“Would you allow me to clean your feet?”
I worded it very carefully so he knew the decision was his to make, and that I wasn’t forcing anything upon him. I really hoped he’d agree to it because we needed to slowly get the filth off of him. He winced and slowly pulled his feet closer to his body.Easy, pal.He was afraid of the water. I recalled the FBI photos of the waterboarding contraption.
“We have some damp cleansing wipes. They’re very handy because no water is needed.”
When I offered that bit of information, he slid his feet toward me again. Trust. I had earned some trust from him, and I couldn’t slip up. Since I was still at the foot of his bed, I could see Sam standing at the station desk writing.
“Dr. Chisholm,” I called out calmly to get his attention. He turned and looked at me immediately and then began to walk away from the desk. I stopped him before he got too far away. “Could you bring me a pack of the cleansing wipes and some gentle lotion?”
Sam nodded and then jogged behind the desk to some cabinets while I returned my focus to the young man. He had leaned back against the pillow, and the side of his face was fully leaning against the bear’s head. Sam brought me the materials I requested, and I pulled the black padded stool over and sat on it near the foot of the bed.
“Do you need any assistance?” Sam asked.
“No, I have it all handled; thank you,” I calmly said and began opening the package of wipes. Sam knew I had things under control and that our young man was very slowly coming around. I looked at him as I held up one of the damp cloths so he could see what I would be putting on his skin. “It will feel a little cool when it touches your skin, but it won’t hurt or sting. These aren’t medicated wipes,” I explained.
Though he appeared calm, I could hear the beeps of his pulse racing along from the monitor. I touched his left foot, and the pulse rate began to soar.I’m not going to hurt you.I held a wet wipe in each hand as I slowly moved my hands along his filthy feet. Gently I removed the grime, blood residue, and god only knew what else, from his feet. I cleaned between his toes and rubbed over the toenails. There were ten wipes in a package, and it took me eight to get one foot clean. While remaining seated, I leaned back and spotted Kerry. She made eye contact with me, and I held up the package of cleansing wipes and waved it so she’d know that I was requesting another one.
“Does that foot feel a little better?” I asked him. He nodded, rubbing the side of his face along the bear’s head.
I thanked Kerry for the other package as she dropped it off on the wheeled table that was next to me at the foot of the bed. His right foot was equally filthy, and it also took seven or eight wipes to get it clean. I picked up the lotion bottle and held it up so he could see it.
“This is gentle, fragrant-free lotion. It will soothe your dry skin. Would you like me to put a little on each foot?”
The young man nodded again, confirming his trust in me. I tapped the bottom of the small bottle, and about a nickel-sized dollop of lotion came out. I rubbed it between my hands to warm it slightly before touching his delicate skin. His heels were so dry, and I was extra careful around his ankles. The skin felt so thin, and there was some bruising on them. My guess was that they could be bruised just from laying in the cage. There was no padding on this young man at all.
“There, all done,” I announced.
From under the corner of the heated blanket, I retrieved the warm socks, turned them right side out, and then gently shimmied them down his boney feet. I pulled the heated blanket down over his feet and bunched some of the blankets against the outside of his ankles for comfort.
I returned to my other seat beside his bed and smiled at him. He closed his eyes when I told him to get some rest. At some point, I dozed off in the chair, and when a nurse came by to check his vitals, I woke up and stood. As I stretched, I noticed that the notepad on the table had writing on it.
My name is Brandon Calvin Cooper. I’m twenty-years-old. Please don’t leave me.
I smiled at his messy handwritten note. I knew it was hard for him to write with those splints on his fingers. After the nurse left, I sat down with his note and picked up the marker. I wrote back a quick message for him in case he woke up again and I was asleep.
“Nice to meet you, Brandon Calvin Cooper. I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered as I wrote it.
What’s your story, my friend?
11
Brandon
I wokeup from pain in my stomach, but I didn’t open my eyes. The strangest sensation was against my face as I reached up to touch my cheek, but my hand bumped something soft. I opened my eyes and saw the brown teddy bear. I was shocked when I realized that I hadn’t been dreaming that I was really out of Sebastian’s hands … I actually was!
Sleeping in a chair beside my bed was Dr. James Brooks. He was still here! He said he wouldn’t leave, but I’d heard that before. I opened my mouth a bit and tried to stretch, but the holes in my mouth still caused me a lot of discomfort. Blisters on the inside of my mouth rubbed against my teeth. I closed my mouth and pulled the blanket closer that was attached to the bear. When I rolled to my side, I pulled my legs up and put the teddy bear head under my chin and then closed my eyes.
“How are you feeling?” James inquired when I woke up again.
“Okay,” I said slowly and tried to enunciate the word. He seemed happy that I was talking. I did something right that made him happy and smile.
“Is your mouth still sore?”
I nodded.
“It’s alright. Don’t strain yourself to talk. All in due time, Brandon.”
He said my name. I tried to stop myself from smiling because it was so painful, but damn, he said my name. James explained that they were going to move me to a private room after I tried to eat something. He also said that the FBI detective who found me would be stopping by today. Suddenly, a feeling of panic washed over me. Where would I go when I was released? Would I be forced to go home?
