9. Ellie

The Supervisor's office was an expansive chamber, adorned with oddities and trophies that screamed of a mind that reveled in its conquests.

As I entered, the strong aroma of aged leather and an overly sweet, underlying scent — perhaps a fragrant flower? — greeted me.

Despite the opulence and grandeur, a cold chill enveloped the room, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I could hear the subtle hum of the climate control system, mingled with the distant murmur of the guards standing to attention outside.

The velvety floor under my shoes felt both luxurious and unsettling, as I imagined where the soft fabric might have been sourced from.

The hind of some unfortunate beast, no doubt.

But what drew my attention the most were what adorned the shelves.

They were lined with items that, upon closer examination, made my stomach churn.

Hollowed-out alien skulls neatly arranged among ornate vases and shimmering crystals.

They varied in size, some as large as my head and others, heartbreakingly smaller.

Next to each skull was a small plaque, describing the species and planet of origin.

It was a macabre museum, showcasing the breadth of the Supervisor's reach and cruelty.

While I had come to appreciate the vastness of the universe and the myriad of species it housed, these tangible remnants were a jarring reminder of the dominion one being could exert over so many.

The smooth, cool texture of the skulls as I gingerly touched one only intensified the sorrow and disgust I felt.

I had to swallow hard to push the bile down.

As the Supervisor's ornate doors slid open with a faint hiss, a chill, unlike the climate-controlled ambiance of the building, wrapped around me.

He stepped into the office, his tall frame casting an elongated round shadow that seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of the chamber. "You like my collection?"

The voice, dripping with pride, jolted me out of my morose contemplation.

The Supervisor sat at his desk, observing me closely, his fingers drumming softly against the polished wood, producing a rhythm that somehow added to the eerie ambiance.

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "It's… extensive," I finally said, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled, the sound reminiscent of ice clinking against glass. "Each item tells a story. A memory of my achievements. A testament to my growing power."

The reality of my betrayal weighed heavily on me.

I felt the guilt gnawing away inside, reminding me that by helping Ceara, I was actively working against this formidable figure before me.

While the Supervisor's actions were deplorable, there was an undeniable connection between us.

A connection I wished didn't exist.

Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I responded:

"And yet, memories can be fleeting, can't they? Power, even more so."

I locked eyes with him, the air between us charged with tension.

The Supervisor smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I see you are a philosopher."

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the coolness of the room seeping through my clothing.

Every sense was heightened, from the soft murmur of the Supervisor's voice to the distant hum of a prison well-run.

"I did what you asked," I finally said, eager to break the standoff.

He stood up, pacing around his office, the soft light from the room's chandeliers catching the glint in his eyes. "Yes, you did, didn't you."

A big, broad grin adorned his face, but it wasn't one of mirth.

It was the kind that spelled triumph, the kind that emerges from victory acquired at the expense of others.

I'd thought that by upholding my end of the bargain, I would feel a semblance of relief, perhaps even a tinge of happiness.

But in its place, an empty pit gaped in my stomach.

I could only imagine what Ceara had endured for the Supervisor to wear such a self-satisfied expression.

My senses tingled with apprehension; the musky aroma of the Supervisor's cologne, stronger than usual, filled the room.

Without a word, the Supervisor circled his desk and took a seat.

The leather chair creaked under his weight, the sound jarringly loud in the otherwise silent room.

He interlaced his fingers, studying me with those piercing eyes. "Ellie," he began, his voice smooth, almost soothing, "I must commend you for your cooperation. Everything has proceeded as planned."

There was no warmth in his words, only cold calculation.

I forced a nod, my fingers playing with the hem of my dress, feeling the soft, velvety fabric under my fingertips. "And Ceara?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He waved a hand dismissively. "He's… indisposed at the moment. But don't concern yourself with him."

That wasn't the answer I was hoping for.

My heart raced, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple.

The room suddenly felt too warm, the air too thick to breathe.

Sensing my distress, the Supervisor's grin widened. "Now, as promised, a private shuttle awaits to transport you back to Earth. But before you leave, may I offer you a parting gift? A Mind Wipe."

Confusion coursed through me. "A what?"

"A Mind Wipe," he repeated, leaning back, the light from his desk lamp reflecting off his shining compound eyes. "A procedure that'll erase all memories of your time here. You'll wake up in your bed on Earth, with no recollection of any of this. No Ceara, no Ikmal, no guilt. A fresh start."

The prospect was tempting.

To forget all the pain, all the anguish, to wipe away the slate clean.

My fingers twitched involuntarily, the weight of my choices threatening to overwhelm me.

I could hear the faint buzz of the room's electronics, their hum filling the space between the Supervisor's words.

My mouth felt dry.

I would agree to wipe the Supervisor, Ikmal, becoming a Prize, the entire night when I'd been abducted, everything about this place from my mind with barely even requiring a heartbeat's thought.

But as much as the idea of oblivion appealed, there was something else.

The memories of Ceara.

Our conversations, the soft touch of his hand, the warmth in his eyes.

To erase all that seemed like a betrayal, even more profound than any I had committed.

Was all the hurt and pain worth losing those precious few memories?

"No," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I don't want to forget."

The Supervisor sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Very well. I thought I'd offer."

He pressed a button on his desk, and within moments, his assistant, a tall figure with green scales, entered. "Take Ms. Ellie to the shuttle," he ordered, not sparing me another glance.

I hesitated. "What will happen to Ceara now?"

The Supervisor looked up, his eyes cold. "He will… serve his purpose."

The vagueness of his reply sent shivers down my spine.

With a heavy heart, I followed the assistant out, the weight of my choices and the memories I chose to keep pressing down on me.

* * *

The ship vibrated softly,sending rhythmic shivers through its metal walls as it hurtled through the void of space.

Outside, a sea of stars twinkled, their bright and bluish hues blurring into streaks as the spaceship moved at a speed incomprehensible to my Earthly understanding.

The beauty of the expanse clashed sharply with the turmoil inside my heart.

The Supervisor's assistant, a tall creature with shimmering green scales, sat at the cockpit, the multiple screens casting a luminescent glow upon his angular face.

He didn't glance back at me, and his concentration seemed wholly devoted to piloting the ship.

Occasionally, the sound of soft beeping or the faint hiss of some machine adjusting itself filled the cabin.

Resting on the plush seat, I took in the various scents.

It was as though they tried to replicate Earth's sea breeze, and almost succeeded.

Every inhalation was a reminder of the home planet I was returning to and the world I was leaving behind, with all its entanglements and regrets.

Guilt was a heavy weight in my stomach, making the soft fabric of the ship's seat feel scratchy and uncomfortable beneath me.

Memories of Ceara's kind eyes and gentle touch surged back, amplifying the soreness of my betrayal.

And the worst part was the conviction that even if he knew what I had done, he wouldn't have blamed me.

He would have said it was my ticket out of Ikmal and I would have been a fool not to take it.

In his place, I would've drowned in resentment and anger, but Ceara?

He'd probably just wear that soft, forgiving look that had become so familiar in our short time together.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memories.

The faint taste of salt — whether from my tears or the replicated sea breeze, I couldn't tell — lingered on my lips.

I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling the cool leather of the seat against my skin.

It was at odds with the warmth of Ceara's embrace, a warmth that now felt like a distant dream.

A sudden lurch made me grip the armrests, my nails digging into the soft material.

The ship seemed to be passing through some turbulence, though what could possibly disrupt our path in the vast emptiness of space was beyond my comprehension.

The Assistant said something in a language I didn't understand, his voice a soothing cadence of low and high pitches, echoing in the confined space.

As the ship stabilized, fatigue began to settle in.

The adrenaline from earlier events, combined with the emotional turmoil, was catching up to me.

My eyelids felt heavy, and despite my restless mind, the lull of sleep was impossible to resist.

I stretched out on the seat, the smooth leather cool against the back of my neck, and let the soft hum of the ship cradle me into slumber.

* * *

The soft chirpingof hospital monitors roused me from the clutches of a deep, dreamless sleep.

My eyelids fluttered open to take in the stark white walls and sterile environment of a room I recognized all too well.

I was in St. Lumina Hospital, the very place where I worked on Earth.

Pulling myself into a half-sitting position, I noticed the soft, cottony feel of the hospital gown against my skin, replacing the rougher attire I remembered from…

I bolted upright at the recollection.

The room was flooded with the bright golden light of the afternoon sun.

Its warmth caressed my skin, filling me with a comforting, familiar sensation.

The ambient sounds of the hospital, distant conversations, soft footsteps, and the distant beep of machines, whispered in the background.

Turning my head, I was met with the faces of my co-workers — Rebecca with her curly brown hair, and Jamie, always in his favorite blue scrubs — even Dr. Fields, with his silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses, was there.

They all wore expressions of profound relief.

Rebecca rushed forward, her usual stoic demeanor melting away as tears glistened in her eyes. "Ellie! Oh my god, we were so worried about you!"

As she embraced me, I felt the warmth of her body against mine and the faint floral scent of her shampoo.

It was real.

This wasn't another illusion or alien environment; it was home.

"What… what happened?" I managed to whisper, still trying to process the situation.

Dr. Fields stepped forward, his voice gentle yet clinical. "You were attacked a few nights ago in the alley behind the hospital. Some of your things were found at the scene. And then… you up and vanished. The entire hospital staff was out searching for you. We couldn't fathom where you'd disappeared to."

Jamie chimed in. "It was like you just vanished into thin air! But then, just as mysteriously as you disappeared, you reappeared at the hospital's entrance this morning, unharmed save for a few bumps and scrapes!"

His words felt heavy, and I tried to process them.

Had everything that happened — Ceara, the Supervisor, that otherworldly prison — been just a dream?

A side-effect of the trauma from the attack?

Rebecca held my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine, offering a comforting squeeze. "It doesn't matter where you were or what happened. We're just glad you're back."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within me.

There was relief, undoubtedly, but also confusion and a sense of loss so profound it was almost palpable.

I could still feel the texture of Ceara's scales, hear the hum of the spaceships.

Were they just figments of a traumatized mind?

Or had I truly traveled to another world?

Tears welled up, blurring my vision.

Jamie handed me a soft tissue, and as I dabbed at my eyes, the tissue's cool, soft texture brought forth more memories — of different textures and sensations from an alien world.

"We're going to run some tests, just to be sure you're okay," Dr. Fields said, a note of concern in his voice. "Given the nature of your disappearance and sudden reappearance, we want to make sure there are no underlying issues."

I nodded, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

The room felt both familiar and strange, the sensations both comforting and jarring.

After a few more moments of shared concern, hugs, and words of comfort, my co-workers left, giving me space to process and recover.

But as the door closed behind them, a deep sense of loneliness set in.

Resting back on the pillows, I stared at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights casting a soft glow.

The memories of my time away, whether real or imagined, were too vivid to be merely the products of a distressed mind.

But for now, the challenge was figuring out how to reconcile those memories with the reality of being back in my own world.

Hugging myself, I tried to take comfort in the familiar, yet the ache for something — someone — more lingered.