“What are you doing?” I shivered as a breeze blew through my thin, cotton gown.
“Shh!” she said, pressing her tiny, dark finger to my lips.
I didn’t want to stop. I could barely hear the girls anymore. I didn’t want to think about why that was. I was hoping against hope that if we kept going, maybe we wouldn’t get caught, that we could escape this nightmare. I started tugging on Clara’s arm, figuring the horror had just hit her and she was temporarily incapacitated.
“Get down,” she hissed. But it was too late. I felt the sting, and then warmth coursing through me, before I dropped to the ground.
I was getting quite tired of waking up like this. Being rendered unconscious and coming to in a strange state or a strange room. I knew they must have caught us or at least me. Maybe Clara had got away. I hoped so. I was captured, I was sure of it. I had that same groggy feeling I always had after being jabbed in the arm by the White Coats.
I opened my eyes, fluttering them suspiciously, not really wanting to see the sickly glow of the ceiling of my underground room. But what greeted me was not the glowing fluorescent lights from the room Clara and I shared, but the night sky. A million twinkling stars, against a deep, dark black. I reached my hands out to touch it. Surely it was painted on. But my fingertips were only grasping at air.
“It’s real,” he said. That voice. Full of sadness. Kind and regretful. I hadn’t heard that voice in such a long time. I didn’t want to look. I must have been dreaming. It was not just unlikely, it was impossible that he could be here. I let myself dream a little longer and continued to stare at the sky. One side of me felt cold as ice. The other side, a little too warm. I looked to my left to see flames dancing in the half-light. I counted five other bodies lying by the fire. One tucked up in a sleeping bag, with an enormous mound of a stomach illuminated by the fire, masses of black, springy hair protruding from the head end of the bag. She had her back turned to me but it was Clara. Thank God she was all right. I swept my eyes in a circle above me, the sun was gone but I could still make out shapes of tall trees looming over the top of us. Pines.
My stomach grumbled. I was starving. I pulled myself to sitting.
“Are you hungry?” he said. That voice. I turned around, ready for the dream to disintegrate. His face was the same as it had always been. Still smiling, although he looked tired and perhaps a bit thinner. His hair was a little shorter, but it was him. I hadn’t imagined it.
He handed me a piece of bread and some dried meat without waiting for an answer. I had a million questions to ask him. But my stomach had other ideas. I grabbed the food and started devouring it. He waited patiently, hands collapsed casually over his knees, watching me polish the food off, licking my fingers. The leech kicked me and I moved uncomfortably, putting my hand to my stomach.
Joseph’s eyes showed concern as he moved towards me just slightly. Concern and something else indiscernible. The fire casting orange light on his beautiful face, lighting his hair up like a crown of gold. Sadness swamped me. I must have looked so different to him, a swollen, pitiful teenager. Most of the time, I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but with someone from my past staring at me, it was hard to ignore.
I took a deep breath, the cool air stinging my lungs in a good way. The big question had to be asked. But I was scared of the answer. Joseph being here made no sense at all. I was never going to see him again and now he was sitting in front of me, looking worried, looking like he cared.
“What are you doing here?” I asked slowly. Wondering what possible answer he could give that would explain his presence here, my presence in the woods, the smoke, everything. What he said was beyond belief.
Casually, in his disarming manner, he said with a smile, “That’s my baby in there,” as he pointed to my stomach.
The bread stuck in my throat. I scrambled back, panicked, nearly putting my hands in the fire. “What?” I awkwardly heaved myself to my feet. “What are you talking about? That’s insane…but...that’s impossible.” I stumbled over my words, searching for one shred of sense in what Joseph had just said to me. Whatever happiness I felt at seeing him again was gone and replaced with suspicion. What did he want with me? Who were these other people? What new nightmare had I been dragged into?
I had roused the others with my yelling. Drowsy eyes stared at me across the fire. Clara was looking at me confused, still half asleep. Joseph was moving towards me, clearly worried, although I didn’t know if he was concerned for me or the thing inside me he thought was his. But he looked genuinely frightened, anguish showing on his face. Hands outstretched, flapping the air, he said, “Rosa, calm down, it’s ok, you’re safe now.”
I bent my knees, ready to run, “Don’t tell me to calm down, what you’re saying is ridiculous. What did you do to me? Are you one of them?” I heard my voice and it sounded crazy, like something had snapped inside my throat. I was shaking. I felt sick. I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to go. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man with a needle in his hand approaching me. “Get back!” I screamed. This was not happening again. He kept inching closer. “Get back!” I screamed again. My voice was swallowed up in the darkness, no echo—it disappeared in the cold air. The man moved closer still. Joseph blocked him with his arm.
“Get away from her, don’t touch her!” he shouted forcefully.
I didn’t know what to do. A big part of me wanted to run to him. The other part of me wanted to hit him with a branch and run as fast as I could away from here. I didn’t feel like I could trust any of them.
“I told you not to tell her that way,” the man with the needle said. “She’s not the same girl you remember. She’s probably traumatized.” I looked to Joseph, that pain on his face again, an agonized, tortured look; I had seen him make that face once before. The man took steps towards me, still carrying the needle, trying to distract me as he approached. “You see, he’s been looking for you for a long time now…he...” he was still holding that needle. I took one step towards him and punched him in the face, as hard as I could. It hurt my hand. He over-balanced and fell backwards, nearly landing on top of one of the other people. The needle bounced into the fire.
Joseph laughed. “See. I told you she had attitude!” he said as he leaned over to pull the man up to his feet. I realized then that he was not a man. He was a boy, no older than Joseph. Tall and thin, with dark black, spiky hair and a smooth, high-boned face. I was still standing, fists up, ready to knock out the next person who came near me, feeling like a cornered animal.
“Whoa, Rosa, it’s me, can’t you at least let me explain?” he pleaded.
“Clara?” I looked to her for answers; she nodded, not saying a word. It was her way of saying, yes, let him talk. He held out his hand and I took it, eyeing him reproachfully. His eyes were hopeful. The moment our hands touched, memories jolted through me like electricity: His warm arms around me, hands touching as we lifted into the air, talking, smiling. Other memories appeared too, being deserted, having my heart broken. I dropped my hand.
“What can you possibly say that could explain any of this?” I gestured around me and back to my belly. I looked down to see I was back in my Class uniform, which now sat above my belly button, my cotton gown poking out from underneath the band like a curtain, hiding my disgraceful form. Someone dressed me. I was livid.