Chapter 443: The Familiar Room

Sophia groaned softly before she opened her eyes. She paused when she did.

The room was familiar. She knew that. She also knew she had been here before.

The smell of old pages was faint now, less crowded than before. The stacks of books were fewer. Some lay on the chair. Some leaned against the walls.

She was sweating beneath the covers. Her skin prickled. She raised her hands. They were smaller, thinner than normal. Her fingers looked fragile, and it was like she was made of just skin and bones.

Her legs stretched farther than they had when she was here before. They were longer but still thin. She flexed them under the sheet. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The window was familiar. The glass pressed against her vision. The air smelled the same. The faint dust, the dampness. Everything.

Somewhere, in the room, time had passed. And yet it had not.

She had no idea how it was possible that she remembered the last time she was here. She remembered the smell of the room and everything, but time had passed in the room. It was her old bedroom, but it was different too.

She was still getting used to the changes when she heard footsteps, and her heartbeat increased rapidly.

Even before the person came into view, she already knew... her mother.

The door opened suddenly, and she froze in shock.

Her mother sat on the stool beside the bed. Her presence filled the space without sound. The chair groaned lightly under her weight.

Sophia could not see her face clearly. That was the same as before. Features were blurred. The light fell unevenly across her, hiding everything that mattered. Still, her mother was the same. The same hands, the same posture, the same hair. Black, long, and heavy, that it filled Sophia with jealousy.

Her mother reached for her hands immediately.

No, she thought to herself, screaming in her head. Don’t touch me. Let me go.

But what she felt in her head was different from what was happening. She could not make her body move the way she wanted it to.

Her mother held her hands still. Her grip was firm.

"It seems you like to fall sick," she said.

Sophia tried to answer. "I... I’m sorry."

Her mother laughed. It was cruel and short and bounced across the room.

"I do not care if you are sorry," she said. "That has nothing to do with anything. Not now. You failed to do what I asked you to do."

The task she was supposed to do. She could not remember it. It pressed against the edges of her mind. It was something important and urgent, something her mother had told her to do, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

"Sorry," she whispered again. "I’m sorry."

Her mother flung Sophia’s hands. She raised her hand to hit Sophia, who flinched and closed her eyes tight—but the hit didn’t land. It never happened.

"You know I love you," her mother said. Her voice was quiet, patient now.

Sophia knew deep down that it was all fake. She wasn’t sure her mother loved her, nor understood what it meant to love someone.

"I am not going to hurt you. You must listen. Do what I ask. Nothing more," she told Sophia.

The woman reached for a small vial on the table beside her.

Green residue clung to the sides. Sophia had seen it before but she didn’t know what was inside. She was just filled with dread and the feeling that she hated it. She hated the smell, the thought of the vial, and even the taste.

Her mother unlocked the vial and held it steady toward Sophia.

Sophia shook her head.

"This will help you," she said coldly. "It will help you do what I ask. It will help you do better."

Sophia felt her throat tighten. She tried to move, to speak, but the words stuck. Only her eyes moved, tracking the vial.

"You are safe," her mother said to her. "Do not resist. Not now. Not ever. You are to listen to me and do what I ask of you. If you do, you will be safe and protected."

Sophia closed her eyes briefly. She wanted the woman to leave. She wanted to wake up somewhere else, preferably in a place where it snowed every day. In a place where she had friends who stood by her.

She did not want to stay here. She hated this place.

Her mother closed the distance between them and tipped the vial, pouring the liquid into Sophia’s mouth. Sophia tried to reject it, but her mother dug her nails into her cheeks, and she couldn’t help her gasp of pain.

Besides, it was better to obey. As much as she was having difficulty believing it, her mother loved her.

Her mother was doing everything for her. This was going to help her carry out her mother’s task. This was going to help her be a better daughter. She almost believed it herself, but then she stopped.

She tried to force herself to stop the thoughts, but it didn’t stop. It was like the more she tried, the more the thoughts increased. Her mother loved her. Her mother would do anything for her. Her mother was protecting her, sheltering her from the outside world.

"I’m doing all this because I love you," her mother told her. "It’s just me and you, you know. I’m the only one you have. The only one to protect you. Just drink..." her mother said sternly. "And you better make sure not to miss any drop."

The threat was obvious, and Sophia didn’t want to get on her mother’s bad side.

"Mothers discipline their children when they are stubborn. I’m doing everything for the good of both of us," her mother told her.

Sophia nodded numbly. The argument she had in her head gone. All that was left was the thought that her mother loved her.

She swallowed the liquid, and then her mother stood up.