Page 7 of Encounter

I’m out of that place, and I’m alive...

Tapping my shoulder, the man gestured to me to get in the passenger’s seat of his car. All I had to do was to make a few more steps, and then, I would be taken home. Driven by that idea, I used all of my remaining strength to open the car door and slid onto the seat.

Looking around before the man circled around the car, I noticed the empty wrappers under the driver’s seat, drive-through receipts, and an empty, crumbled water bottle in the cup holder, together with some cigarette butts littering the area under my feet. It wasn’t how I imagined it. If he really was some sort of a contract killer, people like him always drove spotless, black cars that were clean and professional in the movies.

Staring at the floor, I blinked and finally realized he had been talking to me. “Are you listenin’?” Nodding quickly, I looked up. “Put your seatbelt on, I said.”

Confused, I frowned. After being kidnapped, tortured—was that killerreallyasking me to put a damn seatbelt on? To prevent angering him, I obliged.

As we drove through the night city, I stared out of the window, eyes heavy and barely held open. I almost didn’t recognize anything. Not only because it was dark—it was like the entire world had changed. Every tree and building we passed felt hostile, strange. I was too tired to guess what city we were in or how far away—all I knew was it wasn’t the same one I woke up in, expecting a mundane day.

The buzzing in my ears persisted, keeping my body in the half-alert, anxious state, as if I was still in that place, still in danger.

Is this all going to feel like a bad dream tomorrow?

“Did they do somethin’ to you? You sure you’re not wounded?” the man asked, but to me, it sounded like nothing more but a driver checking the state of his cargo.

When I ignored him—only carefully watching his reflection in the car’s window—he sighed and focused back on the road.

I closed my eyes for a moment, overcome by the comfortable heat of the car and its vibrations.

Seconds later, his voice pierced the silence. “We’re here.”

Jerking awake and looking around in a panic, I took a few seconds to realize where I was and that I must have fallen asleep at some point. Still inside that man’s car, we were now parked in my driveway.

As he helped me get out—probably seeing how I was still out of it and barely aware—I noticed the figure standing in front of the open garage door we parked at.

Dad.

Before I could establish eye contact, my knees gave out without a warning, and my vision went dark. Voices swirled around me, distant and hollow. I tried to stay conscious, but I had no more willpower to go on. Finally at that secure destination, my body gave out.

Too much. Too tired...

?

When I woke up, I was surrounded by warmth and the familiar, soothing smell of my room—something I usually wouldn’t notice. Squinting at the ceiling, I widened my eyes and moved my stiff, aching body. Someone touched my hand, making me flinch.

“Ah! Thank goodness, you’re awake.”

It took me a moment to recognize the soft voice as Olivia, calming me down almost instantly. At that moment, our family doctor—whom I had known since childhood and felt safe around—was the one person I was truly glad to see.

Without a response, I met her eyes briefly, unable to even as much as conjure a polite smile. I ran my gaze over my body and noticed the tube inserted into my arm, leading up to the IV drip standing next to the bed.Makes sense.If I was kidnapped because of something shady Dad did, he wouldn’t have sent me to the hospital. Richard De Clare wasn’t about to risk people asking questions, or the possibility of this getting out and ruining our family’s image.

Though the bitter taste in my mouth made me want to roll over and go back to sleep, I knew that was not an option. Slowly, I moved up on the bed to sit, and let out a deep exhale, mentally preparing myself to talk to Olivia.

Taking my prolonged blink as a signal to proceed, she moved closer on her chair and carefully lifted her arm to my forehead.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, voice full of genuine, tender concern. “You weresodehydrated and exhausted when they brought you in. Must have been such a horrible shock for your body and... well, foryou. I’m so, so sorry.”

A faint smile flashed over my lips. Her worries were touching. “How long... have I slept?” I finally asked. My voice was raspy and weak.

“For about fifteen hours,” she said, checking her watch. “You’ll be alright. There were no concerning injuries, thank goodness, it’s just that— You went through some serious trauma. Your body will recover quicker than you might think—you’re young and healthy. Your mind though, it... might need some help. Perhaps you should go and visit Dr. Weller, hm?”

My unhappy expression gave Olivia the idea that my old psychiatrist wasn’t exactly what I wanted to think about at that moment. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone... except Dad, who could explain what he did that almost cost his son his life.

Besides that, I wanted nothing more than to erase those memories from my mind.

Seeing me go quiet, and noticing the growing emotion that I couldn’t hide, Olivia slowly stood. “I will... tell him that you’re awake.” She squeezed my hand gently before letting go. After she walked out of the room, I heard her let out a frustrated sigh as she paused, right before descending the staircase.

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