The Forgotten Girl

I jerk out of the nightmare, gasping for air. My head is pulsating. The taste of stale tequila, blood, and something sour burns inside my throat. My muscles ache. I feel cold but at the same time I’m sweating… it almost reminds me of when I was laying in the street, after the car hit me, only I know who I am this time. Maddie. And full Maddie too, at the moment, since Lily is being strangely quiet, as if she’s in some sort of deep slumber.

My cheek is pressed against something icy cold, my hair matted to my forehead, and my hands feel crusty and dry. For a moment I feel like I’m back in my nightmare. A prisoner again.

It’s quiet and I feel so silent inside, so still, so lost, which doesn’t make sense. I should be embracing the silence, but I can’t. If I couldn’t feel my lungs and heart beating erratically inside my chest, I’d think I was dead and in my grave, buried underneath the ground. Where the hell am I? I can hear the soft hum of something mechanical and I try to open my eyes, but it feels like they’ve been sewn shut. They won’t lift and my throat is as dry as sand. I need water. Need to wake up. Need to move. But my limbs are rubbery. Useless. I feel dead and for a moment I contemplate welcoming it.

“Lily, open your eyes and get up. Now.”

The voice triggers a spark of recollection and my eyes shoot open, jerking me out of my daze. I immediately scan the darkness for the person the voice belongs to, but it’s so dark I can’t even make out the outlines of anything. I push up from the ground, blink my eyes several times, hoping my vision will adjust, but it doesn’t. I worry I’ve gone blind or something, my eyeballs on fire.

“Hello!” I call out and my voice echoes back to me. There’s a bang from somewhere but no one responds. I try again. “Who’s in here?” Again, recollection sparks in my brain. Déjà vu. But it’s like there’s a wall, blocking me from connecting all the dots. “Lily, are you doing this?” I whisper under my breath.

The only response I get is maddening silence. And the humming. I know I heard a voice. Someone has to be watching me in the darkness. But who? And where am I? I can barely remember a single thing about last night. The ceiling lights of the bar flashing… they hurt my eyes… watching people dance… I drank way too much, which is probably why my throat’s still dry and my head feels like it’s in a fishbowl. I also wasn’t alone. I saw Bella I think… yeah, I can picture her laughing, her drunken laugh too. There was also someone else… a guy. River? I can’t quite see his face in my memories. A shadow. Like everything else.

Feeling my way across the floor, I scoot forward on my ass, my limbs and muscles aching in protest. The floor feels like chilled metal and stings at my palms so badly my skin feels like it’s tearing open. I keep going until the tips of my fingers brush against the edge of a frosted surface. I pause, listening for the person whose voice woke me up, but all I can hear is humming. But the feeling is there inside me, the haunting sensation that I’m being watched. Like when I’m in my room and the photos of my past feel like they’re watching my every move.

“I know you’re in here, so you might as well say something you f**king weirdo,” I call out. Again, no one replies.

What I need to do is get to my feet. Tucking my legs under me, I slide my fingers up the surface, slivers of frost falling off. I manage to stand up, my knees weak beneath my weight, unsteady, just like the rest of my body and my mind. Thoughts of where I could be race through my mind. Claustrophobia sets in. I’ve never experienced it in the last six years, but the thickness of the darkness suddenly feels like it’s smothering me… I’ve felt this way before… a long time ago… I can almost feel…

Let me out! Let me out! God, please let me out! I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.

Only if you do what I say.

A door slams shut in my head, locking out the memory and causing me to jerk back. I need to get out of here. Now. There’s got to be a way out of here and a light switch somewhere. Trying to stay calm, I feel my way across the wall, gradually inching sideways. It’s strange how hyperaware I am of everything, how it feels like I know exactly what to do to find my way out of the darkness and this frosted, cold as ice, room. My instincts take over and with calculated steps, I move my way around the dark carefully. Whenever my foot or hand brushes against something, I instantly stop and slowly maneuver around it without getting hurt. My eyes stop hurting. I feel more comfortable with each step.

A few steps more and my fingers graze against a metal handle. “Yes,” I whisper as I pull the handle down and shove the door open. Breathing in the light and warm air, I stumble out and spin around to see where I was. Shelves with frozen food fill the small area and a light mist from the cold swirls around in the light. A freezer. I was in the freezer at the bar, but that’s not the most startling thing about the situation. There’s no one else in there. It doesn’t make sense. I heard a voice. It’s what woke me up.

Are you sure it wasn’t just another voice inside your head? Lily’s voice is so clear, so loud and unannounced that I jolt back in surprise and bump my elbow into the wall.

I shut my eyes and try to force my mind to remember what happened. The sequence of events that led me to this moment. But the harder I try, the more distorted everything becomes. Lights… Blinding lights… music… drinks… blood on my hands…suddenly the doors in my mind are slamming shut with so much force I fall down on the floor. Pain soars through my body and my eyes shoot open as I sit up. That’s when I notice the blood. Dried on my skin, it covers the back of my arms, cracked and peeling, like grimy sand.

“Oh my God… what did you do?” My stomach burns, fire, melting me from the inside and works its way up my throat. I jump to my feet, bolt out of the back area and run down the hallway to the private restroom. Then I collapse to my knees onto the hard tile floor, my head tipping forward as vomit purges from my mouth. My stomach empties out the tequila and whatever else I had last night. Exhausted, I flush the toilet, quickly stand up and start scrubbing the blood off my arms in the sink, in a panic, tears stinging at my eyes.

Keep it together. Don’t lose it.

There are no visible cuts anywhere, so I don’t think it’s my blood. It’s so caked on that I have to scratch at my skin to get it off and by the time I’m done, I am bleeding in certain spots on my arm. I feel like shit, my stomach churning again, worse than when getting drunk. My legs give out on me and I sink onto the floor, letting my head fall back against the wall as tears stream out of my eyes. I’ve been drunk before, had killer hangovers, but this feels different. I feel overwhelmingly sick. Time lost. My mind spinning. And the worst part is, I have no idea what I did for almost the entire night. But the ideas are there. All those times, pondering people’s murders. What if I… we…