Page 178 of Invisible String
My mind spins, taking me back to the men who took me. Fear. Desperation. Anxiety. Loneliness. I step out of a black SUV. It looks familiar, a warehouse that almost looks abandoned. A man with tattoos on his neck whispers, “Maybe I should fuck you before I hand you over.”
I make a face of disgust. It’s a bad idea, but I kick him. Everything happens so fast. Max’s voice falters in the background as my head hits the concrete, splitting my head in half.
Déjà vu, but I can’t remember where I’ve felt this frightened before.
Then I fade away into darkness.
Warm, familiar hands cover mine. My body is numb. I can hear and feel, but I can’t move.
“The swelling has gone down. Her body is healing. In no time, she should wake up,” a man says.
I must be in the hospital. I hear the beeping of machines, which is a familiar sound.
“Is there a chance she’s lost her memory? She’s been in and out of consciousness these past three days. She lost her memory years ago and never regained her childhood memories from her last trauma.”
Max. His voice is so close. I want to squeeze his hand and tell him I remember him. My hands don’t move.
“There’s no telling,” the doctor says.
“I see. Thank you,” Max replies.
A door shuts, and soft lips brush my cheeks.
“I love you. Wake up, sleeping beauty. We have so much to do. Like getting married and having kids. How about vacations? I’ll take you anywhere in the world. Yeah.”
I want to tell him I love him and I’m sorry I walked out on him. I should have told him where I was going. Then this happened.
My head throbs, and my inside feels bruised.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he whispers, squeezing my hand. “Can you hear me, sunshine?”
Sunshine. Sunshine. Your name was Sol.
I vividly remember the conversation at the gala. “Who taught you how to dance?”
Max responded, “My best friend.”
“What was her name?”
“Sol.”
My memories slip into a tunnel of darkness. I’m no longer at the hospital. I don’t hear Max, but I hear a soothing voice.
“It’s your first day of kindergarten, Sol. Are you excited?” Her brown hair, which looks like copper in the sun, blows in the wind.
I nod, twirling my pink polka dot dress. “I’m so excited, Mom.”
My dad kneels, grinning at me. “My princess is a big girl now. Don’t talk to boys, they have cooties.”
My mom throws her head back, laughing, then smacks my dad on the shoulder playfully.
“Alejandro,” she scolds him.
“What’s cooties?” I ask.
“Germs. Boys have germs,” Dad says.
I make a face. Gross.
