Page 33 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

“I can’t do it. Never.” Maybe I raised my voice, I don’t know.

She looked at me with omniscient X-ray vision. For a long time. For so long like only the man had ever looked at me. Not even one of my opponents, they would never have dared. But there she sat, looking me straight in the eye. And I felt smaller than her. Much smaller.

“Trauma isn’t merely an emotional injury, it’s always a loss, Brendan. It’s the loss of innocence.” She paused as the man had done when he wanted to add weight to his next words. I looked back as if I could bring her to her knees with my gaze, but she wouldn’t back down. “Trauma is the loss of a life that could have been lived if the injury had not happened. In a way, you lost your life. You have become someone other than who you could have been.”

“I don’t care who I am today. It has to stop!”

“A pity.”

“What’s a pity?”

“That you don’t want to find out who you are.”

The words flutter past me. You have become someone other than who you could have been. Why am I thinking about that conversation right now? Is it because of Lou?

Of course it’s because of Lou. I wouldn’t have abducted her if I was someone else. But I can’t turn back time. And if I could, to when? Was there a time in my life that would be perfect to start all over again? I have no idea. A lot was out of my control, but Lou, Lou is in my hands and now it can be perfect, it has to be.

A sudden gurgling in the RV’s underbelly makes me sit up and take notice. I know what that means. Lou must have turned on one of the faucets. Presumably in the bathroom. I specifically told her to call me when she had to go to the bathroom!

Angry, I jump to my feet and in three big leaps I’m in the motorhome. I immediately glance at the bed: empty! From inside the bathroom, I hear a strange smacking noise that I can’t make sense of. Is Lou trying to climb the walls?

Before I can stop myself, I rip open the door. What I see is beyond comprehension.

Lou is standing in front of the sink or rather some resemblance of the former Lou. Now her face is covered with blue soapy cream and white foam. She looks like the Smurf girl—only without the hat. Heavens, she can barely stand upright, yet she still got up! She could have hurt herself! The thought makes me angrier. She must listen to me! I have to make sure she listens to me.

“What are you doing there?” My voice is strained and I sound pissed off. Great, Brendan, well done! Like that’ll scare her less!

She just looks at me wide-eyed. The foam is everywhere, even on her lids, eyebrows, and inside her nose. If she wanted to wash, she could have taken a shower and I would have helped her somehow. If need be, I would have given her a bucket to sit on. My help is probably not what she wants. Jesus Christ—I put her on the toilet, she hugged me!

The fresh smell of Wild Ocean Dream fills my nose. Suddenly, I see how wet her eyes are, as if they’re about to overflow. Maybe she’s thinking about her home. In here, it smells like her home. Suddenly, I feel like the biggest asshole.

Slowly, so she doesn’t think I’m hitting her, I hold out my hand. “Give me the soap, Lou.”

She barely flinches at her name. “Don’t call me Lou. You don’t know me,” she whispers shakily.

“Of course I do!” It slips so easily over my lips. And I do know her, though I am a stranger to her. I’m only realizing that now. I’m a total stranger to her. “Give me the soap, Louisa,” I repeat, but no less demandingly.

“No!” She clutches the soap to her chest as if she never wants to give it up.

No?

“I told you to call me if you wanted to use the bathroom,” I say sternly. “Did you drink any water?”

Defiantly, she shakes her head while spraying soapy foam on my boots. At least she listened to me on that one.

“Good!” That’s a start. I point to the faucet. “Wash that off!”

“No!”

I find this reply annoying, but somehow courageous. Mostly surprising. As if I wasn’t standing in front of the Lou I know, but a completely different girl. I carefully examine her from top to bottom, which is a bit difficult because the blue foam is all over her. I could grab her right now and put her in the shower to show her how her no fares to my yes. Then again, she is in dire need of some Wild Ocean Dream after these past five days.

“Okay, then stay that way!” I say, seemingly indifferent, and nod toward the bed. “Come on back! I suppose you’re done using the bathroom.”

She recoils and stays put. I’ve had enough. “We need to get going!” I grab her arm but she evades me, slips on the floor, and lands with her butt on the toilet.

“Going where?” She stares at me in fear.

I smile. Maybe because she realizes that her resistance isn’t going to work and that it feels good even when it shouldn’t.

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