I’m waiting for Terry to come into the room and tell me she or I won the lottery. Why else would I be in a place like this. The room is bare, just a bed, and one dresser with no mirrors, but it’s elegant with heavy silk off-white drapes. If I were to guess, I’d say whoever decorated this room was a minimalist, so that rules out Terry because she’s the bag lady of Seattle.
There wasn’t an old couch she couldn’t pass up or a broken table lamp she didn’t need. By the process of elimination, I ruled out that this was my place or Terry’s. Then who is it? And where am I? I tried to stand and my weak legs wouldn’t cooperate. I held on to the bed, as the room moved around and around. Not wanting to fall and cause another injury to my body I planned to get to the nearest wall and try to make my way to the door. I touched my head and it had a bandage wrapped securely around it.
Then it came back to me. Something had happened to Terry. Tears welled in my eyes and then fell hard on my cheek when I realized she had died that night. When I remembered how she looked when that thing got a hold of her, all I could think about now was, I warned her about strangers.
It was a stranger who had befriended me when I was a child. It was a stranger who took me and brained washed me where I no longer knew who I was. Now it was a stranger who saved my life. But from whom and why?
What kind of dangerous world had I found myself in? I’m remembering now. The stranger knew that blond. He said something about father so that would make him his brother. Searching around with my eyes, what happened to him, and where am I?”
I concentrated and put my legs down and managed to step out of bed. I had to do it. I couldn’t stay there forever waiting until someone came. I put one shaky weak foot in front of the other and held on to the side of the bed trying to make my way to the door. It appeared so far away. And I was so weak.
Then I looked down and I had on a gown. A white gown. Not the kind they give you in a hospital, but a gown if you’re going on your honeymoon kind of gown. My hair had grown long but it didn’t appear unkempt. Someone had tended to me and groomed me. Cut my nails but didn’t take off the nail polish. Looking at my nails, I came to the conclusion I had been here a month or more.
Pulling at my hair and running my hand over my face it appeared I had to have been here maybe two months. In a coma? I questioned. But how could I stay here so long and no one came for me? I managed to finally get to the door and touch it and then open it. I looked out at the stairs that led to the downstairs foyer and out the door.
How am I going to get down those stairs? I wondered. I turned around looking at a series of closed doors, but there was one that had the door ajar. I hobbled to it holding on to the wall for support. When I reached the door, I pushed it open and in the large room, there set a large grand piano and paintings hung on the walls. Old masters and books and newspapers strewn everywhere.
And then I spotted it. A computer on the desk in a corner. I stumbled over to the computer, sat in the chair, and turned it on. When it came up there was a news bulletin. Still no sign of Zoey Miller. I continued reading for my own interest. I wanted to shut down the computer but my curiosity wouldn’t allow me.
Zoey Miller has a long history of being kidnapped. It started when she was just a child. At age five she had been abducted and presumed dead after years of her parents and Detective Cole leading the search for her. She showed up in England at the age of fifteen with no memory of what had happened to her. Zoey’s family got all the help she needed and she appeared to be adjusting nicely where she went on to college and was due to graduate this fall. However, another unfortunate incident occurred.
From what we can piece together, she disappeared outside of a club with her roommate. No signs of her or the roommate since.
I clicked the arrow and a video came up. The detective, Ryan Cole, who handles my case, a young looking man in his late twenties with light brown hair and a handsome face spoke about my kidnapping into the local news’ cameras.
“I was just a teen when I heard of the kidnapping of a young child by the name of Zoey Miller. I will never forget this case. It defined my life from that day forward. I knew then I wanted to be a policeman and solve the case of these missing children. I will not rest until I find out who took her.” He looked directly into the camera. “Whoever you are and wherever you try to hide, I will track you down and I will find you. There aren’t enough holes for you to hide in and you can be sure that I will be there.”
Detective Ryan Cole turned without answering any questions and walked away. Clearly he was upset. I recognized him as one of the men who brought me home from England. He comforted me through the twelve hour ride into New Jersey and then on the flight to Seattle.
That was six years ago. And now he’s searching for me again.
Finally, I sat up not knowing how to feel. I couldn’t feel. I just stared at the computer hoping this wasn’t my life they were writing and talking about, but it was me, Zoey Miller and I was going through another nightmare. “Terry is dead,” I kept mumbling. It was true because I saw her die, and I saw the terrible fight that had ensued between the blond and the cold voice. I wondered who had won and who I would belong to next.
It was as if I was reliving my childhood once again. But my childhood was something that I knew little about. It was as if someone erased it from my memories, and I started to live again at age fifteen when Detective Cole returned me to my parents.
“Have you read enough, and have your questions been answered?” Jumping with fright, I glanced up when I heard that cold voice again and I turned with a jerk to my left. Standing in the doorway was a man in his early twenties. Now I could see him clearly.
His hair dark and his eyes blue with green specks. Suddenly his eyes took on a warmth that hadn’t been there before, but the sadness prevailed in his face. His face spoke of beauty and power and his body spoke of strength. He stood tall, dressed in a black sweater, and black slacks. His shoulders wide, his arms long with large powerful hands.
“It’s you,” I said with relief burning through me. I let out a sigh and breathed through my teeth. “You saved my life.” His mouth barely opened but fell into an unconscious smile. His teeth white and dazzling, but I felt angry and uncertain about what I remembered about him and what I had heard.
“Your brother killed my friend. Why didn’t you come sooner and she would have been alive,” I said pounding on the desk.
“Do you want to know? If I tell you, you will never be able to go back home or be the same person again.”
“Yes, I want to know, and I will be able to go back home. There’s a detective looking for me. He will not rest until I’m found,” I said looking up at the cold voice with the beautiful white teeth. It was the first time I had seen a man as handsome as the one before me. I couldn’t control my feelings for him and it showed in my face. There was a sudden flush of heat causing a blush on my cheeks which gave me away.
“Don’t do that. When your temperature rises, you give off a scent and I can’t control myself.”
“Control yourself from what?”
“I said you don’t want to know and you shouldn’t. It’s too soon.”
“When do you think I should know? When another one of your family members come to kill me. I think it has to do with my kidnapping when I was a child.”
Tilting my head and locking eyes with him, I watched closely at his face when I made that statement. I thought maybe I could read something in his gestures. He showed no expression. All I saw was satisfaction and peace. He just looked at me the way a man looks at a woman when he loves her. But how could that be? I had never laid eyes on him until that night at the bar.
“Your father has a ring where he kidnaps children and then brain washes them or keeps them drugged where they can’t remember anything?” This was like a shot in the dark, hoping to hit something, what I didn’t know. I was probing to get a reaction.
“No. It’s not that,” he said with a furrowed brow.
“Then tell me. Tell me why I’m here.”
He gazed at me with those sparkling pool of bluish eyes and stone face. “You’re here so I can protect you.”
“From what? What the fuck are you trying to protect me from if it isn’t from a kidnapping ring?”
“Now isn’t the time to tell you. And you shouldn’t curse.” His tone flat but with authority.
“Why do I care what you think?” But I did care. “You’re the one breaking the law by keeping me here. The police would protect me from your family.” I knew throwing the police out there was a waste of time because after a few years they gave up on me and considered me dead. That’s why when I showed up with Detective Cole, my family didn’t believe I was Zoey Miller.
My father said that the police had evidence that I had died. I had to take a DNA test to prove who I was. Detective Ryan Cole was the only one who didn’t stop looking for me and he knew who I was when my own mother and father didn’t.
“You need something to eat. You’ve been in a coma for months. I fed you intravenously.”
“How many months?”
“Months.” And he walked to me and pushed the chair around and with one quick move he had me in his arms and carrying me to the room with the bed. I glanced up at him and I felt happy and secure for the second time in my life. The first time was with Detective Cole on our long trip to Seattle.
Because of my separation from my family at a young age, I always felt vulnerable and in danger from everyone. But now I feel that I will be safe as long as the cold voice is around. I glanced up at him as he laid me gently down in the bed.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He glanced down at me as if he didn’t want to answer. He pulled the sheet up to my chest and said, “You’re going to get sick. I can’t have you sick.”
“Why not?” I shouted. It was my angry voice that no one paid attention to but my cat. Then I remembered there were cats in our apartment depending on us to feed them and to snuggle up with them at night when it was cold.
“What happened to my cat? And Terry’s cats?”
“My name is Sebastian,” he said his voice hoarse but reassuring. “Cats are not like helpless little girls. They don’t need anyone to protect them or feed them.”
“How do you know? Have you ever had a cat? You look like you could put fear into animals. I bet you never had an animal when you were a child,” I shouted with a weak voice which broke each time I uttered two words.
He stopped walking and watched at me a few seconds, and then gave me a small grin, and then he strutted with his long legs out of the room, and closed the door behind him. I lay there upset and wondering why I can’t remember anything before I turned fifteen. Was I raped? No. When the police found me wandering the streets, they took me to a hospital and had me checked out.
What was the purpose of them kidnapping me and leaving me intact unless they had another reason, but I can’t remember that? The ordeal left me frightened and afraid of strangers. At some point I didn’t want to go outside after my mother died.
My father said that the stress of me being kidnapped, took its toll on my mother, and weakened her heart. ‘She cried night and day until that detective brought you home,’ he had said to me.
After time past and my father convinced me that I could have a life, I was able to go on to college. I must have been taught by someone because I had no problem passing tests and my IQ was above average for my age. It wasn’t like I was a child genius, because I wasn’t, that’s why someone had to teach me and I wondered who it was.
Somewhere in-between the wondering and trying to remember my childhood, I fell asleep. Then I woke when I smelled a bowl of soup.
“Eat. You have to get your strength. We have to leave here soon.” I reached for the spoon and a large bowl of chicken soup. After taking several spoonful of noodles and chunks of chicken and eating like a starving man marooned on an island, I took a breather.
“Did you cook this?”
“I warmed it. I don’t cook.”
“So it came out of a can?”
“Yes.”
“Do you expect me to eat canned food and gain my strength to leave here?” I glanced up at him. I slanted my head after shoving a mouthful of noodles in my mouth.
“Did you say we have to leave here soon? I don’t know where here is and why would I leave with you? I have to contact my father so he doesn’t worry about me.”
“You can’t contact him until you are out of danger. If you contact anyone they will find us and kill us.” I sat up in bed. My eyes wide. Chills running through me. The roots of my hair blazing as if I had a fever.
“Kill me. Why does your family want to kill me? I won’t tell anything. I don’t know anything. I was a child.”
“It’s not what you don’t know. And our deaths will be completely different.”
“Death is death. You don’t exist anymore,” I said not knowing what I was saying. What did I know about death? I’m twenty-one and I haven’t had children yet. My life was just starting and now this person is talking about death. He’s maybe twenty-three if a day.
“Death is not death. There are different degrees of death. Yours will be different than mine. You will no longer feel. You will be cold the way I am.”
“You aren’t cold. You have feelings. I know it. I feel your soul. It’s as if I know you.”
“There is no way for you to know me.” He raised one eyebrow. “Now eat and get well.” I touched his hand and he pulled it away. Immediately he stood and looked down at me. His forehead furrowed as if he didn’t want any part of me. Then why was he taking the time to protect me and make sure I lived.
His hand cold to the touch. Is that what he meant? I meant something different. I meant that he had feelings. He wasn’t cold like a snake or lizard. He pulled his hand from mine as if being next to me would sear his skin. I know I ran hot sometimes more than the normal human, but that was no reason for him to have that reaction to me.
Reading my body language and surprised expression, Sebastian softened. He put his hand on my forehead.
“Your body is too warm. You must have a fever,” he said. “See, you’re getting sick. Don’t get out of bed unless I tell you,” his voice warm, but his tone full of authority. He walked to the door and paused staring at the door waiting for me to reply.
I didn’t want to disappoint him so I said, “My body temperature is always higher. My mother said when I was a child I felt as if I had a constant fever. But that was the way I was. Not everyone is alike. Look at you. You’re pale, and every time you’ve touched me, you feel cold.”
Sebastian listened for a few and he slanted his head to the side, shook his head and walked out after closing the door behind him. I gulped down the food, but I wasn’t going to lie in bed when I needed some answers. I needed answers about him and me and he wasn’t cooperating.
When I glanced outside it was still dark and I could see nothing but trees all around. I heard birds and I knew it wasn’t a dream, or I had died. Since I recognized beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was indeed alive, a sense of relief crept over me, but that knowledge didn’t make me happy, but being around Sebastian did.