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Chapter Four

RAELYN

My head is pounding. My eyes refuse to open. There is a heaviness to my body, an odd smoke smell assaults my nose. A beeping sound comes from my left side. Even the bed feels different.

Where am I?

With sheer force of will, I slowly peel open my eyes. The lights from above blind me. My vision is blurry, and my eyes feel dry and scratchy.

Where the fuck am I?

The fog in my eyes starts to go away the more that I blink, and the room I’m in becomes clearer. I’m not in my hell cage. The sight around me is filled with stark white walls, a linoleum floor, fluorescent lights, and ugly orange drapes.

Turning my head to the left, I see a machine that I am hooked up to.

Shit. I’m in a hospital.

How the hell did I get here? Taking my palm to my forehead, I push into it, the pain overriding any ability I have to figure out how I’m finding myself in a hospital bed. What was I doing? I know I was doing something.

The door was open. There was a body on me, and the door was open. I blow out a breath. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to remember how I got here.

My captor was giving me my vitamins. I hear the grunting in my head.

The smell of bad breath and alcohol suddenly came out of nowhere.

I start to dry heave, causing my head to feel like it’s getting ready to split into two.

The name David runs through my head. I can suddenly feel the man who told me his name on top of me, his disgusting sweat dripping onto my face.

The door was open.

And then it hits me. I escaped. I got out. That guy left the door open, which allowed me to leave. And I did. I made it to… a boat. All the flashes of memory start coming back to me in pieces.

How did I end up here? I start coughing, causing me to rub my chest. It hurts. What the hell happened after I found the boat? The beeping on the machine next to me starts to go crazy.

“Oh, ma’am, I am going to need you to calm down.

I know just waking up can be a bit scary, but you are in a hospital, and you are safe.

” A redheaded nurse comes walking over to the machine that is going haywire, pressing a few buttons, and the machine quiets down.

“How are you feeling?” she asks me as she starts to look at a computer next to the bed.

I don’t say anything. I still have no clue what is going on. My mind is slow to catch up.

She adds, “You know, you’re lucky that baseball player found you. He got you out of that house fire in pretty good time. Thankfully, there’s not much damage from the fire. Just a bit of smoke inhalation.”

Her words drown out as I realize what she said. I was in a fire. Someone saved me from a fire. That’s impossible. I was in a boat. The asshole chased me. I hid from him. How was I in the house? Did I actually leave the house? Maybe I didn’t make it out?

He got to me before I could escape. Gave me more of the sleepy stuff. Maybe he found me and dragged me back.

I ran. My feet were on the pavement. I ran.

I feel my chest tighten, and my breaths start coming out short and fast. My hand flies to my heart, and I can feel it beating so fast in my chest.

“Hey! Miss! I need you to calm down! You are having a panic attack. I need you to take deep breaths and calm yourself. Listen to the sound of my voice, focus on that.”

My mind keeps swirling with memories, but I can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Is this real life? Am I imagining this? I look down at my hand, seeing that it’s shaking. Her voice drowns out again, and I feel dizzy.

Is he here? Is my captor here? Did he come in with me? Was any of it real? Is he real? My head snaps up, and I realize I need to get out of here. It’s my chance to break away.

Shaking my head, I throw the blankets off me. Screaming can be heard beside me, but I ignore the sounds outside of my own head. I need to leave this place, and fast. There are lines going into me, and I start to reach for them, but immediately my hands are held back.

Eyes. I see eyes. So many eyes and hands touching me. The world around me darkens; all I can hear is my heartbeat.

All these eyes…

It’s cold, damp, and dark. I hear quiet sobbing somewhere near me, but I can’t be sure where it’s coming from. My body shivers, and my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest.

I take a deep breath, and it’s hard. My head hurts, and my eyes can’t focus on the world around me.

Help, please.

I don’t know how long I lie on what feels like cold concrete, but suddenly, hot hands are grabbing me and lifting me up. My vision is still not focusing, and there is only a slight bit of light in certain places I can’t make out.

I’m in the air, and I feel like I’m being thrown around like a sack of potatoes.

Everything in me wants to struggle, wants to fight off whoever is manhandling me, but I can’t. I want to scream, but I can’t get my head to open my mouth and make the sound come out.

The only thing I seem to be able to control are my thoughts. I’m locked in my head.

Someone help, please.

I’m suddenly flipped and laid out on my back. The room around me is dark, but there is a bit more light from what I think are candles. I am not sure if I see flickering or if that is the blur in my vision messing with me.

Voices hum around me. They are low, and I can’t make out the words.

Suddenly, I feel hands on me. Whatever they had me covered with is stripped off me. Murmurs still hum around me. I blink a few times, and my vision starts to clear. Not much, but I can start to make out shapes better.

And that’s when I see them. The eyes.

So many fucking eyes.

The fear in me starts to multiply. All the eyes stare back at me, the figures shrouded in blackness. Inside my head, I am screaming for them to stop, for them to leave me alone. A hand reaches out toward me, and I can feel my body tremble.

But then darkness comes. And I let myself fall into it.

Voices around me stir me awake, and I slowly open my eyes to find a nurse and doctor talking to each other.

“Oh, there she is. How are you feeling, dear?” the redheaded nurse from before asks me. I look at her badge and see her name is Diana, but I don’t answer her. She helps me sit up; my head still throbs, but less than it did before. I’m sore, and my body aches.

“Hi, my name is Dr. Berton. Do you know where you are?” Dr. Berton is a tall man, probably in his fifties if I had to guess. His black-rimmed glasses outline his dark hair, but his blue eyes stand out against his face.

My lips stay shut. I nod but don’t give him anything else besides that.

“Can you tell me your name?” Dr. Berton asks, his brows furrowing in concern.

My head drops. I just want to leave. I don’t want to have a conversation with him or anyone. Talking won’t do anything. I can’t remember anything, so my words would be empty anyway. My fingernails dig into the palm of my hand. I don’t respond.

“Okay, but you do know your name?” I look up and see him tilting his head to the side as he asks.

Again, I stare at him. Afraid to respond, afraid to hear my own voice. Fearful of reality.

“What about if you write it down for me? I just would rather have something to call you other than the woman in room 529. Can you write down your name for me? Please?” His voice softens.

My eyes look down at my hands lying on the hospital blanket.

I wring them together, my mind still trying to play catch up.

My stomach starts to turn, a wave of nausea hitting me, and in an instant, I turn my head and vomit over the side of the bed.

The nurse tries to grab a vomit bag, but she doesn’t get to me in time.

Tears fill my eyes as my anxiety starts to ramp up.

“You are going to experience some withdrawal symptoms. We think you were drugged with opioids.” Dr. Berton stands at the end of the bed.

“We are going to get you started on some Clonidine to help with some of the symptoms. But we do not know how long you were being given the opioid, so we may need to change it up depending on how you go through the withdrawal. The Clonidine won’t get rid of the cravings for the drugs, but it will help with some of the anxiety and other symptoms. We will watch you over the next few hours, and if we need to add Methadone or Buprenorphine to help with the detox, we can. ”

I cough as the acid taste covers my throat and tongue. My chest feels tight, and I can feel my breaths coming short and fast. Drugs. Sir had drugged me, time and time again. And now I was really feeling the effects.

“Calm down, sweetie.” The nurse comes up beside me. “Take a deep breath and just relax. You are safe here,” she tries to assure me.

I try to blow out long, deep breaths. My eyes water, and I swipe the tears away.

Dr. Berton lets out a sigh. “We promise we will help you through this, but please let us help you. Write a name on this paper for me. Let’s start there. Let’s focus on that right now.”

He flips over a piece of paper on the clipboard he has in his hands and grabs a pen from the front pocket of his white coat. He hands it to me and then steps back a bit to give me some space. I take the pen into my left hand and hesitate. My hand shakes as I hold it.

If he’s asking my name, there’s a chance my captor isn’t here. Do I risk giving him my name? Will the devil find me?

I bite my lip as I look down at the paper and shake as I place the tip on the paper. My handwriting is sloppy and unsteady. But you can clearly see the letters R-a-e-l-y-n.

I hand back the clipboard, and he looks down at my chicken scratch. “Raelyn. Thank you. Now, I know you may not be comfortable with what we are about to talk about, so I have asked Nurse Diana to stay here with the both of us. Is that okay?”

I nod.

He proceeds with my approval. “Do you know what happened at all, Raelyn?”

I frown, as my memories are so mixed. I don’t know what is truly reality. Shaking my head, I look down at my hands in my lap in defeat.

Dr. Berton grimaces. “For starters, you were in a fire. The house you were in. But tests show that you are okay from the aspect of the fire, besides a little smoke inhalation, but you will easily recover from that. But what I am concerned about is the bruising we found both in and out of you. As well as the detox from the opioids.”

The sound of his shoes causes me to look up. I see him pull over a laptop on a cart. He pulls up some things, and they look like bones. I inwardly cringe. That’s me?

“You have extensive bruising all over your body. A lot of bruising in the stomach and vaginal area. There’s some blunt-force trauma to your head, as well. Track marks along your skin from needles. You also have some broken ribs, and it looks like you had a broken nose.” He clears his throat.

Tears slip out of the corners of my eyes. My nose was broken by my captor. I tried to escape and run away from him one day. I reached for the doorknob to the room, and he pulled me back by my hair, dragging me back to the middle of the room.

He began beating me with his closed fist. Punching me in my stomach, hitting my ribs and my face. I heard an audible crack when his fist connected with my nose. There was intense pain, and I saw stars. Blood gushed from my face as he got up and left me on the floor screaming and crying.

I swipe my tears away and look up at the doctor. I nod, though I don’t even know what I’m acknowledging.

“Raelyn, we would like to do a rape kit. We think you were sexually assaulted, and the kit will help the police catch who did it,” Dr. Berton says softly.

I vigorously shake my head, my blood running cold. There is no way that can happen. I just want to disappear. Fade into nothing.

“Raelyn, I can’t stress enough how important it is to try to catch this person.”

I let out a huff as I slam my hand down on the hospital bed. I continue to shake my head. I can feel my heart start to race, and panic sets in. My breathing speeds up, and I hear Nurse Diana come over to me and try to talk to me.

“I need you to calm down, okay? Just relax. We won’t do the test, okay? Just breathe for me.” She lays me back against the bed that is tilted up in a sitting position. “I need you to take deep breaths and relax.”

I let out a sob and turn away from the both of them.

I just want to leave. This nightmare is too much for me.

My brain doesn’t want to work, doesn’t want to remember the whole story.

I just see bits and pieces of it. Everything is jumbled, and my mind is tired of trying to put it together.

The nausea is making my stomach do somersaults, and I can taste bile again.

I’d say I want to go home, but I don’t know where home is.

I can’t remember where I came from; the fog is too thick.

Part of me wishes that whoever saved me from that fire would have just left me in there. Let the fire consume me. Let it burn the flesh he touched off of me. Let it take my last breath, and whatever was left of my soul.

Then, maybe then, I would find peace.