craved was rest. This was a whole new nightmare, you couldn’t tell what was reality and what wasn’t. It was then, that you felt a sudden sting in your arm.

An injection.

You were injected with something unknown, as the kind man that had been taking care of you simply tucked your hair behind your ears. And then you felt your chest being fondled… And your body being caressed… You felt that same burning sensation at the base of your body in between your legs, a desperate need for touch and interaction.

“You can’t remember that time, can you?” he would whisper into that sensitive ears of yours, which would only give your body a reaction of a whimper that would leave your precious chapped lips mingled with chills that ran up and down your spine.

“Pity.” he would state, those hands caressing your inner thigh in such a teasing manner...so slowly and with care; toying with that soft skin that felt so warm and welcoming. It wasn’t enough…

It was a shame, you blacked out after the touch of your cotton underwear being tugged at and being pulled down to your knees. Yet that was all you could remember. You wonder what else could have happened before fainting, if only you could stay conscious.

I suppose you could use your vivid imagination.