II

Even though I still feel lethargic, my eyelids slowly open, leaving everything around me blurry and strange. I have the smell of cinnamon permeating my nostrils. My eye sockets start to cry, finally. My body hydrates itself, absorbs the temperature of the place, especially that of the cup of hot and steaming tea that awaits me on the ocher nightstand to my left. I am lying on a comfortable single bed, with white sheets and a brown duvet. My legs are tucked tightly against my chest, bent in such a way that they brush my chin. I look at my body, strangely curious, and I am surprised that I am no longer naked or dirty. A Brooklyn Nets jersey covers my breasts and midsection, and a black jogger hugs my legs to my heels. I smell the freshness in my hair, and my skin feels soft and tender from the lavender soap.

My eyes finish opening completely when I realize that I wasn't at home, that nothing that happened had been just a nightmare, my pulse then increases and I begin to sweat as I've never done before. I startle on the mattress, stretching my limbs and tensing my muscles. I look around for a way out. I can't stand being in a place like this, not again, I don't want to be in any room other than mine, or at least one where my mother and sister are present.

"May I call you another time, Richard?" I hear a voice coming from the hallway next to the bedroom where I am. "It seems to me that the girl has just woken up. I'll keep you informed of any event around here." The voice gets closer and closer with each word she utters. "So, will you give me about... Thirty minutes, maybe?"

The stranger, who vaguely remembered from the road, suddenly appears. He opens the bedroom door and walks inside, carrying a cell phone still taped to his left ear.

"Don't worry Richard, Rachel's in good hands." Hearing my name sounds strange to me, I feel like it was a long time that no one did it without the intention of harming me. "Goodnight." The stranger looks at me sweetly showing me a wide smile. "You are... That little girl who disappeared recently... Sweet girl, right, honey?"

I don't respond with words, but I do so with gestures. I hug my legs tightly and hug them to my chest covering them with the padded comforter, before nodding my head sheepishly. I try to hide my face between my knees. I'm embarrassed that he notices the bruises on it.

"Don't be afraid, girl." The stranger warns me. "You are already safe. My name is Mathew…" He introduces himself, pointing with his right index finger to his chest and putting the phone in his left pocket of the cream pants he's wearing. "But you can tell me, Matt." He smiles affably.

"Where...?" I can't even finish an entire sentence. My throat is too dry. "Where I am?"

"In my house," answered the strange. "I, uh... I brought you to the closest place I could, so I could give you first aid." He smiled again, showing those yellow teeth stained from the cigar. I know because my mother suffers from the same. "You were in terrible shape when I found you out there, and well, the closest hospital is more than half an hour from the city, so I had to think fast..."

"Thank you," I manage to say, loud and clear enough for him to understand.

"No problem," he answers, maintaining his cordiality. "I had a son your age, you know... Well..." He looks at the ground and loses the notion of company.

The strange looks back at me, a little sad now, and goes to the foot of the bed where I am sitting. He sits at the far end, giving me my place, I think. Which is quite relieving since I'm not ready to feel the presence of anyone else invading my personal space again.

"The police are already on notice. I just spoke to Officer Newell about you." He informs me. "That's yours," he points to the cup of hot tea on the table "take it. Your body needs fluids while you recover from the dehydration you have suffered." I raise both eyebrows, confused with what I hear. I stare at the cup, but I don't trust him enough to drink it. "I'm a doctor at Downtown General Hospital." He added as he adjusted her gray beret over her wavy dusky hair. "You were lucky I found you on the way back from my last shift." He scratched at his thick beard and let out a yawn. "I have to stay awake a little longer while I wait for the officer's response," he explained, "but you don't have to. This room belonged to my son and is available if you want to nap a little longer, before handing you over to your parents."

Hearing the word 'parents' was even weirder than quietly drinking tea after everything that had happened. It has been a long time since I was thrilled to see them both together. I shake my head from side to side, flatly denying his offer. I don't want to sleep, I don't want to drink, I don't want to wait. I want this nightmare to end once and for all.

"You know..." he smiles once more, trying to gain my trust, "if you want to talk about what happened, I mean... I think if you talk to me about what happened, maybe you would take a load off your shoulders." He rests his elbows on his thighs, and his chin on the fist that his hands form, it is then that I realize that his entire body points in my direction. "Honey, do you remember who did this to you?"

"Yes," I answer almost in a whisper, still with my face hidden between my knees. "I remem..." I'm too tired to finish the idea.

"Drink the tea," Matt advises me. "It'll help warm your throat and stabilize your temperature. Please drink it."

I take the cup with both hands and bring it to my mouth. Cinnamon smells delicious when mixed with the scent of the boiling herb. I notice that it has honey inside, and a chill runs down my spine with memories of my childhood. Every time I got sick, my Aunt Louise served me this kind of concoction, with a scent similar to the one I carry on my fingers. I feel better than before. With my wet lips, I could already taste the words that would soon come out. With a warm, moist throat, I breathe much better than I have been in a long time.

"Thank you," I repeat, and give the best impression of a smile I can recreate.

"My pleasure, honey," he answers honestly. "Now that I see you more comfortable, I am afraid I must insist with the question. Do you remember...?"

"Did you change me?" I interrupt you. His face twists for a moment, confused.

"Oh sure. The clothes." He laughs for a second and takes his forehead, embarrassed. "I'm sorry if the idea that I did it bothers you, but I couldn't leave you naked. I showered you and bandaged your wounds, as I do daily with some senile patients in the hospital."

"How long was I asleep?" I add to my question, not feeling any shame about what he just told me.

"Two days," he answers patiently. I guess he noticed the surprised reaction on my face because he quickly added. "During the whole trip, you were babbling nonsense words. I didn't want to give you any painkillers, because I thought you would go into a coma or your body would have some bad reaction to them. I let you sleep for all that time, and if I didn't give notice to the police immediately it was because…"

I finish the tea and hold the cup firmly to my chest. Mathew's eyes study me carefully. His face looks tired, but something tells me he can go on all night without falling asleep. I see the frustration in his eyes, despite the pleasant treatment he has had, and still has with me, so I keep the mug in case I should use it to protect myself from another mental patient.

"Girl," he blurts out then, breaking the awkward silence that had been created. "Could you tell me what happened?"

"Why are you so interested?" I respond defensively, still holding the ceramic mug in my hands.

"My son..." A sigh escapes his mouth. "My son disappeared a few years ago, the same way you did. If you only remember little bits of where you were or who is to blame for all this, maybe... Maybe I will still find him alive." My face twists and my lips slowly part. Apparently, he doesn't want to hurt me, he just wants to find his son. "If the police took you at that moment, they'd never tell me anything you say. They're all idiots, they'd not notice the facts even if they were in front of them. This is why I need you. I need you to tell me what happened that day."

"I'm sorry," I say honestly, not quite sure how to apologize more assertively. "I don't remember where he kept me, but I know who he is. I know his name, and I know his face by heart." I notice the sparkle in his eyes, a hint of hope creeping into his gaze.

"Could you..." He pauses for a moment, ordering his words. "I swear I'll let you go." He put his left hand into the pocket where the cell phone was. "You know what? I just had a chat with Officer Newell, he's a good friend of mine. When I noticed that you didn't wake up, I wanted to take you to the hospital, so I told him that I had found you and asked him for thirty minutes with you. Right now he must be informing your parents and they'll be here any minute." He took out the phone and placed it on the bed. "I'll leave it here, and if it rings, I'll answer it in front of you." I try to smile, but my spirit is too damaged to do so that often. "If this situation makes you uncomfortable, I'm willing to wait, but I just want you to understand that I did it for my son."

"It doesn't bother me," I lie, just because I don't know how to thank that stranger for what he's done for me. I sigh before beginning my story. "I remember going out for a run in the morning..."

My memory tries to stop me; it prevents me from successfully evoking what happened that time. I had no idea then, that I would leave the house, and shortly after thinking that I'd never return to it, thinking that I wouldn't even see the light of day again.