"What just happened?" I'm talking to the bathroom door. Stunned, I turn around. "Red Knight? You here?"
No answer.
My eyes sweep over the cramped living area, where my movies still play on a loop on the TV, to the desk crammed into the three foot of wall space between the couch and the two-person dining area. The kitchen light is on like I left it, along with the bedroom light. My apartment has always been small, but it never seemed constrictive or uninspiring before. There's barely room to move from one side to the other.
A sense of disbelief, coupled with disorientation, renders me motionless. The walls cease rippling as this reality takes hold, and I listen to the quiet discussion occurring between the boy-hero of The Neverending Story playing on the television and the beautiful princess I wanted to be like when I was little. She's handing him the spark meant to bring back the world he lost.
I blink and look away. It isn't possible I'm here.
"I'm going crazy." This is my apartment - and yet it no longer feels like mine. The woman who lives here isn't a battle-witch alternately feared and valued by a barbaric society that's starting to grow on me. The owner of this place is . . . depressing. There's no spark of life anywhere here, no pride of ownership or attempt to personalize the blank walls. This place could belong to anyone. It's not special or remotely charming, and it reflects my attempt to remain as anonymous as possible passing through life. The only part that shows a bit of personality is my desk. By personality, I mean it's messy.
What am I supposed to do now? How is my apartment at the center of a curse?
Is this even real?
I go to my desk and touch the two empty wine bottles beside the computer screen.
The glass is cool beneath my fingertips. I remember drinking the first bottle and opening the second before my blackout started. A picture of Jason and me is flat on its face next to a stack of library books I'm reading.
I'm home, and so out of place, I can't begin to determine what I feel.
Did I even go anywhere or was it some bizarre dream? The sense of not being fully a part of any world makes my breathing quicken. A glance down at my clothing reassures me I'm dressed for Black Moon Draw, covered in the blood of the Shadow Knight.
"Hello?" I call to no one. There's nothing unusual or out of place that indicates I'm still in the book. Fear catches up with me, along with desperation. "I can't be here! Send me back! I have to save him!"