My eyes flickered about the darkness around me, trying to make out anything through the thick shadow. I can't see. It's cold and empty. It feels like so many things are missing and I've no chance of finding them again.
A voice calls out, one familiar that sends both an aching sadness and fluttering joy through my body. The hairs on my arms stand on end as a ripple of electric emotion rushes over my skin like a brisk wind, sending a shiver dancing over my body. The voice was loud and confident, the smile on her face forming her words into ones of happiness and affection. She called to me, using the nickname she gave me so many years ago.
My head snaps on a swivel to look behind, expecting to see her standing there. My eyes expected to see warm skin paired with gentle blonde hair, unruly and beautiful in it's chaos. She wasn't there. Nothing but the same creeping darkness surrounded me. I was alone. I've been alone a lot lately, it seems.
Her voice called for me again, and again I searched. Time after time her sweet song rang through the still and stagnant shadows around me, trying to reach out. But I couldn't see her, couldn't feel her. I called her name, but her voice didn't respond. I called out louder, screaming at the top of my lungs. I want her to hear me.
I'm right here! Just let my voice reach her one time. Just one time and I know she'd find me. I won't be alone anymore, please please just see me! Adiyiah, I'm right here!!
A massive crack of thunder cut my voice short. I look towards the sky, expecting to see rolling clouds and flashes of light cracking above me. I could hear it, but all my eyes could see was the same darkness. The same, unmoving, unchanging emptiness. Frustration overtook my sensibility and I shouted louder and louder, demanding something change.
Suddenly, a horrible chill rushed through me. A rolling wave of tremors crawled up my back like a stampede fleeing the storm. The shrill sound of metal over concrete stole my voice away from me. My breath vanished and everything froze. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the agonizing cry it made. I stood in silence, building up the courage to look at it when suddenly a burning pain lit up my chest. My eyes snapped down to the impact point. The consuming darkness was interrupted by a vibrant red.
My chest trembled, the piercing hot iron wasn't visible to the eyes, but my body knew all too well that it was there. I took in a deep breath, the scream building and building in my throat as everything that followed began to build. I opened my mouth to scream-
I jolt up, my back slick with sweat. My hand flies up to clutch at my chest as I wheeze and cough, unable to catch the air I need. This awful sharp pain shoots through my torso as a result of my quick movements and I yelp like a wounded animal. I grit my teeth, trying to fight through the pain. I throw the blanket off of myself and instinctively reach towards the chair for my black bag, only to find that I'm no longer in the room I've come to know. I frantically jump out of the bed only to double over with a sharp pain stabbing my abdomen. I fall to my knees, clutching the horrible burning pain throughout my entire torso. I let out a cry, nearly wailing at the stabs of agony I have no way to soothe. I grip my stomach, hands frantically clutching for anything to lessen the ache. I pant hard, trying to bring in as much air as I could, despite knowing it wouldn't happen.
My eyes darted in a furious search around the room, desperate to find something that would help. Whether it be something for the pain, or something for my breathing, I didn't care. As long as I didn't have to deal with both of these at the same time I'd be fine.
A glimpse of something familiar pulls my focus to a little nightstand a few inches away from me. There it is, propped against one of the well lacquered legs was my bag. I snatch it up in one motion and immediately throw out anything that isn't vaguely inhaler shaped. Little objects scatter around me like leaves in the fall as I toss them aside.
Once I have my medicine in hand I quickly shake it and put it to my lips. I take in a deep huff, like a smoker taking in a long drag of a cigarette. The splintering cuts sting the more I expand my chest, but I ignore it. I needed to breathe and this was the only way to be sure that happened. I feel my lungs loosen the second my medicine is administered, and I let out a deep sigh of relief once the ability to breathe slowly begins to return to me.
I haven't woken up to an asthma attack since I was a child. God, I forgot how scary that was.
The pain shooting throughout my torso still leaves me wincing and doubled over, but at least I can actually focus on it instead of being torn between the two. I take a moment of reprieve to compose myself and observe the surrounding environment as I do so. This place is well kept compared to the barren walls of my previous cage.
There's bookshelves filled with novels and knickknacks. A dresser and other furniture pieces anchor themselves throughout the room. Clothes are hung up inside a closet on plastic hangers, a large ornate area rug covers the polished hardwood floors. Plants hang in the window soaking up sunlight, and there's even a TV in the corner atop an entertainment center. It's nice and all, maybe even homely, but a faint sense of unease at being somewhere unfamiliar still tugs at the back of my mind. This is definitely a place someone's been living in. But whose is it? And how did they find me? Last time I checked I was somewhere deep in the woods, not a studio apartment.
I slowly try to stand myself back up. I have to brace against the nightstand for stability as my legs are Jell-O beneath me. As I struggle to get to my feet, my eyes catch sight of a yellow sheet of paper that stands out against the dark red wood of the nightstand I'm holding myself up with. On it were the words: 'Take two of these when you wake up.' along with an orange bottle of pills and a glass full of water.
Now, normally I wouldn't be so quick about taking random pills found next to a cryptic note. But, I'm convinced the moment I realized this was in EJ's handwriting. That means it's got to be trustworthy to some extent, right? This pain is damn near impossible to handle anyway.
And honestly, after what I've been through, popping a few pills is the least of my concerns.
I scoop the bottle up, unscrew the cap, shake out two of the oblong white pills and shove 'em into my mouth. As soon as they touch my tongue all the moisture is sucked away and I find myself clawing for the glass of water. I threw the entire thing back before I could even take a breath. When I went to set the glass back on the nightstand something about my clothing caught my attention. And by that I mean they weren't the same clothes I was wearing before. My last outfit was probably more holes than cloth, but these look brand new. Not to mention I was wearing a T-shirt and jean shorts before, but now I rock a gray long sleeve shirt, black pajama pants, and thick fuzzy socks instead of sneakers. It seems that whoever dressed me really took comfort as their main approach.
It was kind of endearing that this outfit was so soft and warm, but also kinda concerning because now this means someone changed my clothes while I was unconscious. I went to lift up the bottom of my shirt to better inspect my new attire only to catch a glimpse of gauze underneath it. I furrow my brow and scrunch the shirt up under my chin. My stomach and torso are fully covered with gauze. I roll up the sleeves to see my arms similarly wrapped, along with a sprinkling of skin colored bandages scattered about where the thinner cuts were.
I straight up look like a mummy, dude.
I go to touch the wrapping but my hand freezes before I can make contact. Blood pools underneath the white gauze, turning what was once pure white bandages into a faded maroon color where the bleeding was the thickest. It looks like it's been sitting there collecting blood for a little while. At least it's not bleeding as feverishly as it was before.
Suddenly, I remember a massive shard of broken glass jutting out of me like a crude handle. My fingers begin to tremble at the memory and my hands slowly move away from my stomach, dread replacing my curiosity.
Maybe going around poking at this isn't the best idea.
I drop the fabric from under my chin and look down at my limbs, the realization that I'm not chained to anything anymore finally hitting me. No chain, no cloth around my arm, no restraints of any kind. Nothing. It's strange seeing my leg without the chain now that I've spent so long with it on, especially since there was still the cuff around my ankle and a few heavy links hanging off me the last time I was awake.
A soft knocking comes from the door that nearly makes me jump right out of my skin. I stare at the light colored wood and wait for another sound. My hands gravitate to my chest, trying to keep my heart inside my body rather than exploding out of it. I'm frozen in place as the door slowly pushes inward. My mind frantically thinks of ways to defend myself. I blink and suddenly there's a lamp in my hands. Fingers tighten around the copper base as I prepare to swing at whatever it is behind that door. I bite down on my lip to keep whimpers from escaping. I'm not going to have a repeat of last time. I'm going to stay quiet, and I'm going to survive.
But my plans of self defense are put to rest when dark blue enters my vision.
EJ stands there, one hand on the door knob and the other cradling a notebook with a bowl sitting on top. A familiar position for him to be in, it seems.
I take in a heavy breath of relief, my body damn near collapsing beneath me. The lamp slips out of my hands and falls softly to the floor. I run for him, having to stop and catch myself before I buckle to my knees at the start. I hold my arms out to embrace him, and it isn't until halfway through the motion that I catch myself. Upon realizing I was rushing over to him a little aggressively, and switched from a sprint to an -admittedly awkward- walk.
Once I reach him I stand and wait for his reaction. He quickly fumbles with the bowl of food and notebook before deciding to just hand the dish over to me so that he could focus on the paper in hand. I shovel a spoonful of warm soup into my mouth as I wait. He scribbles something down fast and whips it around to show me his message.
'You're finally awake! How do you feel?'
With a mouthful of baked potato soup, I struggle between wanting to give an answer and wanting to swallow first. I swallow the not-fully-chewed potato chunks and feel a sharp pain in both my throat and the base of my neck. A hand slaps up to the sore spot, trying to alleviate some pain by rubbing it. I groan a little and give a quick nod and forced smile.
"Other than literally everything being in pain? I'm good." I say frankly before spooning another bite into my mouth.
'Did you take those pills? They're painkillers and should make it easier. When they start working you'll even be able to clean your stitches without much fuss.'
I freeze, staring at the page for an uncomfortably long time. I read and reread time and time again. It wasn't until the fifth pass over that the words finally clicked and the meaning came to me.
"...Stitches?" I ask, a little concerned that I had gotten sewn up without even knowing first. I guess that's what the gauze was for. I didn't think the cuts were that severe, but then again I did pass out so who am I to say? I ain't a doctor.
His shoulders tensed. He nodded slowly, almost looking apologetic as he flipped the page over and wrote more for me to read.
'You were hurt badly. The duct tape bought some time, but you would've still bled out if I didn't do more to close the wound. Not to mention the infection you could've gotten if I had left that dirty tape on you without doing anything to clean the wounds. Sorry, I didn't have time to ask permission first.'
I blinked a few times, my head still reeling from it all. A heavy pounding started in my ears, which was quickly joined by a faint dizzy spell creeping in. A hand danced up to my forehead, a frown overtaking my features as I felt the grimy, oily state of my hair. I was still so dirty and gross. I guess he cleaned my wounds but wanted me to do the rest when I woke up again. A soft tapping from EJ made me lift my head to look at him. He was tapping his fingers over the book again, trying to get my attention.
'Would you like a hot shower?'
"PLEASE!" I shout, a little louder than I was expecting. A hand flies up to my lips and I let out a soft cough to reset myself before trying again; "I'd love a hot shower. It's been so long since I had one. Please, tell me where the bathroom is." I clarify, my voice at a manageable level now.
EJ lowered the book with a nod and gestured for me to follow. I glanced down at the bowl, shovel a few massive spoonful's into my mouth, set the dish on the nightstand and scurry to follow behind him. Funnily enough, we didn't even need to leave the room to reach our destination. Right next to the closet was what looked like a master bathroom, and let me tell you it was big. A large bathtub sat in the center of the room that looked like it was carved out of marble or polished stone. Off to the side was a standing shower with a glass door rather than a curtain. I peered inside and saw a little shelf where I could sit if I needed to, which I was very thankful to have. As I stood there admiring the fluffy looking towels and spotlessly clean bathroom -which felt like the height of luxury compared to the dingy and dirty building I've been in this whole time- I kinda realized I had more questions than answers. Where are we? Whose house is this? Are we near other people or are we still out in the boonies? How did EJ get me here? How long have I been asleep? What happened to that thing that attacked me, and what was it in the first place?
I felt a soft tapping on my shoulder that made me snap my head to the side. A dull pain shot up the back of my neck and I immediately regretted moving that fast. Eyeless Jack handed me a piece of paper absolutely covered in his hand writing, it looked like it was torn directly from that notebook of his. I took it from him and inspected it closer. I guess these are care instructions for my stitches.
As I was studying the page I heard a soft tapping noise, when I looked up there was another message written in the notebook, but this time the page stayed inside.
'A lot has happened since you last saw me, so I'll answer your questions when you're done. Find me in the living room whenever you're ready.' After giving me enough time to read the message EJ quickly left me alone. That note felt kinda ominous but I guess I'll cross that bridge when the time comes. For now I won't let my worry keep me from finally enjoying a nice hot shower.
I began stripping the clothes off of me but found myself hesitating once my shirt was off and the bandages were visible again. My fingers linger over the gauze as I think back to that night. With a deep breath to steel myself I slowly loosened and removed the gauze, letting the old bandages fall to the floor. EJ said he was the one who sutured me up, so I guess I'm a little surprised by how professional it looks. I was expecting something super crude and gruesome looking, but this looks clean, almost clinical. I can't decide if it's worrisome or relieving that he knows how to do this so well.
Instead of letting my mind wander with the implications, I push it to the back of my mind, deciding that's an issue for another time. Preferably after I get a shower for once.
My eyes hover over the care instructions one more time before I step inside the shower.
'You have stitches, and a lot of them. It's been about three days since I put the sutures in, so it's safe to wash over the area, but be careful since your skin is still tender. It's also not a good idea to soak in a bath, so just take showers for now. You can use soap but don't scrub hard, and pat the stitches dry with a clean towel as soon as you're out. You don't need to wrap them in gauze anymore, but putting Vaseline and a nonstick bandage wouldn't hurt. Or you could just get dressed as normal, you'd be fine either way. The highest risk of infection is in the first day or two and you're already past that. Just be gentle.'
I've never had stitches before, so I guess I was nervous about having to take care of so many. But from what the note says, the hardest part is already over. A sigh of relief escapes me. I finish getting undressed, turn on the water, and step inside.
The second the hot water touches my skin I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me.
My muscles turn from stone to butter as the water rushes over my body. The steam loosened my chest and made it about 10x easier to breathe. There was still a small amount of stinging from the smaller cuts that didn't need suturing, but I easily brushed the pain away. The relief far outweighs the miniscule discomfort I might've been feeling. I closed my eyes, letting the near boiling water and heat consume me. I stayed there for what felt like forever, just existing in something familiar for a while.
The heat and the water made me feel like I was somewhere else, like I was home. I thought back to everything I've been through as I massaged a glob of shampoo into my hair, scrubbing hard to wash all of the dirt and grime out of my hair. I closed my eyes and remembered all the times I took this for granted. The sweet smell of the honey shampoo sent a fuzzy warmth into my chest. Once I scrubbed my hair a few times, needing more than two lathers of shampoo until I finally felt clean again, I massaged some conditioner in there and just let the water run over me.
After about ten minutes, though, my legs started getting tired. So, I sat down on the floor of the shower, tucked my knees to my chest, and just breathed. I slowly turned the temperature up as high as I could go, making sure I didn't hurt myself. Sometimes you just have to let the heat seep into your skin for a while, and this was one of those days.
I sat there for a pretty long time, just breathing in the steam and letting my mind wander through all the events that led me to this.
Eventually, I decided I was done. By the time I stepped out of the shower I was feeling much better.
Following the instructions from EJ, I wiped away the bulk of the water before patting dry the many, many stitches and cuts sprinkled about my body like morbid freckles. With a towel still wrapped around me I poked my head from out of the bathroom, the brisk air hitting me hard as all the steam tried to escape. I felt so cold now that I didn't have like 50 layers of grime and sweat keeping the elements off. I took in a deep breath, letting the sudden change of temperature sting at my lungs and brush over my skin. I stepped further into the room, absentmindedly wiping away the water droplets from off my hair as I scoured through the closet. There was so much here. The majority of it was black hoodies and jeans very similar to the ones EJ is always wearing. Suddenly a thought hit me; is this his room? Is this where he stays? Is this where he sleeps? Does he sleep?
There's so much about him that I still don't know.
He did say he'd answer all of my questions, so I guess now's the time to ask. I push aside some of the clothes until I catch the softest, warmest things I could find. I end up bundled in a massive red hoodie, black long sleeve under shirt, thick flannel pajama pants, and more of those fluffy socks. Once I finally got a brush through my hair, just about tearing a mountain of knots out as I went, I decided I was ready. I slink up to the door and put my hand on the cold brass doorknob, memories of the building flash to mind at the feeling. I take in a deep breath and push the door open.
I scan the room feeling a bit uneasy. It was similar to the bedroom and bathroom from what I could see, modern and well taken care of. Someone had been living here, and they were living a comfortable life it seems. The whole place was decorated and luxurious. I bet if I open that fridge it'd be fully stocked. I let my eyes continue scanning the rest of the apartment, stopping when I feel an odd flutter once a familiar deep blue makes it's way into my eyesight.
Oh, there you are!
He sat on the couch, as if he were waiting to be prompted by something. The second my eyes land on him his head shot up to face me, that blue mask still hiding so much. He jumped to his feet at seeing me, which in turn made me jolt in place. There was a beat or two of silence where both of us were waiting for the other to begin.
Suddenly, after a bit of awkward tension and silence, EJ lifted his hand and gave a soft little wave hello.
I hesitantly waved back, suddenly feeling nervous at the odd intimacy I now realize is present. I suddenly don't feel like a prisoner or a captive anymore, so honestly it's weird being treated like an equal by someone who up until this point always had something over me. I mean, yes it's nice that I'm not a hostage anymore but like- I've never had to deal with mixed feelings about a kidnapper before so all of this is new territory okay-.
He stood there, shifting a little uncomfortably, fumbling with his hands before realizing he had a notebook he could reach for.
"You...You can sit down if you want, y'know." I called out, watching EJ awkwardly stand there, now holding his notebook but not knowing what to do or write only made my anxiety worse. I guess he's feeling the same way I am.
We're in it together now, huh EJ?
His mask turned to look back at me before giving a soft nod at my words. He shuffled over and planted himself back onto the couch. He held up the notebook I've come to expect so much, and turned it 'round to show me the paper, already written out with a message. He sat there as if nothing was wrong at all, but something about the way his shoulders tightened told something else was on his mind. Maybe even something more than just the obvious tension in the air.
'You ready to talk?'
I nodded softly. I strolled over to the sofa he's sitting on and sat beside him on the opposite side. He scooches a little farther away from me as if he's trying to keep his distance. That's a little concerning. I know he's secretive and kind of uptight, but I didn't expect him to be this nervous just by having me sit beside him.
I shake my head a bit, dispelling the thoughts. I grab the blanket from off the back of the sofa and pull it over me, bundling myself up in the cozy warmth as I prepare myself for whatever is to come of this little sit-down.
Let's get this shit show on the road, I guess.