“Where did I put the God damn keys!”
Did she say keys??
Abbie’s heart fluttered, sending vibrations through her rib cage. She shut her eyes tight, holding her breath—finally, a star in a pitch-black sky. There would be no second chances.
Fiona slapped Abbie’s leg in full force and turned toward the sink. Loud clanging followed as she flung different items around the drain.
“I told Freddy so many times to order a sink strainer! They must’ve fallen down the drain. You see what happens when people don’t listen.”
The clanging stopped, replaced by the Clickety-clack of Fiona’s heels. She was fuming, pacing around the room with no avenue to vent her anger. “Freddy will flip out. We can’t leave you like this. You’re a high-risk patient. He’ll punish me for this.” The pace of her steps increased, frustration building.
Abbie didn’t flinch a muscle. Beads of sweat appeared on her brow despite the chilly temperature in the room. There was no knowing what Fiona would do next, and she had one hell of a temper.
“You let us down, nurse. There’ll be consequences for this. You’re unfit to work in this hospital.”
Abbie knew straight away that the voice belonged to Dr. Falk. It seemed like he appeared out of nowhere.
“Please, Freddy, I’ll tie her up. I’ll make it right. Don’t do this to me.” Fiona sobbed, her voice shaking with vulnerability.
“I’ll fetch the spare keys. Go home now!” Dr. Falk barked at Fiona.
The front door creaked open.
Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack., Clickety-clack.
The door slammed shut with a jarring sound, swallowing the sounds of Fiona’s high heels.
Abbie puffed her cheeks, emitting air through pursed lips, trying to cool the adrenaline firing through her bloodstream. She was glad to see the back of Fiona, not that Dr. Falk was any better. She just knew how to behave around him and maintain a professional relationship. Fiona, in contrast, was a total oddball and a loose cannon. For the first time in a while, Abbie’s thoughts turned toward home. She yearned for just one more moment with her family in Portland. A glimpse of her previous life, that’s all. It would be enough to allow herself to slip away peacefully into the black abyss.
Robert, Jonah, my loves. My life. Mommy is coming home!
Tears welled up in her eyes. There would be a T-junction. If she were indeed a monster, she would end her life at the first opportunity. There is always a glimmer of hope of an afterlife. Nobody knows, right? The dead do not speak. No one has ever come back and lived to tell the tale. Yeah, sure, there were a few loonies who saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but she believed it was most likely their subconscious distorting reality. Nevertheless, she made a conscious decision to cling to the notion that Robert and Jonah were waiting for her in heaven. She was sick, after all, and unable to recall any transgression. In the eternal world, she reasoned, that would be enough for a pardon. And if there was no afterlife, well, she didn’t deserve or want to live either way. What terrified her, though, was the other part of the T-junction—an unknown scenario. She shut that thought out of her mind for now. No point fantasizing atrocities and delving into unanswerable questions. Dr. Falk would be back any minute, and she needed a plan. This was her only chance, and the key to the truth was in her grasp.
CHAPTER 6
Waves of adrenaline washed over her like high tide. The waiting was unbearable. She wasn’t a patient person by nature, but in duress few people are. Her mind triggered memories of the last time she couldn’t bear the wait.
“Honey, let’s make some tea,” Robert said, wrapping his firm arms around her waist.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the kitchen countertop. She flashed a glance at her watch; two minutes had passed. The wait was killing her. She unwrapped his arms and stepped away toward the kitchen window, overlooking the lawn. It was a sunny summer day in Portland. Warm and dry, but with a slight breeze. She gathered her hair in a ponytail, letting the breeze caress her neck. The heat combined with her nerves induced beads of sweat. She took a deep breath to compose herself. How Robert remained so calm was beyond her.
“It’s too hot for tea. I’ll have a glass of water,” she said.
Remain calm. Don’t make this harder than it already is.
It had taken years, and they had been through so much. She wouldn’t allow herself to break down in front of him anymore, not because of this. He had been so supportive, the least she could do was show some resolve and not make it harder for him when the disappointment arrived. Yes, this time she would put on a joyful face no matter the outcome.
Another glance at her watch. Four minutes had passed.
One more minute.
Funny how life can be like that, where everything hangs by a thin thread. How many times do you have to hear “I’m so lucky because of . . .”? It’s fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. She didn’t believe in luck. She felt that tragedy or joy would find you when you least expect it, and there was no escaping that. The problem was that disappointment had knocked on her door for too long. She was worn out and no longer even thought about the other side of the coin.
The exterior of the glass was cold and moist. She brought it to her mouth and took a sip—enough to wet her lips. Her throat locked from the immersive stress.
This is the longest minute of my life.
Again, she took a sip of water, averting her eyes from the countertop.
“Oh my God, baby! You’re pregnant. We did it!” Robert exclaimed.
The glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble floor.
Screech!
An unusual sound cut off her reminiscing. It came from somewhere beyond the door. It sounded like furniture shifting around. She was unsure of how long she had been waiting for Dr. Falk to return, but it seemed like an eternity. The plan was to lay still and wait. She ran through the options in her mind. The best scenario would be to get off the hospital grounds, an escape. She doubted that she would get that far. They designed these places like high-security prisons. However, at least she would get the chance to remove the blindfold and see her surroundings. She hoped that would be enough to yield some answers. One way or another, something was going to happen. Black nothingness had swallowed her for so long that the opportunity of change was overwhelming.
A loud, jolting creak ended the wait, followed by quick rubbery-soled footsteps pattering against the smooth surface, heading in her direction. The steps stopped at the foot of the bed, replaced by the eerie jingle of keys, a sound synonymous with her incarceration.
“You won’t be seeing Fiona again. Any inefficiencies in this hospital are unacceptable. Lay still please,” Dr. Falk said, sounding edgy and irritated.
She lay frozen, holding her breath.
He clamped the iron clasp around her ankle and locked it with a key. He then slipped the keys in his pocket.
Silence.
No footsteps, no breathing. Nothing.
Why isn’t he leaving?
Slight tremors triggered involuntary muscle spasms in her forearms and upper thighs. She was on the verge of a full-blown convulsion, sensing his eyes scanning her body like an x-ray machine.
“Something wrong, Abigail?”
“No, Doctor, I’m fine.”
She did her best to project a positive tone but managed only a desperate croak.
A cold chest piece pressed down between her breasts. She gasped. It was an odd sensation as if the heel of a steel blade rested on her upper torso.
“My apologies if the stethoscope is cold. Please take deep breaths in and out.”
She opened her mouth and sucked in air. It helped suppress the urge to gag. The stethoscope moved around like an octopus’s arm, sensing for signs of vulnerability. It slid along both sides of her rib cage, breastbone, and upper chest. She was keenly aware o
f her rapid heartbeat hammering the chest piece like deep bass on the eardrum.
“You’ve been hiding something from me, Abigail. I know what it is.”
She screamed out in anguish; the pretenses were over. The black abyss suffocated her mind precisely in the same manner as when she first opened her eyes. The glimmer of hope extinguished as quick as the wind blows out a candle, leaving nothing but evaporating smoke.
“Oh, what a fool I’ve been. I tend to place my trust in the wrong people, but no more!” Dr. Falk said, venting his frustration.
There would be repercussions for this, Abbie knew it. Another profound sedation, from which she doubted she would ever emerge. Even if she retained portions of her identity, she didn’t have the strength to go through the learning process again.
How many times can one die and be reborn?
Enough was enough. Disappearing into the black abyss without knowing the truth or the fate of Robert and Jonah, saddened her the most. Their faces flashed through her mind. No, she had to try something—beg, plead until her final lucid breath.
“Please, Doctor. I’m so sorry. I’m begging you. Please try to understand why I . . . ”
“Shh, try to relax, Abigail. I know that you’re afraid.”
A latex-gloved hand stroked her grimy, matted hair. She jolted in terror—it might as well have been a scalpel. One of the key attributes of being stuck in the black abyss was that any physical or emotional sensation was extreme. Whatever you thought you knew or felt, in the darkness, it was ten times stronger.
“I apologize for the disgusting behavior of Fiona. It seems like you haven’t eaten or washed in days. I’m not a danger to you, don’t hide your hunger from me. You should feel comfortable asking me for anything.”
She narrowed her brow in confusion. What kind of game was he playing? He was a predator of the worst kind: a coma doctor, an identity murderer. So far, he hadn’t shown one hint of human decency. He always spoke to her as if he was a doctor, judge, and jury all in one, and she was damned. There was no mercy, only affliction. He was a real vampire, but not a bloodthirsty one. It was her soul that he was after.
“You need to eat. Your weight loss is reaching extreme levels. I’ll bring you some food from the canteen.”
With that, he turned around, his rubber soles pattering against the surface. The door slammed shut with a clang. A bunch of keys jingled, followed by a loud jolt.
What the hell just happened?
She gritted her teeth and ripped at the chains in frustration. He confused her. Did he not know, or was he tormenting her? Instead of food, was he going to come back and punish her? Maybe this was his way of being extra cruel. Raise her anticipation of receiving food and proper treatment, only for it to be stripped away and replaced by a dark, immersive punishment. She feared his retribution much more than Fiona’s abuse. He could alter a person, whereas physical injuries would eventually heal.
Decision time.
A moment ago, she had felt the anguish of an opportunity lost. It wasn’t worth the risk. The doctor was as predictable as the weather in Rapid City, South Dakota. There was no point second-guessing. Better to have your destiny in your hands than face an unpredictable storm.
It’s time to go.
“See you soon, my darlings.”
CHAPTER 7
Abbie wiggled her behind, sliding the keys on the mattress, the process harder than she imagined. Slick sweat covered her skin and it soaked the sheets, creating additional friction for the keys to slide. The doctor could return at any moment. She arched her back and rotated her hips.
At last, some progress.
The keys inched along the soaking cloth toward her right hand. They had chained her hands on either side of the bed, parallel to her buttocks. She bent her wrist inwards, at a ninety-degree angle to her forearm, stretching out her fingers. Her index finger made the first contact. The large and rusty first key didn’t have the traditional brass feeling to it. She imagined it being a worn-out medieval key. Her fingers felt through the rest of the keys, smaller and made of smooth brass. She counted four keys in total. To the touch, her chains most resembled the medieval key. It was the surest bet. She rotated the large key in her fingers toward the clasp on her wrist in a desperate search for the keyhole. From how Fiona had unchained her ankle during the pedicure, the opening should have been on the interior side of her wrist. She envisioned sunset at the lake to ease the panting and steady her shaky hands. The task at hand required no minor precision. The key tapped along the surface of the clasp like a blind man’s walking stick along the pavement.
No opening.
Sweat appeared on her brow. If the keyhole were on the exterior of the clasp, there would be no way her fingers could reach it. She kept probing with the key, grunting from exertion. The clasp slicing into the skin of her wrist, blood trickling onto her forearm.
Click.
She twisted.
Click.
Freedom. She shook off the clasp, flailing her wrist. It fell on the concrete floor with a bone-jarring clang. She went straight for the blindfold, tugging the bound material with all her might. After a while, it gave way. Below it were two cup-shaped plastic parts taped over her eyes. She would need both her hands. Her mind spun into overdrive. The minimum was escaping the black abyss. That would be no minor victory. She stretched her free arm toward her left hand, using the key to once again grope for the opening on the clasp.
Click.
She twisted.
Click.
She removed the clasp from her left arm and drew both palms toward her face, scraping at the tape. They had sealed the cups so tight that it was a painstaking task. The tape covered every inch of exposed skin around her eye socket. As she peeled off the layers one by one, little rays of light streamed into her line of vision. Coming out of such prolonged darkness into the light required adjustment. She didn’t have time for that, tearing off the tape until she could no longer stand the searing pain. She cupped her eyes with her palms, blocking out the streaking rays of light that burned like laser beams through her skull. Her palms moistened. She wasn’t sure whether it was blood or tears of pain pouring from her eyes. The tip of her tongue slivered toward the bottom of her palms.
Salty.
She continued to peel away at the remaining tape, letting the fluorescent light creep in. It took too much time, and she had to move now. Only the upper taping peeled off, the lower taping remained stuck to her cheekbones. The only option was to rip it off. She inhaled deep and bit down on her hospital gown.
One . . . Two . . . Three!
“Ouch.”
The gown muffled her scream. The cups tore off, taking most of her facial skin with them. She threw the plastic on the floor and covered her eyes with her palms. She didn’t dare open them. Even through closed eyelids, the pain was excruciating. The white light burned like matchstick extinguished on her eyeball. She grimaced and heaved, doubt creeping in.
What next?
It was too painful to see, the black abyss replaced by a bloody orange abyss. Even the smallest rays of light would trigger a debilitating sensory overdrive. The adjustment required time and lots of it. She eased her neck muscles, resting her head on the pillow, the leather restraint still tugging at her esophagus. She cried, sobbing into her palms. It was a stupid move to attempt an escape when she was short on time. If the doctor cared about her hunger, he would be back soon. A maximum of thirty minutes, she estimated. In hindsight, it would have been better to take her chances with the doctor. But as the saying goes, in hindsight, everyone is a prophet. It wasn’t her way in life. She left nothing to chance. Do the maximum that you can do and then roll the dice, never before. That was her way. Nevertheless, this was plain stupid. A thick well of tears shrouded the bloody orange abyss, and her breathing transitioned to a rapid form of gagging.
Robert, my love. Jonah, my
baby. Mommy tried. I’m sorry.
She wallowed in self-pity and anguish.
A few minutes passed, her breathing slowed. The doctor was nowhere to be seen. A deep sense of longing replaced the anguish. She had to at least try. She spread her pinkie from her ring finger on both hands, creating two small slits. The bloody orange abyss became a light shade of orange with tinges of yellow. She kept her eyes closed, trying to ease the intense pressure behind her eyeballs. Deep-sea diving had accustomed her ears to that sort of pressure. It hurt, but it was manageable. She counted for sixty seconds—time to open her eyes.
One . . . Two . . . Three.
She flicked her eyes open without hesitation. The white fluorescent light burning her pupils. She squinted but fought the urge to cover her eyes, the pain incomparable to anything she had experienced before. Even childbirth didn’t come close. How long had she been living in the black abyss? It must have been a hell of a long time if the adjustment to light was so torturous. Her vision blurred, tears cascading down her cheeks. Even if the light killed her, those eyelids would stay open.
Another sixty seconds passed. She counted it under her breath. With every passing moment, the pain eased and her vision stabilized. She spread the rest of her fingers about an inch apart.
“Ouch!! Oh, God, no, please!”
The pain ripping through her skull and shooting down her spine. She focused on the count, squinting and gasping throughout. The eyelids stayed open—she had reached an unprecedented level of mental resilience.
Sixty seconds later, and the flickering fluorescent lamp tube was visible. It illuminated a concrete ceiling painted with epoxy-gray paint. As the seconds ticked by, the pain and the blurriness subsided. She felt comfortable enough to remove her palms and analyze the surroundings. The doctor’s warning rang in her ears, a stark reminder of the brutal stakes of her condition.
“You know what happened the last time we let you see? You tried to commit suicide, Abbie.”
She kept her eyes closed, but removed her palms from her face. A white clouded abyss replaced the bloody orange abyss. She reached for her throat and unbuckled the leather constraint, throwing it onto the floor. Her brittle fingers slid along her throat and neck, soothing the many stinging abrasions.
Eye For Her: A gripping must-read thriller Page 4
