I don't know where I'm going and I don't care. The only thing that matters is that I'm out of that horrible room. Away from the dull grey walls covered in my paintings that would cave in on me and the dim light bulb that created a spotlight on me. It reminded me that I was alone with no one to talk to beside the women I painted on the wall. I would sometimes pretend that it was my mom. They told me my mom passed away from cancer two years ago. I guess I'm sad, but I don't know. I wonder what she would've been like or how it would have been if she was here with me. Would I still be locked up in that room? I had no idea.
Another thing I had was the small window on the wall near the ceiling. From there I could see multiple dead trees and a rooftop with a chimney. On multiple occasions I would see smoke coming out of it. I could also smell the wood burning and it was like heaven on earth. It was one of my distractions from the life I lived.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt the car come to a stop. I looked outside the car window and saw a building that had a lot of cop cars in the front of it. Cops were everywhere drinking coffee and eating. Nixon appeared in front of the window and opened the door for me. I looked up to him smiling at me which I returned. He stuck a hand out for me which I gratefully took since I'm so weak.
We walked to the building and they situated us in a room with a mirror and a table with chairs. It reminded me of the room I was trapped in. My heartbeat accelerated and I quickly began to struggle in Nixon's arms. Not knowing what to do I closed my eyes and started crying. Nixon held my arms and asked if I could look at him, but I was too scared to.
"Hey. It's okay no one is going to hurt you here, okay? Your safe with me no matter what." He said. Strangely I did feel safe with him and I don't know why. I've always believed I would never trust anyone again, but this man that is holding me to him has changed that.
"Are you okay?" He looked at me with concern and I nodded against him. With a deep breath, we walked toward the table. Nixon sat me down and knelt in front of me.
"Someone is going to come and ask you some questions. Do you want me to stay or leave?" I shook my head so fast I think I heard it crack. He chuckled lightly at that and I stared amazed at the sound. It brought up so many emotions that tears sprang to my eyes. He saw this and frowned which caused me to frown.
"What's the matter? Is something wrong?" I shook my head again. I reached out with two fingers that poked his cheeks and lifted so it looked like he was smiling... But with my fingers there. I then smiled just like him and I even showed my teeth this time. He finally realized I wanted him to smile so he did. I caressed his cheek and memorized every crease and dimple that formed when he did. He just stared at me with curiosity while I did this.
Suddenly a man walked through the door and took the seat opposite of me. He introduced himself as Detective Jones. I nodded at him in acknowledgment.
"Okay. I have some questions for you. Do you think you can answer them?" He asked me. I hesitated before nodding a little.
"Good. So first off what's your name?" I tried to speak, but I couldn't get a word out. Biting my lip I looked down and shook my head.
"You don't want to tell me?" I nodded.
"Do you know your name?" He looked at me with confused eyes. I felt incompetent when I nodded my head. Sad that I couldn't even say my name out loud. I guess throughout the years of being told that I don't deserve my name finally kicked in. Athena was a goddess, but I'm not even exceptional.
"Well what happened in that room?" He spoke gently and it made me feel like a little girl. I looked up and opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out. I turned to Nixon with pleading eyes. He looked at me confused so I made a motion with my hand that looked like I was writing. He immediately nodded and turned to Detective Jones.
"I'll go get a pen and paper." He quickly left and came back with a pen and paper. He handed them to me and I started writing on them. They patiently waited till I was done. I handed Detective Jones the paper and looked down at my lap.
"Is this true?" I looked to Detective Jones and nodded. He slid the paper across the table for Nixon to see. There on the paper it said 'He would hit me sometimes because I wasn't hungry. He would shove the food in my mouth till I threw up. He would call me names too, but it wasn't that bad'. Nixon looked to me with eyes filled with pain.
"Okay. Well I think that's enough for now... We need to figure out where you will be staying for now till you are fit to live on your own. I know it will take a long time so we will get someone who is willing to take you in okay?" Detective Jones stood up and started making his way to the door when Nixon stopped him.
"I'll take her in"
YOU ARE READING
Ghost
Ficción General"Silence. That's all to be heard in this room of isolation. The room I have been locked up in for nearly 13 years. I was tied up in a chair so I couldn't move. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year. This has been my life since I was 10...
