II

Marja took a sharp breath into her burning lungs. Her heart was beating through her chest, thumping and clunking away. She swallowed back the nausea; she had been unconscious for some time now. Too long to know what had happened to her. She didn’t know if that was making her feel even more likely to empty her stomach or it was the fact that she remembered staring at the-

She wretched, her nails dug into something of a soft texture. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see anything around her. She knew she’d been out for long enough for her body to crave the warmth; to crave her God. Her weary hands shook to her body, needing just the reassurance that it was sitting there.

Although, she had been stripped bare of any clothing. Her eyes opened wide and she gazed at the room around her. For a second she could have believed she was out of the woods so to speak. The room in which she sat was elegant, the walls were a pale violet and the floors were of deep oak. She was laying on a bed of overstuffed pillows and various colours of blankets. There was nothing in the room to indicate anything torturous or of harm to her. 

As she lifted her head she realised the shapes carved into the off-white ceiling and the silver chandelier, with artificial candles, hanging from it. There were no windows in this room, only two doors. 

She could feel her body shaking, the need for drugs becoming more intense. Her head was spinning and her mouth felt like a desert. The room before her eyes seemed to spin, colours merging and spots forming from nothing. It was cold and then hot; her body shivered throughout. 

Marja shuffled along the mattress and lay down. She brought her knees up against her chest, wrapped her frail arms around them and rested her head on the pillow. She wished the sheets were wrapped around her, but she had kicked them off in panic and she was in no shape to reach for them. 

Slowly, the world grew to a dim shade of grey and then all light was lost. 


“Sweetheart.” The gentle voice cooed her from her dreamless sleep, “Sweetheart, you need to drink something.” 

Marja opened her eyes and slowly her vision settled. She was still upon the great bed in the same elegant room, however, by her side sat the very man she had seen mere hours ago. He looked less sadistic, his smile was rather childish and harmless and his eyes, those eyes, were like heavens gem stones. 

Marja blushed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. Her head was throbbing, her throat felt even worse than before and her skin had broken out in a cold sweat. She cradled her head in her free hand. 

“Here,” the man passed her a class of water, “Please drink something.” 

Reluctantly, and without looking up, she took the glass in her hand and downed the liquid in one gulp. After realising what she had done, she gazed up at him. 

He chuckled, “Now, don’t give me that look! I swear it was only water.” 

His laugh, it was angelic. Marja felt herself relax; how could she be terrified of an angel? 
“T-thanks.” She replied softly. 

The glass was taken gently from her hand and set upon the night stand before the stranger went about wrapping her slim frame in a large faux-fur rug. She pulled it up to her nose and closed her eyes as she inhaled the musky scent.

“Do you know why you are here sweetheart?”

Marja looked up at him, her eyes wide; like a deer caught in car lights. Slowly, she shook her head. 

“You were outside my house, my dear. You know what you saw, yes?” she nodded, “Sweetheart you collapsed. When I found you, I couldn’t help but notice your gaunt 
appearance and track marks. My home is a sort of a ….rehab clinic. I take in addicts and put them through the stages. If they succeed they may have their lives back, if they don’t; they die.”

Marja gasped. 

“Please, do not seem so shocked. I am here to help you little one.” He smiled and took hold of one of her shaking hands, “Tell me, what is your name?”

“M-Marja Saari.” She stammered. 

“Beautiful. I am Ville Valo.”