So, I had a passport made in my old name, Ria Singh, hopped on several planes, with plane tickets purchased on the day so if anyone planned to follow me, they’d have a hard time keeping up and disappeared. It worked. No one came looking for me since. Until today. Just the thought of danger lurking just outside my door held my heart in a tailspin. I glanced out the window. Nothing but darkness dotted by streetlamps in our tiny suburb stared back.
I was robbed of my first child but blessed with another and I’d kill before I let anyone take him from me. Anyone!
“You need to brush your teeth,” I said later, holding out the toothpaste.
With his pink cheeks puffed out, hands stuck under his armpits and bottom lip curled up over his top lip, my green-eyed little monster shook his head. Another nightly ritual of brush your teeth and no I don’t want to, and the toothpaste tastes yucky.
I sighed then dropped to my haunches in front of me. “Let’s make a deal then.” His tiny brows perked up. “How about, for every brush, we leave out one vegetable for that day. Your choice,” I kept my tone matter-of-fact, my best bargaining skill with my son. He seemed to contemplate my suggestion then gave me a vigorous nod. I squeezed a pea-sized amount of the blue paste onto his brush and handed it to him.
When he was done brushing, I tucked him into bed and dropped a kiss to his brow. As I stood to leave, he stopped me. “Mama.”
“Yes, baby.”
He gave me a toothy grin. “Can I have a brother, please?” That was so out of leftfield, I burst out laughing, then dropped next to his bed. “Sandy in my class says her mommy went to a place and she bought a sister for her so now Sandy can play dress-up with her new sister.”
Although I laughed, I couldn’t ignore the tiny tremor that passed through me knowing how some parents got to have babies at the expense of young girls in a prison camp. How I’d lost my baby there. How I’d almost become one of those baby makers if it hadn’t been for Lotus. The sudden tightening of my chest forced me to place a hand over it and draw slow circles to massage it into calm.
“Can we, mama?”
Hi earnest expression so intense, I faltered on my reply. “It's not so easy to buy a baby, sweetheart.” Sadness drooped his lips and I felt bad. “But we can try, right?” I knew I was making the wrong promise, but I prayed he would forget about this and move on to some new fascination like he usually did.
My sleep was restless. The dream had me in its debilitating grip. Hands holding me, dragging me. An unknown face sneering at me, taunting me to wake and fight it. Pain began in the middle of my stomach as hard muscles pressed me down, keeping me weighted. My hands flailed, pushing, shoving. Warm liquid filled my nails as I tore at skin and strands of hair banded around my fingers like the sting of a fishing line. Putrid smells filled my nose, forcing bile into my throat, the taste, acidic on my tongue.
I came to with a start, the image of a large black hand pulling Rowan away from me wrenched me out of the dream. Sweat beaded my brow and my upper lip. My chest rose and fell at a rapid rate in rhythm with my hoarse breathing. Disorientated for a few seconds I stared up at the ceiling, forcing calm into my body.
I wasn’t sure what gave it away. Whether it was the red tinge to the darkroom, the odd dark shapes in the ceiling above me, the gentle tapping at a window I couldn’t see, the soft whimpers somewhere behind me, or the coppery tang of blood permeating my nostrils. I wasn’t in my room. Was I still in my dream? I bolted upright but a snapping tug on my arm yanked me back down.
“Breathe, Gianna,” I whispered over and over. My breathing calmed. My muscles relaxed. My heartbeat toned down, a softer beat, a gentler rhythm. I closed my eyes, allowed my mind to take me back. Back to Korea. Back to the prison camp. Back to the field behind my cell. Back to standing on my hands, my legs rigid and straight up in the air. Right next to Lotus as she instructed me to calm down.
Several minutes passed in that out-of-body solitude. Slowly, I opened my eyes, letting my gaze wander around the cardboard box of reddish hues, a single mattress, and chair that made up the room. My eyes drifted to my hands, cuffed above my head to a metal headboard, down to my body, dressed in yoga pants and the oversized shirt I’d been wearing before bed. A soft whimper sounded to my right and my gaze jerked in that direction. I didn’t panic as my eyes searched for Rowan. But I could see nothing. I’d been taken.
When?
I closed my eyes remembering.
I’d put Rowan to bed. Went downstairs. Checked all the windows and doors again. Locked. Switched on the alarm. Went to the kitchen. Grabbed the bottled water I’d been drinking earlier from the counter near the fridge. Stepping away. A black vision. A sharp sting to my neck. My hands fighting the hold around my arms.
Yes. I’d been taken.
By who?
