9.Identity Crisis

Anastasiya Van Houten.

Once again, i was lost.

My reality sucked out of me and hurled into this nightmarish limbo, an eternal vortex of confusion...wonder, a grappling sense of loss of identity.

I needed a line, a very broad one. One that explained where Valencia began and where i ended. I wasn’t a very religious person and i didn’t believe in miracles or special happenings that had no cause or explanation. Everything that happens around you, even down to the smallest detail was orchestrated by someone’s actions or words.

Smart and Logical.

It wasn’t until you were finally standing right infront of it, stuck in an endless road with zero possibilities, trying to make sense and put logic to words and try to create a plausible explanation that it finally hit you.

Not everything has an answer or a cause. What ever you think you have figured out, that very answer you think you’ve found after years of searching.

It’s always wrong.

You’re always wrong.

I stood rooted to the spot, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at a face that mirrored mine—but felt alien, as though the person wearing it had stolen my identity.

The realization hit hard and painfully vicious.

We didn’t speak. Merely staring at each other.

I was still-No-she was still wearing the clothes from that night. The exact same black jeans and combat boots. The very ones i had picked out.

“I....” i opened my mouth to speak, but the words were lost somewhere in a space i couldn’t reach.

Her emotionless expression faltered a bit as she moved a bit closer, waddling through the still darkness to nestle in the ray of light that shone from the bright moon above.

Where was i again? I didn’t believe this was just a dream this time around.

The clearing stretched endlessly, a desolate wasteland of shimmering ice that reflected the pale glow of the moon. Darkness pressed in from all sides, broken only by the strange, unwavering beam of light encasing us like a spotlight on an abandoned stage.

I turned back to her, My eyes ultimately drawn to my face.

I was shorter than I imagined.

My bright red hair made me look like a cherry, a cherry top..

I knew amidst the disturbing situation I found my self in, there was no time for this but I couldn’t help but notice.

In my head, when I carried out missions, I always felt like I was some imposing and terrifying lady to behold, one who towered over all, sending fear with every step she took.

But looking at her-me, from above. With my cherry red hair and petite stature, I must have looked like a wannabe, trying to hard to look cool when she looked like she was meant to be wearing pretty prom dresses and carrying a Birkin bag around.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen my reflection before, but seeing it from someone else’s perspective, a totally different perspective. It was embarrassing.

And I remember bullying my fellow agents at training camp for being short and weak. Talk about pot calling kettle black. The scar on my face did nothing to even make my appearance scarier. There was—

“Anastasiya” her voice was stern, bolting me right out of my state of embarrassment and back to the present. “Are you listening to me?”

I stood rigid with shock, this was the first time I had actually heard her speak audibly. It felt like a bitter pill, as if further cementing the fact this was actually happening.

“Y..yes..I..How-“ I mumbled aimlessly like a dumb bitch, trying to find the right words to speak. “How did this happen? Where are you?”

I took a step closer, hoping to finally place a plausible explanation to what was actually happening.

She looked almost tearful, ashamed even. Her eyes flickered around, avoiding my face. But there wasn’t much to see—just darkness, ice, and that strange beam of light encasing us.“I can’t really explain, but I chose you.. Anastasiya. You’re brave and strong and i’m just..just useless”.

My eyebrows shot up in confusion… She chose me?

I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off with an urgent wave of her hand. “ I can’t stay for long but I promise we will meet again before I leave, just..”

She paused, moving closer to grab me, dragging me right into the light. Her touch was warm, it felt like skin.. tough and real..

I stared down at her, right into the fear and desperation shinning in her eyes-my eyes. I didn’t know what to say. How to feel. “Just hang on Anastasiya and whatever you do, do not trust Malcom Reece”.

She searched my eyes, hoping for an answer…something to confirm that I was running mad.

Yes. That was the only plausible explanation. I had gone mad and it wasn’t the normal type of mad, it was type that scientist had yet to discover.

“Do you understand, Anastasiya? Don’t trust Malcom Reece”. She pressed, the desperation literally dripping from her tone.

I sighed, rubbing my freehand all over my face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I literally can’t believe you and I have swapped souls through some voodoo process but even amidst all that, if you think I’m going to trust Malcom Reece even if he handed me his heart on a silver platter, You’ve got something wrong”.

Her eyes widened almost comically.

“Once this is all settled-” I took a deep breath, trying to reign in the fury, the bottled hate, the very one I had misplaced but not forgotten.”-I’m going to kill that fucking bastard with my bare hands”.

An awkward silence lingered as my words settled in the air.

Surely, she wasn’t feeling any semblance of pity for her fiancé. He literally killed her.

“Don’t tell me you actually want me to spare-“

“I knew I made the right choice” she exhaled, her voice shaking as she smiled tearfully.

“What choice?” I exhaled in exasperation, could she stop speaking in parables. "You haven’t even explained what the fuck is going on-

She shook her head almost fearfully, turning around as if she was hiding-running from something. Her wide eyes, the way her lips quivered as if holding her tears and frustration at bay, Everything all at once shut me up, completely wiping the plethora of questions i had swirling in my head a few moments ago.

Her lips parted, trembling as though she wanted to say more, but something was wrong. The air around us crackled—like static before a storm. My eyes darted around the room instinctively.

There was nothing there.

“I’m losing my fucking mind, Valencia”. I exhaled in frustration, turning back to her, speaking through gritted teeth. My hand found it’s way to my hair, tousling the silky strands. Dark and voluminous unlike my bright red, dye-fried hair. “You know, it’s not everyday you wake up in someone else’s body and keep getting transported to some eerie looking place that doesn’t seem to belong on earth. So i don’t think its too much to ask for you to go into details and explain properly without being so cryptic”.

My tone hitched up a high notch at the end as my chest heaved, straining from the intensity of my outburst. Valencia remained motionless, her eyes stared right at me, almost as if she was looking into my soul. She didn’t seem to be bothered by the frustration evident in my tone or the fact that i was seconds away from shaking the truth out of her.

"The moment you wake up, it begins."

The second the words left her mouth, pain split through my skull like a hammer against glass.

I choked, crouching down as the pain intensified. It was raw, unrelenting. A strangled scream gurgled out of me as i clutched my head, i could barely breathe, barely see.

An unbridled scream tore from my lips as i collapsed unto the ice, the cold doing nothing to numb the pain shooting through my body. My body convulsed on it’s own accord, hitting against the ice harshly.

What was happening to me.

“M..make it stop..” i managed to choke out but it barely made a statement.

A flash—no, a memory—slammed into my mind, but it wasn’t mine.

Hazy images flashed through my mind, bodies strewn around, blood soaking into white and pristine carpets, a pale hand adorned by a medieval emerald ring stained with bright red blood.

I tried to piece them together but they just jumbled up, bouncing around my head.

~

A sharp gasp tore from my throat as I jolted awake, the feeling of cold ice beneath me replaced with warmth. A sudden transition that left me befuddled. My heart was still racing, my body rigid with the lingering terror of whatever the hell just happened. The piercing pain i had felt, worse than any torture i had ever gone through, that pain was no longer there, i could still feel it lingering but it felt disconnected-like i had imagined it all.

Where am i?

I blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the dim glow of the room, my pulse thundering in my ears. My breath was coming in shallow bursts, but something was wrong.

Something was very wrong. The last thing i remebered was losing consciousness and falling.

I wasn’t on the floor.

I should have been on the floor. I fell.

But instead, I was nestled against something solid, something warm.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

I wasn’t alone.

Slowly—dread pooling in my stomach—I lifted my gaze.

And then I froze.

Eyes like cut steel. A face I had spent months memorizing—hating.

Malcolm Reece.