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“Specifics aren’t important. What is important is that you and your baby are healthy and happy. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you stay that way,” my father said.
That sense of dread and doom that had receded ever so slightly with my disgust came back full force.
But again I said nothing, just stayed quiet, counting the seconds until I saw her.
He pulled out a long strip of fabric.
“If you don’t mind, Amy?” my father said like it was actually a question.
I took the blindfold from him and covered my eyes.
I’d been looking out of the window but so far had seen nothing but the Swiss countryside.
“And I’ll do these,” he said.
A moment later all sound was muffled, and I reached up and touched the weight that was now on my head.
Earphones.
To cover my eyes made sense, but that he had covered my ears told me that sound would be important.
A fact I tucked away for later.
Sitting in pitch darkness without being able to hear was disorientating. So much so that I didn’t have any real idea how much time passed between when he put the blindfold on and when the car came to a stop.
I noticed the lack of motion, strained, but couldn’t hear a thing through the headphones.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder but didn’t pull away.
Instead, I let whoever it was guide me out of the SUV.
I hated having to rely on my father or anyone working on his behalf for anything. But I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and more importantly, couldn’t suppress the hope that Crystal was nearby.
We walked, and I counted the steps, but lost track at three hundred. We came to a stop, and suddenly my eyes were hit with a blinding light.
I blinked, trying to adjust my vision, and then pulled the headphones off.
I looked around the room quickly, saw that I was in a windowless, nondescript room, furnished with a bed, table, couch, and a small kitchenette in one corner.
“I hope your accommodations meet your approval,” my father said.
I didn’t respond, and after a moment he left.
I thought I would faint when he came back in, but I didn’t.
Instead, I rushed to him and took the squirming bundle out of his arms.
I wanted to be strong but couldn’t help it. The tears poured down my cheeks, blinding me as I held her, kissed her, cuddled her close.
“How heartwarming,” my father said.
But not even he could impact the strength of this moment.
I had feared I would never hold her again.
Never see her again.
I’d tried to keep those thoughts at bay, but they were always there, lingering like a specter.
I stared down at her and swore in that moment that I would never be separated from her again.
And promised myself that I would see my father suffer for what he’d done.
