Authors: Emily Goodwin
I was truly at a loss for words. After opening and closing my mouth several times in a failed attempt to talk, I finally said, “Ok, even if Ethan did kidnap me, I want to be with him now.” I shook my head. Why was I reasoning with Rose? She wasn’t real.
Rose’s expression saddened even more. “Do you remember anything?” she asked so softly I had to lean forward to hear her.
“Yes. I remember everything.” Confusion was building. Even if I had a sage stick to burn, I knew it wouldn’t work in this corporeal bizarrow world.
“I love Ethan, please let me be with him,” I said as sincerely as I could, hoping she would just let me leave.
Rose shook her head back and forth. “Everything he told you was a lie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure,” I replied, unfazed.
“He’s here.” She said suddenly and met my eyes. “He’s here at the station.”
The unexpected comment made my heart jump. “Can I see him?” I asked, thinking that maybe he was trapped in this mess up world too.
The color drained from Rose’s face. “No! I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of this.”
She jumped when a tall, lanky, dark haired officer came in. “Hello,” he said in a calm and self assured voice. “I’m Detective Hanes.”
I casted an icy glare in his direction. “Take me to my boyfriend,” I demanded. His dark eyes diverted from me to Rose.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Rose whispered to him.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked innocently. I knew he knew, but Rose had been nice and I didn’t want to get her in any sort of trouble…that is, if hallucinations could get in trouble. Detective Hanes knelt down to my level.
“Who is your boyfriend, Anora?” he asked carefully.
“Ethan Bailey.” I tried not to sound annoyed.
“Can you describe him for me, please?”
“Sure,” I agreed, though I didn’t know what good that would do; Mindy knew what he looked like. “He’s tall, has brown eyes, dark brown hair, really muscular, and very attractive.”
“How old is he?” His calm face never faltered.
“Twenty-three.”
Hanes’ face twitched ever so slightly. “How did you get here?”
I narrowed my eyes ever so slightly. “I walked in and sat,” I told him mater of factly.
He frowned and shook his head. “Not literally right here. I mean, how did you get to Indiana from New York?”
“I flew on my broomstick,” I retorted.
Hanes laughed. “You’re a pistol, Annie. You moved here, right?”
I nodded. He had called me ‘Annie’. People who
don’t
know me personally rarely use a nickname. And, even if they did, they assumed I went by ‘Nora’…not ‘Annie’.
“I see,” Hanes continued and stood. “And why did you move here?”
“Look,” I said and planted my feet on the ground. “I’m not giving you any information. I know you’re not real. Whoever created you is listening in. Just give up the act so we both can go home!” I shouted to the ceiling. I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair.
“Is that what Ethan told you to believe?” Hanes asked gently. I refused to look at him. “Anora?” he asked, agitation building. “Anora!”
I squeezed my eyes closed and began counting. Rose whispered something to Hanes; I didn’t try to listen. It didn’t matter. None of this was real. I kept counting and the two grew silent. I had just reached six hundred when Hanes bellowed,
“Screw the books! We’ve been after the perv for years! If she confesses—”
“Carl!” Rose scolded. “You know we’re supposed to wait for Dr. Green.”
“And where is Dr. Green?” Carl Hanes shot back. “Not here, is he? He just really cares now, doesn’t he?” He stomped away from Rose. When he put his hands on the chair, I jumped. I hadn’t felt him move close.
“The man you call Ethan is not who you think he is,” he informed me, leaning close to my face. “He’s a liar and a manipulator. He brainwashed you and hurt you, just like he did to four other girls.” Hanes’ voice was rising. “What story did he tell this time? Are you the model and he’s the famous photographer? Or is he the dying cancer patient in need of care? Or the—” he cut off and regained his composer. “We are lucky we found you when we did.”
I shook my head. There was no way Ethan was a psychotic serial killer. For one, he just wasn’t. And two, his family and friends would have to be in on it. I never got a Devil’s Rejects vibe from any of them; they were welcoming and nice to me and, most importantly, risked their lives to save mine.
“So can I see him?” I asked curtly. If Ethan—the real Ethan—was trapped here too, we could come up with something together.
Hanes’ looked exasperated. “Fine.” He waved his hand and I followed him out the door.
I’d never been inside this jail before, so I didn’t know what to expect. It was quiet tonight, and the place seemed orderly. Hanes unlocked a door into a small holding room with four cells, all of which were occupied. I madly looked around for Ethan, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Annie!” someone called from the last cell. I didn’t recognize the voice but I looked for the source automatically. A gray haired, middle aged man was making his way to the bars. “My little witch! I’ve missed you.”
My heart fell to the floor. “That’s not Ethan.”
“No, it’s not,” Hanes told me. “His name is Quentin Talbert. Ethan was a persona he made up to lure you in.”
“No, I mean that’s
not
Ethan.” What the hell was going on? Mindy knew what Ethan looked like. My heart raced…maybe she wasn’t doing this.
“Anora Paige! Come to me, my witch,” Quentin squealed.
“How do you know me?” I took a shaky step forward.
“Why do you question us, witch?” He turned his head to the side. He had to be over forty. His long, gray hair fell in greasy strands around his weathered face. His teeth were yellow and snaggled. “I know all about you, just as you know all about me.”
“What do you know?” I asked, letting out a ragged breath.
“We hunt demons. Tons and tons of demons,” he laughed. I wanted to cry.
Turning to Hanes I said, “That is not the Ethan I’m talking about. This is a mistake.”
Hanes’ cold face turned soft. “It’s ok, Anora, it’s all over now. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.”
“He never did hurt me! This isn’t right.” I was starting to panic. “Let me go.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.”
“You will be sorry,” I told him, preparing to telekinetically throw him to the side and run for it. “Please just let me go home!”
“My witch! Set me free!” Quentin yelled.
“You’re not Ethan!” I screamed.
“Calm down,” Hanes instructed.
“No! This isn’t real. None of this is right!” My voice cracked in my hysteria. “Let me go!” I raised my hand to throw him. Hanes was faster, and he grabbed both my hands and pinned them behind me.
“Anora, calm down!”
“NO!” I fought to get free.
“Turn him into a frog!” The fake Ethan yelled with a manic laugh.
“SHUT UP!” I cried as I frantically wriggled my arms against Hanes’ hold. “You’re not Ethan!”
The three other men in the cells started jeering, “Why don’t you use your magic powers sweetheart?” A young, trashy looking blond boy extended his hands through the bars.
“Ow, ow!” Another one leered. And that set off a chain of inappropriate comments.
“I need some help in here!” Hanes yelled. I wacked my head back hard against his face, hitting him in the nose. Using his pain to my advantage, I elbowed him in the ribs and broke free, sprinting to the door. But of course, it was locked. And only seconds later, three more cops came in.
Hanes grabbed my arms again. I screamed and fought and felt a sudden sharp pain in my right arm. My vision blurred. “No,” I breathed and everything went black.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was daylight. Sunlight filtered through a large window above me.
What a weird dream. My brain felt fuzzy. My eyes didn’t adjust right away when I opened them. I tried to sit up but failed. My arms were stuck.
“What the—?” Slowly, my surroundings came into view. I was in a room, a hospital room by the looks of it, and I was handcuffed to the bed. Air rushed in and out of my lungs. “Hello?” I called. Shoes squeaked on the polished tile in the hall.
“Hello Anora,” a gentle voice said.
“Rose.” I turned to see her looking even more concerned than before. “Please, help me.”
“I’ll get the nurse,” she offered.
“No, I don’t need the nurse. I need to go home.”
With a lingering ‘I’m sorry’ face, Rose left. I looked out the window; the sun was high in the sky, making my estimate of time to be around noon. I had a headache; I hated being drugged.
“Hi,” someone stated from the door. I snapped my attention to the nurse.
“I’m Beverly.” She smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was drugged and held against my will,” I said bitterly. “Can you unhandcuff me? I have to pee.”
Beverly looked at Rose, who nodded slightly and stepped forward, key in hand. She led me to the bathroom and closed the door. I could tell she was blocking me in.
The bathroom was small and minimal…and was lacking a window. Seeing I had no way out, I went back into the room.
“Are you hungry?” Beverly smiled again. She was cheerful in an annoying way.
“No,” I told her, though I probably should be, since I hadn’t eaten in hours.
“I’ll bring you something anyway.” She spun on her heal and left the room.
Not knowing what else to do, I sat back on the bed. Rose didn’t re-handcuff me.
“Rose,” I pleaded. “What is going on? This isn’t right.”
She sat at the foot of the bed. “No, it’s not, is it, sweetie? It’s not right that that horrible man did those awful things to you. And it’s not right that you don’t remember, but believe me when I tell you that it will get better if you just listen.”
“Where’s Hunter?”
“He’s with Detective Hanes’ police dog, Marx.”
“So he’s here?”
“Yes, I can see if we can get him for you.”
“I would love that.”
Not two minutes after Rose left, someone else came into the room.
“Hi, Anora. I’m Doctor Green.” A tall, dark man introduced himself. “I’m a psychologist and I’m going to ask you a few questions, if that’s ok with you.”
“Ok.”
He sat on the edge of the chair next to my bed and opened a notebook. “Can you tell me your full name?”
“Anora Paige Benson.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“And what about your family? Can you tell me about them?”
“They live in New York,” I said vaguely. “And we’re related.”
Doctor Green laughed softly. “And you have pets too, I hear.”
“Yes,” I stated. What was he getting at?
“Do you get along with your family?”
“Yes,” I lied. If there was a point to this, I didn’t get it. Why would Mindy care if I got along with my family?
“Do you know where you are?” he asked.
“Not really.” I looked around the room. “A hospital?”
“Yes, in the mental health ward.”
“Can I go? I haven’t hurt anyone so legally, you can’t hold me,” I pointed out.
Dr. Green signed and closed his notebook. “You’re not ready to go home. Sometimes when something terrible happens, the mind doesn’t want to remember.”
“I’m not repressing anything. My mind can’t remember because none of this happened!” I was getting angry.
Stay
calm,
I reminded myself. Beverly came back into the room carrying a tray. Dr. Green stood.
“I’ll have someone accompany you to my office after you eat lunch. We can talk more then.” He flashed a professional smile and left.
“I brought you a chicken sandwich.” Beverly pushed the bedside table over to me. “Enjoy!”
“Wait,” I blurted when an idea popped into my head.
“What is it dear?”
“Can you come here, please?”
“Sure,” she squeaked with apprehension. I waited until she got close to the bed. Then I closed my eyes and didn’t breathe. “What is it, honey?” Her voice wavered when she spoke.
“Nothing,” I exhaled.
“Ok, then. Enjoy your food!” Beverly sped out of the room.
“Nothing,” I said again. I felt nothing. No emotion, no energy, and no vibrations came from Beverly. It was like she didn’t exist. I pushed the plate to the edge of the bedside table and looked around the room. An ugly lamp with an out dated shade occupied a nightstand and an equally ugly water color painting of a sailboat hung over the bed.
Sheer, dusty curtains hung by the window and there was a glass mirror in the bathroom.
Rose came back in the room, startling me a bit. “Look who I have!” she told me.
Hunter leaped onto the bed and licked my face, ecstatic to see me. I had no connection to Hunter. Was it blocked…or was this not my Guardian? “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Rose tossed me the TV remote. I nodded a thanks and she shut the door. I heard a sharp click of a lock.