Slave to power

Eve's POV

“I remember.”

The words echoed inside Eve’s mind before her eyes even opened.

Sunlight bled through the curtains in streaks, painting golden lines across the floor like prison bars. Her head throbbed—dull, heavy. Her limbs felt like lead. The second she fully woke, realization slammed into her like a brick wall.

She had fallen asleep.

He—whoever that cryptic, whisper-voiced figure was—had made her sleep through the entire night.

“Damn it,” she whispered hoarsely, sitting upright. The room spun briefly.

Her eyes darted to the old leather-bound book, still lying open on the carpet where she had dropped it last night. The pages fluttered from the breeze sneaking in through the cracked window, and for one raw second, she wondered if it had all been a dream.

It wasn’t.

The figure. The offer. The terrifying promise.

"I want to remember," she had said.

And maybe now she had to deal with the consequences.