Chain Me

Processing

     Lost's face scrunches and she blinks rapidly, taking it all in. Her hands have dropped from me to rest limply on the couch, but at least she hasn't pushed me off her. I sit on her lap patiently, chewing on my bottom lip, and hope her response to what I've just told her isn't aggressive.
     Eventually, her eyebrows shoot up and she blows out her cheeks. "I knew there were secrets within secrets," she says. "But I didn't expect this. I assumed any type of organized group of humans would be lethal. It's a relief that we will be helping rather than slaughtering my own people."
     "So you don't mind having two jobs?"
     Lost looks up at me and smiles. "As long as I'm with you, I don't mind anything."
     I giggle and give her a soft kiss. "Good."
     She spreads her legs, spreading mine as well, and rests her hands on my thighs. "When am I expected to run with these wolves?"
     "I was given the file a few days ago but I think it's still an open case. I'll call and see."
     Her hands massage my thighs and she hums in thought. "I haven't run with Weres in decades. With this new job I'll be given the chance to get reacquainted with the magical world again. Who runs this government branch, again?"
     "I don't know any of the big players, but the man I've been talking to, mainly, is called Leon."
     "Human?"
     "Yes. But I've been to their network and there's people other than humans working there."
     Lost gives me a smug look that I never thought I'd see cross her face. "You finally believe in witches and magic then?"
     I roll my eyes. "Maybe I do."
     She snickers and slips her hands to my backside to pull me close to her. "You will see my world and be amazed. Maybe we will meet one of my kind."
     My words get caught in my throat at that. Lost seems so excited to meet someone like her, but I asked around and Leon hasn't come across anyone like Lost in his lifetime. In fact, he only has writings about Lost's people. Old, decayed writings that made him, and many others, believe that Lost's people were extinct. But I don't have the heart to tell her that terrible news.
     So, forcing a smile, I brush my fingers through her hair and say, "Yeah. You can have a new friend."
     Lost's excitement ebbs away, and I know she just experienced my shame. "What's wrong?" she asks, unsurprisingly.
     I shake my head slowly. "We can talk about it later. Let's just enjoy each other, okay?"
     Lost gazes into my face and I hold my breath, but then she smiles in resignation. "Okay." Her eyes flick behind me and she puckers her lips. "What did you bring home?"
     "Oh!" I hop off her lap and hurry to the bags by the door. "I wanted to make you comfortable when you got home so I bought a few things. Donuts, of course," I chuckle, wiggling my eyebrows. I take all the bags to the kitchen and place them on the island counter. "Some stuff I was going to make for dinner, DVDs, and a bunch of stuff for your room. I was going to change your sheets and curtains all that."
     "That's great," she says as she stands and walks over to me. "What kind of sheets?"
     "Silk. Deep purple."
     She gives me a look that makes me think I've done extremely well with my choice or extremely wrong. "Silk is a wonderful sensation on the skin," she says. "Intercourse is nothing less than fantastic."
     My hands pause in taking the groceries from their bags and I let out a nervous, ugly sounding chuckle. Lost is so bold without meaning to be. It's as if she has no filter.
     "The stains are a bit difficult to get out," she goes on, moving to help me put the groceries away. "But making the stains are well worth the trouble. Would you like to try?"
     The tomatoes slip from my hands but Lost catches them deftly. "Are you even healthy enough to... you know..." I manage to say, my cheeks heating up. Don't get me wrong, I'd love for Lost to take me on her new sheets, but I don't want to do anything too strenuous and end up having her sent back to the medical ward. Though that would probably make for a great story one day.
     "To have sex?" Lost asks, putting the tomatoes in the fridge. "I think so. I'm sort of running on empty, though. Maybe after I've eaten some more I'll be ready to actually give you joy."
     Okay, so if I make dinner real quick, we can eat in record time and be in bed within the hour...
     Lost chuckles low and wraps her arms around my waist. "Excitement is running through you."
     "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about having you."
     She hums, pressing her mouth to my neck to make my throat vibrate. "Are you wearing a new perfume?" She inhales deeply and I swear I feel teeth barely scrape against my skin.
     I swallow hard and breathe with my mouth open slightly. Lost's hands travel up and down my back and she steps closer to me, placing a leg between mine. "It's just... something I, uh." My skin prickles as a tongue trails wet heat up the side of my neck to my ear. "Something I picked up."
     Lost growls and I feel her teeth expose themselves to my earlobe. "It mixes well with your natural scent."
     "Christ..." My eyes roll shut and I tip my head all the way back. Lost grasps onto my thigh and lifts my leg, pressing herself into me, her mouth clinging to the column of my neck. I imagined our moment of being reunited would be me taking care of her, but this isn't bad. Not bad at all.
     But then Lost's tummy rumbles hungrily and I remember dinner. I groan and push on Lost's shoulders. "I need to make your welcome back dinner and set up your room and..."
     She whines but lets me go, her eyes that bright glow that makes my legs weak. "After?" she practically begs.
     Chuckling, I pat her chest then focus on the last of the bags on the island. "Yes, okay, after." My body is humming for now but I can wait. I know it'll be worth it.
     Lost accepts that and fishes out her new linens. "Can I fix my room up?"
     I was going to do it as a surprise but since that cat's already out of the bag... "Sure, if you really want to. Don't forget the curtains, pillow cases."
     Gathering everything into her arms, Lost saunters away. I watch her go and notice how much thinner she looks, how her muscle mass has lowered, how she has more sharp angles than I remember. It hurts my heart knowing that the weight loss was a side effect of her capture and hospital stay. With the way she devours everything in sight, though, I imagine she'll bulk up again, and fast. As long as she's happy and healthy.
     "This is a new bed," Lost says from her room. "And dresser."
     "Yeah," I call back. "Everything is new."
     There's some shuffling and I hear a closet door slide open. "New clothes?"
     "New clothes," I confirm. But she's probably too small for her new wardrobe, now. At least she has belts. I bought her a really cute buckle shaped like an L that I hope she wears.
I shove the plastic bags in each other and bundle them up then throw them in the bottom of the pantry. You never know when you'll need a plastic bag. Then I finally get started on dinner. I plan on making pasta, one of the only things I can actually prepare and not totally screw up. I should probably add more meals to my repertoire but I need the time first. Anyway, Lost likes cooking, I think.
     The TV drones on in the background, left on and forgotten, as I move about the kitchen and I idly listen to what's being said. Canned laughter echoes in my ears and suddenly Lost is nearby, throwing empty yogurt cups into the trash. At least three or four go into the bin, licked clean it looks like. I didn't even know she liked my yogurts.
     Lost leaves and once again I'm left alone. I prepare garlic bread and toss it in the oven to heat, then stir the pasta, enjoying the smells starting to fill the apartment. I've never formally made dinner for Lost before, and I hope she likes it. Or at least doesn't tell me if it's terrible. I'd never cook for her again out of pure shame.
     An unexpected gust of wind causes my shirt to lift annoyingly, forcing me to turn the burner to low so I can investigate without ruining dinner. The glass doors leading to the deck are wide open, allowing the harsh wind outside to enter the apartment. I go to close the doors but find Lost sitting on the cement barrier, precariously perched, her legs dangling. She's so close to the edge that I fear the strong winds will knock her right off the barrier to send her crashing to the street below. But she scoots back a little and gets a firm grasp on her seat.
     "What are you doing?" I ask, moving out to the deck. My hair is whipped around and I grab what I can to tuck it behind my ears.
     Lost's head turns to me. "I don't know," she answers honestly. Her eyes appear glassy, her mind somewhere else, as if she just woke up.
     Before, when she would do this often, she would answer that she was 'watching.' Obviously something has changed. "What are you thinking about?"
     She scrapes a hand through her wind blown hair and blinks rapidly. "... I don't know."
     "Are you feeling okay?" I step beside her, worried.
     "I set my room up," she responds. "The colors are lovely. Thank you."
     I lean on the cement barrier and rest my forearms on it, crossing them to heat my hands in the crooks of my elbows. "You're welcome. But you didn't answer my question."
     "I'm fine."
     "Are you sure?"
     Lost drags the same hand through her hair again. It's long, her hair, way too long. She probably wants a haircut, but I don't think that's the big thing that's bothering her. "It's nothing," she says.
     "Then why won't you tell me what it is?"
     She sighs. "It happens every so often. I'm used to it."
     "What is it?"
     She goes quiet, face against the wind. "Have you ever done something that made your mind remember something else? Something you don't want to remember?"
     Tucking my hair back behind my ears, I shift my feet. "Sure. Why?"
     "That happened to me." She shrugs a shoulder and looks down at me. "It made me want to be out here."
     "Can I know why?"
     She pauses then turns her head forward. "It's nice," she says, tilting her head back and bringing her arms straight out. "To have the option to jump."
     My alarm bells immediately start ringing and I jerk up. "Lost, get back inside." If she's feeling suicidal or anything close to it we're damn well going to talk through it. I know I shouldn't shame her or be mad if she feels that way, but I want her inside where it's safe and we can speak without hazard.
     She turns her body around and drops down, her feet slapping against the safety of the floor. "Okay." Then she walks back inside to stand in the living room. She stares at me, as if asking, "what's next?"
     I step inside, too, and practically slam the glass doors shut. The wind cuts off, and I feel too warm. "Why did you say that?" I ask, back still facing Lost.
     "Because it's true."
     "Do you want to do that? Do you want to jump?"
     "... You're upset."
     I spin to her. "Yes but... Do you want to jump? Do you feel like hurting yourself?"
     Her mouth twists. "I wouldn't hurt myself from jumping, you know that."
     "I know that, but with your attitude and saying you liked having the option of jumping... It sounded like..."
     "Like I wanted to kill myself," she finishes softly. "I don't want to do that. I don't. I was only saying it's nice to have the option, like anything else. Having choices and decisions is nice."
     I shake my head, moving to the couch. "I don't understand," I mumble, sitting down.
     "You got me a shoe rack."
     I look up, frowning. "Yeah..." What does that have to do with anything? But knowing Lost, it's not just something to ignore. She speaks backwards and in riddles. That's just the way she is. "Do you not like it?"
     Lost spreads her feet slightly and focuses on the glass doors. "It's useful."
     I lean forward and rest my hands on my knees, waiting for more. But Lost says nothing and continues to stare outside. "What's wrong?" I prod. "You can tell me."
     She flexes her hands slowly. "The little bars, on the rack."
     "What about them?" I doubt this is all about the shoe rack, but you never know.
     "For my captivity those humans kept me in a cage," she explains, finally sitting down.
     There were empty cages at the scene- dirty, bloody things- and I was hoping that Lost being kept in one of them wasn't the case. The place suggested terrible acts, but I didn't want to think on them. I still don't. But obviously Lost needs to process what happened to her if tiny bars on a shoe rack made her remember.
     "Three days," she goes on. "In that cage. Just enough food to keep me alive. The bars burning me."
     I move to the end of the couch to get closer. "Lost..."
     "It's okay." She looks up at me and smiles as if all was right in the world. "I've been through situations like that before. Honestly, I don't know why this one is making me feel funny."
     "You have the right to feel the way you feel." Gently, I change seats to be right beside her. "You went through something traumatic and there isn't a wrong way to cope with it emotionally."
     Lost exhales through her nose, her smile slowly disappearing. "But I'm used to things like that. I get over it."
     My face falls and I want to scold Lost, tell her that 'things like that' aren't normal and shouldn't just be gotten over. But that's plain insensitive and she clearly bothered by it this time. It would be more productive to figure out why she's so effected by this particular incident and help her move through it healthily.
     "Why do you think you haven't gotten over it this time?" I ask.
     She rolls her shoulders and leans back into her seat, spreading her knees and resting her hands on her thighs. "I'm not sure. Maybe that serum stuff has side effects."
     That's highly unlikely. But it's always easier to place blame on an outside force. "What were you thinking about when you had your flashback?"
     "You."
     Oh. Well that's not what I expected. "What about me?"
     "I was thinking..." Her cheek twitches, a nervous almost smile, and she clasps her hands together. "I was thinking how much I missed you, how much I wanted to be around you, how I thought I'd never see you again while I was in that cage."
     On it's own, my hand covers Lost's. "I'm so sorry."
     She turns over her hand to cradle mine. "You hurt immensely while I was gone, and I experienced every moment of it. But I was being crushed under my own emotions already. I pushed them away the best I could so I could think of ways to escape, but apparently I only held them back until now." She lifts my hand to her lips and mumbles, "I don't mean to give you trouble. I'll get over this. It will pass."
     "You don't have to 'get over' this, Lost. Something bad happened to you and you're coping. That's perfectly fine. I'm here for you."
     She shuts her eyes and inhales, her mouth still to my skin. Her lips move to my wrist. She kisses gently. "The garlic bread is burning."
     "Wha- Oh, my God!" I jump up from the couch and hurry to save what's left of the garlic bread. From the corner of my eye I see Lost waving her arms about, getting rid of the burning smell and barely there smoke.
     "Damn," I murmur, hands on hips as I stare at the garlic bread, just charred enough to be deemed unsatisfactory. "So much for that." But at least the pasta is fine. Thankfully I was in the right mind to leave it simmering.
     "I've had worse," Lost says, suddenly standing right behind me, peeking over my shoulder. Still, even knowing she does it, she scares me slightly with her soft gait and speed. I'd tell her to stop doing it but I don't think she could.
     I'm already shaking my head and getting ready to bury the bread in its new, trash can coffin. "We're not eating this."
     "Can we feed the birds?"
     I rotate my head, having to stop as my cheek slaps up against Lost's. "Seriously?"
     She pulls back and lets me turn to face her. "Yes. Why waste perfectly good food? We can lay it out on the deck."
     "Then it will be swarming with birds by morning."
     Lost shrugs. "Birds can be quite useful. In the past they've been used for..."
     I tune out, not because I don't want to listen, but because she'd started to use words I don't understand. All I know is that it would be dumb for me not to allow Lost her precautions. Her ramblings and rituals have been proven to be more than useful already. Whatever my life has turned into, it's fine with me. Even if the events are straight out of a movie.
     "Alright," I say when there's a break in Lost's explanation. "You can put the bread on the deck. I'll ready dinner. We'll eat in a bit."
     She smiles and scoops the bread into her arms before I can tell her to be careful or offer a plate. I turn off the burner and move the pasta to a cool one, then grab two plates and fill them. One for Lost, with enough servings on it for at least three people, and one for me, one serving. I already know Lost will devour her extra servings before I can get halfway through mine.
     As I grab a couple of forks and place them beside our plates, I catch Lost speaking to someone outside. I chance a look outside and find her kneeling, wiggling her fingers at a crow. Her words just carry over the wind and I slow my movements to listen better. She says something in another language, soft and pleading. I fetch two cups and hear her speak a different language, but just as soft and pleading. Then again- language change, same tone. And again. Three more times. Again. I'm certain she's saying the same thing over and over but covering all her bases to make sure every culture hears her.
     Finally, near the end, she speaks English and I get to know what's so important that it must be said to all the Gods who will listen.
     "Watch over her," she says. "Protect her when I cannot. I plead with you to take my fears away."