"Either the company's tanking or the boss is about to scoop it up. So why's he making us babysit this corpse? Girl can barely lift a spoon," says a heavy voice.
"Bro, this is why the boss always sticks you on guard duty. You've got muscles where your brain should be," the other guy grumbles. "Idiot, she ain't some normal girl. She's the boss's trump card. Once he takes over, he'll be unstoppable; even that monster won't be able to touch him," whispers in a low voice.
I can hear my guards gossiping outside my door. Trump card, huh? Does this mean I'm important? But one thing I don't understand is how am I able to hear them?! I'm almost two meters away from those guys, but it's like they're whispering in my ears.
"Really?! What's she gotta do with anything?" the first guy asks, confused.
"Come on, man. She's the one the Thalorins took in. The only heir to the ViraCore Corp. Heard she's that monster's bitch." hisses the second guy, frustrated.
Me!? Is that why everyone keeps staring at me like I eat people for breakfast?
"No-fu—"
"Ahem..."
I hear a shuffling sound, and then Monica barges into my room with a tray in her hand. Something is going on with me. I can't explain it, but it feels like my senses have suddenly snapped into sharp focus. No… maybe it's just my ears? I can hear Monica breathing. I can feel the air moving across the room. Did she drug me? Or since my headache's finally gone, am I starting to hallucinate?
Monica gives me her usual disgusted look when she catches me staring. She walks to the side cabinet and pulls out a wheelchair. Then she helps me into a thin cotton frock with bright flower patterns on it. Where did she even get this from?
"Good riddance," she mutters under her breath as she removes my fractured leg from the sling. Anyone else would've been offended and yanked her hair out by now. But strangely, I feel nothing. I give her the sweetest smile I can muster. Funny how I've got quite the personality in this frail body. No wonder people act like I bite. Monica's face turns into a tomato. Hilarious.
It's 4:00 pm. Before Monica can shift into full beast mode, there's a knock on my door. One of the guards steps in with a woman trailing behind him. She's wearing a black one-piece with her jet-black hair tied into a high bun. She barely reaches the guard's chest, short and petite. She looks like a porcelain doll. But I notice the beginning of age lines under her eyes.
Monica and the guard step out immediately, turning the room painfully quiet. Now, who's she...? Blue eyes. She kinda looks familiar. Is she related to Drake? And why is she staring at me like she wants answers I don't have—honestly creeps me out.
Haaaa... I'm fed up with this hide-and-seek game. Brain, I want my memories back! I am drowning in questions now. Then she smiles... No, that's not a smile. She's smirking at me, at my state. What the hell?!
"Darling, you look good. This is the best I have seen you look since the last time we met," she says, giving me a saccharin smile. "Oh—Drake got called into a meeting last minute, so I'll be taking you home. You don't mind, do you?"
I don't think I need to analyze this dark witch to know what kind of person she is. Still, I'm the patient, if she wants me to play submissive... then that's what she'll get. I'm at the short end of the stick right now. I lower my gaze and give her a subtle nod.
"Great!" she claps cheerfully.
The guards step in immediately. One takes my crutches while the other picks me up like a doll and settles me into the wheelchair. My world swims from the sudden movement, and the next thing I know—I'm in a car beside the driver, my fractured leg cranked up on the dashboard, while that woman lounges in the back like royalty.
I pity the people working for her.
Home. I need to get home. Even though I don't remember anything, the thought of home makes me relax. My breathing eases a little. After about ten minutes, the car pulls in front of a heavy wooden gate. The driver gets out and opens the trunk to grab my crutches.
"Thanks to me, we reached here in a jiffy, don't you think? I had a lovely ride." she chirps brightly, crossing her legs.
I give her a weak, close-lipped smile.
The driver props my crutches by the gate, comes around, lifts me out of the car, and sets me down in front of the gate. Then he gets back in and drives off, like this is just another Tuesday for him.
Wow... just wow. Did she seriously unload me in front of a gate like some kind of package?!
Leaning on the gate, I grunt and pull myself up to see a keypad.
Great. Of course, there's a keypad. Urgh!
Climbing over it in my current state is simply impossible. Guess I'll be spending the night outside then.
Okay, think. Date of birth. I saw it on the hospital papers. My gut says this is it. I punch in the numbers with trembling hands.
Now... open sesame.
Beep. Click. Creak.
Open.
Home. I'm home!