Lost Within

Chapter Two

1515

"Stai bene?" I hear the whispered voice above me speaking Italian.

Blinking open my eyes, I focus on the face hovering close. "Uh, penso di si. Che successo?" I ask what happened in Italian.

"Non lo so," she replies, telling me she doesn't know.

I try to sit up but grab my throbbing head. I want to speak English, so I ask if she does. "Parla inglese?"

"Inglese?" She looks at me oddly. That's when I notice the long embroidered dress she wears. The sleeves are held up by cream colored ribbons, and as I focus on her face, there is no mistaking her decidedly Renaissance period appearance.

Suddenly alarmed, I clutch my chest, and ask in Italian, "Who are you?"

Her eyes open wide. "Who am I?"

My eyes survey the room, taking in the oversized furniture and lush fabrics. It strikes me as remarkably similar to the room I was just in, but newer, clean, and with everything in its place. I shift my eyes back to the girl beside me. "What is your name?" I ask, again in Italian.

She eyes me suspiciously for a moment before answering. "Magdalena. Your sister."

Feeling my heartbeat quicken, I sit up slowly. "What is my name?"

The girl puts her hand at her throat. "Lucia."

Mothertrucker. Rising to my feet in a hurry, I'm weighted down by the ornate dress now clothing me, similar to the one Magdalena wears. Oh no. Oh my gosh. "What happened to me?"

Magdalena stands with me, but her motion is slow and tentative as if she somewhat fears me. "I do not know. I was in my room, and there was a loud noise. I worried for you, so I ran in here, and you were lying on the floor."

"Oh, man. How is this possible?" My heart races as I focus on the girl before me. She is young with curly, golden hair that falls in ringlets down her back, a contrast from the long, brunette locks that still cover my shoulders. I take a deep breath before asking my next question. "What is today's date?"

Magdalena blinks slowly one time. "Twenty July."

"The year?"

She studies me a moment before answering with a barely audible reply, "Fifteen hundred fifteen, of course."

Shit. I swallow hard. "When did you last see me?"

"Twenty minutes ago, I suppose. We were discussing our plans to take a walk later."

"I see." I glance down at my closed fist, then meet Magdalena's eyes again, but she averts hers, stepping back cautiously. This is not real. No. I must have bumped my head, and I'm imagining all this. Yes, that's it. It's a dream. This place, that girl. All of it. It sure feels real though. I return my gaze to Magdalena to find her watching me again and offer what I hope is a comforting smile. If this is real, if I can't wake up, I'm going to need an ally, and she's all I've got. She smiles softly, rubbing her hands together but still studying me with questioning eyes. As my attention shifts to the dull headache radiating across my forehead, a sinking feeling settles over me. I'm in Renaissance Italy. Now, what the heck do I do? I exhale slowly, trying to calm my racing heart. I have to stay calm and not alarm the girl. "I'm confused."

Magdalena nods as she watches me. "Are you unwell, sister?"

"Very unwell. I don't remember what happened."

"You must have fainted and bumped your head. I will get Mother."

"No!" Magdalena looks startled. "I, mean, um, I'm okay. I don't want Mother to worry."

"Are you certain? Your words are very strange."

"I am certain." My eyes move to the once worn down balcony now before me in all its original grandeur. "Perhaps if I just lie down for a while, I'll feel better."

"That is a good idea. Would you like some water?"

"No." I need to be alone to figure out what the hell is happening. I smile to try and reassure the girl. "Thank you."

"I will check on you in a bit."

"Yes, fine."

Magdalena leaves, and I immediately start to survey my surroundings. In my hand, the ruby necklace shimmers like it has its own light within. I rush to the vanity and look in the mirror. The same light brown eyes I look at every day gaze back at me. I touch the bridge of my nose and my cheeks. It's me, but something's off. I look younger somehow. Innocent. The light makeup I wore this morning, a bit of blush and mascara, is gone, and my hair is partially braided. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't this. It's astonishing to see my own face, but in some ways not recognize it. How could I look this much like Lucia?

Remembering the inscription on the wall, I move the small vanity and see it there. Shit. I'm nearly paralyzed by fear as the reality of the situation grips me. I wanted to get away from the heartbreak I live with, the fear of trying to love again. I wanted excitement. I just never thought in a million years this could happen. Now I need help, but where would I find it? How did I make this happen? How do I get back? Then a new, slightly more terrifying, question enters my mind. Where the hell is Lucia?