But if I turn, I might get lost. I have no landmarks to orient my way.
“Hello!” I yell. “Can anyone hear me?”
I pause, hoping for a reply, but there is nothing. Literally nothing. Like I’m in some kind of blank space. Some kind of in-between.
And for some reason, the word that comes to mind is… purgatory.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Pia. Wake up, Pia. Why are you doing this? What’s happening?” I sound pathetic and small, and this kind of pisses me off. Because that’s not who I am.
I’m fearless, and snarky, and most of the time, I’m downright bitchy.
I am not afraid, or weak, or fragile. Not usually, at least. But right now, I feel like all of those things have taken over my body. And then I truly do panic. My heart starts racing. My chest feels tight, like I’m about to have a heart attack. I can’t seem to get enough breath into my lungs. It’s all ragged gasping. I collapse to my knees, still holding Pia protectively in my cupped hand.
“Help.” It’s not a call this time. Just a sad, weak whisper of a plea.
“Hello?” A deep voice cuts through the fog. “Where are you?”
“I’m here!” I say, getting to my feet. “Where are you?”
“Follow my voice. You’re in the gray.”
“I don’t think I can. I can’t tell where you are!”
“Just follow my voice. You can do it. I’ll keep talking.”
I take a step and then another, unsure if I’m going in the right direction. But then he says, “Keep coming. I think I see you.”
So I keep walking until the shape of the hot dude who called out to me from the second-floor balcony comes into view. Tomas. That’s what the caretaker guy called him. “You. Where did you go?” I ask. Which is an odd first question to a complete stranger. But he should’ve met me at the door, not that creepy kid.
“Oh. Sorry.” He frowns, his dark eyes drooping a bit with his mouth. “I was stuck upstairs.”
“Who are you? Where’s my Jeep? Why is there no gate?”
Tomas hesitantly stretches out his hand. Like he’s not sure if he wants to really offer it. “We have to go back. You can’t be out here. It’s very easy to get lost.”
“But where is here?”
“We can talk about it later. Just… try to take my hand.”
And there’s nothing else for me to do but what he’s asking. I place my hand in his and immediately my entire body becomes warm and the fear that was so acute just a moment ago ebbs and then… disappears.
Suddenly we are walking on grass again. And then the cathedral comes into view. Pia begins squirming in my hand, like she’s waking up from a bad dream.
“Pia! You’re OK!” I hold her close to my heart. She chirps, but no words come out of her mouth. Just bird talk, which I do not speak. “Why are you talking like that?”
“Talking like what?” Tomas asks me.
Shit. He can’t see her. Of course he can’t see her. But he can’t hear her little bird chirps either, so now it looks like I’m talking to myself.
Again.
And he will think I’m crazy, just like everyone else. And that’s… I sigh. Pretty much the story of my life.
“Never mind,” I say, suddenly very tired, my feet very heavy, like I’m walking with lead shoes.
We trudge up the steps and we’re just about to enter the cathedral when I turn and look over my shoulder. Surely the gate is still there. My Jeep is still there. The road… all of it has to be there.
But it isn’t.
There is nothing but the hazy gray fog. It’s so close to the building now, I get a chill and a wave of claustrophobia shudders through me.
I follow Tomas into the sanctuary and he shuts the massive wooden door behind me.
“There,” he says. “It’s OK now. But…” He stops, looking past me. And when I turn to see what he’s focused on, I find him staring intently at the staircase.
“Who are you? What is this place? Where is my fucking Jeep!” My voice starts soft, but by the last demand, it’s loud and echoing up in the high ceilings.
“Shhh!” He hushes me with a firm hand over my mouth. Then he pauses, looking down into my eyes as I gaze up at his. I don’t know what happens, but we have some kind of moment.
The silent moment is broken by a peculiar clip-clop sound that reverberates up from the bottom of the stairs.
I rip his hand from my mouth and turn. “What the hell is that?” I don’t completely understand the panic in my voice, and if asked, I wouldn’t be able to articulate it. But it’s there.
His hand quickly covers my mouth again. “Do not say another word.” Tomas looks down at me. He’s still shirtless. Still cut and handsome. But he’s not confident. He’s not… comfortable. And he holds my gaze long enough for me to discern all the different colors of brown in his eyes. Rings of light brown—almost a wheat color—circle his irises. There are blurry blotches of green too, and some dark parts. His eyes are like a kaleidoscope of all the hues in the woods.