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When Hannah wakes up again, she is in a different place. She remembers this place from her nightmares. She knows she is in the trunk of a car. Her arms and legs are still bound tightly behind her. She can feel tape pulled tautly over her mouth to hold the rag muffling her voice in place. She is lying on her left side in the dark, cramped compartment. The air is thick with a mildew smell. She is being rolled and bumped as the car continues to drive on. Every time the car would come to a stop, Hannah would desperately try to kick or bounce up and down to make the car move to draw attention and hopefully be released. Soon, the sound of passing vehicles dies out and it is quiet except for the soft roaring of the engine. While she is thinking of other ways to get out of her current situation, the car stops and the engine shuts off. The car door opens and slams closed. She can hear footsteps growing louder as they move toward the trunk. With each step her breathing becomes more erratic. She can feel sweat dripping down her back and face. Her body is shaking with fright. She has no idea what Beau wants with her or what he is going to do. When the lid opened, she is temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight. When her eyes began to focus, she finds that she is staring into the smirking face of Beau Campbell.
“Hello, baby doll. We are home. Now, you’re going to be a good girl and not scream, right?”
Hannah shakes her head up and down in agreement. Beau quickly rips the tape off her mouth, then she spits out the rag. After taking a few staggering breaths, Hannah begins screaming for help. Beau tells her to shut up, but Hannah ignores him.
“You asked for this, doll,” he murmurs as he draws his hand back and then slaps her hard on the right cheek. She begins whimpering and softly crying. Beau overlooks this as he picks her up and slings her over his shoulder as he walks toward a large, gray metal building with no windows. Hannah swiftly looks around to memorize her surroundings so when she escapes she can tell the police where she was. They are on a dirt road that is surrounded by giant, overgrown trees. The building is set far off the road, hidden by brush and shrubbery. There are no other cars in the driveway except the one she was taken out of. She studies the car that Beau had put her in the trunk of. It was a light baby blue, older model, four door car with rust spots on the bottom of the doors on the driver’s side. The license plate was from Louisiana.
Hannah begins to violently wiggle against Beau in hopes of getting away. He slaps her on her bottom to quiet her down.
“Now princess, why are you so hell-bent to get away from me? Don’t you know we are destined to be together?”
“No, never! Let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone what you did. We can act like this never happened!” she frantically pleads.
“Why would I do that? We have been grooming you for your role since you were little. Now, shut it!”
Beau’s words shock Hannah. Was he involved in her kidnapping? If he was, what was his role? What role is he talking about? Hannah’s mind is racing around the questions she is posing to herself. She realizes that they have now entered the building. The interior is cold and dimly lit. She immediately sees a group of women coming toward her. Maybe they will help me.
“Please help me! This man has kidnapped me! Please, do something, anything!” Hannah urgently pleads. The women look at her with an indifferent expression and take her from Beau, setting her on a gurney. They pick her up and carry her past the main room where they entered, through a maze of hallways, then finally to a back room. Hannah can see a hospital table with stirrups and a place for her arms to be tied down. The group of women dwindles down to four.
The four raven haired women are dressed alike. They are wearing button up shirts made of scratchy cloth, all pale green in color with khaki long straight skirts. The women have their hair pulled up into a severe, tight bun and are not wearing any makeup. They begin working silently to untie Hannah and move her to the table. One woman turns to a silver cart and opens drawers, pulling out different instruments. Hannah can’t tell what the instruments are, she is just able to hear the hard metal noise they make as they are placed on top of the cart. The same woman turns around with a pair of large scissors in her hand. She walks over to Hannah and begins to cut away her clothing.
“Please don’t do this! It’s not too late to let me go. I can help you too, just please help me!”
The women continue to work robotically, in sync with each other to rid Hannah of her clothes. Once she is naked they retrieve a garden hose from the corner of the room. One pours a disinfectant soap on Hannah’s body and begins scrubbing with a brillo pad, just like he used to. Yet another begins to spray her down with a harsh spray of frigid water from the hose. They flip her over on the table and repeat the process to her backside. When they are finished, she is again flipped over. The woman with the soap now begins to scrub Hannah’s face and hair. She is far from gentle, as she cruelly uses her fingernails to scrape and dig into Hannah’s scalp. Hannah is convinced she must be bleeding now from the scouring she is receiving. While silent tears are running down Hannah’s face the women complete their task. They each stand back in a line together, then exit the room leaving the door open. Hannah, seeing this, starts to scream at the top of her lungs again for help. She continues until a man rushes inside and slams the door closed. Hannah is startled by this, then feels frightened as this man stares at her naked body.
“Well, well princess. You have really filled out well. Too bad Beau was chosen to be Master. I would have really loved to have broken you in,” the man mutters to her.
“What do you mean? What is a master? What are you talking about? How do you know me?”
“You will have all of your answers in due time. For now, stop the screaming. No one is going to help you. You are here to fulfill a plan. Now just sit tight and shut up,” he tells her angrily as he turns, leaving the room.
Hannah throws her head back onto the cold, hard table and quietly sobs. She starts praying zealously that Sawyer finds her soon before she discovers what these people have planned for her.
***
SAWYER IS IN A CATATONIC state in his locked office. He can’t tear his eyes away from the portrait Hannah drew the first day she came into the parlor. He stares at each individual tree and blade of grass. He remembers watching her as she worked on it and how he fell in love with it as soon as he looked at it. It was that day that he knew everyone who met her would fall in love with her, just like he did. She was just too caring and open for you not to.
He can hear the noises and bustling movement from beyond the walls, but cannot force himself to join them. The events of the day are crashing down on top of him. He keeps reliving the pain he felt when he came upon his open apartment door. The sorrow he felt when he realized she wasn’t there and the shock of when he found the drops of blood on the floor.
A series of taps on the door brings Sawyer out of his thoughts. He hears Bryce from the other side of the door tell him that Hannah’s dad has arrived. Sawyer slowly hauls himself out of the chair and shuffles to the door. He places his hand on the handle, takes a deep cleansing breath, and turns it open. He walks toward the group of people congregated at the reception desk. He then sees a man of average build. The man has salt and pepper gray hair and a worn, olive complexion. He has warm, hazel eyes framed with deep set laugh lines and a thoughtful expression of hope on his face. He is dressed in a plaid button up over slacks with tennis shoes. He looks to be in his fifties. Sawyer stops where he is and continues to stare at the man. There is no doubt in his mind that this is Hannah’s father.
“Sawyer, man come here. Introduce yourself to Mr. Randoff. He has some questions for you,” Bryce calls out to him.
Sawyer walks over and extends his left hand to the older man.
“I’m Sawyer Monson, sir. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Hannah,” Sawyer tells him sadly. The older man looks at Sawyer, scrutinizing every detail of him. He is making Sawyer feel uncomfortable and has him believing that this man doesn’t think that he is good enough for his daughter. Sawyer retracts his hand that was not shaken, dropping it to his side defeatedly. The man walks up to him and suddenly pulls Sawyer into an embrace. Sawyer stands there in shock, with his eyes as big as saucers and his mouth open wide.
“Thank you, son. Thank you for taking care of my little girl. I’m so glad that you found her. Your cousin and friends filled me in on how you found her and how she was before today. They told me that you love her. I’m relieved that you protected her.”
“Sir, I didn’t protect her. Look what happened. I left for twenty minutes and someone took her. I should have never left her. I promised her that nothing bad would ever happen to her again. I just . . . I just failed her, and you,” Sawyer sighs. Hannah’s dad shakes his head at the sullen man standing before him.
“Son, you can’t think that. You did nothing wrong. Now, come sit with me and tell me about my daughter. I’ve missed so much, I want to hear about her from you.”
Sawyer and Mr. Randoff move to a secluded corner of the parlor and begin talking. Sawyer finds that Hannah gets her warmness from this man. He is extremely easy to talk to and even shares her sense of humor.
“The police showed me a current picture. She looks just like her mother. Did she mention her mom to you?”
A feeling of illness quickly comes over Sawyer. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell him that his wife was murdered. He also feels that he couldn’t keep this man in the dark any longer either. Mr. Randoff deserved to have some form of closure.
“Well, sir. Ha –,” Mr. Randoff abruptly cuts Sawyer off.
“Please son, call me James. We’re in this together now, no need for the formalities,” he smiles.
Sawyer continues, “I can’t do that sir, I have too much respect for you. Mr. Randoff, Hannah did tell me about what she had endured while she was held prisoner for so many years. In fact, she just told me recently. She had been here for a while before she felt comfortable enough to relive it.”
Sawyer relays to Mr. Randoff everything he can remember Hannah telling him. He has managed to avoid mentioning Hannah’s mom.
“I just can’t believe it. How could they survive that for so long? It is too heinous to even imagine. It’s like a horror movie. So, where is Molly? Did she tell you where she is? Are the police looking for her too?” James asks, full of hope. Sawyer stares down at his black combat boots, suddenly fascinated by them. He tries to think of anything that can keep him from having to tell this man the fate of his wife.
“Sawyer, I know something must have happened. Would you please just tell me. I have lived this nightmare for far too long. I would like at least a portion of it to be over as soon as possible,” he implores of the tattooed man. Sawyer raises his head, gazing at the kind man. He then takes a deep breath and nods his head.
“Mr. Randoff, I really don’t want to be the one to tell you this. It’s not my place, but I agree that you need closure to some of this. Hannah said that her mom had started telling her to be strong and how to attack the man, to bring him down long enough to get away. Hannah knew that there were cameras on them, watching everything they did. Molly began to defy the man holding them. One day the man just snapped. He began choking Molly in front of Hannah. She whispered to Hannah that she loved her and knew she would get away some day. Hannah had to watch as that monster took her mom away from her. She thinks that she was eleven or twelve. She didn’t have a way to tell time or track the days. She didn’t even know how old she was when I found her. I’m so sorry Mr. Randoff. I’m just so sorry,” Sawyer voices to the man who was silently crying beside him.
Mr. Randoff looks up at Sawyer with tear filled eyes and gives him a light smile. He wipes away his tears, then hugs Sawyer again.
“Don’t be sorry, son. You didn’t do this. Those monsters will pay for everything they have done. My poor, beautiful wife. She was so full of life and love. She loved music and she was so goofy. I remember her laughter. Our home was filled with so much happiness,” Mr. Randoff stops.
“I’m just so sorry Hannah couldn’t have experienced more of that. She had happiness for such a short amount of time. She and her mother used to be exactly alike. Both would dance around the house and sing. She was such a delight as a child. No matter how hard of a day I had, she would make it better. They both would. Thank you for telling me, Sawyer. I know it was a difficult task for you. I appreciate you.”
Mr. Randoff slowly stands to walk out of the parlor for fresh air and to collect himself. Sawyer stays planted on the chair, staring at the floor. Shelley watches the two men the entire time and comes over to sit with her depressed friend.
“Hey, you did the right thing. He had the right to know. He is a very nice man, reminds me of Hannah. He never gave up looking for them. He told us that every time he posted anything about their disappearance, it was immediately blocked. He thinks that whoever is responsible for this, tried to erase them from existence too. It makes sense with what Chas told Bryce. They even erased Hannah and Molly’s social security numbers and their birth certificates from the state database. Just wiped the slate clean. That is why it has been so hard for him to keep the search up, people began to think he made it all up because he had nothing to prove their lives. All he had were pictures and the documents at his house. That poor man has been through hell and back. He is more determined than ever to find Hannah. He has a renewed sense of optimism. It is all because of you, Sawyer. You gave him hope that he will be reunited with Hannah again. He was just about to give up and believe that they were dead. The police tried to declare them legally dead about a year after their disappearance, but he fought against it. Sawyer, please stop beating yourself up for this. Get up and help find her. You and I both know she is waiting for you to find her, to rescue her for good this time.”
Sawyer looks at Shelley with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t like to show emotion, everyone knows that. Shelley is taken off guard to see her stoic friend crumbling before her. She quickly embraces the tall, tattooed man. He lets out all his emotions, all the feelings that he has had bottled up inside since his parents’ crash. Hannah made him feel again. She brought him back to life. How could he just sit here and feel sorry for himself? He needs to get up and find her. He must save her like she saved him.