Butterfly Wings

Falling Apart

Day 9

It has been nine days according to Hank who likes to come down to touch me and tease me about not getting away. Mitchell has been down a lot too, yet barely says a word just cleans my wounds and the rest of me. I lay still on my stomach hoping to just be allowed up even one time to walk. Everything hurts, I hold on to hope even more after Hank came down laughing about the officers being at the door looking for me. I did not even hear them; I wish they would come back already. They have to be close to finding me if they came here, right? Maybe Marcus was found and told them where to find me, maybe they know I am here and are waiting for the right moment to come in to save me. My mind has been nothing but filled with hopeful thoughts, daydreams of my rescue. I imagine my dad coming in with the police barging into the room and coming straight to my side, or the other images of Marcus coming, I cannot seem to keep the one idea straight from the other as the meld and blend together as one, flashing from my dad to Marcus. I lay in the silence now as I have for the last several hours in my own head. When suddenly I can hear multiple heavy footsteps coming in my direction, laughter and several voices ranting or cheering; hard to tell through the heavy door sometimes. I lay not bothering to move as the door swings open, I cannot see them until they come around my table, and that is when my eyes widen and look in horror.

They have another person, a new victim, another girl like myself. Yet first thing I notice is her polished nails and her clean makeup and blonde hair. She reminds me of my old high school friend Hannah, we were close, always got dolled up and made sure to look our best before going anywhere. They lay the girl down on the table next to me taking scissors and cutting all her clothing off. I feel terrible for her, she is going to have so many questions when she wakes up and I do not know I can give them to her at all. I watch as the do the normal routine to her, brushing her hair out, checking her from head to toe, marking anything they find down, pimples, moles, scars, and scabs. Then taking a look at her nails, her teeth, her ears and then they tie her down and all leave the room conversing with each other about so hunting party, I stare at the girl realizing she may just be my saving grace for the time being even if it makes me feel more horrible, I will take anything to save my own butt. Realization also hits at the moment, that maybe they got her because Marcus did in fact get away. Suddenly I cannot seem to help the small bubbly laugh that escapes me. My hope of being rescued is with him. Closing my eyes I pray in this moment harder than I ever have. I pray for anything, for anyone to just make it all stop and go away.

I hear a small sigh from the other table, as I open my eyes and snap them over to the girl, she is waking up; her head rocks from side to side and I watch her eyes flutter open. As I watch, I see the confusion on her face as it quickly shifts to fear and horror, she zooms her eyes throughout the entire room before landing on me, I watch her freeze and stare with the same look I am sure I had when I was captured the first time. She tries to sit up but falls back with the restraints on her wrist.

"I would not bother trying, I got out one time, and the have figured out to change the restraints, probably a lot stronger than they were before." I mutter against the table.

"What, where are we, what is going on." She asks horrified.

"I do not know but help is coming, it has to be, the person that was there before you, he got away, he will tell the police where to find us. We will be fine. So do not panic and we are not going to fight them unless we have to." I state to her.

She lays back down more now trying to relax herself, when she finally speaks again it is another question directed at me. "How long have you been here?"

"Nine days." Confusion etches across my face as I answer her, not sure why that was the question she chose to ask.

She lays there as if contemplating my answer gave her something important, I finally ask her a question. "What is your name? My name is Hayley."