5

 

EMERY FINALLY CAME TO. A migraine trampled through her head. All she could do was hope that her body would keep awake long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the unusual shadow from the other side. Quite a few came and went, but one in particular—she could tell which shadow, based on how long it stayed in one spot and how its feet danced behind the door as it listened to her breathe—was curious, and she wanted to know it. If it had a name. She wanted to know why it was here, haunting her. She spent hour after hour wishing it were Arson finally coming to rescue her. He’d take her back home. Anywhere but here.

The taste of rust filled her mouth. The putrid soak of damp concrete stifled the air in her nostrils. It was the taste of no control. 

She spent the next uncounted moments raking bent fingers through the greasy knots in her hair then leaned back against the wall and tried to hide from the darkness. “No,” she said, shaking her eyes open again. “Stay awake.” Where is the food? she wondered, hungry as ever. She fought to catch a clearer glimpse of the shadow lurking outside. Was it the one she’d been hoping for? She wanted it to come back and keep her company.

Emery held her head between her knees as blood began to rush. The sudden flood to her brain forced her mind to want to go black and stay lost somewhere. Head up, head down. She didn’t even have shoelaces. Someone had dressed her, fitted these rags on her. What had she done to be treated like such a criminal? “I’m a person. A human being!” she yelled at the walls. They didn’t seem to care. “Let me out!” She bashed once, twice, several more times against the concrete surface. The ridge of her hand leaked red.

Something suddenly moved across her feet. In the dark, she couldn’t tell what it was. But a splinter of light invaded from the bottom slit in the door just then, long enough for the light to reveal that the creature had sharp nails for teeth and a slimy, hairy sack for a stomach. A thin, pink tail dragged behind it. She screamed, before kicking the rat across the room, praying it didn’t find her again. She heard the creature squeal when it smacked against the ground. Maybe it broke its little neck.

Suddenly, there was new movement outside the door. She swore she heard breathing. Then footsteps. Then a deeper breathing. Closer and farther away; then closer again. Who was it? What did they want?

“Hey, if you can hear me, I need to get outta here. Hello? Can you help me, please?” She crawled toward the door, somewhat apprehensive about the furry villain that might still be lurking close by. “Please, help me.”

The begging became sobs that were never heard. Or worse, were ignored. If there were a living, breathing human being outside, how could they keep her here, locked away from the world?

She listened carefully as the footsteps once more escaped her. No food this time; maybe dinner was later, or breakfast. It was easy to misplace hours in a room with no clock.

“Come back,” she begged the cold sounds outside her door. “Come back to me.” Her slippery mouth brushed up next to the wall. She tasted dirt, wanting to throw up.

Too late. She wondered if, because she hadn’t eaten anything, particles of her were coming up out of the dead space inside. Parts of her erupting and splattering disgusting mess on the ground.

Emery scraped the wall with her nails like a lunatic. She hoped to find a hole, a stitch of brighter light, something real to hold onto. Then she pounded her forehead against the wintry surface. Once was enough to knock her out cold.