She scoots away from the table and stands. Her frock bellows out with the swift movement, and the shoes she has on underneath make me question her authenticity. I would assume a gypsy would be barefoot. Or is she a witch? A wizard? Whatever she is, I want desperately to believe that she can help me more than she has. I can tell based on my hesitation that I’m not the type of person to buy into this shit. But my desperation is heavier than my skepticism. If it takes believing in dragons to find Charlie, then I’ll be the first to wield a sword in the face of its fire.
“There has to be something,” I tell her. “I can’t find Charlie. I can’t remember anything. I don’t even know where to start looking. You have to give me more information than this.” I stand, my voice desperate and my eyes even more so.
She simply tilts her head and smiles.
“Silas, the answers to your questions lie with someone who is very close to you.” She points to the doorway. “You may go now. You have a lot of searching to do.”
Very close to me?
My father? Landon? Who else am I close with besides Charlie? I glance at the beaded curtains and then back at her. She’s already walking away, toward a door in the back of the building. I watch her as she leaves.
I run my hands up my face. I want to scream.
Chapter 12: Charlie
When I wake up, everything is clean. No rice, no sausage, no shards of porcelain to cut a bitch.
Whoa! Where did that come from? I feel loopy. She’s got this timed down to a T.
Knock Sammy out, bring her crappy food, knock Sammy out, bring her crappy food.
But this time when she returns, she doesn’t have crappy food. She’s carrying a towel and a small bar of soap.
Finally! A restroom.
“Shower time,” she says. She’s not as friendly this time. Her mouth is a tight line across her face. I stand up, expecting to sway a little. The needle to the neck was stronger than the other stuff they’ve been giving me, but I don’t feel as foggy. My mind is sharp; my body is ready to react.
“Why are you the only one who comes?” I say. “If you’re a nurse, you must work in shifts.”
She turns away, walks to the door.
“Hello…?”
“Behave,” she says. “Next time things won’t go as well for you.”
I shut my mouth because she’s taking me out of this box, and I really, really want to see what’s behind that door.
She opens the door and lets me walk out first. There’s another door in front of me. I’m confused. She turns right and I see there’s a hallway. Just to my right is a bathroom. I haven’t used the toilet in hours, and the minute I see it my bladder starts to ache. She hands me the towel. “Shower only has cold water. Don’t take long.”
I close the door. It’s like a bunker. No windows, raw concrete. The toilet doesn’t have a lid or a seat, just a rimless hole with a sink next to it. I use it anyway.
On top of the sink is a new hospital gown and underwear. I study everything as I pee, looking for something. Anything. There’s a rusted pipe near the floor, jutting out of the wall. I flush the toilet and move toward it. Sticking my hand inside, I feel around. Gross. A piece of the pipe has corroded away.
I go to turn the water on in the shower in case she’s listening. It’s a tiny little bit of metal, but with some effort I’m able to detach it from the wall. It’s something, at least.
I carry it in the shower with me, holding it in one hand while I wash. The water is so cold; I can’t stop my teeth from chattering. I try to clench my jaw tighter, but my teeth still rattle inside my head despite how much I try to still them.
How pathetic am I? I have no control over my own teeth. No control over my own memories. No control over when I eat, sleep, shower or pee.
The only thing I feel I can control is my eventual escape from wherever it is that I am. I clutch the pipe in my hands with all my strength, knowing it could be the only thing that gets me back some form of control.
When I walk out of the bathroom, it’s wrapped in toilet paper and stuffed in my underwear, a simple pair of white panties she left for me. I don’t have a plan yet; I’ll just wait for the right moment.
Chapter 13: Silas
It’s dark now. I’ve been driving for over two hours without a clue as to where to go next. I can’t go back home. I can’t go to Charlie’s house. I don’t know anyone else, so the only thing I can do is drive.
I have eight missed calls. Two are from Landon. One from Janette.
The rest are from my father.
I also have eight voicemails, none of which I’ve listened to yet. I don’t want to worry about any of them right now. None of them have any clue what’s really going on, and no one would believe me if I told them. I don’t blame them. I keep repeating the entire day in my head, and it seems too ridiculous for me to even believe—and I’m the one living it.
It’s all too ridiculous, but way too real.
I pull over at a gas station to fill up my car. I’m not even sure if I’ve eaten anything today, but I feel light-headed, so I grab a bag of chips and a bottle of water while inside the store.
The entire time I fill my tank with gas, I wonder about Charlie.
When I’m back on the road, I’m still wondering about Charlie.
I wonder if Charlie’s eaten anything.
I wonder if she’s alone.
I wonder if she’s being taken care of.
I wonder how I’m possibly supposed to find her when she could be anywhere in the entire world right now. All I’m doing is driving in circles, slowing every time I pass a girl walking on a sidewalk. I don’t know where to look. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know how to be the guy who saves her.