Frankie
I hit the punching bag repeatedly. The muscles in my arms scream in protest as sweat drips down my back. But I don’t stop hitting the bag. I need to get out of my head for a while, but nothing seems to be working!
No matter what I do, I cannot forget what happened yesterday. All those things Hel said and the painting she showed me… I can’t deny that the Viking warrior in that picture looked like me. But I am not her.
Dreaming about her life is something I cannot explain. The King whom I bathed with and made love to in that hot spring… Could that have been a memory?
I know I saw the King as Neil, but it wasn’t really him. He was there because I wanted him to be. There is no doubt in my mind that if Neil were Björn, then Hel would have known instantly.
So, who is Björn?
Did he
