by Maya Daniels
Semiramis Awakened
Book 1
Maya Daniels
Copyright © 2019 by Maya Daniels
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover design by Anika Willmanns, Ravenborn - Book Cover Designs
Interior design by Maya Daniels
Edited by Angela Haworth and AJ Kohler
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If you are unable to order this book from your local bookseller, you may contact the author at [email protected]
www.authormayadaniels.com
Contents
Semiramis
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Maya Daniels
Semiramis
Awakened
To the woman that taught me what it means to be loved, when everyone and everything made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I still feel you, grandma.
Prologue
I can’t breathe! The pressure intensifies in my chest. Panic rises within me. While my eyes are tearing up, my mind is racing to come up with an explanation of what is happening. The last thing I remember was coming home from work, dropping my purse next to the door, kicking my shoes off and dropping fully dressed on top of the covers. It was one of those days, you know, when everything that can go wrong did go wrong...and then some.
How did I end up in this cluster fuck? The gradual oxygen depravation is shutting my body down, but my mind refuses to give up. It stays sharp and every thought is as clear as it can be.
I guess this is how I go, I think to myself. I’m trying to remember when was the last time I told people that I care about how much they mean to me...I can’t remember. It’s been way too long! What a shitty person I turned out to be. And now I start regretting it? What a joke!
I think I can hear some noise in the background, a song, but I’m not sure if it only exists in my head. I’m out of time for whatever it is, so I just let myself go. Goodbye, I think to myself, what a sorry excuse for a human you turned out to be. Maybe it’s better this way. The world will be a better place without a freak like me in it. Yes, definitely a better place! Now I want to laugh hysterically at my thoughts. Oh, how the great have fallen! Here I am feeling sorry for myself when I know damn well I deserve worse than this. I should be publicly burned alive for what I’ve done! If I could, I’d smile, but my body betrays me. I don’t feel anything at the moment. Then suddenly I get jolted with electricity like I’ve touched a live wire. What the fuck? Can’t a person die in peace at least? I would think I’ve paid enough for my sins. Well...actually, maybe that’s too much to ask, since I’m not paying just for mine. I can’t even die with a smile on my face. It’s not important if I deserve it or not.
The loud sound of the alarm wakes me up so fast I almost end up on the floor. My long dark hair is plastered on my forehead and I look like I’ve jumped fully dressed into a pool. My shirt is sticking to my body and my skirt ended up twisted around my hips as if it’s trying to escape.
I’m gulping air now. I can feel my heartbeat in my temples, and I start laughing at the predicament I find myself in. I was actually happy there for a second, thinking my miserable existence was coming to an end, and now here I am, awakened from yet another nightmare. I started having them twenty years ago, but it’s never the same story. Oh, there’s a connection; in all of them, I’m dying. One might think there aren’t many ways that your life can end, but, well, you’d be surprised.
“Boo-hoo! Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I say out loud.
I wince at how rough my voice sounds. You’d think I’d been screaming all night. I look around the room, just to give myself time to calm down and slow my heartbeat, only to realize that my reflection in the mirror across the bed looks more miserable than I feel. The books sit perfectly lined up on the shelves. The butterfly figurines on my dresser look dull. Their once-vibrant colors have faded with time, but just seeing them calms me down. I look out the window and wonder why is it that every time I have a nightmare, I wake up to shitty weather. It’s like the sky is crying for me.
“Like anyone or anything gives a damn!” I mock myself while shaking my head in disgust. “Nothing that a good shower can’t fix, right? Right! Okay, you’re definitely losing your mind here, Al,” I murmur under my breath, peeling off my sweaty clothes as I walk towards the bathroom.
I really need to clean up this place, but I’m so tired when I get home that most nights I go to bed hungry. I’ll always choose rest over food, because I never know when I'll have a chance to sleep with all the nightmares and my job. Speaking of a job, I look at the time to make sure I’m not going to be late. The only thing that can make this day even more messed up than it already is would be Philip Stamelos, my asshole of a boss. I’m starting to think that even the Universe is trying to punish me by making sure I work for a heartless creature like him. I don’t know why he loves picking on me. I do my job better than anyone else they’ll ever be able to find, but he expects miracles. Or he just doesn’t like me, period. I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, I guess. I’m so not going to think of him right now. I’ve had enough of nightmares for one day.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m out of the shower and doing my best to get my hair under control. It’s always like this when it’s raining, frizzy and with a mind of its own. Finally I just give up and twist it into a messy bun, lather on some face cream, and after two minutes of rummaging in my makeup drawer, I celebrate with a little triumphant yell of “Ah-ha!" I raise my hand in the air like I’ve won an Olympic medal. I put my ‘Two Faced’ mascara and lip gloss on, adjust the necklace that I never take off, a glass butterfly pendant put around my neck when I was no older than five, grab my purse and head out.
Trying to lock the front door while standing on one foot to zip up the boot on the other is not much fun. It gets even worse when I hear the annoying wheezing nasal voice of my neighbor Mark.
“You look like something chewed on you, then spit you out this morning, Al. What have you been up to?”
Chortling to himself like that’s the funniest thing said in the history of humankind, he stood at his front door wearing a dirty wife beater, boxers with carrots on them that have seen better days and white socks. If that image isn’t bad enough, catching the motion of his hands scratching his balls while looking me up and down like I’m a horse for sale caused bile to well up in my throat, threatening to come out and spill all over him.
Swallowing it all down, I looked him straight in the eye, smiling, and said, “Good morning, Mark.” My cheeks hurt from the big smile that I give him, hoping it looked genuine but knowing I probably look more like I’m constipated. “Isn’t it early even for you to be standing at your door, making stupid remarks to people?” I murmur that last part under my breath, but as always, I’m out of luck on that one and he hears me.
“I see no sense of humor this morning, not that you ever have it. I keep telling you to come over after work so I can put a smile on your face but as always, you think you’re too good for me, you frigid bitch.” He says the last part w
ith so much venom that I hightail it towards my car as fast as my feet can carry me.
My Mustang is sitting in the parking lot patiently waiting for me, and as I’m almost running towards it, I’m thinking that Jasmine has seen better days, but I would not trade her for the world. She’s black with 18-inch wheels, and, yes, I love her, as you can tell. She’s the only thing I love these days. She can definitely use a fresh coat of paint, but I just can’t get myself to do it. She has more character like this, as her outside reflects my inside. I find it therapeutic when I put the top down and just drive aimlessly through the streets of LA while the wind is messing up my hair to the point that I need to put a ton of conditioner in it just to be able to brush it. Opening the door with a lot more force than I should, I slide into the seat, put my hands on the steering wheel and lean my head on it. I remind myself that this is only temporary. Breathe...
It’s doing its trick as always. I look up at the sky, and the grayness of it matches my mood perfectly. The wind picks up and the fallen leaves are dancing around to their own music, reminding me of the time when I was growing up. The street at my grandmother’s house was lined with linden trees, and I recalled their beautiful sweet smell, the joy and laughter when they were blooming. She would send me with a bag to collect the blooms so she could make us tea. I climbed those trees like a little monkey while waving at the other children that were doing the same. All the while we were competing to see who would collect more. We played ball or hopscotch in front of her house until I heard her clear voice calling my name to get back inside when it was time to eat or study. I would run through the grass and through all her herbs and flowers, planted in there in an array of colors. I laughed when she scolded me, telling me that I didn’t respect them and I should go back to apologize. I loved the safety of her embrace, her sweet voice telling me how much she loved me, and I was happy that I had listened. One time I hurt my knee, skinning it. She bent down, kissed it and made it feel better. I still miss her so much it physically hurts.
Shaking my head to brush off the painful memories, I start the car and head towards work. Leaving the parking spot, I look in my rearview mirror and shiver when I see Mark still standing there, drilling holes in the back of my head with his eyes. I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but I really need to get out of this place, this damn city. It’s been draining my life energy more and more lately. I’m not sure if it’s because of everything that has happened or if something is amiss, but I have a feeling that if I don’t leave soon, I won’t be dying only in my dreams.
1
The grayness of the building in front of me complements the dark skies and feels like it is slowly leaching the color out of me. I’m guessing today is one of those days where I put my mask on, smile on autopilot and pray to whoever is listening that the day passes fast. The slamming of a door jolts me out of my musings. I grab my purse so fast that most of the contents end up on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“Great! Like I wasn’t going to be late as it is. How can you be so stupid!” I berate myself loud enough that my coworker parked next to me knocks on the window. When I turn around with my smile already in place, I get a pang of guilt at seeing her wrinkled face marred with worry.
“Are you okay, love?” says Daisy. Her gray hair is neatly combed into a French twist and you can still tell the amazing beauty she was before the years left their mark on it. Her blue eyes shine with the kindness of her soul and my stomach twists when I see it. I don’t deserve her kindness or worry.
“Of course, I’m fine. Just clumsy, as you see,” I manage to squeeze out between my lips so I don’t make her more worried with my silence.
I shove everything back into my purse and exit the car. While I’m locking the door with my back to her, I take a few deep breaths to regain my composure. No one needs to know how messed up I am.
“How are you this morning, Daisy? You’re looking as wonderful and as beautiful as ever!” I turn around and give her a warm smile. She reminds me of my grandmother. I feel warmth spread through my tired body and a stabbing pain in my stomach at the same time. I have no right to feel warmth when I think of her.
“Oh, Al, you’re such a sweet talker, but thank you. You sure know how to put a smile on an old lady’s face. Come now, dear,” she says, grabbing me under my arm and leading me towards the entrance of the building.
I really don’t feel like going there at the moment.
“We don’t want to be late and listen to how the entire firm is going to go down because we’re not doing our job.” She chuckles under her breath from her foreshadowed theatrics as she lowers her voice to sound deep and masculine like Philip’s.
As soon as we enter the building, I feel cold fingers grabbing my heart, like something is trying to pull it out of my chest. I take several deep, even breaths. Cold sweat gathers on my forehead. It’s always the same feeling every morning when I come to work. I was hoping it’d pass after six months in this cage, but I'm not lucky enough. Nothing changes here.
“I’ll see you at lunch!” I say to Daisy and give her a kiss on her cheek.
She smiles at me through sadness in her eyes that she wasn’t able to hide fast enough. I’ve seen it many times and it always leaves me puzzled. Does she pity me, I wonder, or is she thinking about her younger days?
“Look who finally decided to show up.” I hear the drawl behind me and my skin recoils from the remark. I am in no mood today for this bitch!
“I see you’re already here in all your plastic glory, Lidia.”
Sometimes even I can believe that I’m a self-confident person, the way my voice rings out clear and even. Well done, I congratulate myself internally when I see Lidia’s face turn red with fury.
“Not all of us want to look like something the cat dragged in, you know! Do you even own a mirror?” She says it loud enough for everyone to hear, thinking I actually care. I don't. Quiet laughing like the whisper of a husky, seductive woman’s voice in my head makes me jump a little. Oh no, no, no, no!!! Not again!! I hurry past Lidia towards my office and the fool thinks she got to me with her childish remarks. She laughs with a hiss like the snake she is. “Run, little mouse...run,” she says.
I get to my office as fast as I can and close the door behind me with a thud. I lean back on it to support my weight while I try the best I can to stop hyperventilating. I thought this was over. The medication took it away. I’m sure I took my pills this morning. I started hearing the voice when I hit puberty, and although I ignored it as much as I could, I couldn’t deal with it anymore and I told my grandmother about it, thinking she would definitely take me to see a shrink or something. To my surprise, she was so happy to hear it, and while I was close to tears from being scared that I was crazy, she was crying tears of happiness, repeatedly expressing her gratitude to the Goddess for Her love and blessings. It confused the hell out of me, but she wouldn’t elaborate on it apart from telling me that I shouldn’t worry and I needed to listen to it. Apparently when the time is right, she’d explain everything. The time never came. She’s gone now, and the only thing I could think of was to go see a therapist on my own free will. I was given a bunch of pills that silenced the voice for good if I took them religiously—well, until now, that is. I seriously can’t remember. Pulling my purse off my shoulder, I start rummaging through it, looking for the bottle. Shit!! It must’ve fallen in the car and I didn’t see it. “Get a grip, woman, and think,” I tell myself.
Going to the parking lot at the moment is a big no-no. I don’t think I can deal with that viper Lidia right now. I just need to breathe. That’s it! I imagined it. That must be it. It’s been an eventful night and morning, so it’s no wonder I started hearing things that scare the daylights out of me. Walking towards my desk, I immediately notice that someone has been going through all the papers spread over it. Okay! I know it’s a mess, but it’s my mess and I do have order in this chaos. Obviously whoever was looking for something wasn’t aware of that littl
e quirk of mine. That rules out Philip and his sticky hands. I don’t know what use they’ll have for whatever it is. I’m the only quantum physicist here. I was hired because they wanted to branch out in that field, so it was a win-win situation. For me, because I needed a job, and for them, since I was the only one that applied for the position, or so I was told. Looking around the office, I notice that the books have been moved around. The Tesla coil I have sitting on one of them is slightly more to the left and the flower pot is sitting farther away from the corner. Can you tell I’m a little OCD? I know, it’s very hard to tell. Putting everything back in its rightful place, I sit on my chair and open my laptop. As I’m putting my password in, the door opens. No knock, no ’Can I come in?’ it just swings open and in walks the last person I needed to see today—or any day, really.
“Good morning, Al, I see you’re already busy with work. I like that, especially from those that fail to show up on time...daily.” He says all this while his eyes are examining me minutely over my face and body, like he’s recording every muscle movement or emotion that I may show. I feel like a lab rat in his presence, but mostly it always makes me want to have a hot shower and scrub away his look.
“Good morning, sir!” I make sure sir is loud and clear to make him keep his distance. “I believe I was on time today, but Lidia was very chatty as usual, so I had to entertain her for a couple of minutes. For the sake of a good collegial atmosphere.”
