A Long Way From Home

Her eyes opened slowly in order to adjust to the darkness of the room and the crust that had formed around her eyes. She was cold, lying down on the concrete floor of a place unknown with only her tinker bell pajamas on. She was trying to concentrate on the darkness enough to at least view the outline of items, but she failed. Instead, she slowly began to stand up and feel around her for objects. She was trembling in fear of what she might encounter but also hoping she might find an item of use. As she struggled to take her first step she felt a sharp pain ride through her body that seemed to begin in between her thighs. Irregular thoughts raced through her head as she put her hand in her pants to investigate.

She began to sob quietly as she slowly pulled her wet hand out. She didn’t need light to know what it was, blood. Panic filled her body as she scrambled to run in no particular direction when she noticed something hard attached to her right ankle. She was tightly chained to something on the left side of what she considered to be a basement. She grasped the chain with one hand after another, pulling herself closer to the object that kept her stranded there. When she reached it, she realized how impossible it made her escape plan seeing that whatever the object was, was made into the concrete floor. She sobbed loudly knowing she was about to die when she tried to put her memory together. As hazy as it was, she remembered the sun.

The sun was shining on her hamper overflowing with dirty clothes in her dorm room which became a problem for her snotty roommate. As a result to the promise she made her roommate, she gathered her clothes and took them to the wash room the following night. The darkness, harsh wind and heavy clothes hamper forced her to drive her jetta to the wash room that was only two blocks away. No one was in the wash room, which made her feel uncomfortable but it wasn’t unusual seeing how it was unsafe to go out at night. To feel more comfortable, she reminded herself that she knew the dos and don’ts of life but just in case, she brought her knife which she stowed away in her pocketbook. As sentimental as it was, she was not afraid to use it.

 The wash room was worn down but had its basic necessities, plus a few bright blue benches and a co-ed bathroom that smelled like someone had too many bean burritos. After successfully washing her clothes, she put them into the dryer but realized she was short on quarters to load into it. She walked back to her car that was parked a few spaces away from the entrance to retrieve the quarters she knew were in her glove compartment. As she walked, she jingled through her keys searching for the right one. By the time she was at the drivers door she had retrieved the right key, got in and was leaning over to remove old mail to get to the bottom of the compartment. As she went to grab the last quarter, her head was thrown back into the passenger seat by a clothed hand. She tried desperately to pry away the cold hand as she forgot all about her sentimental weapon. She was too busy clawing at the hand and the body behind her, taking in deep breaths of the cloth as she went. Her screams were muffled as she kicked her feet and jerked her hands, trying to break free, trying to draw attention to herself. But no one was there as she stared out the front window and blinked her way into a deep sleep.

Her cries became waterless in the dark basement as she began to think of things that may help her. But she couldn’t. All she could think about was how she wasn’t able to fully live her life. In desperation, she felt on the chain around her ankle. It wasn’t tight around her foot but she knew she couldn’t break it so instead she stood up feeling around for more objects. Her entire body was sore, producing a strange limp in her walk and irregular movements of her arms. Her chained ankle didn’t help or hinder her pain but it created fear that banged through her body like a drum. She had to leave immediately, she just had to. If the situation presented itself again, she would fight as hard as she can, for as long as she can.

First things first, she had to remove the chain. Fortunately, she had seen the removal of locks on movies before, but even though she didn’t understand how the process went, she still tried it. The problem was that there weren’t any objects around for her to use. Then she remembered, as she put her left hand in her hair to detached the bobby pin, the gift she had received from her grandmother before she passed away a year earlier. The bobby pin was the perfect accessory with beautifully aligned silver butterflies on it. She had always kept the pin on until now, but she knew her grandma would understand. She stuck the bobby pin into the chains keyhole and wiggled it around with as much force as her body could muster but minutes passed and she failed, attempt after attempt. She tried not to break down as she patted down the concrete floors for something of more use.