Hades by Alexandra Adornetto Page B

light that looked as if it’d filtered down through a
    fissure in the earth. The thought of not seeing the sunlight
    for a long time brought tears to my eyes. But I blinked them
    away and gathered up the silk dressing gown, wrapping it
    around myself. I went into the bathroom to wash my face
    and brush my teeth, then ran a comb through my hair to
    unravel the knots that had appeared. There was a
    suffocating silence in the hotel suite. Every noise I made
    seemed exaggeratedly loud. With a pang of longing I
    remembered what it was like to wake up in Venus Cove. I
    associated it with a cacophony of sound: music playing,
    birds singing, and Phantom loping up the stairs. I could
    picture in perfect detail my bedroom with its pockmarked
    boards and rickety writing desk. If I closed my eyes, I could
    almost remember the feel of my soft white bedspread
    against my skin and the way the canopy made me feel as if
    I were cocooned in my own little nest. Mornings there were
    met with a silvery predawn light that was quickly broken by
    streams of golden sunlight. It would wash over the rooftops
    and dance over the waves of the ocean, setting the whole
    town alight. I remembered how I used to wake to the sound
    of birdsong and the breeze tapping lightly against the
    balcony doors as if to rouse me. Even when the house was
    empty, the sea was always there, cal ing to me, reminding
    me that I wasn’t alone. I remembered the mornings when I’d
    come downstairs to hear Gabriel’s fingers lazily strumming
    his guitar and to smel the inviting aroma of waffles in the
    air. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my family or
    how we came to be separated. When I thought of Venus
    Cove, I felt a brief flutter of hope in my chest, as though I
    could wil myself back to my old life. But a moment later it
    was gone, transformed into despair as heavy as a stone
    pressing on my heart.
    I opened my eyes to see my reflection in the mirror and
    realized that something was different. Nothing had changed
    in terms of my features; there were the same wide brown
    eyes flecked with gold and green looking back at me, the
    smal pixie ears, and the porcelain skin tinged with pink.
    But the expression in my eyes was that of a stranger. My
    eyes that had once sparkled with curiosity were lifeless.
    The girl in the mirror looked lost.
    The room was set at a comfortable temperature, but I stil
    shivered. I walked quickly over to the closet and pul ed out
    the first garment that came to hand—a black tul e cocktail
    dress with puffy sleeves. I sighed and hunted around for
    something more appropriate only to find that there wasn’t a
    single piece of practical clothing in there. The outfits varied
    from floor-length evening gowns to tailored Chanel suits
    with silk blouses. I settled on the simplest item I could find
    (a knee-length, long-sleeved dress in crushed moss green
    velvet) and some bal et flats. Then I sat on my bed and
    waited for something to happen.
    I remembered Venus Cove and my siblings vividly, but I
    knew there was something or someone I was forgetting. It
    nagged at me, an insistent tug at the back of my mind, and
    trying to remember was exhausting. I lay on the bed and
    stared at the scrol s on the ceiling. I could feel a gnawing
    pain somewhere inside me, but I couldn’t identify its source.
    I even wished Jake would show up in case talking to him
    provided the trigger for these lost memories. I could feel
    them stirring in the recesses of my mind, but every time I
    tried to grasp them, they slipped away.
    The click of a key card startled me and a round-faced girl
    entered the room. She was wearing the standard
    housekeeping uniform: a plain taupe dress with the Hotel
    Ambrosia logo on the pocket, beige stockings, and
    comfortable oxfords. Her honey-colored hair was pul ed
    back into a ponytail and held in place with a clasp.
    “Excuse me, miss, would you like me to make up your
    room now or should I come back later?” Her manner