I slowly open my eyes. I’m in another room, the girl isn’t there. I hurt everywhere. A woman dressed in black gingerly steps in. “Some fight Ты and your mother had. Look at that eye.”
I don’t remember a fight, but my body is aching, as if it remembers the pain.
The woman bends down so she’s eye to eye with me, “A proper witch who wants to be persuading will need to look nicer than this.” Her eyes have webs imbedded into their black darkness. I almost want to listen to her.
She walks me into another room, lit up with white light. This is the first time I’ve seen light in at least two years.
“Well, now, this is going to hurt a bit, but will all be worth it later.” the woman steps вперед and puts her hand on my closed left eye.
Great, еще pain. Thanks. I Любовь Ты for ripping out my eye.
I wake up in a постель, кровати with black sheets and a black pillow. I sit up, noticing a new outfit. Instead of the singed purple рубашка and white юбка I’d been wearing for a few years, I had a black strapless dress down to my knees. And it gets worse, black high heels. Enough with the black please.
The woman walks in, “I see комар, москит, комаров put Ты in your new clothes. What a good servant he is.” “He!?!” And to make it all better, a boy dressed me. I seriously hope the lady took the clothes off.
“Now, Ты will begin training when the stitches an your new arm are healed.” She walks out.
What new arm? I look over at my shoulder. Oh, that new arm. My arm is gone and a new one, perfect skin tone to match mine, is in it’s place.
I walk over to the mirror in the corner of the room. There’s a bandage over one side of my face, covering my left eye and most of my forehead.
Who is this lady? Who сказал(-а) she could rip my eye out and slice my arm off?