sin cera
an excerpt

Her first thought upon waking was vaguely unprintable. She slowly began to fade into consciousness, becoming dimly aware how cold it was. The motion of the floor. It was making her stomach turn and she was completely unable to do anything about it.
A headache settled somewhere between the right and left medulla; she was convinced she could not open her eyes because of it until the floor tipped beneath her and her shoulder thumped to the ground. Her face was now staring directly into a light source.
She winced and squinted, avoiding contact with the light source but somehow still keeping it square in her focus.
She closed her eyes, seeing only black spots.
“Sir, she’s waking up.” The thinly male voice with a definitive Italian accent echoed somewhere behind her. The room sounded small, closed in.
“All right.” A gruff voice, faintly tinged with an Eastern European accent. Not very welcoming. Eva blinked and turned her head slightly as she heard footsteps.
Coming towards her. She twisted her neck and stared at the shoes coming towards her; they were stiff and most likely leather. They made small scuffing noises on the professional carpet, which her face was pressed into.
“Hello.” The voice said. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope you are not entirely too frightened, but to be honest if we want to kill you we would have killed you then. There is no reason to worry.”
She blinked, turning over slightly.
“Let me help you.” The voice leaned down and grabbed the back of her coat, jerking her upwards. “Your hands are tied in the back. You do not have shoes on and as you can see, there are guards in here as well. I hope this will not be a problem.”
She stood, hands behind her back; she could see that the two windows on the left side of the room were all covered with black material. There was one door at the one end of the room, in front of which stood two guards.
Their uniforms were striking. And familiar. She turned to the man, her mouth opening.
“I know, I know—” The man put up his hand. “You have seen them before. This is because you most certainly have.”
“Who—who are you?”
“I … do not believe I can tell you without you becoming entirely too entrenched in this, but suffice it to say that I am neither an enemy nor a friend.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Oh? And why?” His hard grey eyes glinted.
“Because you’re keeping me here without my permission, which qualifies as kidnapping, and if I’m not mistaken, you sent people to try to kill me.”
“Is murder worse than attempted murder?”
“What do you mean?”
“It is a question.”
“Well—” She stared at him. “Of course it is. Is it that difficult to understand?”
“Of course not. I was simply testing you.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
“You will find out soon enough. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
Eva did not hesitate to lie. “No.”
“Are you tired?”
“Of your lies, yes.”
“Oh, she is clever. More clever than I remembered her being.”
“Why do I know you?” She was staring at him.
“The human mind is a difficult thing to pry things out of, but when something is firmly set in there, it will never leave.” He looked at her, a trace of dismissal in his eyes. “Remember that.”
“Who am I?”
He looked at her strangely, and then nodded slowly. “Oh… oh.” He said quietly.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” He looked away and then back. “I will return.” He let go of the back of her coat; she stood on her own and stared at him for a long moment.
He then turned and headed for the door; he put his hand on the doorknob and paused. He turned.
“Do you remember Anatoliy Pavlov?”
She looked at him; a faint tremor was starting in the back of her mind. “Anatoliy … Pavlov?”
He tilted his head slightly.
She shook her head slowly, but was unsure. Her mind was beginning to race; her fingers were tingling.
“Then I’ll put it away,” the man said quietly. He turned back and left.
Put it away!
The phrase leapt into her head; she had a strange thought that she should find the man – find out why he said that – who he was, who she was, what she was doing here – but she was incapable of doing so. She stood, rooted to the floor, staring at the closed door and the impassive guards who stood in front of it.
A guard – the young one – looked at her oddly and then opened his mouth. “You can sit down if you want.” It was the one who had spoken with an Italian accent; she looked at him and tipped her head.
“There.” He pointed at a small folding chair sitting next to the black-covered window. “You can sit.”
She nodded in reply and slowly made her way to the chair, sitting cautiously as her mind spun.
The tremor had spread to her arms. She knew that name. She knew it! Anatoliy Pavlov. A short man. He had a habit of scratching his chin at impromptu times, even while eating.
Why do I know this? Her mind was screaming at her.
I don’t know. I don’t know! She replied mentally. She was exhausted. Her mind was racing, and somehow she was above it all – distant and unrelated – completely outside it all.
Another mental image hit her – the same she had seen this morning. A frightened, terrified face, but now it had distinct features. A large nose, wide eyes with dark eyebrows, a gaping mouth with large cheeks on either side. Streaks of fear.
She could not escape the image; it had implanted itself upon her mind and refused to leave. Eva gritted her teeth, wrestling with the image. She had no way to escape it. She knew she was shaking. She was fixed in the nightmare, and she could not wake up.
She groaned, her throat constricting as the mental waves began to overpower her mind.
[i]Keep control!
I can’t, I’m losing it.
Put it away.[/i]
There was only so much that statement could calm; she shook her head.
“Are you all right?” A hand on her shoulder. She looked up – without seeing anything – and blinked. Something was clearing; it was like a checkerboard fading into—
“Are you all right?” The guard looked concerned.
[i]Why are you asking me if I’m all right? Obviously I am not.[/i]
She said nothing, but turned away and stared at the floor, which was beginning to fade into her vision.
[i]God, what is this place?[/i]