I WOKE UP in the basement, curled up on my mattress.
I felt a throbbing pain in my leg. I squinted in the darkness, only to see that it was bent at an odd angle. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that when I opened them, I'd be anywhere else. But when I opened my eyes, I was still in the dark, dank basement room.
I heard the stairs creak outside the room, and a shiver ran down my spine.
He's coming.
I heard a click as the key turned in the lock on the door. Instinctively, a whimper escaped my lips.
You're going to regret that.
The door opened and the hinges creaked loudly. I braced myself for what was to come.
"Rise and shine," sang a light, feminine voice.
My eyes snapped open, and I was staring at the ceiling of my hospital room. I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was just a nightmare. A very real nightmare.
"Morning, Dr. Michaels," I yawned, stretching and sitting up.
"Am I boring you?" she laughed.
"Nah, just a bad night," I respond, evading her question and plastering a fake smile on my face.
She frowned, seeing through my façade. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?"
I sighed. Was I ready to let her in just yet? I'd been in the hospital under her care for three weeks now. I'd grown to like her and I didn't feel the need to cringe when she got too close to me. She was one of few I actually spoke to. And my nurse Carrie, despite our rough start.
But there was nobody I trusted more than Dr. Michaels.
"Well, I had this dream," I began. "Or, well I guess it was more of a memory."
She walked over to the chair by the wall and dragged it over so that it was at my bed side. She sat down, making herself comfortable. "Was this a good memory or a bad memory?"
I pulled my left leg up under me, so that I sat almost cross legged on my bed. I winced for a second when I moved my right leg, which was still encased in plaster. I sighed. "A bad memory. A really bad one."
She nodded. "Okay. So what exactly happened in this memory?"
I reached over to my table and picked up the cup of coffee she must have set there when she came in. I clutched it in my hands. "I was in the basement... At the house in the woods. I was sitting on my bed- this old army cot with lot of holes in it," I paused, taking a breath. "Anyways, I heard Him coming down the stairs. I was so scared... You woke me up just as He was coming through the door."
I looked down at my hands, admiring the faded scars that circled my wrists like bracelets.
He always tied the ropes so tight.
"I'm glad you told me this Scarlett. It's important you not keep these thoughts bottled up." Her hand rested on my arm, drawing my attention away from the scars.
I looked up at her, doe eyed. "You don't think I'm broken?"
She shook her head and offered me a warm smile. "I think you are brave. Thank you for trusting me with this."
She took a sip of her coffee, letting her hand fall from my arm. She leaned back, crossing her legs. "Now, since you've recovered from surgery, the police are sending a sketch artist in to meet with you today."
I sighed dramatically. "I guess no more Jell-O and princess treatment, eh? Back to real life."
She chuckled at that. "Sorry hon, they need this. But, we can still give you Jell-O."
"Thanks, Doc," I smiled.
Her pager beeped, and she looked at it. "Ah, would you look at that. The artist is here." She stood up, returning the chair to its spot. "Ready?"
I bit into my lip. I didn't like being around strangers, I still wasn't ready to trust everybody. "Um... would you mind staying with me? In the room? With the person?" I asked her.
She nodded, without a second of consideration. "I will do whatever makes you comfortable, Scarlett."
I exhaled, grateful. "Thank you, Dr. Michaels. I know it may seem silly but..."
"It's not silly," she cut me off. "Victims of serious traumas like yourself tend to get overwhelmed easily. You don't trust many people because of what's been done to you."
"But I trust you. And Carrie," I pointed out.
She nodded. "Because you've become attached to us. Because we were the first to really help you and comfort you. However, over time I promise you will come to trust people and blend into daily life."
"You promise?" I asked.
"I promise," she told me, sounding genuine. "Now, are you ready to describe your kidnapper to the sketch artist?"
I sighed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and retrieving my crutches. "I'm ready."
She smiled, offering a hand to help me stand up. "I'm glad to hear. Now let's head to the conference room."
I carefully positioned my crutches under my arms and hobbled out of the room after her.
We walked down the halls to a set of office spaces. We arrived in front of conference room S328 and she unlocked the door, holding it open so I could hobble my way inside.
At the far end of the table, a woman stood up. She looked to be in her twenties, with narrow green eyes, surrounded in eyeliner, red lips and long, straight, bright green hair. She wore a zebra print shirt under a tight black vest, a short black skirt and fishnet leggings.
She was not the harsh-looking police officer I had been expecting.
Dr. Michaels extended her hand across the table to the woman. "Hello, I'm Dr. Michaels," she introduced herself.
The woman smiled brightly. "Hey there, I'm Karina," she said, her accent telling me she was from New Jersey.
Dr. Michaels smiled back. "Pleasure to meet you, Karina. This is Scarlett," she said, waving a hand to present me.
I stepped forward, positioning myself behind the doctor's shoulder.
"Hey Scarlett. You ready to sit down with me?" the sketch artist asked.
I took a deep breath. "I guess I am," I stated, unsure of myself.
Dr. Michaels pulled out a chair for me, and motioned for me to sit. "Hey, remember that this is for the best."
I hobbled around her, sitting in the chair. She took my crutches and positioned them against the wall behind me, before taking a seat beside me.
"I know you're scared but you need to do this. I swear, no one is going to hurt you."
I nodded and turned to face Karina, who had taken her seat again. "I'm ready."
She shot me a grin. "Awesome. Let's get started, shall we?"
I bit into my lip and nodded.
"Now, I'm sure you've never done this before. So do you have any questions for me?"
There was plenty of things I'd have liked to ask her. Like, why was her hair green?
Before I can filter my thoughts I blurt out, "Are you a cop?"
The artist giggled. "Heck no! I'm just an artist lending a hand to the greater good." She shrugged. "Besides, I'm fairly certain green hair is against the dress code."
I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips. "Okay. Just wondering. But... Why is your hair green?"
She chuckled again and I saw Dr. Michaels smiling in the corner of my eye.
"Well, I'd love to give you some big speech about individuality. Like, I died my hair as a statement against the expectations of the society and the extreme ideals placed on women of our generation." She shrugged. "Truth is, I got drunk and my best friend convinced me we should dye my hair red. Turns out we bought the wrong color."
I let out a laugh again, this time much louder. "Is she still your friend?"
Karina nodded. "Yup. And she has the blue hair to match."
Then, I remembered why we were here. My face fell. "So, what am I supposed to do?"
She smiled. "Good question. Basically, you're going to describe the man who took you."
My brow furrowed. "But how do I do that?"
"Well, I'm going to ask you questions, about his eyes, nose, hair, et cetera. Cool with you?"
I let out a deep breath and nodded. "I think I can do that."
She grinned and flipped open the sketch pad in front of her. "Let's begin, shall we? Now, I'd like you to describe the first thing you remember about the man's face."
I shuttered. I had an impeccable memory, but He'd usually kept His face shrouded in darkness. Except when He would take me upstairs with Him.
I closed my eyes, remembering the images I'd pushed out of my head. "His eyes," I breathed. I cleared my throat, speaking louder. "He has these thin eyes. Like almonds. And He has this little mark below one eye. Like a scar or a birthmark."
I remembered the way His dark eyes glinted when He looked at me, like an animal, stalking its prey before attacking.
Karina nodded and started sketching. After a moment she looked up at me. "Alright, what about his mouth?"
In my head, I could see Him smirking at me, the way He did when I cried out in pain. A sickly, masochistic grin. "His mouth is wide, and kind of big."
Again, she turned back to her sketch, taking a moment to draw. "Okay, good, how about his face? What shape is it?"
"He has a round face. Like a rounded rectangle." I shuttered.
Karina offered me a sympathetic smile "You're doing real good Scarlett." She turned back to her sketch. "Can you tell me what his nose looks like?"
"His nose is big, with a bit of a lump in it," I let out a sad laugh. "It used to be straight, but I punched Him once, and it healed funny." I remembered how good it had felt, when I'd lashed out at Him and, for once, made contact. Blood had gushed everywhere, splattering my nightgown. He'd backhanded me almost immediately, and I'd hit my head off the wall behind me. He didn't come back down for three days.
Karina's voice broke me from my memory. "Okay, Scarlett, I just need you to describe his hair for me, and then we're done."
And then I can lock these memories back up, and throw away the key.
"He has dark hair. Black I think." Everything about him was dark about him. I found it rather fitting. I continued, "He likes to spike it with gel. It smells bad."
Karina nodded and silently went back to sketching.
After a moment, she turned back to me, her face sad. "Alright Scarlett, I think we have a face."
I just stared at her.
"Now, I'm going to show you what I've drawn. Your only job is to tell me if it looks like him, okay?" Her voice was soft, reassuring.
"Okay," I squeaked. I wasn't sure if I was ready.
Karina nodded. "I'm going to show you now," she warned.
She turned her sketchbook around, revealing a face.
I paused for a moment, not breathing. I stared at the face of the man who stole my life away from me a decade ago. I felt the hot tears spring to my eyes, and I had to look away. A sob caught in my throat, and I felt Dr. Michaels' reassuring hand rubbing circles on my back.
Karina quickly turned her book around and closed it, hiding his face in the pages. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. You don't have to say anything more."
I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. "I do have one more question."
She nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best."
I bit into my lower lip before taking a deep breath. "Are the police any closer to finding out who I am?"
Karina's face fell. She looked at me, sadness clouding her eyes. "I'm sorry, Scarlett... Unfortunately, when you were taken, Missing Persons wasn't as advanced as it is now. We've tried DNA analysis, but it appears your parents didn't give a sample."
I felt the hot tears in my eyes again. My chest tightened and I felt a wave of nausea coming over me. My hand went to my mouth.
But she continued. "We don't know exactly where you were taken from, so we have to search nationally. I've given the detectives a sketch of what I speculate you looked like then, based on evidence photographs. They're running it, as well as a computer simulation, against facial recognition."
They're never going to find out who you are.
Karina reached forward, putting her hand over my hand I had clenched on the table. I let her, too distracted by the feelings assaulting me to pay attention. "We will find your family, Scarlett."
Tears spilled down my cheeks. "Unless nobody misses me. I mean, you're only in Missing Persons if someone misses you, right?" A sob escaped my throat.
Karina squeezed my hand. "Hey now, don't talk like that. Someone misses you. You are someone's baby girl. I promise."
I wiped a hand across my face, as if I could wipe away my feelings. And it worked.
Her words echoed in my head and I felt the pain and sadness fall away, leaving nothing behind.
And then I was just numb.
Hey guys,
And there is Chapter Two. Let me know what you think? I'll try and have Chapter Three up by tomorrow!
Thanks for reading!