Lights. I've always loved lights. They've always kept the dark at bay; they've always meant that he wasn't going to touch me, for he always kept the lights off. They've always been my security; they meant I was safe. Now, I don't know what they mean. I don't know what anything means. I don't know why I'm in a white room that smells vaguely of the disinfectant he gives me to clean his home with, not why I'm dressed in a powdery blue…shirt?
Slowly, I try to sit up, my stomach clenching as my arm screams in protest. My doe brown eyes lock on…a tube, jutting out of my skin, surrounded by a blotch of pale blue, mixing with the darkest of blacks. To my own horror, I let my eyes follow the tube to a bag held up by some type of machine.
My heart drops into the newly forming black hole I call my stomach as my eyes widen.
Maybe I should have gone back to him.
"This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening." I chant to myself, closing my eyes tightly. And that's when I hear it. A steadily increasing beeping. No, no, no…this isn't happening to me. This can't be happening.
Frantically, my eyes open as I tug my arm free, scarlet droplets dripping endlessly, staining the never-ending whiteness. I scramble away from the tube, falling out of the small cot-like bed I'd been laying in, the chill from the cold tile floor seeping into my bare skin. And I hear voices, hurried voices getting closer and closer, a long gut-wrenching sound filling the room. I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut as clanking footsteps come closer and closer.
It hurts too much to breath.
I hear the door slid open and the footsteps stop. I know they're looking at me, whoever they are. I just don't know what they want.
"Head on back; I'll take care of him." A voice whispers, unmistakably male.
"You sure?" Someone else whispers just as quietly. And I know the man must have nodded, because the next thing I hear is the sound of retreating footsteps and the closing of a door.
I'm alone.
Alone in a strange place…
I can't breath.
I feel my chest begin to raise much too rapidly, my lungs struggling for just one breath. I shouldn't have asked to go outside; I shouldn't have run away. At least I knew what he wanted. At least I knew where I was. I don't even have that little scrap of security anymore. It's gone, just like any chance of me going back to him.
"Taylor, I need you to calm down for me, okay? Do you think you can do that?" I shake my head so quickly that I feel my bones begin to crack under the pressure. No, I will not give in to such a voice, no matter how soothing it may be. It's just a lie; he'll hurt me. "Taylor…" he comes closer, his footsteps echoing on the floor…and I have to get away.
I have to get away from him.
I scramble backwards until my spine cracks against one of the room's walls. He's coming closer and there's nothing I can do. I can't get away. He'll get me. He'll get me. He'll get me! I feel calloused hands grab my upper arms and all I can think is that I don't want to get hurt again; that I don't want him to hurt me like he did.
I panic.
I kick at anything I can reach, blindly scratching and biting when his hand comes too close, but still, he doesn't stop. He grabs my arms- firmly, gently- and puts my back to his chest, making me hug myself as my struggling stops, my lungs still fighting for air. I don't even have the energy to pull away from him once he loosens his grip.
"Taylor…" my back tenses as his breaths against my halt. He could do anything he wanted to me and I would be completely powerless in stopping him, "are you calm?" he asks, and, like the obedient boy I've been trained to be, I nod. "Okay. Now, will you open your eyes for me?" Hesitantly, I do as he asks, allowing my eyes to open and be assaulted with the never-ending whiteness once more. Self-consciously, I bring my knees as close to my chin as I can with the man holding on to me, noticing once again that my legs are completely and utterly bare and that he can see me. "Good. Will you talk to me, Taylor?" I don't do anything; I simply stare unmovingly at the wall. He sighs, a gust of wind passing by my ear.
"Upsy-Daisy, then." Slowly, he stands, pulling me along with him, my feet grazing the cool tile. "You can walk, right?" I nod as he begins to steer me in the direction of the small bed, his arms never once allowing me to put down my own. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he swiftly grabs me under my arms and swings me onto the bed, finally allowing me to see him.
He smiles cockily as my eyes sweep over his face. He can't be very old, the lack of lines and wrinkles on his face attesting to that fact. His eyes are a light green, contrasting with hair an even darker brown than my own. He doesn't look like he's going to hurt me.
"Will you talk to me now?" he asks. Still I say nothing, watching as he unplugs a machine, making the horrendous beeping stop. "Come on, you have to have some questions, right?" With little hesitation, I nod, noting how his eyes seem to shine kindly at me. "Well, what are they? I've got all day." He pulls up a seat- white, like everything else- and sits, leaning his elbow on the bed's side.
"W-where am I-I?" I stutter, crawling as far away from him as possible and covering myself with a scratchy, white sheet. He smiles.
"You're in the Children's Intensive Care Unit of Middleton's Hospital." My brows furrow. Hospital…have I ever been inside of a hospital? "I'm one of the nurses assigned to take care of you while you're getting better."
"G-get-ting bet-ter?" What's wrong with me? Why do I need to be better?
"Yeah. You're malnourished, dehydrated, and, at the moment, you're bleeding. Do you mind letting me take care of that?" I pull my arm close to my chest, putting my hand over the bloody skin. He sighs. "I'll take that as a no. How about this: if I answer all of your questions, you let me put a bandage on that and clean you up? Sound like a deal?" I nod, watching him, waiting for the catch. It doesn't come. "Okay, then, shoot."
I bite into my bottom lip, letting ionic blood run down my throat. Maybe…maybe he isn't lying to me. "W-where are my c-clothes? H-how did I-I het he-re? W-what is t-that?" I point to the machine with its offending tube. He shakes his head good-naturedly.
"Your clothes were given to the detectives assigned to your case- kidnapping, if you're wondering. Now, you're wearing county issued hospital attire. You were brought here by an ambulance after some college kids from a few towns over found you in the middle of the road. And, that is an I.V., which you should still be hooked up to- basically, it gives that skinny little body of yours some much-needed water." My brain spins as I try to make sense of everything he told me, with that smile still on his young face. All I can remember is being forced into the ambulance…
"K-kidnap-ped?" I whisper, mostly to myself, my brain nothing but a puddle of confusion. No, that can't be true. I would remember….wouldn't I?
"Yeah…your family will be here tomorrow, along with a couple of detectives…didn't you know?" I shake my head, trying to hold back the puddles threatening to spill from my eyes. I don't want to cry. "Oh god." I feel the bed sag to one side as he sits on its side, pulling me so my head is buried in his chest, and no matter how much I don't want to cry, I can't stop the onslaught of tears from consuming me.
And, I can't' help but wonder which is worse: him or this confusion.
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"My partner and I have a few questions for you, and we need for you to answer them as honestly as possible; that's very important. Do you understand?" I nod, hiding my eyes behind my scraggly hair. "Good. Now, Taylor, would you like to hold one of our badges?" I shake my head, not at all fooled by their fake concern. Their faces are covered in hard lines, eyes as dark as night. I don't trust them at all.
I reach my hand out and grab the teddy bear the nurse brought me from the edge of the bed, pulling it to my chest. I don't need their silly badges; I am not a child.
"Okay then, can you tell us anything about the night you were kidnapped?" I shake my head again, moving the teddy bear's arms so that it waves at me. The detective's eyes harden like ice. "Do you know where he kept you?"
"In a h-house." I mumble, slender fingers causing the bear to dance, hugging itself tightly, like it can't let go.
"Can you elaborate on that? Make it clearer?" the detective asks, his voice sickly sweet. Strangely wrong.
"T-the h-house was on a h-hill." I shrug, watching the detective try to calm himself down with a few deep breaths. Part of me is terrified of this man. It wants to tell him everything with no complaint. The other part doesn't want him to know anything. It wants to keep him in the dark. Yet, all parts of me agree: I don't trust him; I shouldn't trust him. Nor his partner, for that matter.
"Are you sure that's all you can tell us?" his partner asks. "You must know more; you were there for such a long time." I curl into myself, making the bear walk across my knees.
"I-it was d-dark most-t of the t-time." They nod, obviously annoyed that I can't tell them more. And it's funny, because I can't seem to make myself care.
"All right. So, tell us about the person who took you. Can you tell us his name, what he looks like?" My back stiffens, the bear falling limply into my lap. Him. They want to know about him.
"I-I don't k-know his na-me." My knuckles clench and unclench around the hospital's sheet, my heart rate spiking in just the slightest way. The officers signal for me to continue. And…I don't want to. "H-he's large. H-his hair is d-dark. H-his eyes t-too." The head officer nods, smiling crookedly.
"Good, good. Can you tell us what he did to you?" I breath shallowly, my toes curling. I don't want to tell them. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to remember.
I shake my head, brown locks slapping my ears, my cheeks. The detectives smile kindly, leaning in closer to me. Too close. Their smiles are fake; they just want information. "Now, Taylor, this part is really important, okay? We need you to tell us just what he did to you."
No, no, no. They can't know. No one can know. No one can ever know.
My heart rate spikes, the monitor going out of control, the steadily increasing beeps echoing in my ears. I don't want to tell them. I can't tell them. They can never know….
They can never know what he did to me.
"Come out, come out where ever you are…" I cringe, pulling my knees close to my chin, careful to keep from knocking any wood and alerting him to where I am. I hold my breath as he passes over me, his bare feet slapping the wooden floor.
I screwed up again.
The red toothbrush…I was supposed to use the red one, but I grabbed the blue one. I knew it was wrong; I knew I should have used the red one. I knew it. Why didn't I exchange them when I still had the chance? I knew he would notice; he always does.
Suddenly, the cabinet door swings open and all I can see is that evil, crooked smirk spread so longingly across his face. "Knock, knock, knock." A meaty hand clutches my ankle and pulls me out of the safety of the cabinet. He pulls me up by the wrist and drags me through the house, knocking me into things, bruises rapidly forming.
"I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to! Please, please, please!" I beg, nearly gagging as I'm thrown to the floor.
"Now, now, now…we both know what happens to naughty little boys."
I can't breath.
My chest heaves, the monitor getting louder and louder. All I can see is the detectives coming closer, and they can't know. They can't know what he did.
"You look cute like this." he breaths in my ear, touching my lacy-covered hip, causing shivers to race up my spine. "I'll be right back." he whispers before disappearing into another room, leaving me to stand in front of the mirror, with nothing to do but watch myself.
He made me dress up again. He put me in a button-up shirt that reaches just past my knees and red, lacy women's underwear. My cheeks turn pink as my knees knock together, my porcelain skin illuminated.
And, suddenly, he's behind me, smiling into my shoulder. "Are you ready?"
Nurses pull the detectives outside as others push me down on the bed, trying to calm me down, to make me better. But they can't. They can't make it better. They can't make me better. They just can't.
Because they can't erase the past; they can't make me forget.
I clamp my mouth shut, trying to keep from screaming, because I'm not really here. I'm in my happy place where nothing can hurt me, where he doesn't even exist. I'm not bent over the counter, in trouble again, my bare skin high in the air. My hands aren't tied together; my legs aren't spread to the point of breaking.
No.
I'm in a cocoon of lullabies, safe, away from him. I'm in a place where he can't come near me. I'm in a place where I can't feel the pain. I'm in a place where he can't make me feel as though I'm being ripped in half.
I'm as far away from reality as physically possible. .
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"We feel that it would be best for him to have no visitors for the time being."
"But, my baby. Please, just for a minute. We've come all this way and- please, just let me see him."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's doctor's orders."
"Please, I'm begging you."
"I'm sorry, but I simply cannot allow it. I know this is hard-"
"You know nothing of hard."
"-but I can't let you in."
"Have you no heart? I'm his mother."
"Do you want him to have another panic attack?"
"…please?"
"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry, but, if you don't step away from the door, I will be forced to call security."
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I sigh, slowly, exhaustedly, running my fingertips along my teddy bear's tan fur. One of his beady eyes seems to squint, watching me. I can't keep myself from smiling in just the slightest way. I've never had a teddy bear. At least…not that I can remember.
Tensing slightly, I watch as the door slides open, the nurse walking in, that ever-present smile on his face, a tray of food in hand. "So, tell me, are you excited yet?" I shake my head, burrowing under the scratchy white sheet, my teddy bear at my side. His smile drops. "And why not? They're your family."
I stare blankly at the never-ending whiteness. I know they're supposed to be my family, that I'm supposed to be excited, that I'm supposed to love them, that they're supposed to love me. I know all that' I do. It's just…
I've never had a family.
He sighs, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the sitting position- gently, always gently- before pulling a little table so it sits just above my lap and setting the tray on top of it. "Listen, Taylor, I know you might not really understand what happened to you or why or anything like that, but you need to understand something: these people have been looking for you for seven years. They've missed you."
I stare, because I don't know what to say, or if I can say anything. I don't know what it's like to miss someone, to look for someone, to hope that they'll come home. I don't know because I don't remember; I can't remember.
"Just think about that for me, okay, Taylor? Your family will be here in a couple of hours…just try to understand, for them at least." He rustles my hair before leaving, and I'm alone with my teddy bear, nothing to see but a tray of food I won't eat.
And, I have to wonder: how can I understand these people when we're already so far away from one another?
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