A/N:I meant to do a longer chapter, but it just ended so perfectly. AND I didn't get enough comments so I justified the shortness. Anyway...ya
Dedication goes to smartgal00 for her dedication to this story! :)
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Lost Ones
CNN News, Excerpt of Interview Script, Dated June 27, 2012
Interviewer: I am here with the same man who tracked a kidnapped group of women all the way to the Mexican border. When forbidden to cross by his commanding officer, he snuck through, insistent on finding his thirteen year old sister, Hannah Downing. This is Michael Downing. Michael, can you tell me a little bit about what happened?
Michael: Hannah, and her best friend, Sophie, had crossed into Canada for a weekend with Sophie’s aunt and uncle, and were on their way back. They never made it home. Sophie’s aunt, Amanda Tills, was taking the two home and stopped to get gas. She turned her back for seconds, but by the time she checked up, Sophie and Hannah were gone.
I: And you were the first to find out, correct?
M: Yes.
I: Why you? Why not one of your parents?
M: They were both out at the time, and both were neglecting their phones. Mrs. Tills had my number as well; as Hannah’s brother, I was the next logical choice.
I: And they went missing on June 14, almost exactly two weeks ago. The two were found on the 20th, yes? Tell me, where were they actually, and what was your reaction to the news of their escapades?
M: (grits teeth) Hannah and Sophie had snuck off with Sophie’s seventeen year old sister to see a “William Edwards” (finger quotations) concert in Columbus, Ohio on the 18th. As for my reaction, well, I was certain that Hannah had been stolen, especially after hearing about the group taken less than a mile from their location. So, obviously, my first feelings were of total relief. Then anger. And yes, I’m still mad at her.
I: I can imagine. What were you doing on the 18th, Mr. Downing?
M: I, and my partner, Marcus, found the group of girls and completed an improvised rescue operation.
I: The one that was supposed to include Hannah.
M: Yes.
I: I’ve heard some rumors of a Jane Doe in the group, as well ....?
M: There were several Jane Doe’s.
I: Yes, but I’m referring to a specific one. It says here that you took a liking to one of them. She goes by Rose, yes? Is it true that Rose is staying in your home?
M: (hesitated)
* * *
I think it began the moment I first saw her, the only one in a group of over thirty, tied up. And by the time she actually began to acknowledge others, I had fallen completely and totally in love with her.
In the beginning, she wasn’t all there. For the first few days, we didn’t know what to call her, or how to deal with her.
I named her Rose because I found her feeling one in the yard the day I took her home, to my mother’s house. Touching the velvet petals seemed to calm her, remind her of something or someone, enough that she seemed to almost smile.
When her mind stopped fluxuating, she didn’t remember. Her memories started on the day after I saved her.
Except for the flashes.
That was how we knew that she wasn’t always blind. Because in her dreams, she could see. In her dreams, she remembered.
~Michael Downing
Brilla perla tra le lacrime
*pearls shine through your tears
The caressing sound of a foreign ballad seems to wrap me up, calming me with a gentle warmth. Somehow, I know the meaning, not as if I’m familiar with the language, but more like I’ve heard it a million times before.
Ma io chiedo te Stella Incantevole
*But I ask you, enchanting star
The voice is so heartbreaking and beautiful in it’s innocent that for a moment, I forget that I can see now.
Brilla rugiada tra le orbite
*Dew shines between and orbits
I’m lost in the moment and the feel, and the sound. I’m smiling and content to just sit here on this bed and revel in the peace.
Torna che mi manchi e mi sembra impossibile
*But I miss you and it seems impossible
My eyes wrench open at this and I remember.
I have to see her face. I turn towards the bed right beside me, the girl I know is right there, whipping around in my haste.
I don’t really think that I’ll be able to see her in time, catch a glimpse before I wake up. Because, by now, I know that this is just a dream. The dream.
But there she is. Finally.
The moment I lay eyes on her, she stops singing.
She’s young, eight or nine at the most. Extremely petite and delicate, with brown waves falling ‘round her face. Her eyes are brown as well, not a flat color, but rather deep and soulful. At my shocked examination, her head tips sideways, and her lips quirk adorably, as if laughing at me. Then her eyebrows pull together in consternation.
“Sarah?”
I sat up in bed with a gasp. It took me a few moments to gather my wits and then I was smiling, scrambling out of bed and running to the room across the hall. I didn’t hesitate; I knew this house by heart.
“Michael! Michael! Michael! I know it! I know it! I saw her and now I know!” my excitement bounced around, ricocheting off the walls. I heard Will’s low groan of reluctance as he struggled to wake up. It must’ve been late, or early, depending on your perspective, but I didn’t care; I was too happy. I jumped on the end of his bed, feeling around; I smiled when I caught his ankle, but he yanked it away, before I could start tickling the underside of his foot.
“Okay, okay, Rose, I’m up. What is it that you know?” he asked, his sigh huge and long-suffering. Will had learnt to express himself with the sounds that he made, instead of with the motions of his face, weeks after my arrival. But his indifference couldn’t touch me right now. Especially with a breakthrough this big.
“My name, Michael! I figured out my name!”
He was up in a heartbeat, awake and alert, I could tell by the mere shifting of the bed.
“What happened?!”
“I was having that dream again. You know, the one with the little girl singing the lullaby? I saw her this time! I actually saw here! I turned around real quick, like I always do, and I thought I’d wake up, like always, but I didn’t! I saw her! And she called me by name!”
“And!!!”
“My name is Sarah, Will. It’s Sarah,” I choked out the words as tears began running down my cheeks.
.
