JESSICA
EIGHT YEARS AGO:
May 17, 2016: 9 p.m.
Emerald Pack Clinic
Iwake with a start and bolt up in bed. My vision is hazy, and I can’t make out where I am. It smells funny, almost clean—so clean, it’s sterile. A loud beeping noise pierces my mind, and a sharp pain shoots in my ears and my temple. I immediately cover my ears with my hands, but I realize my arms are attached to a monitor with some kind of small tube.
I’m scared. My brain screams for me to run. I need to get away. I need to be safe.
I pull at the lines attached to my body. Liquid pours from some of the tubes. It doesn’t smell like blood, so I keep pulling, removing everything I find by roaming my hands over my torso.
I can’t see clearly, which scares me even more. But I’m determined to get away. I need to protect myself. One last tube embeds in the center of my throat, held in place with a clothstrap. Feeling around my neck, I undo the strap and pull on the device.
Suddenly, I start coughing and choking. A slimy substance oozes from the gaping hole.
I want to cry. Who did this to me? Why? Without wasting any time, I slide out of bed. I hear footsteps racing around outside my room. The loud beeping and shrill piercing noises grow louder. Someone was alerted.
I slip outside my door into some kind of dark corridor. Relying on my instincts and other senses, I back against the wall, hiding in the shadows, and slide away from the oncoming footsteps.
I reach thick molding along the wall, a door, so I open it and slip inside. A clean antiseptic smell instantly hits my nose reminding me of the room I just vacated. I close my eyes wishing I could see my surroundings and take a deep breath. A vision of the room forms in my mind. The shelves are lined with some kind of cloth of varying shades of blue and sizes.
Cool air rushes against my backside. Grabbing at my back, I realize I’m partially covered. I grab for what feels like a pair of pants and slip them on, tying the drawstring tight and rolling the hem of the pant legs so I don’t trip over them.
I tear off my gown only to discover another tube sticking out of my stomach. A sticky fluid drips from the line. Without hesitation, I rip it out. Instant pain and a burning sensation overtake me, but they pass quickly. Tossing the tube to the floor, along with the long gown, I find a shirt and pull it on. I need to get out of here.
Before I sneak back out the door, I hear loud, commanding voices. “Find her! She has to be here somewhere. She’s hurt. She couldn’t have gone far!” More footsteps echo in the hall, so I shrink back behind one of the shelves and crouch down.
All I can hear is myself breathing through the hole in my throat. Air rushes in and out, mixing with fluid in a low rattling sound. Gross! I fumble through the items on the shelves to locate anything resembling a piece of cloth or napkin. When I find what I’m searching for I wipe at the slimy, slick… drool? Eww! I wipe it again and place my hand over the hole to quiet the gurgling noises I make when I breathe.
Fuck! Who did this to me and why? I don’t have much time to think it over. The people outside pass down the hall. I tuck the cloth into my waistband and approach the door, slipping into the hallway.
I don’t know where I am, but somehow, I can clearly see the layout of the building in my head. I find the exit and quietly, sticking to the shadows, still holding my hand over the hole in my throat, slink toward it. On my way over, I bump into a chair, filling the silence with a scraping noise against the linoleum floors.
Holding my breath, I stay very still, listening for anyone coming. It remains quiet so I move forward, trying to avoid the chair in my path, when my bare foot brushes against something soft. I nudge it with my foot again. I gingerly bend down to pick it up and determine it’s a hooded sweatshirt.
I put it on immediately. It’s huge on me, but I don’t care. It’s perfect. I pull the hood to cover my face, and a distinct fragrance—a mixture of dirt, grass, and sunshine, paired with a clean-smelling cologne—assaults my senses. I also smell subtle hints of bergamot, melon, and cucumber.
The medley comforts me. I feel calmer, stronger. I smirk, thinking about when a superhero puts on their cape. Confidence takes over, and I feel more assured that I can escape to safety.
The cool night air blasts my face. I plaster myself against the wall of the building. My eyes are still closed. Did I not open them this entire time? In my mind, I saw my surroundings. That’sodd, right? I mentally shake myself. I don’t have time to figure it out.
Ahead is a road that leads to a gate. From there, I can run and follow the road wherever it may lead. But I can’t just run onto the driveway in front of the building. Someone will definitely find me and haul me back into the lab of doom.
With my free hand, I tug the hood to cover more of my face. Breathing in the owner’s scent relieves the tension in my muscles. But what if he is one of the men holding me hostage and conducting all of these science experiments on me?
I slide along the brick wall and round the corner closest to the road. I hear crunching gravel headed in my direction, but instead of retreating, I run toward it. I make out the blurry outline of a tall, broad man. His large torso leads him to have a wide base stance. I push myself faster, and before he can react, I dive between his legs. Using the momentum of my slide, I jump to my feet and keep running toward the road.
Another man approaches from the right. I deviate from my path and rush at him. He bends low, bracing his posture, planning to grab me. I jump as high as I can, using my left foot to push off his shoulder, I reach for a low-lying tree branch above his head. I begin to climb. Slowly, I inch my way across the branch toward the roof of a building, and I leap.
I fall short. “Catch her!” someone shouts. Quickly shooting my arm out, I catch the edge just in time. I grip the ledge with my other hand and start to swing back and forth. My body swings closer to the wall so when I push against it with both feet, I flip myself onto the roof, landing on my back with a hard thud.
Bringing my legs toward my stomach, I push off the ground with a hand on either side of my head and stand back on my feet. I sprint along the roof, searching for the gate in my mind. I’m closer now.
To the side of the building, the two men I outsmarted earlier now run alongside me. I hear various orders yell through the air.
“Block the gate!”
