Thud.
That was all that I heard when my world so very quickly turned to pitch black, and a deafening ringing began in my ear.
Then I started feeling warm and fuzzy, like one does with their crush or their partner. I was wrapped in a heated embrace as I felt the thud turn into the rhythmic thumping of a heartbeat, and then I was in a deep and passionate kiss.
Hakeem, I thought, as I pressed my lips on his, becoming a different, almost primal, version of myself. As though I felt a feral sense of longing, rage, and love all surge out of me all at once.
God, if you are out there, I thought, please don't let this be a dream. Because the man that I had been thinking about everyday since the fight, the man that I had been so cruel to, so inconsiderate with, was finally here. In my arms. With me, and I wasn't going to let go this time.
This time things would be different. This time, I am saying no to the books, and my horrendous sense of time management. This time, I will plan the dates and the trips. This time, I will be the woman he deserves. The partner he deserves.
Damn, I really love this man.
"Hakeem," I moaned out, feeling his muscly chest with my hands... although, my voice sounds a bit, off.
Am I dreaming, or do I sound... British?
No time to dwell on that I guess, because as soon as the name left my lips, I almost immediately felt my stomach surge up into my chest once again before I felt my back slam against a table, with another thud.
When I opened my eyes, it wasn't Hakeem who was hovering over me, looking at me, but another man. A very tall, red-eyed, deathly pale, cold, abusive, possessive, crazy looking man with clothes I did not recognize. What was weird was that his face almost looked, familiar.
"Who," he said calmly, although his face was showing anything but calm. It was like staring a rabid wolf in the eyes, and I couldn't tell if I was more scared of how bat-shit he looked, or of how calm and soothing he sounded.
Oh my god, did I cheat on Hakeem with a fucking serialkiller?!
He snarled when I guess I didn't answer fast enough, and then one of his hands (oh yea, did I forget to mention that his hands were on my hips?!) swiftly went to my throat, pressing it just enough to feel discomfort. This guy really needs to do some yoga.
"Whose name was that," he almost barked out. He seemed so full of himself, and I just had a very tough couple of hours. So clearly I'm done with bullshit.
"Jeez man, haven't you ever heard of freakin consent," I strained out, and almost immediately regretted it as I felt his hand get tighter around my neck.
Also, I forgot that I still sound British even though I know that in my head that isn't how I sound, so today is clearly a field day for inconveniences. Before I could gather my thoughts, my surroundings, and who this man is, the grip got even tighter.
"Demetra," he said silky smooth as he got closer to my face with those beautiful, wide, and red eyes, "who," he paused, "is Hakeem?"
Who is Demetra, I thought.
"Sir, I am truly sorry if I have offended you, and I genuinely do not know why you are being so cruel with me," I choked out. And as if finally realizing the situation I am in, my voice starts trembling as my eyes begin to tear.
Damn this fucking accent, and why the hell do I sound like this?! It's as if my body isn't even mine, and this man is clearly delusional. But like I can say that.
"Are you fucking joking," he says, sounding a bit louder and more agitated than before. "You ask for an audience in my office, bring me tampered tea, fling yourself upon me as if some red-light temptress, very nice tactic by the way. You almost had me fooled. Until, you call another man's name in my presence, and then have the nerve to pretend as if I am the one who slighted you with this feign of ignorance and blatant disrespect?! Well, Demetra, you have clearly outdone yourself this time. Bravo," he says almost mockingly. All while he looks at me with his eyes widened and a half smirk on his mouth, and that sends a chill down my spine. Clearly doing what I am doing isn't helping my situation, and I need to get out of this fast. I need to think. But his hand constricting around my throat as if it is some delicate toothpick is making that hard.
"Sir, I do not know who Demetra is, but I am not her," I say. I have no time to react as I almost feel my heart leap out of my chest as he switches his hand to the back of my neck and begins to drag me off the desk. I try my hardest to pull away, to run, but he has a steel grip. A grip so strong I felt that he could easily snap me in half as he forced me in front of a mirror.
"Look at yourself!" He yelled so loud that the ground underneath my feet started trembling.
"Look at yourself, and tell me you are not who I say you are," his words made me feel as though death was truly upon me, and it was made all the more real by the face that was staring back at me in the mirror.
Because this British speaking, Renaissance clothed, "temptress" as he put, had my face. When I touched the mirror, so did she, and when I touched my face, she touched hers as well.
She was... me.
I am this so called "Demetra," and then it all clicked almost immediately. The books in the apartment, the chilling last words I heard, the fall. The thud... I, died.
"Am I in hell," I whispered as tears and imminent fear racked my face and body.
"Not yet, but you will be."
Though I didn't yet understand nor remember exactly who Demetra was, I could tell that whoever she is was coming to bite me in the ass. But because of the fact that I want to live and this man was definitely going to kill me, I decided to play along.
But before I could at least get my thoughts in order, there was a knock at the door.
"Prince Lysander," a man's voice came from outside, "Colonel Artemis is here with an urgent message for you."
Lysander, where have I heard that name before, I kept trying to remember why the name was ringing so many alarms in my body and in my mind before this man's commanding voice broke the silence.
"Enter," he spoke, and then a not-as-tall, blonder haired man with armor came into the room and saluted.
"My Prince. It seems that Princess Serafelle was poisoned with her morning tea," he pauses to look at me with a look of pure disgust while my face goes ghostly white from the name that he just spoke.
"Is she alright," Lysander yells as he shoves me to the side (fucking rude), and gracefully yet domineeringly rushes to his colonel, all while I put the pieces together, albeit a little too late.
Serafelle, the fall, the books, Prince Lysander, Demetra... fuck me, I think as the puzzle finally comes into focus. Serafelle Caelia is the foreign princess and protagonist of Dealing with My Beast, Lysander Vaelen is the prince of Resperia, Artemis is the Colonel and his best friend... and as if to really make sure that I know just how unlucky I am, I am Demetra Malvaine. The fucking villain. Or at least one of them. And to top it all off, this is the scene where I believe I die... again.
Their conversation brings me back to the present.
"They say that Lady Malvaine ordered a maid to brew the Princess a cup of tea infused with nightshade root. Luckily, she didn't drink it all, and the doctors have already started treating her. She should make a full recovery in a few days time," the Colonel finishes, as they turn to face me on the floor.
They looked at me like they hated me, Lysander especially, almost as if he was steps away from killing me. I was so close to having my soul leave my body, if you can even call it that at this point, partially because there were two very strong and tall beast looking men that could easily kill me glaring at me, and also because I couldn't read Lysander's face. It was almost eerily calm despite the fact that he was taking heaving breaths. And that calmness told me that the storm was just beginning.
Because in a swift, almost supernatural manner, Lysander gracefully took the sword from his friend's side, before appearing in front of me with it raised with the most gruesome snarl I had ever seen.
"Wait, wai-" I was barely able to get out before my line of sight tilted, as my body fell to the other side. Holy shit.
"Clean this up," I faintly heard him say before my vision faded once again.
I died... again. Only this time it was from a crazy fictional character from a book, and to top it off (pun intended), he literally took my top off!
What a cruel fucking worl-, I didn't even get to finish my thought before I was literally coming back together from either sides of the floor, and being run through everything that had just happened, only... backwards?
What in the freakin' Matrix?!