Awakening (Part - 2)

Ethan was left alone on the cramped balcony, his mind a turbulent sea of unanswered questions. He attempted to make sense of his situation, but it was like attempting to catch smoke with his bare hands. His memory remained a fragmented puzzle, and he couldn't even be certain of his own name. Was he really Ethan Cross, as he had told them, or was it an identity thrust upon him?

The sun cast elongated shadows as it began its descent, signaling the approach of twilight. Ethan lay there for hours, his thoughts spiraling through a labyrinth of confusion. His mind grasped at straws, hoping to regain even a single memory, a glimpse of who he might be.

Finally, the girl and Marcus reappeared. They carried with them a small leather-bound book, aged and worn as if it had seen decades of use. A huge hole decorated its center, almost like someone punched through it. They settled across from Ethan once more, the shotgun still in the girl's grip.

She broke the silence, her tone a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Ethan Cross?"

Ethan hesitated for a moment. He was no longer certain if that was his name, but it was the only identifier he had. "That's what I remember."

"Ethan it is." She crossed her legs and observed him, the previous hostility in her eyes now giving way to genuine intrigue. "Marcus will untie your bonds but no funny business." She tapped the shotgun meaningfully. "Unless you're feeling unusually adventurous and have a fondness for dismemberment."

As if by some sleight of hand, a blade materialized in Marcus's grasp. With calculated precision, Marcus began to slice through the bonds securing Ethan, the blade's sharp edge inches away from his skin.

Ethan's heart raced as a flicker of hope for escape ignited within him. He dismissed Lila's threat as a bluff. At the range, she wouldn't dare fire the shotgun; it would hit Marcus as much as him. It he could somehow incapacitate him, overpowering Lila would be easy. He could reach her in a single bound and knock her flat.

Something in his expression must have given him away cause Lila penetrated him with a steely gaze filled with determination. "Just don't."

A chilling shiver slithered up his spine. There was no humor behind her words. She would pull the trigger without hesitation. 'What the hell kind of place did I get stuck in?' he thought going completely still.

Ethan's breath came easier as the ropes were gradually cut away. His skin was marked with angry welts from the unforgiving nylon, and he absently rubbed the sore areas to alleviate the discomfort. The cool breeze offered a reprieve, drying the sweat-soaked fabric clinging to his body.

Ethan's gaze lowered to his tattered clothes, a faint glimmer of hope that they might trigger some recognition. However, it took only a moment for him to dismiss the notion. The garments were little more than rags, their condition far worse than anything he could remember.

The girl held out the leather-bound book. "This was found on you," she said. "Can you confirm if it belongs to you?"

Ethan accepted the book, examining the worn pages and the cover. Even as he opened it, fragments of paper crumbled around the hole in the center. The sight stirred an intense heartache he couldn't quite place.

Within the journal, handwritten notes, drawings, and clippings were scattered throughout. He recognized his own handwriting and sketches. It appeared to be a personal diary, brimming with thoughts and experiences. As he flipped through the pages, he repeatedly encountered a name—"Jaxon".

A sense of recognition washed over him, and he looked up at the girl. "Jaxon?"

She raised an eyebrow, her expression unyielding. "Yes, Jaxon. Do you know him?"

"I... I'm not sure," Ethan admitted. "I don't remember much, but the name sounds familiar. There's something about it, but I can't quite grasp it."

The girl exchanged a glance with Marcus and then turned her attention back to Ethan. "We discovered this book fastened to your chest. It's written in some kind of code language. Can you decipher it?

Despite his precarious situation, Ethan felt his face heating up. "There's no code. It's English," he retorted, his tone edged with defensiveness for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

"I see," Lila remarked with a flat, emotionless tone. "From what we gathered, it should be a journal of sorts. It's filled with references to your experiences, your thoughts, and your connection to Jaxon. Yet you claim not to remember him."

Ethan felt a twinge of frustration, his inability to recall anything substantial about Jaxon leaving him disoriented. "I'm sorry. It's all a blur, like a dream that slips away when you wake up. But I want to remember. I need to."

"Tell us what you do remember," the girl said, her gaze intense. "Anything might be useful."

Ethan took a deep breath, focusing on the fragments of memories that lingered on the edge of his consciousness. "I remember... flashes. An explosion. Not the fire kind; some kind of a gas explosion. Something emerged from there. I remember being afraid, and a feeling of being hunted. But that's all I have—bits and pieces."

Marcus leaned forward, his voice gruff and probing. "Hunted by what?"

Ethan hesitated, attempting to grasp the elusive memory. "I'm not sure. It's like a shadow lurking at the edge of my mind, something I can't quite define. But I had to stay hidden, to stay alive."

The girl's gaze softened slightly, and she exchanged another look with Marcus. "Ethan, we found you in a penthouse. Does that mean anything to you?"

Ethan furrowed his brow, attempting to connect the dots. The word 'penthouse' held a glimmer of recognition. "It's hazy, but I think... I think I was following something there. Something important. But I can't remember what."

Marcus folded his arms, contemplating Ethan's words. "This book and the mention of Jaxon—do they mean anything to you?"

Ethan shook his head, his frustration mounting. "I wish I had more answers, but it's like trying to hold onto smoke. The book, the name 'Jaxon,' the flashes of memory—they all feel significant, but they slip through my grasp."

"Think harder," Lila urged. "Do you —"

"I don't know," Ethan snapped, his frustration boiling over and his chest heaving. He did not even understand why he shared all the experiences with complete strangers. 'It's not like there's much to share anyway,' a cynical voice in his mind chimed in.

Ethan bit his lips, attempting to steady his emotions. "Was there anyone else at the penthouse? Someone I could have a conversation with, perhaps?" He spoke with a glimmer of optimism, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "I understand very little about what's happening, but in my current state, I can't be of much assistance. If I could recollect even a fragment of my memories, I might be able to provide more meaningful help."

The girl and Marcus exchanged another one of their silent exchanges, and Ethan's patience teetered on the edge. "Stop that," he cried out, tossing caution aside. Enduring being bound and beaten, combined with the gnawing fatigue, had worn him thin.

"What is it?" Lila asked, visibly taken aback by his outburst.

"Stop glancing at each other and give me a straight answer for once. Yes or no."

With a weary sigh, she declared, "This is what I was afraid of." Rising from her seat, she moved to the sliding door. "Come on."

"Where?" he asked, staring at the open door.

"You'll see," she replied, striding through the door.

"Get moving," Marcus commanded, urging him forward. Ethan's legs nearly gave way, and he clung to the wall for support, his muscles protesting the sudden demand after being bound for so long.

He had expected some kind of secret hideout, but the house they entered appeared long abandoned. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and signs of a past struggle were evident. Tables were overturned, and chair cushions lay strewn around.

As they exited the house and ascended a flight of stairs, Ethan's sense of unease deepened. Their surroundings were eerily devoid of life. There was no sign of anyone, and the windows bore shattered holes. Doors hung askew from their hinges, and the entire place was cloaked in layers of dust.

Ethan was startled and took a step back when he stumbled upon a crimson stain on the floor. "What's that?" he muttered.

"What are you doing?" Marcus questioned, his voice laced with impatience as a sharp object pressed against Ethan's back.

"Is that blood?" Ethan swallowed nervously.

"Keep moving," Marcus gruffly ordered, urging him onward and pushing him up the stairs.

Ethan cursed silently. 'Where in the world am I?' he wondered desperately.

Upon reaching the top floor, the surroundings underwent a stark transformation. The doors were constructed from fortified steel, and the windows bore a lattice of metal bars. Unsettling sounds of impact and sinister growls reverberated from the rooms nearby.

Ethan's heart raced, and his hair stood on end as he glanced around. "Are you going to lock me in one of those cells?"

"No," Lila responded, her tone unwavering, and the aged house around them appeared to absorb the ominous truth of their location. With a loud, grating sound, she unlocked a door, revealing an ominous room beyond. "We're here to get you up to speed."

"What?" Ethan questioned, bewildered and overwhelmed by the oppressive atmosphere of the place.

"Come on," she urged her steps into the dim room resonating with purpose.

Ethan felt an ominous presence grip his senses as he stood there, his feet strangely anchored to the floor. There was something undeniably sinister lurking within, a malevolence that his instincts vehemently warned him to flee. Every fiber of his being screamed for escape, urging him to avoid the gaping maw that beckoned like a ravenous beast. With a trembling breath, he bit his lip, hesitation clawing at him, and cautiously inched his foot into the room. What choice did he have?