Imitation

7

Eigengrau (n.) "dark light" or "brain grey"; the color seen by the eye in perfect darkness.

As the mirror disappears from my sight it feels like I am suddenly thrown into full motion. The loud noise of feet on marble piercing my ears as it was silent before and I felt my heart pound in my chest where I was once before calm. I look around, I see cold black and white marble. The walls were grey with horribly graphic and sparse pictures of wolves.
Wolves howling, wolves running, wolves fighting, wolves killing.

Everything was moving so quickly, it seemed so detached and fast it felt as if I was going through the hallway with the lights switching on and off quickly.
The images blurred past me like how they do in a flip book.
I could hear my heart beat in my ears and my stomach forming a knot as tears stung at my eyes.
And if it couldn't get any worse think again because now I have stopped.

Though it may sound refreshing to you that the blur of senses has stopped it wasn't. Maybe it would have if we- no not we, He is not with me He is not going through what I am going through therefore in this situation there is no we, only I. Well, maybe it would have been pleasant if I had stopped anywhere else but where I knew I was.
I had never seen or been in this place before but I knew where I was.
The mans grip on my forearm was tight and didn't loosen when I stopped. In front of me was a large menacing looking black door. It had cast iron half circles on it and rings for door knobs. It looked like something from medieval times.
I don't know what exactly the is but I know that he is in it.
That man, the man I could only recognize by his voice or those piercing, glowing eyes.
The man beside me knocks loudly on the door, 3 times. Each time he knocked a deep, hollow, cold sound would echo in the hallway where I stood.
A husky and muffled voice comes through the door and in an impatient tone it said "come in."
It was the man, the man who took me from my family, who left me in the dark, who is slowly making me feel crazy.
The man with a young face and old looking hair slowly pushed the heavy door open with a creaking noise.
I close my blue eyes trying to calm down, being scared would only make every second of this worse for me.

As the door opens fully all I see is absolute darkness, the only color of pure blackness swallowing everything that I should've been able to see in the room.
Before I know it I am shoved into the darkness, it swallowing me as well as everything else in the room and the heavy door is shut quickly behind me.
I freeze, everything stopping, not that I could see anything moving anyway.
My heart started pounding again as I realized, knowing the monster from your nightmares is so close to you but you can't see it or have the feeling of some control in the situation is worse than being able to see it.
Out of no where I hear a match being sparked and then see a candle being lit, the small amount of light it provided gave me some comfort as I could see the mans hands and a bit of his sleeves as well as a few furniture pieces.
"I suppose you want some answers?" The deep cold voice grumbles.
"Yes, if you would be so gracious." I scoff back slightly, my smart mouth taking over as it did a lot when I was nervous.
"Then ask." He growls lowly, I could practically feel the vibrations of it in the air.
I saw how he was going to do this, he wasn't going to give me anymore information than what I asked and at the moment I was ok with that.

"Where am I?" I ask first
"You're in my house but to be more specific you're in my office." He says and surprisingly it wasn't as harsh as before. He sounded, of all things, amused, as if he found my confusion and discomfort entertaining.

I take a deep breath as I try to push out the taunts his voice put on me.
"Why am I here?" Is the second question that left my mouth.
"This is a fun one." I here him say malevolently.
"You really are completely in the dark aren't you?
Well, the people of the tiny little town you live in happen to be hunters, those are savages who kill my wolves." He growls, "including your family. You, my dear," He said though the endearing name sounded anything but "are a bargaining chip, I will negotiate with what's left of your people to get them to stop hunting us, if they agree I'll let you go, if not... well I believe you are smart enough to figure that much out." He says smoothly.
"You will stay here under my watch until that meeting eventually happens, once we either track down the survivors of our attack or they come forward, and they will talk. Your family, my dear, is the head of your hunting party." He says, saying the word 'your' particularly accusingly.
"And they will do anything to get you back."
He says his voice getting a bit nasally at the end of the sentence as if he felt superiority seemingly knowing everything about my family though his voice was no less intimidating.

Maybe he did know my family better than me, maybe I don't know anything at all. My family are the leaders of a werewolf hunting society or whatever and I never knew. Did Jasper know?
Was he ok? Or maybe he was lying, maybe this was a trick to make me go even more insane than what's been happening.
My blood boils at the thought of this man having so much control over me.
"Well why don't you show me your face." I say snappishly, my unhappiness clear in his voice.
A large bang sounds through the room and a jump about ten feet in the air with a frightened squeak before I take a deep breath calming myself down as much as I could, which obviously wasn't much.
I could only assume that it was his hands slamming down on the oak wood desk in front of me, the desk was bulky and the edge of it, that I could see from the candle light, was intricately carved.
I could also see his torso, which was once sitting in a now standing position. He wore a black shirt, almost blending in with the dark environment.
"Because, my dear, it terrifies you to not know who I am, what I look like.
And fear, is such a great way to control people." He growls, the sound deep and guttural.
"I could be the most handsome man you've ever seen, łike the devil. Or, I could look like Scarface, my face angled and torn from the possible attacks that your people could have done to me! He yells.
"Yes, maybe I look like the Phantom of the Opera. Poor Eric didnt have a choice in the matter and maybe neither did I! But people feared him and people fear me, so maybe it's not a bad thing." He says his voice becoming calm, the kind of calm a serial killer has in the court house as he explains how he killed all of his victims.
As if I was his next victim.
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