by J. E Hanson
She retypes her access code into the elevator touchpad. “It isn’t that we are mean, but we need to build our trust in you first. Sophia will bring you your dinner.”
She leaves me alone in the drab bedroom by myself. I am perched on the edge of the bed. The loneliness starts sinking in, when nobody talks to me. I start to cry from fear, and I pray for a miracle this time.
“Dear God, please help me find my sister. This has got to be some sort of sick joke. I’m so alone, and I’m so afraid! I knew I should have stayed with her, instead of staying with my friends. This entire thing is my fucking fault. I’m so sorry, Ava. I hope you’re still alive, and I pray that you’re not dead. If you’re dead, then I truly don’t have anyone left. I’m extremely terrified right now, and I don’t know what to do! I don’t like being alone! Please help me through this God! Please help me find the strength, to do what I need to do. Don’t be dead, Ava! Please be alive, Ava and I’m so sorry! Amen.”
I’m not big into prayers, but I felt the urgency, to say one just now. I perch on my new bed waiting.
Sophia enters my bedroom with a dinner tray. She balances the tray perfectly, with only one hand. She wears a solid grey jumper, with a long-sleeved ivory dress shirt. This dress shirt covers her neck. Her grey hair remains hidden underneath a gray habit. Her eyes are even dark gray. This woman has to be the infamous “Grey Lady.”
The Grey Lady from all the books that I’ve read over the years was a servant who wears nothing but grey. She falls in love with the master of the house, only for the master of the house to leave her destitute, and never to return. The ending is always the same as she takes her own life. She roams the halls with despair as she waits for his return. She’s a ghost, who appears in every country around the world, and in every worn mansion or castle. There are many variations of this story, but they all have the same dramatic ending.
She isn’t a ghost, and she’s actually real. The woman standing in front of me is much shorter than I am. She’s a tiny older woman, because there are wrinkles underneath her eyes with crinkles on the sides of her mouth. She has to be at least sixty years old. She is unique, but her clothing is out of style. For some reason, she wears long grey gloves too. She smiles nicely at me, while genially delivering my dinner plate. I’m respectful to her by making sure she hears my gratitude, before she left my room. She returns a gentle nod in my direction, and then she closes the door behind her.
My stomach cries out from hunger pains. Someone must have neglected to mention food to the kitchen staff, because my portion is minuscule. Even my salad has dismal dressing. The only thing I have on my plate besides the salad is a meager portion of chicken. My meal finishes with one gulp, along with the lovely glass of water. My ticket informs me that this is a dietary meal.
“And so, let it begin.”
My meal is terrible, but I complete it in record time. The empty plate and tray rests outside my bedroom door. I stand there scanning side to side, only to realize that there’s nobody here. I resign, to my bedroom for the remainder of the evening. The events from today have mentally exhausted me. My bedroom door closes behind me. After crawling in my new bed, I’m asleep within ten minutes.
~~~***~~~
The dream commences in the emerald meadow with flowers blooming. The little girl giggles from a distance.
She annoys me enough to ask her, “Who are you?”
The little girl with the snowy curls smiles at me, and she bats her lengthy eyelashes at me. She grins strangely at me, and as she opens her mouth, the loudest shriek echoes. There’s blood escaping from the corners of her tiny mouth. The blood trickles down her chin, and over her ivory dress. She reveals a set of pearl fangs.
~~~***~~~
Someone wakes me up, by violently shaking me. My body sits upright as if a bomb exploded. The one person, who I never thought would appear, greets me unexpectedly. He flips on the light switch, revealing that it’s Christian.
“Jeannie, you need to wake up. I believe you are having a nightmare.”
I’m lost in a foggy haze and perspiring profusely. “I thought you were at a conference this evening.” Somehow, I have enough courage, to talk to him, and the words unexpectedly escape my mouth.
“The conference was canceled, due to a snowstorm. I came home in time, to hear you scream,” Christian doesn’t mind talking to me, unlike all those popular boys from high school.
Christian hands me a cup of cool water to drink, and he sits on the edge of my bed.
“Do you want to discuss it? I hear that it helps to discuss nightmares.”
I nearly choke on my glass of water, when he tells me that. I eye him with skepticism. “I appreciate it, but there’s nothing that I can’t manage on my own. But thanks for waking me up from it.”
He nods gently in my direction, and he flips the light switch down. He’s not laughing at me, or even jeering at me. I never expect him, to act so nice to me. “Goodnight, Princess,” and he even politely excuses himself from my room.
I smile at him in return. He shocks me with how nice he is. “Thank you and goodnight, Christian.” I make sure to give proper manners.
After he leaves, I’m able to fall asleep. I no longer have any mysterious dreams, or nightmares for the remainder of the evening.
Chapter 5
Someone is waking me up again. “It is time to rise and shine, Princess! We officially start our first week of training this morning.” I recognize the familiar voice. Ian is standing over me, shaking me again.
I try to wake up, but I remain groggy. “How are you so cheerful this morning?”
Ian smacks me hard with my pillow. “If you only knew, kid. Come on, already! Don’t make me bring out the water hose on your ass.”
I notice that he has a thick country accent. His accent is equally southern as mine. I completely forget about the rules. “Where are you from?”
Ian cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I know you’re from the south, so where are you from?”
Ian grimaces at my question, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Only southerners recognize each other. I’m from the exceptional state of Georgia.”
“I’m right, and I knew you were from Georgia!”
Ian glances at his watch, “Time is ticking kid, so you better hurry up!” Ian deliberately changes the subject.
By a sheer force of will, I’m able to jump out of bed. Ian holds my bedroom door for me. He walks ahead of me to the elevator, and he presses his numbers into the touchscreen. We make it to the third floor, and walk through a few corridors. I’m still trailing right behind him. On the beige walls there are ancient images hanging there. These images are historic in nature. All the pictures appear vaguely familiar to me. They must be of some relation to the men in some way. The painting on the wall resembles Sam and Peter, but his hair is dark brown. His ancestor wears strange clothes from the sixteenth century. I guess that these paintings have to be from that time period. To my surprise, there’s a small date etched at the bottom right hand corner of each painting.
Another painting features Louie's family member. He must have an ancestor, who also had short brown hair. The man appears, to be a merchant. My guess is that this is from the seventeenth century. My breath ceases from gawking at all these historic paintings. I love history as much as the next person does. Okay, so maybe I’m in the minority, when it comes to history. I have trouble tearing my eyes away from their ancestors hanging on the walls. Thomas's ancestor rests on the wall too. The outfit resembles an old Reverend's outfit. He must be a Puritan from that outfit. I will have to study these paintings more in depth later. Ian remains ahead of me and I struggle, to keep up with him.
We open two oak doors, to reveal a grand dining hall. The walls have china cabinets next to them. The china cabinets hold different types of primitive weapons. They have nameplates underneath each weapon, but I no longer have an opportunity, to study them closer. Ian parks me at the edge of this roomy table. He
sounds a faint whistle from his lips. Sophia enters the room with a gold covered dish, and she sets it down in front of me. I remove the gold lid, to reveal two slices of bacon with a meager portion of scrambled eggs. I’m disappointed with my portion size. They give me another glass of water with my meager meal. There is juice also, but it isn’t appetizing to drink. I toy with my food only, to scarf it down in ten minutes. I relish every tiny morsel of food.
Ian on the other hand, only has a charcoal mug. He is unceremoniously swigging whatever is in it.
“Would you like anything to eat? You make me feel guilty for eating.”
Ian takes a few extra swigs from his mug, smirking, “I would love to say what I’m thinking, but I’m unable, to answer any personal questions at this time. Don’t worry about what I’m drinking, and I have all the necessary proteins right here. I’m all set, kid.”
“I’m so sorry, and I honestly forgot.”
Ian taps my nose, “You’re okay to ask me whatever you want within reason, but you might want to check yourself, before you ask personal questions to the others.”
From the smell, there has to be something delicious coming from his mug. My stomach craves his protein shake that he casually sips.
Ian and I conclude our breakfast, and we briskly left the dining hall. We stroll over to the opposite end of the castle. We approach the room filled with a plethora of torture devices. This has to be their gymnasium. There is tons of equipment resting here. He holds the door open for me again without tripping me one time. He takes my workout paper from me, to write the first workout log. He motions for me, to step up on the scale. I hold my head high, without looking at the scale. The scale doesn’t need, to remind me how fat I am.
Ian shakes his head in disbelief. “We have our work cut out for us, kid. We will start with stretches first, then we will work with light cardio next. For the rest of the day, we will work on strength exercises.”
Ian stretches out my flaccid body. He pulls no punches, and places me on my first torture device—the treadmill. He bumps it up a notch every ten minutes, to make it move faster. My body feels incredibly terrible with the additional weight. It is difficult, to keep up with the speed. He holds it at a fast pace for an hour. He spends another hour slowing it back down. After throwing up a few times, he puts me on the next torture device, and it’s called an elliptical machine. My pudgy legs are throbbing horribly from it. For the last eight hours, we work on sit-ups, crunches, push-ups, chin-ups, jumping jacks, squats, and other cardio workouts.
Ian escorts me to lunch, dinner, and snacks. My place always appears, to remain at the edge of the table.
The numb feeling in my body begins to rear its ugly head. My dinner is equally disappointing, but they won’t allow any complaining, from the rules I signed. The dinner rests in my stomach.
At the end of fitness hell, he returns me to my bedroom. I thank my lucky stars that I have a scalding hot shower, to ease the tension. Once my shower ends, that’s when the stiffness sets in. I miraculously survive long enough, to fall asleep after my shower. After deliberating for an hour, Icy Hot hops on my list along with Advil. I add the big guns to my list for this shit.
A piece of me wishes I never fallen asleep. The wake up call is unmerciful this morning. Ian follows through with his threats, and I’m freezing from the blast of Arctic water. He stands at my bedroom door with a water hose in his hand, and he grins at me. He warned me to wake up, but I never heard him.
“I told you that if you were not up, I would take the water hose to you. Now, you realize I mean business.”
From this day forth, I will remain extra vigilant. Now, there’s an additional request, to have an alarm clock. Erik decides that it’s a rational request, since it’s not a communicative device. I’m sure MacGyver can turn an alarm clock into a communicative device, but I can’t remember to wake up on time. The hunger pangs start to fade away.
I speedily devour my breakfast, only to return to my torture chamber. Ian remains relentless with his deplorable exercises.
“It will only become much harder, and I’m actually going pretty easy on you.”
“I’m honestly trying Ian, but this really hurts!” I’m ready; to throw in the towel, but Ian stops me.
“You can’t complain, Jeannie. All of us did this exact training at some point. You need to challenge yourself. You can’t go through life always expecting, to constantly take the easy way out.”
I’m trying to fight back the tears. “I know I’m fat, but I don’t need someone making jokes about it! I know I brought this on myself.”
Ian lifts my chin up, to face him. “I’m not making fun of your weight, kid. I’m simply trying, to figure out how you became this way. Why do you have such a low self-worth of yourself? It is almost like you hate yourself or something to that effect.”
The tears are streaming down. “I honestly don’t even know! My mom couldn’t stand me. I always caused her more problems! My sister should be here and not me!”
Ian stops me, and he looks me square in the eyes. “Why would you even think that? Why do you believe your sister should be here, instead of you?”
I weep in his arms. “My sister is the pretty one, and she’s the one, who all the men want.”
“You have lost your self-worth, and that’s such a shame, kid. Who told you this bullshit? You’re a princess. Stop believing that you’re not good enough. I’m sure your sister has flaws too, but she probably does a better job at concealing them than you do. Everyone has issues with something or someone.”
I angrily shake my head no at him. “Ava manages to attract all the dates. She never has to work for anything! I have always wanted to become just like her! She’s incredibly perfect, and I’m the one, who hides from everyone!”
Ian holds my cheek in the palm of his hand. “Now, the spotlight is on you, kid. You need to realize that there’s more to life, than becoming a shadow to someone. You have, to find your confidence kid, or you will wind up in a world of shit.”
Ian directs me to do sit-ups and squats. For the remainder of the week, I pray that Reno will finish me off.
A few sobs escape my chest. The pain is at the point of making it intolerable to sleep. There’s no way to sleep comfortably. The hot shower in the morning helps ease the knots in my body. Erik eventually caves in, by handing me Advil and Icy Hot. Advil will help me out soon, and the Icy Hot soothes my aching thighs.
My weight starts out at two hundred and sixty five pounds. During the first week, my weight plummets ten pounds. I finish week one, at two hundred and fifty five pounds. The pain wanes after realizing that losing weight is increasingly pleasurable, than agonizing over the pain. Ian smiles at me in response to my joy, and he signs off on week one. He never praises me about my weight loss either.
During week two, the pain declines, and I put more effort into my workouts. The sweat soaks my body every time I leave the gym.
“Come on, kid! You’re too fucking tough to quit now! Go hard for ten additional minutes!” Ian screams at me to move faster.
I run on the treadmill, and I can feel the burn. I give it all that I have left. Ian continues his bantering, “That’s it, Jeannie! You’re too fucking tough, to give up now! I know you’re a fighter!”
The treadmill stops, and I kneel on the floor sobbing violently for a minute.
Ian squats in front of me, and then he taps me on the shoulder. “You’re strong, kid. You will find yourself again, and when you do, we will be waiting.”
June the seventeenth breezes by too fast. Zane orders me on the scale, and amazingly enough my body shrinks another ten pounds. The new weight loss puts a smile on my face for a change. I weigh in at two hundred and forty-five pounds. He adds in the ski machine to my workout from hell. He also adds in a cobalt beach ball. He throws the ball against the wall, and he expects me to squat to pick it up. Everything from Ian’s training is the same, except for two additional workouts. I found my motivation, and work vigorously the f
ollowing week.
“Slow down, Princess. You will make the others believe I’m such a great trainer.”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“I would rather remain in my science lab tracing the next genetic code.”
“I thought you were an alchemist. That sounds like a geneticist.”
“I have various science degrees in almost everything.”
He covers his face with his hands, and he shakes his head.
“You look awfully young, to have various science degrees. You can’t be much older than me.”
“I have a high intellect, and graduated from school at a young age.”
“I’m breaking a rule, by asking personal questions, right?”
Zane stands up, and points to the floor. He motions for me to begin my push-ups. “You will wind up in big trouble with the others, but I will answer any question you have.”
“Are you from Boston, New York, or New Jersey? I’m trying to pin your accent down,” I had to ask this one question. I’m ready to burst from excitement over this question.
“I’m from New York City. New York is my home away from this place.”
“Are you and Ian best friends? How old are you?”
He shakes his head at me. “I’m adding ten more push-ups to your routine. I told you that I would answer your questions. Ian is younger than I am, but he’s a rebel, and I’m a Yankee. I’m twenty-six years old.”
I complete his extra push-ups. “I hate to break it to you, but the Civil War ended a long time ago. The politically correct terms, would be that he is a southerner, and you’re a northerner. And you haven’t answered my question.”
He points at the treadmill. “I know that the Civil War is over. It is an inside joke between us. One of these days, you will understand. Of course, Ian and I are friends. We have maintained our friendship for a long time.”
