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Chapter Five

RAELYN

A knock on the door pulls my attention away from the white wall I was staring at. My vision still has trouble focusing, but it’s getting better. I still feel like I am being held down by a weight, and my exhaustion levels are high. Just getting up to use the bathroom tires me out.

Nurse Diana comes in and smiles at me, but I do not return the gesture. “Raelyn, how are you feeling?”

I purse my lips and continue to sit in silence. How am I feeling? My body aches, my nose won’t stop running, and my anxiety is at an all-time high. Oh, and the nausea is a fucking walk in the park. I scoff and turn my head back toward the wall I was staring at before she came in.

As if she is reading my mind, she says, “Well, the detox drugs will lessen the withdrawal symptoms, but not completely. So, it’s totally normal that you are still feeling some of the effects of the drugs you were on.”

She walks closer to my bedside and places her hands on the railing.

“Listen, there are some police officers in the hallway, and they just want to take a moment to talk to you. Would you like me to stay in the room with you?”

Without hesitation, I nod. There’s no way I can handle any of this alone right now.

Nurse Diana gives me a weak smile as she pushes off the rail of the bed. She summons the officers from outside in the hall to come in, and they slowly make their way inside my hospital room.

There’s a tall officer who offers me a polite smile.

He is stocky, while worry lines etch his face.

His salt and pepper hair is combed to the side to try and hide his balding, but it does nothing to cover it up.

His partner is a woman who looks to be in her early thirties.

Her hands rest on her belt as her eyes study me.

Her raven hair is pulled back into a bun, and her face is devoid of any makeup.

She offers me no smile or any greeting, just stands there like she is trying to peer into my soul. I swallow over the lump in my throat as I study her. She must be the bad cop.

“Miss Raelyn, how are you doing? I am Lieutenant Hilt, and this is my partner, Officer Ransom.” The man nods to the woman next to him. “We want to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

My eyes dart between them. They both step closer toward me, and it makes me feel incredibly nervous that I find myself trying to scoot back in the bed. I shake my head and let out a whimper. They immediately take a step back at my reaction.

Lieutenant Hilt holds up his hands and nods. “Look, you have been through a lot over the last couple of days. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can you tell me your full name?”

I bite my lip and shake my head.

“Do you know your full name or date of birth?” he asks.

I frown at the truth. I don’t. I have no idea what my full name is, when I was born, or where. I’m no one. I’m a ghost. My eyes slowly meet his, and I shake my head.

“Okay, no problem. Did you live at that house, Raelyn?”

Again, I respond with a no.

Lieutenant Hilt hums. “Do you know how you ended up at that house? Were you visiting?”

My mind blanks. I have no idea how I ended up there. I don’t remember a lot of my past. It all seems so foggy, so unclear. I let out a groan as I try to picture my life before all this, but there’s nothing there.

I look over at Diana, who is standing against the wall watching everything. She tries to give me an encouraging smile, but it doesn’t help.

Why can’t I remember?

The lieutenant clears his throat, and my head snaps to him, breaking me from my thoughts. “Let me try something a little easier for you. Is there any family here in Las Vegas that we can call for you?”

My eyes widen at his words. Las Vegas? As in… the state of Nevada? Am I from here? Do I have family from here? No… New York. I am from out east. I feel that to be true. I feel it in my bones.

But maybe that’s a lie. Fuck, I don’t know what’s true and what isn’t anymore! I can’t remember who I am! Where I’m from! My entire life is nothing more than a black hole. My heart rate starts to pick up, my frustration starting to grow.

“You look surprised. Are you from Las Vegas?” Officer Ransom asks me.

I pick up my hands and pull at my hair. The machine next to me starts to beep, and Diana runs over to me. I can feel the tears falling from my eyes as I assess that I am no longer sure where I come from.

But I am sure that I am lost and forgotten.

Dizziness starts to come over me, my chest constricting as a new fear washes over me. How will I survive out here? How will I get back to wherever it was I came from? How is all this fucking happening?

My vision starts to tunnel, and I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I claw at the hospital sheet and my gown, and then I see nothing but darkness.

And I welcome it.

I wake with a start. My eyes fly open, and I instantly recall there being people in the room with me, but the room is currently empty. Thank fucking God.

Scanning the room, I see that new water has been brought to me. I look up at the clock on the wall and see that it’s a little after ten in the morning. I have no idea how long I have been out. Has it been a day? A week? Three hours?

I need to get the fuck out of here.

My stomach cramps, and a wave of nausea hits. I immediately grab the vomit bag next to me and empty the bile into it. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and my body feels like it’s on fire. These withdrawals are the worst.

Out of the kindness of their hearts, the nurses pooled some clothes for me yesterday, since I was brought in here completely naked. They thought I might be more comfortable not being in a gown all day long, since I have nothing on underneath. But naked was how the asshole kept me. Completely bare.

Fuck. My captor. The mere thought of him sends shivers down my spine. My eyes widen as I look around the room again. Of course he’s not here, but that can change.

What if he finds me here? What if he has been looking for me?

I can’t let him find me. I need to get far away from here. I need to find shelter and safety. I’m a rat trapped in a cage right now. What if the cops put out a picture of me to see if people know who I am? He could see that, and know that I’m here.

My eyes water, and I feel myself get more agitated the more I sit here. I need to get the fuck out of here. And fast.

Without wasting another second, I jump out of the bed and head toward the clothes on the chair. Except my arm is yanked back by the wires connecting me to the machines and the IV. Shit.

I walk over to the beeping one and look for a power button, seeing a switch on the side and clicking it. The most annoying machine in the world finally quiets. Then I take off the blood pressure cuff and the thing they have wrapped around my finger.

Looking down, I see the IV in my arm. Fuck, I need to get this out.

Taking hold of the tape around the needle, I slowly peel it back, grimacing at the slight pain it causes as it pulls on the skin.

Then I pull out the plastic tube from my arm.

The IV liquid starts leaking on the floor, making a slight mess.

But I don’t have time to think about that right now.

Quickly, I put on underwear, throw on the leggings and T-shirt, and slip on the gym shoes they gave me.

They are a little small, but they will do the job.

My anxiety starts to creep up. I shut my eyes for a moment to try and balance myself.

The dizzy feeling fades as I open them again.

I need to get out in the open; the walls feel like they are closing in on me.

Walking toward the door, I peek my head out and see that I am close to the end of the hall. A sign hangs on the wall pointing to the direction of the elevators.

I look to my left and see the side of the nurses’ station.

No one is paying me any attention, so I hurriedly slip out the door and walk toward the elevator.

There is no one there waiting, and I let out a sigh of relief, punching the button to call the elevator multiple times.

I am in such a hurry to get out of here.

When the elevator finally does arrive, the ding that sounds to let me know it’s there is so loud, I worry that it will attract someone’s attention. But it doesn’t.

I get in and slam the first floor button. As the doors close, I let out a long breath. Once I reach the ground level, I immediately make a beeline for the exit.

The minute the fresh air hits my face, I almost start crying.

It feels so good to feel the sun against my face.

I don’t know how long I had been held in that room.

The suffering went on for what seemed like forever.

The drugs he gave me… I don’t know how long I was out for.

As the days went on, I lost hope that someone would save me.

The days rolled into the nights, and at some point, I just stopped caring.

I start walking through the parking lot until I come up on a main road. I have no idea where I am or how I’m going to get back to where I call home. I obviously don’t have money, and I have no car. I don’t even own a phone. Not that I have anyone I could call.

I can’t remember my name or my birthday, let alone a phone number.

So, I do the only thing I can do. Just walk. Walk until I get somewhere. Anywhere.

When I reach a stoplight, I see that it says Charleston Boulevard on the sign.

I am at the corner of Rancho and Charleston.

A Chase bank sits on the corner, a gas station across from it.

I would love water, but without money, I’ll have to steal it.

The last thing I want to do is attract more attention to myself.

So, I keep heading down Charleston until I find some shade from this heat.

There is a nice grass patch under a tree, so I take a moment to sit down, relax, and try to assess what I’m going to do. With no funds, I will have to find a place to sleep. A shelter or something.

I pick at the grass blades as the cars whizz by. The sun beats down on me, and my body feels restless. I have no idea how long the detox meds they give me will last. So when they are out of my system, I will be miserable.

I need to find some place to hole up soon.

As I sit there, a cop car slowly comes to a stop before me. I look around to see if there is any other reason they would stop, but it’s just me under the tree.

My heart starts to race a bit as I wonder if they are looking for me to try and take me back to the hospital. Slowly, I stand, getting ready for whatever is about to happen. A female officer gets out of the car, her red hair in a short pixie cut.

“Hello there, ma’am. I’m Officer Laura Doran. How are you doing today?” She rests her hand on her belt as she slowly walks up toward me.

Tears start to form in my now stinging eyes. And I’m not sure if it’s from fear or a symptom of my withdrawal that is causing them to tear up. Maybe both. My vision blurs a bit as I stare at the officer.

“Do you have any ID on you?” she asks, raising an expectant eyebrow at me.

I shake my head. I have nothing to my name, much less an ID.

“Are you homeless?” She looks me up and down, no doubt noticing the bruises on my arms.

I nod as tears fall down my cheeks. Fear. It’s definitely fear.

She frowns and then turns around to head to the back of her police car. Then she opens up the trunk and rifles through some things before returning to where I’m sitting.

Holding out her hand, she offers me a bag filled with some stuff. I cautiously take the bag from her and open it to see that there are a couple of bottles of water and some granola bars inside.

“It’s not much, but it’s something. If you would like, there is a women’s shelter down the street. I can take you there and you can have a place to sleep for a few nights. They may be able to help you get on your feet,” she offers.

“I just want to go home,” I say so softly that I’m not sure she hears me until she responds.

“Where’s home, sweetheart?” Her voice is calm. “Do you have family here in Las Vegas?”

I shake my head, biting my lip. “Back east.”

“You are on the opposite side of the country, ma’am.” She turns and looks down the road and then back at me. “Would you like me to take you to the women’s shelter?”

I slowly nod. Maybe someone there can help me get my memory back. Help me remember where I’m from.

She leads me to the back of her car, and I hesitantly start to back up. My eyes widen in fear that she is going to take me back to the hospital.

“I am just taking you down the street, okay? I swear. I’m not taking you to jail. I just can’t have you riding up front with me,” she assures me, sensing my unease.

She doesn’t seem like she’s lying about this.

And she didn’t mention the hospital, she mentioned jail, so chances are she has no idea I just escaped from there.

I cautiously make my way into the back of the vehicle.

She helps me with the buckle and then closes the door.

I start to feel a bit boxed in once the door closes, and I have to sit there and breathe to try to calm myself.

Officer Doran gets in and takes off toward the shelter she was talking about.

Gripping the bag tightly, I swallow over the lump in my throat.

We drive for maybe a few minutes before she pulls into a parking lot that looks like most of them around me.

There’s a building that almost looks like a hospital, which makes the blood rush from my face.

“They’re really nice here,” the officer assures me.

“They will get you some meals and a place to lay your head. They have counselors here you can talk to, and hopefully, they can help get you on your feet. And here,”—she hands me a card—“that is my contact information. If you need anything, please call me. Day or night. Okay?”

“Why are you helping me?” My voice wavers.

She lets out a sigh. “Vegas is a scary place, and for a woman, even scarier. My mom and I lived on the streets for years before we got help. If I can make sure you’re not sleeping on the streets, then that’s all that matters to me.”

I look down at her card. “Thank you.”

“Come on, let me walk you in.” She gets out and comes to my side of the car to help me out of the vehicle.

Then she walks toward the building, but I hang back for a moment, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Fear creeps into the pit of my stomach as I scan around me. My anxiety kicks up, and I try to blow out long breaths. I can feel the eyes on me, I just don’t know from where.

“You coming?” Officer Doran calls out to me.

I nod and quickly catch up to her.

What if he followed us here? What if he’s been watching me this entire time?

I can’t go back with him. I just can’t. I can’t live in that hell anymore. A rat trapped in a cage. Being used and abused. Drugged.

Death would be preferable. I choose death.