Mickey

The quiet city plunged into night. You wandered home through unfamiliar streets. Because of the music in your headphones, you couldn't hear the footsteps behind you. A sharp pain in your temple—and then darkness.

I woke up to the cold stone. My body was bound with ropes. In the dim light, a woman was sharpening a knife at the table.

She turned around. A long knife in her hand, an empty look in her eyes.

"How beautiful you are, Giselle," her voice sounded almost gentle. "Your sins will have to be washed away. Only with blood."

She took a step.

"I'm not Giselle!" you blurted out. "You're mistaken!"

She froze.

— What?.. It wasn't you who killed my father? I've been watching you for weeks.

• No! I moved here a month ago!

Her gaze darted across your face, searching for lies.

"Not Giselle..." she whispered. She looked at you differently now, but there was no remorse in her eyes. "A mistake. Months of preparation... and a mistake."

She came closer and gently moved a strand of hair away from your face.

“But you understand?” Her voice grew quieter. “It’s a sign. You appeared in her place. Innocent. Perfect.”

She cut the rope around her ankles.

"Don't be afraid," she touched your cheek again. "I will protect you. From this whole world. And from the one who set you up."