Illusions (The Missing #1) (5 page)

Empty but for the bottles of water and a large bag of potato chips I had found. I had been puzzled by the discovery. The chips were my favorite brand. The small sign of mercy disturbed me.

Despite my extreme misgivings, my incredible hunger drowned out any internal debate. I had grabbed the chip bag and eaten half the contents before I thought better of it.

When my mind and body were no longer dominated by the primal instinct to devour and chew, I realized that I had to ration what I had. I didn’t know when I’d have anything to eat again or whether I’d be provided with further supplies.

I had taken a drink of water and set the food aside trying to ignore the discomfort I felt.

There was one window on the far wall. The glass was caked with dirt and grime. I had tried to see outside but couldn’t make out anything without my glasses.

And there was the door.

Light filtered around the cracks and offered a tantalizing glimpse of freedom beyond. I had pulled at the handle until my hands were raw and throbbing. I wrenched until my shoulders ached and my back burned. It never budged. I
knew
it wouldn’t. But I couldn’t stop trying.

So I pulled and pulled until I couldn’t pull anymore.

At some point I had fallen to the concrete floor, curled on my side, my face pillowed by my hand. I fell into a coma-like sleep.

It was the deep sleep of someone too terrified to stay awake.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I rolled over, annoyed at the noise. Drifting in and out of dreams.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I didn’t want to wake up. So I fought to stay asleep. Oddly enough the beeping noise became soothing, allowing me to drift off again.

I jolted awake. Confused and disoriented. Something pulled me out of nonsensical dreams.

The whistling.

Everything else was forgotten instantly.

At first I thought I was hallucinating. That my addled brain had created fanciful delusions.

I sat up, stretched out my legs, and opened my eyes wide, trying to see through the grainy darkness. It was early. No light to be seen. But I could smell the morning.

The whistling had stopped, and I began to think I had imagined it.

My bladder was close to bursting, and I knew that I couldn’t hold it any longer. Not knowing what else I could do, I quickly took care of business in the far corner. When I was finished I tried to look out the window, squinting as if that would somehow make my vision clearer.

It didn’t.

My stomach growled, and I located the half eaten bag of chips. I ate a handful and rinsed my mouth out with water.

I was calmer, but the panic was still there, just waiting for me to acknowledge it. I thought about embracing it. To lose myself in the insanity it promised. Anything had to be easier than the reality I was faced with.

But I couldn’t. I had to be smart. I couldn’t afford to lose my faculties to inner chaos. I had to find a way out of the room.

I had to remember what happened that last night. I thought endlessly about who would do this to me.

The possible answer to that particular question left me sick and terrified.

The truth was there were too many possibilities.

My head was full of foggy memories that made no sense.

I left a note for my mother. I hoped to sneak out before she realized I was gone. Butterflies tickled my belly and I grinned so high I felt it everywhere. In my fingers and toes. And most importantly, in my heart.

Tonight would change everything.

“Where was I going?” I asked out loud.

I touched my cheeks, still feeling the grin that had felt etched onto my face.

All I could see was her face. So pretty. Smiling and excited. Always happy to see me.

Strangely I found myself smiling in the dark. My skin cracked, covered in drying tears and day old blood. I smiled for no reason and for every reason.

“I’m going to tell you everything,” I whispered into the night air. Breathing confidences to the sky that I had hoped would find their way to her ears.

The whistling started again and I stopped smiling. I stopped thinking about pretty faces and hot, secret nights.

The whistle was all I could focus on. It was soft at first, then louder.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

No answer.

There were never any answers!

Only a song with a hauntingly familiar melody.

I know this song. Why can’t I remember?

The whistling gave way to humming, which then morphed into whispered words.

“I can hear you, god damn it!” I yelled, my shrill voice bouncing off the walls. Reverberating around in the pit of my empty stomach and my terrified soul.

No answer.

Only the song.

I strained my ears, listening to the voice. I could hear the lyrics, but somehow I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

I began to cry. And once I started I couldn’t stop.

My tears were all that I had left that were just
mine.

I was dirty and hungry and sore. I was scared out of my mind and suffocating.

But the song went on.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I wailed. I had to ask the questions. They needed to be said out loud.

I wondered if my mother was looking for me. I wondered if Bradley was searching.

I wondered if
she
thought about me. Even once. A passing thought shadowing her mind.

I wondered if anyone really cared at all.

Because deep in my heart I knew that I had lost them all.

Every single one of them. The people I had loved to my destruction. The people I had consumed until there was nothing left.

And I was invisible once again.

The lost girl.

The forgotten girl.

The one no one would ever, ever miss.

The song stopped.

Then started again.

The dark has eyes . . .

Goosebumps ran across my skin.

“Just stop! Please!” I moaned, covering my ears. The singing stopped. I slowly lowered my hands and then it started again.

The shadows have teeth.

Always doubt

The truth underneath . . .

The words made me feel sick inside. The gnawing hunger was replaced with a stabbing nausea.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, and again the song stopped.

My words faded into nothing and then, as if on cue, the singing started again. Raspy. Low. Barely audible.

Lies are like raindrops

No two are the same . . .

I screamed, the singing stopped. But in the silence, it would begin again.

Who was doing this? I started to freak out. I was being held by a psychopath! This person was going to kill me. And no one would ever know. No one would come looking for me.

Because I had lost
everyone.

Bind you,

Deny you,

Wrapped up in chains.

But I had never had
anyone.
To think otherwise would be to delude myself.

I had been living a fantasy for months.

Locked up in this room with the horrible song reminding me of all the deceit reinforced a truth I had always known.

I would always be alone.

I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Always, always alone.

I screamed louder. Longer. Anything to stop the horrible song. I banged my fists against the door. Pounding my flesh on hard, unforgiving wood. It didn’t matter.

The song went on.

Invisible.

Unseen

Deceit at all cost.

No one will miss

The little girl lost . . .

I screamed until my throat seized and my lungs burned.

My voice cracked and broke, ruined and dying. I fell to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and waited.

In the silence. In the gloom.

I waited.

I dug my nails into the hard stone floor. Clawing. Digging. Broken edges. Bleeding wounds.

No one will miss

The little girl lost . . .

No one was looking for me.

No one cared.

I had lost everyone.

I saw
his
vicious grin in my mind. Bared teeth and frightening green eyes. Territorial possession that had been just for me.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Until it all changed.

Smiles perished and all I felt was the rage.

“No one wants you, Nora. No one will ever want you.”

The song floated around me in the darkness, piercing my ears, and drilling a hole into my brain. Burrowing into my heart.

“Who are you?” I whispered. No voice. It had left me, just like everyone else. I had nothing.

I spoke, the singing stopped. And this time the silence carried on.

No one answered me and I didn’t expect them to.

Whoever was keeping me here had secrets. They had reasons that I couldn’t possibly understand.

Why would anyone go to the trouble of taking me only to lock me away? How long were they planning to keep me here?

The drumming of my heart mimicked the ticking of a clock. Seconds blending into each other.

Time and fear were all that I had.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four . . .

The Past

Six Months Earlier

I
entered the house quietly. I knew that Mom was home, but I didn’t want her to know I was there. Not yet.

I enjoyed the few moments before I was discovered in comfortable silence. It was the most peaceful I could ever feel.

I stood just inside the doorway and dropped my bag soundlessly to the floor. I removed my shoes and lined them along the wall. I leaned against the door and covered my face with my hands. Hiding. Tucked away.

I smiled behind my fingers.

I could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It startled me. I was unused to the sound of joy in my house. It sounded awful. Wrong. Like it didn’t belong.

I slowly made my way towards the dreadful noise. Stopping just outside the kitchen, I stood in the shadows just behind the door. Unnoticed. Invisible.

My mother stood next to the counter pouring coffee into cups. A beautiful young woman with long dark hair stood beside her, smiling in a way I had never been capable of.

They were laughing. Happy. Honest. Pure.

Together.

I watched my mother’s entranced face and pre-emptively mourned the loss of her pleasure.

My mother was lovely to look at. She appeared years younger than fifty-eight. It was a beauty that came from a stringent routine that never altered. She meticulously dyed her hair its current shade of blonde, going so far as to pluck grey hairs from her head. Every night she slathered her skin with anti-wrinkle creams and moisturizers. Her fingernails were always manicured, and she insisted on having a salt scrub once a week to rid herself of dead skin. She made sure to never stay out in the sun for too long. She was obsessive in caring for herself.