Shrouded Away (Book #1)

Chapter: 21

"Is she dead, Helen?" The half-drunken man asked. Irritated, the woman whipped her head around at the man.

"She's not dead Atlas, but you'll be if you don't leave this instant. You're not sober and you have a glass of wine in your hand." She placed her hand on the girl's forehead.

"Why is her forehead so large?"

"Maybe it's because she has a brain unlike you"

"I'm just tryna-" Atlas got cut as the large Oakwood doors opened and an old man entered.

"How is she doing?" The man asked.

"She's doing well. It seems like she was rather sleep deprived. Though I've seen something."

"What is it?"

Helen glanced at Atlas signalling 'as long as this idiot is going to be here I'm not going say a thing.'

Understanding her, Bradford said, "Atlas would you mind giving us a minute?"

"Finally, that shitty woman was draining every piece of energy out of me"

"If he wasn't your brother I would've killed him"

"I understand, so back to what you were saying."

"She wasn't a prisoner"

"What do you mean?"

"She's ..." she continued before looking both her sides, " one of them, a Sicarius"

She held the girl's hand and rolled up the sleeve of the white hospital gown she was in. Bradford gave a light gasp seeing the vicious mark that was embedded on her dark skin.

"We cannot let anyone know this. Is there anyone else who acknowledges this?"

"No,"

"Who brought her here?"

"Garren and Callista. They did tell that Salliesta was also with them. They possibly couldn't have seen the Malum mark on her hand since it was dark outside. They had mistaken her as a prisoner"

"Did they find Ahlia?"

"No."

He stared at the girl who was out cold. There was something familiar about her that he couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it was because he wasn't wearing his spectacles or maybe it was years of gory images fiddling with him.

"Could you wake her up?" Bradford requested.

"Um... of course" she softly patted the girl's cheek. "Dearie, wake up. The sun is out. Dear....wake up."

She opened her groggy eyes and a sleepy and unintelligible mumble rumbled out her throat in response. A figure drifts into her line of vision.

As her eyes started to focus, she could make out the small features of the woman's face. Alabaster skin, black and red heterochromia hair, walnut eyes, eyes that softened as she stared into them.

"Good morning" Bradford greeted smiling, "how are you feeling?"

She didn't answer, instead examined her surroundings. Hospital beds were arranged till the end, a few of them hidden behind curtains. Her head was still aching, her mind was fuzzy and clouded.

The whole place was painted in white the curtains were spread apart, she squinted from the sudden brightness, particles of dust and feathers performed spins and pirouettes in the flaxen luminescence of morning.

Upon the beginnings of her arousal, Andrea's first thoughts were brought to the searing pain within her left arm and leg.

The next thing she felt was the very distinct smell of disinfectant alcohol permeating her nose.

She looked out the green vines draped window to see healthy growing plants and birds spiralling around.

She stared at the foot of the bed trying to fit everything into pieces.

"What the hell..?" Her voice was raspy and dry. Helen handed her a glass of water from the side table.

She stared at the woman with a stoic expression and held the glass and sniffed it- not smelling anything unusual she drank half of the cup and handed it back.

"You're now in a safe place" Bradford didn't want to risk telling her about her current location.

"Bring me back"

"Where?"

Andrea didn't answer- instead, she got off the bed, her legs gave away as she tried to stand up, she held the bed as she straightened herself.

Helen rushed to her side and assisted her to sit down on a chair.

"You're in Divinus," Bradford said.

Andrea remained silent, she felt as if the whole world stopped. She was dizzy and nauseous.

"Would you like to tell us your name?"

There was no other option. Her gaze remained on the floor, trying to get a hold of what was occurring.

"Andrea. Andrea Marcela"

A loud gasp escaped from Helen as she backed away from her.

This was not good. This was nowhere near good.

"Your mother is Marcela..?"

"Either way I would've known. Wanna know why? Eh? I was there that night. I saw her father, and I gladly murdered her mother! I slit her throat so easily, her neck was like warm butter."

"Who do you think the father is?" She heard Helen whisper it to Bradford.

Bradford shrugged and cleared his throat, "Andrea, is Marcela your mother?"

This might've been the first time she ever doubted to answer that question.

Weeks before she would've answered that question without a second thought but now...