Page 3 of Lost & Found

“You have some time before I present all four of you to the world. Seeing as you are now Autumn, your debut is some time off. Once summer has passed, you will step on stage. Your skills may be commissioned at any point in the year,” he said. “But understand that during the autumn months, you are the principal attraction. Do you understand?”

I didn’t understand completely. The phrase “skills may be commissioned” was a small hint, but I was afraid to say anything, so I said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. Your actual room is being renovated, as we speak. You’re going to love it. I’m leaving now. Your dinner will be served shortly.”

He left, and I couldn’t hold back the stark fear any longer. I slid to the floor and broke. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I cupped my face in my hands, feeling the burn. The room felt empty now, the darkness replaced by the heaviness of my tears.

With trembling hands, I got on my knees and whispered a prayer, my words a desperate plea to God. I asked him to watch over me and to protect me from the danger that lurked in the shadows.

Sixty days later

I had lost track of time. Somewhere along the way, I stopped counting the days. A numbness had settled in my chest. There were three other girls here. I wasn’t alone in this nightmare. There was the blonde-haired girl from the car the day I was taken, and my neighbor, the one I shared a wall with.

Her name was Mischa. At least, that had been her real name.

It was too bad she couldn’t remember she was Spring now. No matter how many times they shouted and beat her, it never stuck. I prayed for her day and night, but that never worked either.

Having quickly put two and two together, I rationalized that if I was now Autumn, and Mischa was Spring, the girl from the car was Summer, then somewhere there would be a Winter, too. Footsteps approached, signaling the arrival of breakfast. I moved to the end of my bed and stood as they had taught. With my head bowed, I waited for him to speak.

“Come with me,” the Collector said.

My head rose, and I hid my surprise. This was different. There was no food tray, and he beckoned me to follow him. There was a strange liveliness in his expression. I stepped outside the room I’d been confined in for what felt like an eternity.

The sound of construction work echoed through the hall. The air was thick with dampness and mold. It clung to the walls and filled my lungs with each breath. Standing before me were two other girls—the blonde and another with hair that blazed like a fire on the beach at night.

“Attention,” the Collector barked.

The other two girls were already in position, so I immediately recalled the stance. Heels together. Legs straight. Chin forward. Hands at my sides. There was a fumbling of keys, and the door beside mine was unlocked.

While the Collector went inside, I broke position, and I wasn’t the only one. The three of us girls exchanged shocked looks before whatever was taking place inside Spring’s room reached our ears.

“Quickly now, if you’re not in the hall when he arrives, I will be unable to stop him from hurting you. I know you don’t want that, so let’s go.”

“But I need to make it perfect.”

I cringed. She hadn’t been given permission to speak, and her words could be considered talking back. That was two rules broken. I gulped, and my heart pounded inside my chest. Noisy footsteps took to mirror the pattern, and fear descended in the narrow hallway.

By some miracle, she appeared before he did, and once more, the command was given. I wanted to look, to see my neighbor, but fear held me hostage. What followed was an animated tour of our new home given by the Mask.

When I chanced a glance at my neighbor, we were finishing up the tour. I’d never forget how small and fragile she looked. Tiny and clearly younger than all of us. She seemed out of place, if that made any sense. Like in primary school when they show you four objects and one of them doesn’t belong.

That was her, delicate like a baby bird with broken wings, while the three of us had substance. Her bruised cheek held the evidence of her latest mess up, but by some miracle she got through the tour without being screamed at.

“Now that you’ve seen everything, you must admit this is similar to your boarding school, isn’t that right, Summer?” the Mask asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“I’m glad you feel the same. Now for the last two things. I’ve promised you all new bedrooms. They are not only show-worthy but what all little girls dream of having. They’re themed, of course, you will love them.”

The way he said we would love them made it clear it wasn’t optional. We made the trek in the opposite direction of the holding rooms and were shown our new living quarters. It was an upgrade, and true to his word, there were parts that were stunningly beautiful and surprisingly sophisticated. That’s how my mum or Aunt Sophia would describe mine.

It had a warm palette and natural beauty. It was draped in the rich, earthy tones that were synonymous with my new name. The focal point of the room was a wrought iron bed with intricate scrollwork of leaves.

It was covered in luxurious linen of deep coral and a soft blush. It reminded me of a portrait I’d made for my mother, showing the last rosy sunset of summer as it gave way to autumn. Plush pillows hinted that it was going to be loads more comfortable sleeping here.

A simple wooden nightstand stood beside it with a pumpkin themed clock. A vanity sat beneath a teardrop mirror. Flowers of orange and dusky pink spilled from wooden crates. They were artfully placed around the room. Some extended upwards, framing the mirror.

There was even a cozy, fringed rug that complimented the smooth wooden floorboards. An easel and an expensive art set sat waiting. I wish I could say that things got better from that point going forward, but it was only the beginning.