by Marie Wathen
Trying to be strong, I step through the room toward the oversized master bathroom and push open the door with my toe. The creaking sound of course is an obnoxious groan and I hold my breath while praying that no one else heard it. Flipping on the overhead light, I scan the room and twist around quickly. Every damn scary movie that I have ever watched always starts out with the girl searching out the killer and forgetting about her backside. I’ll be damn if some fucker is sneaking up on me. A bullet in the brain cavity will have them regretting that mistake.
Thank you Marcus for teaching me how to shoot, I smile inwardly.
Crouching forward with my head and the gun tilted slightly, I retrace my path and enter into the hallway again. I pause to listen for any out of the ordinary noise, but my nervousness is so out of control that the pulse throbbing in my ears is blocking out every sound. Feeling a little lightheaded, I risk being a sitting duck when I close my eyes and slow my breathing just to regain my control. I don’t feel the pull of my anxiety flip, which is completely unbelievable, unless somehow I’m in denial and it is sulking outside the perimeter of my sanity. I relax just a tiny bit and open my eyes. Craning my neck from left to right twice without hearing another sound, I blow out a whisper of a breath.
It was only my imagination, I convince myself.
Believing that the sound could have just been coming from the house or maybe even from outside, I lower the gun to my side. What about the door?
“Damn Breesan, get a hold of yourself. All of this secret squirrel business has your imagination working overtime.”
Just to be one hundred percent certain that I am indeed home alone, I walk down the front stairs and check every room on the lower level. Nothing. Except for my neurotic ass there isn’t anyone in this house. I return my dad’s gun back to the safe and shut his office door. I peek out the sidelights by the front door, spotting the unmarked vehicle and everything appears normal. My confidence is back, but I think it might help if I make a quick phone call. Hearing the sexy rumble of Marcus’ voice will settle down the crazies in my head. If I call him it will most definitely ignite my desire for him and I will just end up begging him to come back. Jogging up the steps with a goofy grin on my face, I head toward my room in search of my cell. I decide that I will remain strong - absolutely no freggin’ begging!
Striding across the room, directly toward my desk, I pick up my cell and slide my thumb across the screen to unlock it. I scroll through my contacts list, which I notice has grown from three to ten quickly and I smile, knowing the new additions all fall into the category of friends. I select the profile picture of my beautiful man’s face, with his “I am sex walking” smirk, dazzling emerald eyes and smile again as I press send. It goes straight to his voice mail.
“Hi you reached Marcus Walker. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message I will get back to you soon.”
Ohgod, his voice melts me. Sighing as I listen intently, hanging onto every purred syllable, I consider asking him to call me back. I would much rather hear the live version, but I decide against leaving him a message. He is too busy with the investigation and doesn’t need any distractions from me right now. I cancel the call and return my phone to its cradle. Remembering my plans for a nice long soak in my bathtub, I spin around toward the bathroom and what I see sitting on my bed paralyzes me.
It can’t be my mind rationalizes.
One second the chambers in my chest, that are suppose to support airflow, locks down on me and then the very next one, my lungs are heaving for oxygen.
Ohgod, I scream internally.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, clutching my black and pink checkered pillow is the ghost of my stepmother, but she doesn’t look like a ghost. My entire body trembles uncontrollably at the still stare of her dead eyes holding me in place like they have most of my life.
No, she isn’t real. Julia’s dead.
With barely one controlled breath available, I suck it in deeply and whisper out a stuttered question, “J...Julia?”
“No Breesan.” A tiny lift in the corner of her lips indicates an attempt at a smile while she purposely shakes her head slowly. “I think I’m your mother.”
Mom? Mind flip.
Epilogue (Two weeks after the abductions)
Anna
Opening swollen eyes, I realize I’m laying face down on a filthy floor. I scan the enclosed area and notice that condensation is dripping down the slab walls matching the sheen of sweat layered over my grungy skin. There are no windows so no natural lighting adds to the small flickering flame coming through a tiny portal on what appears to be a steal door sealing me inside. I lift my face from the musty dirt floor beneath me and try reaching up to dust it off, but discover that my hands are bound behind my back.
“What the freak?” My voice echoes off the cavernous walls and I hear a feminine chuckle behind me.
Twisting my head around, I glance over my shoulder and find a shadowy figure crouched with its back against one of the slimy walls. Uncertainty hits the rewind button on my memory to reveal how the heck I wound up in a crappy, underground tomb. Unfortunately, I can’t remember how I got in here.
“Nice nap?” A voice matching my friend Waverly mocks at me. “I know you hate cussing, but seriously Anna, what the fuck is acceptable here, don’t you think?”
Excited that I’m not alone, my voice squeaks, “Waverly? Oh, ugh. My head feels like water sloshing in a toilet bowl on the back of a tour bus.”
“Yeah, that’s about how I felt when I woke up too.”
“I feel loopy headed.” Leaving my head down, I twist my body so that I’m facing her direction.
“They drugged us.” She says so casually, like it’s no big deal.
“What?” I on the other hand freak the heck out and blurt, “I can’t be drugged. I’ve never taken drugs in my life. I hate them. Waverly please tell me that you’re making it up. I can’t deal.” I wiggle my way up and sit on my knees.
“No, Anna. I wish I was making this shit up. But the effects we are experiencing are the same things I’ve seen people suffer with the next morning after they partied on Ryske.”
A shriek bursts from my chest, “Ohgod no. Not Ryske. Breesan almost died from that stuff.”
Sliding along the rocky floor, I make my way over to Waverly. I sit with my back against the wall beside her and feel a pinch in my wrists as my restraints tighten.
“What happened to us?” I ask, noticing her hands aren’t tied up.
“I’ve been playing it over and over in my mind for the past hour, but it’s like something is blocking me.”
“Darn it, that’s exactly what Breesan said after she was attacked and drugged at Toxic. How did you get untied?”
Remaining quiet, she does a twirling motion with her finger, indicating she wants me to turn around.
“Yeah, forgetting shit is a side effect of Ryske. Either you have this wall blocking every recent memory or your memory is phenomenal and there are other signs.” Pausing, Waverly says, “I can’t remember shit. What is the last thing you remember?”
“Ouch.”
I feel a digging stab in my hand and then a moment later I’m free from my restraints. Sitting down again, I slid my thumb around the marks left behind by the binding.
“Let’s see. I remember the shooting at the Walker mansion, holding onto Tristan and being at the hospital with him.” Painful memories of that night force out my tears and she remains silent while I cry.
I sniff a few times before continuing, “Um. Oh. Yeah, Breesan came to the hospital…and did you know that we’re best friends?” I ask, happy that I can remember that very important detail.
Her eyebrows shoot up to the sky before she says, “Just tell me what the hell you remember.”
“Okay, just hold on. You don’t have to be so snippy,” I state. She growls and I add, “Hush up for a minute so I can remember everything. You were there and you were upset. Wait What the hell?” I smirk about using the
curse word. “Elise is going to marry Morgan. I’m sorry did I hurt your feelings bringing that up?”
Glancing at her pained expression I rush my words, “You ordered me to remember. Do you remember that?” I rub my hand over my forehead like it will bring the memories back faster. “Anyway. What else? What else? What else? Oh yeah, three guys. One of them was flirting with me.”
I scoff loudly, “As if? Oh, and then some guy put his hand on Breesan. Do you remember that? Wait, did all of that really happen? Or is that an effect of the drugs?”
“That is exactly where the wall is blocking me. I remember you stalked me out to the hospital garage. From there it all goes fuzzy.”
My mouth drops open at her thinking my attempt at helping her was hostile before I say, “Yeah, well…I don’t stalk, I friendly follow. Anyway, I was only trying to help you after what happened with Morgan’s mother and Elise. That was vicious and you were really upset.”
She glares at me like I better shut up now. Not wanting to get punched in the face by her, I go back to the memories. “Okay, so while we were talking two guys approached. And you spoke with the one who flirted with me.”
“Hell that could have been anyone. I’ll bet you think every guy flirts with you.” She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks.
The beootch smirks at me!
“What the heck is your problem? You know, for someone who seemed so broken up one minute over the guy she loves breaking up with her, the next minute you were very chummy with those guys. Not in a hobag kind of way, but like you knew them. And you say I’m flirty? Whatevs,” I say.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she props her elbows on them and then drops her face into her palms, “Dammit Anna, you are giving me a headache.”
“Well, join the club. That stuff they gave me has mine hurting too.”
She snorts, “Yeah, well at least once the drugs are out of your system, the headache will go away. Looks like I’m stuck in here with mine, indefinitely.”
“You know you don’t have to be so hateful to me. None of this is my fault. I certainly didn’t ask those creeps to drug us, tie us up and leave us underground for who knows how long.” Fear begins to flutter in my stomach.
Oh gosh, my parents are going to freak.
“What do you think they are going to do with us, Waverly?”
Lifting her face from her hands, she leans her head against the wall and turns to look at me, “Honestly?” Even though I am really afraid of what she is going to say, I bob my head up and down slowly. “I really don’t know Anna. It could be many different things. If I were to guess…”
She trails off and for a moment my mind wonders to all the possibilities that she could be hinting at. Out of sheer terror alone I need to know if her ideas match mine.
“Please tell me. I am freaking out here just thinking about what the reasons could be.”
“Anna, let’s just wait and see what happens. I hope it’s none of the reasons I’m thinking and hell I’ve most certainly been wrong about shit in the past,” Waverly sighs, ending the discussion.
In this dark, silent tomb, nightmarish suppressed memories of my horrific childhood flood my mind and my body begins to tremble uncontrollably.
Please God, don’t let it happen again, I hear a frail child's voice say mentally.
A sob escapes my throat and I bury my face into my hands. My tears are unstoppable as the memories of that physically repulsive night, when I was six years old, loops repeatedly. I try to block out the onslaught of horrific pain that is tagged onto the memories, but apparently this drug is magnifying them to the point that they feel like they are currently happening.
I cry harder remembering a hand touching my thigh. It begins to stroke slowly and I muffle my voice from fear of angering him, but with my eyes I beg for him to stop. The hand moves to my hair, digging fingers into it bringing my face up to meet his and I can’t take it anymore.
“Don’t touch me. Please don’t hurt me again.”
“Oh sweet Anna Banana, you like when I touch you like this remember,” he says instead of asking, while roaming his hand over my arm. His touch stops being tender at this point, it is rough and painful, his sharp fingernails nearly breaking skin.
I stifle another cry as he continues touching me inappropriately. My mind shrieks out in protest, but his previous threats to kill my mommy keeps the sound lodged in my head.
My trembles are now convulsions that are physically painful, hard and continual. I feel my body rolling to the side and a hot, cigarette scented breath whispers against my ear telling me to do things to him. It’s followed by a voice that I can’t remember being there that night. This voice is filled with concern and compassion, unlike the evil vile putrid voice of him.
Suddenly that tender loving voice dominates his and my body relaxes at the reassurance that the voice offers. Hearing her say I’m okay and no one is going to hurt me seizes me out of the nightmare. I open my damp eyes and find Waverly, holding my head against her chest and rocking me while softly pleading for me to calm down.
“Anna, it’s okay. Ssh, we are going to be okay,” she takes a breath. “We just need to stay strong and we’ll get through this. Okay? Can you hear me?”
I nod my head against her chest.
Waverly sighs, “Maybe they took us because they want money. You’re family is loaded so that could be the reason. Whoever brought us here will come back and if we work together maybe you and I can figure out what they want or perhaps we can convince them to let us go.”
Waverly’s confidence reassures me enough that I slowly gain control over my mind and body again. I sit up and lean my back against the wall.
The flooding of rapid fire memories begins to recede, but not before I relive how terrible I was to Tristan the night before the graduation party. I wanted to have sex and he turned me down again. Feeling unwanted and unworthy, I crave a physical relationship with him, and that is what spurred me into threatening him.
I told him that if he wouldn’t make love to me then he couldn’t possibly love me as much as I loved him. Rage consumed his features, but he didn’t say a word. He allowed me to finish and with no verbal objection, I dictated our future plans to him. Not giving him a say, I decided that I would be moving to Paris in the fall. He didn’t argue. Except for sex, Tristan has never denied me anything, ever. Knowing that it gave him the excuse to get out of going to California so he can follow his dreams of playing college football and then later on becoming a law enforcement officer, I didn’t feel completely in the wrong; but now? Now I want that moment in time back so I can tell him that I was wrong.
Sighing through the all consuming guilt, I say with an emotionally scratchy voice. “Thank you, Waverly.”
“Don’t mention it,” she replies through a yawn, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. “I wish I knew how long I was out. I am still so weak and exhausted. And not being able to remember anything freggin’ sucks.”
I sigh, “I wish I couldn’t remember everything.”
Waverly glances over her shoulder at me with a questioning look. She turns around, walks back over and kneels in front of me.
“What just happened to you? That wasn’t because of being locked in here. Was it?” She asks softly.
I stare into her tired eyes briefly before lowering mine to my intertwined fingers, lying on my lap. Swallowing hard, I release a ragged breath and try to get the words out.
“I - I was remembering something…something that happened a very long time ago. It was something that my parents sent me to a professional for and it was supposed to…stay buried. But I think that this drug made it resurface. I really don’t want to talk about it.” I glance up at her again, “But, thank you Waverly, for helping me through it.”
“Oh.” She stands and resumes her position by the steel door again. “Anna, there’s something you need to know.”
I remain silent waiting for her to continue, but become anxious with each passin
g second. The tone in her words makes me think that it isn’t something I’m going to want to know or maybe it’s something that she really doesn’t want me to know.
“I don’t know how much we’ve had or how many days it has been since they took us, but if they keep giving us this drug more of the same things will happen. And…”
She trails off, turns around to face me and I see uncertainty lying in her eyes.
“Anna, I don’t want to scare you, but Ryske can also make other things happen. It’s a mind manipulation drug. Unlike the other drugs that you may have heard of, it doesn’t just hype you up or mellow you out. It literally fucks with your mind. I’ve seen the different effects it has on many people who are hooked on it and the variations are staggering. What you experienced a few minutes ago may just be the tip of the iceberg with your repressed memories since it’s opening them back up. But for me…”
She trails off again and I say, “Whatever happens I want to help you.”
“Anna, I may begin forgetting that I’m in this room and there is a huge possibility that I will forget every person that I know.” Her voice fills with sadness, but she straightens her back up and lifts her head before adding, “I need you to learn some things about me in case that does happen. I’ll need you to remind me again. Will you do that for me?”
Accepting that fate brought us into this mess together, I nod my head and she begins sharing memories with me. Even through her exhaustion, Waverly excitedly starts with the names of her seven brothers and includes sweet characteristics of each of them. She talks about how hard they all work and how protective they are over her. I smile with her as she relives broken bits of memories that include them and her parents. Waverly’s family is exactly the family I always dreamed of having. A part of my heart squeezes with empathy for her possibly losing these touching moments. Tristan is in almost every one of my good memories too. I don’t think I can survive without him in my life either.
