It wasn't until her words echoed back to her from the walls of the empty, desolate room that she knew she'd spoken them aloud.
"No." A grunt escaped his lips, his strong body lifting her from the floor. Heat was thick across his skin, uncomfortably so.
Caged against what felt like cushioned steel, Alice’s heart jackhammered beneath her ribs. Fear crept in, the threat of death seducing her into compliance despite her desire to fight his hold.
It's wrong...it's all wrong.
His steps were labored over the cement floor, his thick leather boots creaking with every small movement of his ankle; the sounds amplified by the pervasive moments of silence that came between.
Reaching a second level, Alice clenched her eyes shut against the onslaught of bright, white light that bathed the room. She opened her mouth to question him about where they were, but speech failed her, the words thick on the tip of her tongue.
As if sensing her struggle to fill the deafening silence, Max spoke, relieving her of that small part of her anxiety.
"I'll give you time to regain your strength. We'll need to discuss why you're here."
Kneeling down by a couch, Max dropped her weight on the cushions, keeping his eyes on her while busying his hands with something outside of Alice's field of view.
He stepped away after climbing back to his feet and crossed through into another room, disappearing from sight.
Widening her eyes and narrowing them again in a futile attempt to focus her vision, Alice curled up on the couch, her movements slow and delayed, but becoming stronger as time wore on. Minutes passed, each one returning to her some portion of her senses, some better functioning of her arms, head or legs.
The room was the same style as the Victorian she was selling, but rather than the state of decay of that house, this room was meticulously cared for, the wood gleaming in the light cast by ornate, overhead chandeliers. A warm glow bathed the room, a rainbow of muted colors glimmering from the sunlight shining through stained glass windows.
Elegant furniture was placed about the room, the types and colors of the textiles used blurring in her vision so much so that she couldn't quite make out the luxury of the interior design.
Eventually, Alice regained the ability to sit up. The room stopped spinning. Sound was no longer muffled and disjointed.
Panic set in when her mind cleared. Alice didn't recognize the room in which she was sitting, and there was a noticeable heaviness on her ankle. Logically, she knew better than to look down at that cold heaviness on her skin. Once she saw what she expected to see, she couldn't return to the belief that anything about this strange situation was normal.
However, every instinct in her, every knee jerk reaction, forced her head down and her eyes wide, terror coursing through her veins at the sight of light flashing off the dull, silver metal of the leg iron locked above her foot.
She screamed, her voice hoarse as a result of the drugs from which she was still recovering. Max entered the room, his footsteps measured, his expression horrifyingly neutral; he wasn't affected at all by her fear.
Her screams died off and he grinned.
"Welcome home, Alice."
12:30 p.m.
Gray walls.
Black table.
Plastic, fake red roses.
Everything in place.
"Alice? ... Ms. Beaumont? ... Alice Beaumont ..."
"Yes, Doctor."
Five steps across the room, three steps over the soft, patterned carpet. Four cushions. A white throw draped loosely over the armrest.
"That was quite a story you told me in our last session, Alice. What would you like to talk to me about today?"
She didn't remember sitting down, couldn't recall when the weight came off her feet, or when she crossed one leg over the other, tucking both beneath her.
"What?"
Her eyes sought out the doctor, his face concealed in shadow cast by the direction of the soft, ambient lighting in the room.
"You shared with me the dream you had about the owner of the house you were selling." He paused, tapping his pen against the pad of paper in his lap. Glancing up, he shook his head just barely.
"I have to admit I'm somewhat confused how the dream has anything to do with your sister...or your current emotional state."
Alice laughed. "Is that a nice way of calling me crazy?"
"No," he answered, his tone serious and devoid of the humor she'd attempted to interject into the conversation. "Are you feeling okay, Alice? You're more scattered than normal. I thought you were improving with the medication."
Alice was scattered, her thoughts like puzzle pieces tossed haphazardly about that would never again fit together. "The dream had everything to do with my sister," she argued, ignoring his attempt to draw the subject of their discussion away from the dreams. "Don't you see it, Doc? The phone call, and then -"