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“Please mommy, just a little longer! We were playing hide and seek.”
I was being carried in a woman’s arms, my hand clutching at the necklace around her neck. A pretty pendant with a unique design. A large gold heart with different color stones at the top, reds and pinks and whites. Like a star shower, or at least that’s what it looked like to me. And then a word written along one edge of the bottom. She told me it’s our name but I can’t read it yet.
“But sweet baby girl, it’s time for dinner and bed.”
Her voice is warm, like a soft blanket to wrap myself in.
I pouted. “But they will think I didn’t want to find them, they will just keep hiding and they won’t come out. They will be cold and hungry!”
She laughs softly and I can feel it through my whole body. “Baby girl, their mummy will let them know you went home, I’m sure she will be giving them dinner soon too.”
I keep pouting, she doesn’t understand. “No she won’t. She’s a mean mummy, she’s not like you.”
Suddenly the memory flashes to another moment in time and all I see is blood, and all I hear are screams.
The tears falling on my hand drag me back. I didn’t even realize I was crying, but sobs shake my body as I slide off the couch and to the floor.
Even through my tears, I can see the engraving on the heart pendant that my five year old self couldn’t read,‘Darling’.
How did they even know about the pendant? How did they even find it? I couldn’t remember if I even mentioned it to the police when they tried to get information out of me while my little body was in shock. And I wasn’t about to look at the crime scene reports again to find out.
All I know is that I haven’t seen this pendant for twenty years. And I searched for it,extensively. Somehow in the few weeks since I arrived, they managed to delve into my past, my deepest darkest secrets. They found something that I had been looking for for most of my life.
I clutch it to my chest as sobs wrack my body.
As the floodgates of grief and confusion overwhelm me, I clutch the necklace tightly, feeling its weight against my chest. Memories of that fateful night try to resurface, vivid and painful, but I slamthe door on them.
I am not ready to relive that, no matter how much it influenced the path my life had taken. It was the whole reason behind why I became an FBI agent.
Allowing my body to fall sideways, I curl into myself as my tears continue to fall. I lose myself to my grief and time becomes irrelevant.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I feel myself being lifted from the ground. Blinking my eyes, I realize the light has been turned off. I should have protested or freaked out, but I am too caught up in my emotions mixed with exhaustion.
Whichever one of them is carrying me makes placating noises as they carry me toward my bedroom. I vaguely make out another figure in front of us, pulling down the blankets of my bed to allow the one carrying me to slide me into the bed and pull the blankets back over me.
The bed shifts, and I feel them curl around me, but my eyes are weighed down. The haze in my mind drags me deeper into the darkness of sleep. It’s only moments later that I surrender to it.
In the depths of my slumber, my dreams are filled with fragments of memories and swirling emotions. The pendant's weight still presses against my chest, a constant reminder of the past that has been reawakened. Mixed with the weariness of my body, I surrender to the healing embrace of sleep, allowing it to sweep me away.
When I finally open my eyes, the soft early morning light is starting to filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. It takes a moment for my surroundings to register—my own bedroom, familiar yet tinged with an air of unfamiliarity. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and I sit up, searching for any sign of the men who strangely offered me comfort in my moment of despair.
It doesn’t come as a surprise that the room is empty, devoid of any trace of them. I clutch the pendant, the chain now hanging around my neck. The unanswered questions gnaw at my mind, but I couldn't dwell on them now. I have a job to do.
I rise from the bed, pushing aside the heaviness that lingers within me. I know I can’t let my grief consume me.
Pushing the stress of the past slowly from my shoulders, I decide to take a moment for myself—a chance to cleanse both my body and mind. A shower seems like the perfect opportunity to wash away the remnants of grief that cling to me, freeing myself from the heavy burden that had consumed me the night before.
I take a moment to appreciate the waterproof dressings before I step into the soothing embrace of the warm water. Letting it cascade over me, the droplets washing away the remnants of my tears. The gentle caress of the water feels like a tender touch against my skin. I close my eyes, allowing the sensation to envelop me, as if it could cleanse not only my body, but also the depths of my soul.
As I lather my skin with fragrant soap, I can almost feel the heaviness of the sadness being lifted, carried away by the gentle stream. My fingers move over my skin, washing away the remnants of a sleepless night, as if they are subconsciously erasing the darkness and paving the way for a brighter day.
Reluctantly, I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft towel, cocooned myself in warmth.
I look at the mirror and focus on the reflection staring back at me. My features look tired, etched with the remnants of the previous night's emotions. I know that I needed to regain my composure and put on a strong front, at least for the time being.
As an FBI agent, I had always been more comfortable embracing my natural appearance, relying on my skills and intuition rather than the façade of makeup. However, today feels different—I need a shield, a mask to armor myself against the world.
I carefully apply foundation, concealing any remnants of exhaustion that linger on my face. I outline my eyes with precision, enhancing their depth and intensity, intent on projecting an air of strength and determination. The lipstick I choose is a bold shade, a statement of resilience and defiance. With each stroke of the brush, I construct a new layer of armor, a shield that I hope will protect me from both external threats and internal vulnerabilities.
