Just A Number

The Green Room

After hours of being crouched into the closet, I felt the need to stretch. I grabbed a nearby hammer and slowly opened the door. I gently ambled my way through the dark hallway, trying to listen to any sounds below me. I heard nothing, but the sound of crickets outside. Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the first stair. Then the second, third and fourth.

I counted each step as I took them. Finally, I got to number 11. The room was darkened, but I could still see the space around me.

Dad wasn’t there. Nobody was there.

I searched the living room and the kitchen, for any sign of where he might be. I looked everywhere; the dining room table, the countertops, the fridge. Strangely, there was no indication of a struggle either. I opened the cupboard, grabbing a pack of graham crackers and a strawberry juice box. I devoured them, I was so starved.

I felt a presence behind me. I could feel breathing down my neck. My hands began to sweat. I was paralyzed.

“D-Dad?” I managed to stutter out.

Within seconds, a cloth was over my mouth. I attempted to scream, but had no luck. Everything went black. It was the scariest thing I have ever been through. Fear of the unknown.

The sound of music playing woke me up. I opened my blurry eyes and tried to focus them.  Sitting up, I suddenly realized a shooting pain through my head.

The room was green. Green walls, green plants, green door, green bed. Everything was filled with the color.

I hated green.

There were no windows, but there was a door. I stood up, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head. I shook the handle. It didn’t open.

A speaker that I hadn’t noticed before made a beeping noise.

“Miss Jenkins, please back away from the door. Sit on the bed, a doctor will be in to assess you shortly.” Then it beeped again.

For a minute, I just stood there. Taking in my surroundings.

 I was abducted. Captured. Snatched. Kidnapped. Taken.

This kind of thing was supposed to be illegal.

I dazedly walked back to the hideous green bed and lay down, waiting for someone to come and torture me.

I didn’t want this.

I regretted ever going downstairs.

The voice betrayed me.

It wasn’t safe.

Where’s Dad?

The unexpected opening of the door flushed away my thoughts.

He was young, maybe 20 with curly brown hair and soft eyes. His nametag read “Dr. Nathan Collins.” With a smiley face added at the end.

This was no laughing matter. My life was on the line and he draws a smile on his nametag? For the purpose of what? Making me feel better?

“Hello Hayley. How do you feel?” He asked taking out a fuzzy pink pen to write down medical information. Very professional.

“Terrible.” I answered truthfully.

He nodded. “I figured.”

The conversation paused as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm. Then he wrote it down.

“I have to do a blood test now, okay? If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a lollipop.” He smiled, I didn’t.

He cleared his throat and continued prodding and poking me for more tests.