The Disappearance


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7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

                My head feels heavy and my body is limp. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but I’m hungry. I slowly open my eyes. Do I even want to know where I am? Yes. I do. I need a plan of escape. My eye lids feel glued and heavy. I stare up at a bright white light. It takes me a minute for my eyes to adjust. I slowly move my body from its fixed flat position. I have no ties, no cuffs; I could walk out the door. No… this doesn’t seem right. I’m in a hospital-like room. Long rectangular bright lights shine above me, blue walls surround me. White floors cover the small windowless room. It’s the size of an average bedroom.

                Kassie. I walk to the door and push on the handle. It doesn’t budge. What are you going to do no genius? You pulled over and look where you got yourself? I search for anything. Anything. The right hand corner has a camera.

                “Hey!!” I yell.  “Will you at least give me some food and water? I will cooperate!” I feel stupid. “I know you are listening!”

                The door bursts open and a person comes in. He has a scar across his left cheek, square jawline, he is at least six feet tall if not taller. He’s wide and muscular, and defiantly terrifying. I back to the far corner of the room. I feel even smaller.

                “What’s your name, little girl?” he demands.

                I decide I need to stand up to this guy a little more. I stand up straighter and fold my arms sassily, “Kelly Kamalo,” I say, “and yours?”

                He chuckles darkly. “I know you are afraid, Kelly Kamalo, all of them are. My job is to keep you, and your friends here. My name is Security Sam.” I don’t think that’s his real name because it sounds too cheesy for a muscular guy like him.

                “Well, Security Sam, what is your purpose, or your supervisor’s purpose, with me?”

                “You’ll find out all in good time.” He heads out the room.

                “Wait!” I call, and he pauses, “can I at least get some food? Or some water?” I plead.

                “Do I look like your maid?” and he slams the door. I am alone again. I’m tired of being tough. I can’t be tough anymore. I break down and cry for hours.

***

                Apparently I do have a ‘maid’ of sorts. She comes in dressed all in white, a little hat even. This is beginning to look more and more like a hospital. She isn’t fooling anybody; I can see her tattoos peeking out from under her dress. She doesn’t try to be nice, she just hands me a plate of food and a glass of water. Then she turns to leave.

                “Wait!” I call, and she hesitantly pauses. “Did the… people that came here with me… uh… are they okay? Alive I mean?” I don’t really know how to place my words; I’ve never been in a situation like this before.

                She nods, “there are two girls next door that look all dressed up, just like you.”

                Logan. “What about the boys? Where to they go? What day is it? What if I have to go to the bathroom? Where are we?” I question.

                “Boys are mixed around in here somewhere, no boys that came in with you though. We only test on teenagers. There is a bathroom right there,” she says and walks over across the room and pushes a button. I never realized was there. The wall panel slides up and a door is behind it. “You share a bathroom with some other girls. It’s Sunday, August 17th. And I can’t answer your where are we question, because I do not know either. I was kidnapped here much like you, and I was given two choices, that day will come for you.”

                “Oh. Thank you.” I say as she walks out the door. I don’t think she was lying. The door was there, and the date seems right too, because the first day of school was Thursday, August 14th, and the day I was kidnapped was Friday. I was only out for a day. I look at my plate, scrambled eggs and bacon and toast. It didn’t look very hot. I frown. I pick up my fork and poke at the eggs.

                They look normal. I take a small bite. As soon as my tongue touches the cold slimy eggs, I have to spit them out. The bacon and the toast look normal, so I eat those. I leave the eggs be, and drink some water. It doesn’t taste very pure, but I drink it anyways.

                I decide to go into the bathroom. The door is cold and solid, similar to the one across from me, the exit door. I push on the door in front of me, it is not locked. It opens a crack and I push harder. It opens farther and now I can see into the room. It looks public. There are stalls and sinks and showers. Showers. I could use a shower. No. You have nothing to change back into. I open the door farther and put one foot in. Slowly, I inch into the bathroom. I am alone.

It’s bright, much like a hospital bathroom. Sterile. It smells like bleach. I walk over to the sinks and mirrors hang above them. I look at the sink and turn on the cold water. It looks clean.  I am not ready to see my reflection yet. I walk over to the stalls. Each one of them fully stalked with toilet paper. Then I walk over to the showers. Each one separated by a curtain and brick walls.

I walk back over to the sinks and look in the mirror. Dried mascara covers my face. My color isn’t fully back to normal. I look skinny. My dress kind of hangs off of me and it is more torn up than I thought it was, but I don’t want to take it off, it’s the only thing I have that is from home that and my- phone. My phone!! I check for cameras, and there are none, but just in case, I go into a stall and close the door. I left the hem of my dress and carefully pull out my phone it is warm and surprisingly unbroken. I hit the power button, my battery is half full, and I have a text message from my parents saying we love you too. And that’s all. I sigh, no reception in here. At least I have the text message. Still the phone is very helpful, because when I escape if I escape, then I can call 911.

I walk back to the mirror and touch my reflection. My chest squeezes and my head begins to throb. I scream and scream and fall on the floor.

***

I am laying on a cold table, covered in hospital plastic surgery sheets. I can’t tell if I’m even wearing anything, I just feel cold. A man in a white mask and glasses puts an oxygen mask on my face and I feel the needles stuck in me. I look around frantically searching for something. I don’t want to die. I’m going to die. I search for something, anything, but I can’t move. I’m getting drowsy. I might be imagining things but I think I hear someone calling for me.

I hear clattering against the floor. Almost like a syringe. I gasp and cough as the oxygen mask was removed. The ties that bound my hands loosen, but I still can’t move. I can’t feel. It’s as I am stuck between waking up and sleeping. I’m there, but I’m not.

Arms slide underneath my back and my knees, as I’m lifted off the table and suspended in the air. That’s the last thing I remember, and then I black out.

I wake up wrapped in sheets in a bed, and find Logan standing over me.

“You’re awake.” He says and smiles at me. “I thought you might be permanently in a coma.” He says and hugs me. “I’m so sorry. I should have believed you. I should have tried to protect you… I--,” He sobs, “I should- I shouldn’t have to-hold you to pull over, only to drive faster. You needed me, and I hurt you, just as those people tried to.”

“It’s not your fault.” I say.

“Yes, it kind of is, my father, owns this place. He targeted my girlfriend to take, and it was my job to betray you and experiment on you. I can’t do that. That’s what his father did to him and his father and so on. They take these people and basically set them up for murder. Take out organs, and develop serums to see if they can save lives for people without those organs. I saved you from having your left lung taken away. You would have lived- but still, I couldn’t let them take that from you.”

“It’s not your fault that you care about me Logan. You didn’t know.” I say.

***

I am still screaming, but I’m not alone in the bathroom anymore. 

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