Eternal [HS]

Chapter Two

HER FIRST THOUGHT UPON WAKING, curled up in a suspicious amount of blankets, is that her head aches.

It feels as though a hammer is being pounded against her skull from the inside. She nearly feels her pulse in her ears too, and if not for that, she would be able to drift back into a peaceful sleep again, but she can't. Because all she can think about, short of her headache, is the fact that she is not in her own bedroom.

Jo shoots up from where she was lying in bed and frantically scans the room from left to right.

It's too dark to make everything out, but it's quite obvious that this is not her bedroom. Hers is painted a light, dainty color, meanwhile, this room is painted a blue so dark, it almost appears black. The only reason she can tell it's blue is because a few scented candles are burning on the mahogany dresser, which illuminates just enough for her to see. It smells like vanilla and citrus in here, and if she weren't preoccupied with freaking the fuck out, she might have stopped to appreciate it.

Wherever she is, it's quiet. The sound that fills the space is that of a fire blazing in the hearth across the room, and she vaguely remembers hearing the sound of it crackling while she drifted on the edge of sleep a few moments ago. There's no sign of any dangerous, lurking presence like the one she was attacked by last night, no sign of anyone except—

"I was starting to think you'd never wake up."

She screams.

Her body hits the wooden floor hard, enough so that her aching bruises from last night become reignited with pain, and she scrambles onto her feet to run in the opposite direction of the voice. It was coming from right beside her, or at least somewhere close. How had she not noticed whoever it was when she first glanced around the room?

The floor is freezing beneath her feet as she stumbles to the nearest door, which is, unfortunately for her, a bathroom with no way out except for the way she entered. She traps herself in the furthest corner of the large bathroom, picking up a random object to defend herself with along the way, before the stranger who spoke to her is standing in the doorway.

He's taller than her, clearly stronger too, and based on the way he's looking at the toothbrush she has threateningly aimed at him, he knows he would win this fight without having to experience it. He looks amused—relaxed, even—and it frustrates her to no end.

"M'not going to hurt you, Josephine," he says, shutting the door behind him.

She rolls her eyes as she thinks to herself, Oh, why didn't you just say that, creepy dude whose bed I just woke up in? Now I feel loads better about being trapped in a bathroom with you!

Regardless of her annoyance, she stays a safe distance from him and keeps the toothbrush in position. Yet all he does is laugh.

Not only is she stuck with a stranger who, let's be honest, probably has ill intentions with her, but she's also stuck with an annoying prick that laughs when she threatens him. If she knew what he knew about himself and the differences between them, she would laugh too. But, for now, it makes her seethe.

"How the hell do you know my name?" she asks, "And how am I supposed to believe that you won't hurt me? I don't know you, you could be some creepy murderer-rapist for all I know!"

His eyes narrow at her, and he tilts his head to the side as if in curiosity.

"If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And rapists?" he pauses, waiting for her to look at him, "They're the most disgusting people, I don't take kindly to being called one."

Her arms cross over her chest, only for her to realize she's still in her scrubs from work. The bar may be on the floor at this point but at least he didn't change her clothes while she was unconscious. She must have been too distracted to realize she was wearing everything from when she was attacked—