What Love Breeds

Chapter 2

May cannot remember how she got here. It's the first thing on her mind, the worrisome note that surpasses all other thought. She's confined by rounded white walls and a ceiling that's only six inches from her face. The space beneath her is solid and padded, and her head rests on a thick, marshmallow-esque pillow. She lifts her arms tentatively - there's something that pulls near the bend of her elbow; it's warm, tight, and pinches. It's like May moves in slow motion as she tries to control her body. If she ever wondered what a coffin felt like, May guesses this is a close approximation.

But do coffins usually come with this weird humming sound? It's buzzing behind, in front of, and on either side of May. If she strains, there's someone speaking just underneath waves of static and a sort of repeated clicking. When May thinks she can make it out, the background noise grows and the voice is lost. It gets harder to understand the more she tries, like the static fills her brain more than the room (if it can be called that).

When May has the humming all but tuned out, she squeezes her eyes shut and is determined to fall asleep. Maybe it feels like she's underwater because she's dreaming. It's happened before. So she lets her thoughts go and tries to drift, hoping her brain will restart and she'll come back to reality in a couple hours. As she tries to relax, images and sounds bounce around her head. Moaning, obedience, fingers poised to snap, cold glasses of milk. She doesn't try to make sense of them, but allows the scenes to wash over her.

May's as close to unconscious as she can be when a bright, horizontal crack of light appears on her right. The lid of her enclosure lifts and she's blinded by the space around her. She winces and tries to cover her eyes, but her body is still slow to answer her. Great. The dream isn't over.

"Woah there, girl," a gentle, southern voice soothes her. "You've got a lot of energy, huh?"

It sure doesn't feel like it as May struggles to sit up. The room comes into focus slowly, and she finds a still small space of sterile white walls and tile. The man eyeing her over her isn't someone she recognizes, but looks kind all the same. He has gentle brown eyes, soft blonde hair, and a five o' clock shadow that fits his plaid shirt tucked into bell bottom jeans. His cowboy boots bring May back to the present; Vic gave her the card for Shaw Farms – this place where they make girls disappear.

"Who are you?" May slurs, her mouth not following instruction, either.

The man cocks a half-smile and talks more to himself than to her. "They said you'd be a fighter. Never had one come awake so quick, let alone ask me questions. Alrighty, girl. Up you go."

He drags a step stool to her side, and hoists May upright. The man swings her legs over the side, and steadies May as he helps her down. The tile is cold under May's bare feet, and the air hits her bare legs with a shiver. May forces her eyes to her own body and finds herself in a tight white t-shirt and paper thin matching shorts.

May tries to ask, "Can I have some socks?" but the man shushes her before she can finish.

"Come on now, Essie. Let's get this IV before you rip it out."

He takes May's arm between his own and his body, an angle that prevents May from seeing what's done or moving it while he works. She feels a release and the familiar sense of a bandage removed, and it's over. He guides her toward a door and opens it with his key card. May tries to file this new knowledge away. She never knows when she might need it.

They're walking down the hallway before May can process it. People in lab coats and familiar pink scrubs pass her by, none of them sparing her a second glance. Their heads are bowed over paperwork or they stare dead ahead with no recognition, making their way as quickly as they can. May doesn't see any other girls like her, but if no one stops them, she figures this must be normal procedure.