Jane's POV
I am left wondering what's to become of me. A moment of courage. That's all it takes to have one reeling. It's easy to say that you want to live. But what's difficult is to know how you want to live.
I dressed myself in the only pair of pajamas I had. My head didn't hurt as much. I walked out of the room. There was no one there. Not even Rafael.
What was left was a big mansion, and me... Both as empty. Both as purposeless. I walked out, finding that there was nowhere to go.
The house was surrounded by woods. Cypress trees surrounded the house. The bedroom window was giving away a faint glow of light, but the rest of the house was as dark.
I might have escaped an impending death. But who's to say that death had given up on me?
"Rafael!" I screamed, hoping he would still be around.
Not many people ask for favour from their captors. But I would like to think that if you are allowed the chance to run free, you should be told which way to go.
"Rafael!" The woods echoed my voice back. A different kind of light headedness crept in.
"Good Lord, how the hell am I supposed to find a way out?" I wondered.
Still. No sign of anyone.
The Cypress trees loomed scary silhouettes all over. Their canopy grew thicker, with wild weeds growing all over the place. My clothes were ragged. My thoughts scattered.
"Walk," I thought I had made it up all in my head. Hallucinations. My medications. Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil had rendered me into a mindless corpse.
"Walk, Jane," I turned around.
Rafael stood, with his eyes gleaming golden.
"Rafael?"
"Who'd you expect?" I could barely see anything but his eyes.
"I thought...you left," I said, and he walks closer.
"I thought you were too smart to figure a way out. Then I realised you were too weak to get through the spells of this forest," he says.
"So, you..."
"Came back," he chimes.
For me?
"Don't think I am doing you a favour. I am going to tell them that we got rid of the girl. A word of advice. Change cities, and stop going to that fucking therapist of yours," he caulks.
"I don't want to be cocky. Or grateful. I am stuck here, because of you. And whatever you planned to do to me. Which is, to say in the least, nothing to be thankful for," I tell him.
"I am not a hero. I do not live for your thank yous. I do what I do because of my rewards. Do not be mistaken. I didn't save you. You are of no essence to me," he says.
Tsk.
"Fine. Just get me out, and then we can go out separate ways," I tell him, and he nods.
"If you want, I can erase your painful memories. You can forget all of this. All the traces of your previous life would be gone," he looks me in the eye.
"I don't want to forget anything," my hands shaked, as I took in the thought. Erase everything? After I struggled so hard in the absence of it.
"The wise don't seek for truth. Only peace. But you have made up your mind.
Truly, you are some woman, Jane Wilson. Never have I seen anyone be so weak, and get so resilient.
Does it ever cross your mind that you are perhaps the embodiment of a paradox?" I don't know if I imagine it yet again, but I see the hint of a smile.
"Follow my lead," his demeanor shifts. He holds my hand, pulls me away from the woods.
He leads me back to the house.
"I thought we were going to escape. From here," I tell him.
"Not in those clothes," he shakes his head. I knew they looked like rags. But did aesthetic appeal matter in the due course of events?
"Pray tell me, you are not luring me into another trap. Because of this is your sick idea of 'get her when she is vulnerable', I have to tell you, I am not liking it," I tell him, determined.
"If you still want to kill me, I don't want these mind games."
"You are dead weight alive, or dead. Trust me, if I wanted you dead... you would have been long dead," he sneered.
"I won't ask you to put your faith in me. That's reserved for those you can trust. I am only loyal to myself. My own rewards," his grip tightens around my wrist.
"Why are you here, then?" I asked.
"Because I don't want to compromise my reward, and you are a liability. If they find you, they will give you the coldest death. Then, they will come for me.
It would be wise to say that there would be less trouble if I kill you now," his eyes glared. I gulped them lump in my throat.
"Theodore will find out soon that the cops were my henchmen. Corin was with me the whole time. I wanted to take you both out. Turns out, it's just you and me now.
But I cannot overlook the risk. Theodore, the scoundrel he is, still harbours Versailles' favour.
It won't take him a minute to tattle me out, if he figures out that I let you go," he sighs.
"Then... What will you do?" I asked, and he smirks.
"Not a big fan of telling you all my plans. Do you mind if I give you better clothes, and a way out rather?" He chuckles.
"Too fluent in sarcasm. Too arrogant still," I shot.
"Alright. Stand here. I might have something useful," he says, disappearing into another room. He shows up with a pile of neatly folded clothes.
"Whatever you take is yours. They are all safe to wear," he tells me.
I pick out what looks like a shirt. And a pair of cargo pants.
"You don't own any of these, do you?" I asked, and he blinks.
"It might belong to the previous owner of the house," he tells me.
"And what happened to them?"
"Nothing much. Only that they are dead," he tells me, and I freeze.