That's All

Where am I? Why am I?

"That," he paused to gather his thoughts, which were most likely just as scattered and frantic as mine, "is a very red robe." I stole a glance at my own sleeve. It was red, blood red. I hadn't even noticed; colors sometimes take the back seat in your mind when you feel you are going to die.

I said nothing, wondering what he wanted, why he was here, why I was here. A decade passed, and he set down the grocery bags full of Lucky Charms and ramen noodles he carried in each hand. I hadn't noticed them before, I was too busy studying his face, looking for a sign of violence, anger or malice. To my great relief, I could detect none of those, only the smile lines permanently etched on his face, were left for me to interpret.

"Ummm..." He sputtered, grasping for words in his blank and vapid brain, "That's not your robe, is it?"

Caught. I've been caught. My heart sank like a lead bullet deep into the thin watery substance that my insides had been reduced to. Wait, I didn't steal this, I'm not guilty, I have no idea what's going on.

"Ah, of course you don't." He retorted with a sly grin. Looking back, I should've been concerned right then and there.. because I hadn't said anything I was thinking out loud.. yet he answered as if I had uttered them clear as day.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's my girlfr- I mean, that's my friends robe," he stumbled and corrected himself as he said "girlfriend" almost as if the word was overflowing with rancid contempt and bitter feelings "So can I have it back now, and can you leave?" The last phrase was emphasized with a gesture towards the front door as if I was mentally challenged and couldn't see where the front door was.

Mental Note: don't bring up the G word around this guy

I ventured to answer him as soon as I thought I was able to talk, "I um, well, uh I can't um, I really can't uh, do that because, um, well, uh, I umm I... don't have anything else um.. on. I don't have anything else on. Sir." I forked over this information amidst many ums and staggered fragments. I didn't want him to know how weak me position truly was, but I had no choice.

I thought I was doomed, now he knew exactly how helpless I was, clinging to a flimsy cloth around me like a lifeline. I waited with baited breath for him to take the upper hand do away with me, but suddenly, something extraordinary happened. He didn't smile a twisted, dirty smile, he didn't cackle like a wicked villain, ready to swallow me whole, he didn't wring his fingers as if contemplating which way best to cook me... He blushed. He blushed like a little girl. I blushed as well, crimson pigment crashing over my cheeks. And in that moment, it dawned on me, He has no idea. Who I am, why I'm her. He knows no more than I do. I don't have to be afraid.. at least, not of him."

There was something refreshing about having someone to trust, about not jumping at every sound and voice. I wanted so desperately to break down and sob, to have him hold me in his arms and comfort me, to stroke  my tangled hair and tell me everything was going to be alright, to explain why this was happening. I wanted a friend, someone to help me, anyone to help me, really. But I knew I had to be stronger than that, I couldn't be deduced to a puddle of tears in front of anyone if I wanted to get back home and to a normal life.

Did I even have a normal life before all this? Did I even have a home? Where am I? Why am I?