Missing Like You

SIXTEEN

ISABELLE DONOVAN
FRIDAY JUNE 17, 2022

I stay on the bed as he exits the room, closing the door behind him. Part of me wonders why he didn't leave it open. Part of me wonders why I don't follow after him. But clearly he's taken care of me. Clearly he's doing everything he can to make me feel safe and comfortable. He's gone to get me coffee and some food, so I sit back on the bed and try to relax and remember more pieces of my night.

After a few moments, something comes to me. I remember looking at a photo of Zeppelin. On my phone, after work. I remember going on the computer and checking Facebook. Then I put perfume on my neck. That would make sense, for the date. Then something else comes to me. Leaving my front door, locking it behind me. I stepped outside and headed towards my car. But it's as though I went from walking down my front steps directly into a brick wall. After that, everything goes black and I don't have any other memories.

There's a slight knock on the door – two gentle taps – and then it opens again. He appears. I'm not sure what to call him, so I ask.
"You don't have to call me anything," he laughs. He's carrying a tray with food and coffee. I sit up.
"How do I thank you if I don't even know your name?"
"You don't need to thank me," he sets the tray down in front of me and takes a seat at the edge of the bed.
I bring the coffee to my face and inhale the scent. Then I take a sip. Heaven on my tongue. I look at him again. "Did you already eat?"
"I did."
I nod, then grab a piece of toast and take a bite. He watches as I eat the food, slow and gentle at first, like a bird, then eventually more forcefully, the hunger emanating from deep inside of me.
He waits until I'm completely finished, then he takes the tray back.
"Sorry," I swallow the last bits of food and laugh slightly. "That is so rude of me. And very un-lady like."
"Nonsense," he says. "No need to apologize."
I give him a faint smile, then look around the room again. "Is my car here?" I ask, then realize that's a stupid question.
"No."
"Is there a washroom?"
"There is."

I wait a moment, then stand, as if waiting for permission, which is silly, because I don't need permission to go to the washroom.

He stands as well and we're beside each other. He's taller than me, taller than Scott. Very muscular too. I can see his biceps stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt.

I stand there awkwardly, staring at him, waiting for... I'm not sure. I take a step forward and he walks next to me.

I reach the door and open it. He watches my reaction. I walk into the main room and discover that we are in a little cottage.

"Oh," I say, as though it's not what I was expecting.
"What?" he asks.
"This is cute," I say, observing the place. "Where are we?"
"It's a cottage."
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "Washroom?" I say, and he points to an open door straight ahead.

Once I'm finished peeing, I look in the mirror and see myself for the first time. I look absolutely hideous. My makeup from last night is smudged on my face, my skin looks dry, and my hair is a mess. God, I wonder what he must think of me. I wet my hands and splash some water on my face, attempting to tidy myself.

I walk out of the washroom and he's standing there, waiting for me. It's something about the way he's standing that gives it away, that in a matter of seconds, I go from complacent to concerned. Humans are apparently supposed to have natural instincts, and I think that's the only way to describe what just happened – instinct.

"Where are we?" I ask, dread filling my body. Please say something normal. Please be normal.
He stares at me, unwavering.
"Listen," I start. "I wanted to thank you for rescuing me last night, but I really should be going," I try to side-step around him and he puts a hand on my arm. His grip is firm and it hurts. I look up and meet his eyes, icey blue.
"Who are you?" I ask again.
"I can't let you leave," he says, and it's with those words that my veins go cold. The panic I felt before is back. Now I feel doomed. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
I try to pull away and in one quick motion, he sticks a thin needle into my arm and I freeze. I stare down at my arm, his hand on mine, the needle in my skin. I try to move, scream, do anything, but I can't. I'm frozen still and I'm not sure if it's from panic or whatever serum is in there.
As the room begins to fade and get dark, my body gets heavy and my legs go weak. I start to lose my sense of gravity and he catches me in his arms. I hear his voice speaking again. "I didn't rescue you, Isabelle," he says, and the room spins around me. "I'm the one you need rescuing from."

Then everything goes black.