Page 11 of Nine

Trig pulls out a little medicine bottle and places it on the table.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“This is Ketamine. It’s usually used for anesthesia. Some use it as a date rape drug. I found it on Victor at the hotel. Ketamine has a tendency to cause vomiting, headaches, distorted images, memory gaps, sometimes complete memory loss.”

I can recall Victor’s voice now. “Ketamine. It’s a neat little drug.”

“The liquor. He handed me a glass of Brandy last night. He spiked my drink.”

Little bits and pieces are coming to me. I close my eyes, and that’s when I get an image of Trig. He’s holding me in his arms, and I’m bleeding. I flash open my eyes and look up at Trig.

“What were you doing at the hotel? Why were you there?” I question.

Trig remains quiet. My insides are burning with questions. I look down at the bed sheet, trying to make sense of it all, but I can’t.

“What happened in that room?” I shout. He looks down at the floor.

“I was walking by and I heard you screaming, so I busted in,” Trig says.

That’s when it all starts trickling in. I ball up my fist as fragments of the night bang against my temple, almost as if they want to be remembered. I place my hands over my ears. The sound of the tape being stretched out before Victor placed it over my mouth echoes through me. I hear his words so clearly.

“Let me show you what I do to bitches who take my money.”

I shake my head. “No you didn’t. He taped my mouth shut. I remember now. His hand was covered over my entire mouth at some point. You couldn’t have heard me scream.”

I let my hands fall down to my lap.

“What else do you remember?” Trig looks concerned.

My eyes water up as I continue to shake my head. Trig is waiting for it. The memories are bombarding my brain. The knife. The belt around my neck. The gunshot, the blood, and the body falling on me. My heart starts to beat faster now. My airways feel constricted and my stomach is sick again.

Trig remains quiet.

“You killed him,” I finally say.

I blink away the tears and then pull myself up to a standing position. Trig immediately shoots up from his chair. I groan in pain and slump forward catching my weight on the bed. Trig scurries over and reaches for me.

“Don’t touch me. I want to go home,” I demand. “Take me home, now.”

“You can’t, Nine.”

“Why,”

“You just can’t,” he says.

“I can’t. I can’t. You keep saying that. Why the hell not?” I yell. The pain rips through my body. I bend over and balance my hands on my knees. Trig grabs my arm.

“You weren’t supposed to leave that hotel alive.” He pauses. “I had orders to kill you.”

I look up at him in shock. He had orders to kill me. But why? I lick my dry, cracked lips.

“Sit down and drink some water,” Trig says. “You look like you might faint again.”

I sit down and breathe a little easier as the pain in my body subsides. Trig walks over, grabs the water bottle off the table, and brings it back to me. I watch as he takes a prescription bottle out of his jacket. He unscrews the cap and drops one pill into the palm of his hand. He then stretches his hand out to me.

“I’m not taking that. I’ve been drugged enough for one night, thank you.”

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