Page 13 of Wilt

Rosalind

The world comes back in stages, lurching out of blackness into light and pain and nausea and horrible nightmares. Hot, bone melting kisses. Blood.

There’s something else, something terrible, and it bites at me, but darkness takes me before I can fully understand what happened.

I don’t know how long I’m out, but this time, when I jolt out of oblivion, I’m back. A grogginess swamps me and my head aches. Whatever is underneath me is soft and comforting, cool to the touch, so not a floor… A bed? Is it mine? I can’t remember.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m confronted by more darkness. It’s not the same complete darkness that greeted me behind my eyelids. This kind is cut by sunlight leaking in from the room’s drawn curtains.

So, it’s day.

The more I look about, the more confused I am. I’m in a king size bed with a high wooden back and fresh white sheets, much fancier than my bedroom and classic, like this place was ripped from the page of a Jane Austen novel. On the ceiling is a chandelier dripping in crystals, but besides that, the furniture and décor are sparse—not even a reading lamp. It makes the room look grander but more colder at the same time.

It’s a stranger’s place.

Where the hell I am?

Fear grips me, making my stomach lurch. The memories start to float to the surface of my groggy mind, leaving me shaky and sickly.

Oh, God…

I run my hand over myself to find I’m not wearing my red dress. Instead, I’m in a silky, thin little number with spaghetti straps, some kind of nightgown or negligee. No bra, either. Was I wearing one before? I can’t seem to remember.

What about the pageant?

As I reach for more memories, nightmares twist in my head. Panic bubbles up and my head pounds, but I fight the urge to freak out. If I’m not at the pageant, something happened. Something bad. There’s a hole in my memory where evil is lurking and coiling.

With a deep breath, I count slowly until the throb in my head starts to recede along with the building panic. When I was a kid, mom would sometimes fly into action out of nowhere. We’d be sitting there, watching TV or having dinner, and she’d suddenly freeze, then grab me and make me hide with her, be really quiet.Make yourself smaller and quieter than a mouse, she said.

At first, it used to scare me. There were noises, shouts and voices I didn’t understand because of the way the blood roared in my head, and I’d grip my plush dog toy to me, burying my face in his worn patches of fur.

Back then, in the early days, she would whisper, “let’s play a game.”

I liked games. I’d nod, and when she signaled, we’d move, fast and silent and low. Sometimes, we’d head straight out the door and into the afternoon or night. Other times, we’d grab bags she stashed in secret hiding places. A few times, we’d stay, still and unmoving, for what felt like forever, until Uncle Max found us.

Uncle Max always found us.

My heart hurts and tears sting my eyes, making the back of my throat burn. Something monumental looms up over me, but I shut it down. I shut everything down.

No emotion. No sadness. No fear. No anger. No panic. Mom taught me that: just listen and wait until it was the right time.

In the end, the games stopped being scary, the hiding stopped inviting monsters hidden at every corner in my mind. The games just became games, fewer and fewer the older I grew.

And then…

Mom died.

I breathe in again as I listen. No sounds infiltrate the room, and it’s cool in here. It’s perfect, actually, especially when my skin feels sticky and hot.

Carefully, I stand and make my way across the room. As my eyes grow more accustomed to the lack of light, I head for one of the windows and pull back the dark curtain. I see trees, lots of trees and grassy hills.

My heart slams against my ribs. I’m definitely not in the city anymore. Then a notice a little box on the window and the red blinking light flashing inside it. An alarm?

Is this some sort of fucked up prison?

Uncle Max—

My throat tightens, and my brain yanks that piece of information away before I can snatch it. It sits at the edges, but I can’t get a good hold on it. I’m not sure I want to.

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