I’ll eventually have to do some in-person poking around about her family. Background checks only take you on a paper trail of someone’s life. I’m more interested in uncovering the raw, undocumented story.
The news reported there aren’t any other living family members that they know of. Besides a few friends or acquaintances, nobody would miss her for long.
Looking at her lying there so frail and helpless, the urge to help her is so strong even I can’t deny it. I don’t like the worrying feeling that she might not make it. Normally, I would just dispose of her and save myself the trouble, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do it.
Her eyes are sunken in and her cheekbones protrude from her face. The hospital gown does little to hide her malnourished figure. I don’t even mean that in an asshole way either. It’s alarming. She got this way from years of neglect.
I didn’t find any trace of track marks on her arms and the doctor confirmed her drug screen was negative. She jumped off a bridge, so she does have mental health issues.
Even so, her condition could be still be involuntary. Everything surrounding this whole situation is irritating me.Mad at myself for saving her, but also mad that I can’t just let her die.
I’ve paced the floor so much over the last hour, I might’ve worn a hole in it. I’ve got to get out of here for a while.
The medical staff are planning on trying to wake her up and pull her breathing tube. They said she might panic when they lower the sedation, and extubation could take a few tries.
Even though I’ve been at her side since she got here, it’s best for someone else to be here when they wake her up. I’ve seen the fear in the girl’s eyes when she looks at me.
Her fear of men likely runs deep. I stop at the door, turning around to get another glance before I leave. I watch for a few seconds as the machine pushes air into her lungs, keeping the rise and fall of her chest at a normal pattern, then quietly shut the door behind me.
Chapter 5
Maya
Mama and I are sitting at the dining room table putting together a puzzle. It’s one of those nice quiet nights where Daddy is spending the night in jail for fighting at the bar and I get to spend time with Mama without being in fear of him coming home in an alcohol and cocaine fueled rampage.
Puzzling is one of our favorite things to do together. Sometimes I get bored and put them in the wrong place and wait for her to find them.
She thinks it’s pretty funny. I love it when she laughs. Her smile reaches her eyes and they seem to sparkle. I wish every night could be like this. Just the two of us.
If only the jail would keep Daddy for more than a night. When he came home drunk a couple nights ago, I pretended to be asleep when he came in my room. I would be in trouble if I was up late.
He just pulled my covers off me and after a few minutes of strange noises and heavy breathing he spit on me then walked out. I always think he is going to hit me when he does that but as long as I keep my eyes closed, he doesn’t…
Mama lets out a laugh. “Look!!! Look, look, look, LOOK!!!” she cries out while pointing to the piece now in its rightful place. To others it might seem silly, but that’s what we say to each other when we get a hard part done.
Mama’s face begins to fade, as does the wonderful dream I was having about her. My mind, while groggy, becomes acutely aware of the shift in my focus…
Who are those people talking in the distance and what’s that beeping noise?
There’s something lodged in my throat—I can’t breathe. My hand reaches for my mouth, but I also can’t move. I’m tethered to something. My eyes open and my body fills with panic.
I thrash in the bed, my legs tied down too. I try to scream for help but the thing in my throat makes it impossible. My brain scrambles to comprehend what’s going on.
The last thing I remember was eating breakfast with the men who took me.Oh god, please no! Let me go!
Tears fall from my eyes as I fight to get free. They lied; they are going to torture me. Silently, I beg for God to take me now, I am so tired of suffering. Tired of being punished for things I didn’t do.
“Hey there, it’s ok. You’re ok. Try to relax.” A warm hand gently touches my shoulder, doing very little to comfort me.
My eyes drift towards the voice. I’m looking into a set of vaguely familiar green eyes. My mind fights against grogginess to remember where I’ve seen this woman.
I look at her, silently pleading for her to help me.Please help me!I pull against my restraints. Panicking again. Daddy used to restrain me while he was hitting me.
I can’t take this anymore.
I arch my back and pull, turning my head from side to side, desperately trying to break free and get this thing out of my throat.
I hear a sequence of beeps, and a few seconds later, I’m drifting back off to sleep.
