Night, Forgotten: Draft 1

Chapter 15: Now

            

I wake to the smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls. Without opening my eyes just yet, I breathe in deeply, letting myself forget who I've become. Owen always used to make cinnamon rolls on Sundays or when we had guests; this morning, he must be baking them special for Sadie.

I sit straight up in bed as the events of last night suddenly come crashing back to me. Where is Sadie? I wrack my brain, trying to remember.

After I led her back inside the house, I know I helped her dry off with a big towel in the downstairs bathroom. She was freezing cold – how long had she stood there on the back porch, waiting for me to return from the shed with Thomas? – so I had given her some of my coziest fleece socks to help her warm up. Then I must have fallen asleep before we got a chance to talk.

I want to find her, to get our story straight, and to figure out how to explain everything to Owen and Diana. But there's so much I can't even explain to myself.

Who took the baby out to the shed? Did Sadie wake up because she heard Thomas's screams, then immediately come to tell me he was in trouble?
Or did she wake up before that?
When whoever stole Thomas was still in the house?

Sadie's sweet, high-pitched giggle rises through the floorboards and I realize I've missed my chance to talk with her alone. Everyone except for me is already awake and downstairs, having breakfast.

I am just going to have to tell Owen and Diana the whole truth about last night, even if there's no way to do that without sounding crazy. Assuming Sadie has already done the same thing, then maybe they will finally believe me that there is something very wrong going on here. I don't know what it is, but the first step to figuring that out is for the two of them to take me seriously.

At this point, I don't know what I'll do if they don't listen. Clearly, Thomas's life is in danger, and I cannot be the only one responsible for keeping him safe. He would have died out there if I hadn't happened find him. And if Sadie weren't visiting overnight, who knows if his screams would have even woken me up?

When I found Thomas out there, we got shut inside with someone. I could feel him there. Was it the same person who kidnapped Thomas? Or did I just imagine that part, the horrible laughter, and those hands reaching out from the darkness, grabbing me, hard?

A thought keeps nagging at me, but I don't want to give it my attention. It's too awful to consider. Now it seeps into my consciousness and confronts me before I can stop it: What if I haven't imagined any of this? What if somehow, Thomas's father, whoever raped me, is still tormenting me?
Maybe the point of bringing the baby out to the shed wasn't to hurt him at all.

Maybe Thomas was bait.

I shake my head. There has to be a simpler, less terrifying explanation.

The bedside clock indicates that it's late in the morning, but the sky outside is dark and shifts ominously. Rain gently patters against the big window; it's started up again.

It's raining, it's pouring. Sadie will have to play indoors today.

I need to find out what she knows. Once I talk with Sadie, I can get Owen's help to sort through all this strange shit that's been going on and try to come up with a plan. A plan to do what, I have no idea. Protect the baby, I guess.

The sugary smell of cinnamon rolls grows stronger as I descend the staircase. Up from the kitchen rise the sounds of Owen and Diana preparing a leisurely breakfast. The baby's aimless murmuring blends into a syncopated rhythm with the drip, drip of percolating coffee.

I hear Sadie's voice whine, "I need another brown... Grandma?"

"Yes, Honey?" Diana answers.

"Another brown. For the roof." She must be coloring at the table.