Page 3 of Wings of Lies
And finally, I saw them. IVs.
They pinched my arms, legs, and groin. I reached for the hard plastic jutting from behind my knee and followed it to a rattling tube. My eyes shot up, looking for what they connected to. The dim closet made it difficult to see, but three bags of black fluid and one clear bag—hopefully filled with hydrating fluids—flowed into my body. Based on the uncomfortable tube inserted into my groin, I’d probably find a bag of my own urine somewhere below the table. That explained the ammonia smell. But nothing else.
My eyes jumped from the tubes to the bags to the sliver of light, my heart rate ratcheting with every jump, and breaths dying at the back of my throat. Sweat slicked my hands and forehead. I tried to dive back into my memory to find any explanation.
But my memories… they were… gone. At least all the ones that mattered—the ones about who I was and how I got here.
Who cared that I craved chocolate like a madwoman? Who cared that I loved the smell of winter and campfires? Who cared that armed with only bobby pins, I could pick locks like a pro?
The Void let me keep superficial facts about myself while the voices in my head reminded me of my name, and I knew my age from…
My body locked up, ears ringing. Something snaked around my heart, squeezing until tears pooled in my eyes.
Oh hell. Oh, heavenly hell.What was wrong with me? What was this feeling?
I couldn’t breathe as the memory tore into me.Sheshould be with me now. She should be calming me, so I didn’t have to feel this… this… whatever the hell this was!
“Mom!” My voice cracked. “Mom!” I cried, clutching my sternum as if it could force air into my spasming lungs.
“What happened to us?”
A sharp pain sliced into my mind, and an unbearable itching consumed my skin. I cried out and tried to clutch my head but was stopped by the short tubes of the IVs.
Fuzzy purple images jolted into my mind.
I snuggled in a loveseat in a small cream-colored living room, my toes curling into the soft fuzz of the gray rug. A fire crackled behind a chicken-themed grate, filling the space with warmth and the smell of burnt oak. I took a sip of my hot chocolate, relishing its sugary taste, and took a break from the cracked yellowing pages of a book I’d stolen from my mom’s locked room. Its unique symbols made my head throb almost as much as the low jazz music playing in the background did. It wasn’t my kind of music, but I suffered through it often and through every monotonous day in this isolated mountain home forher.
Tears trailed down my cheeks. I squeeze my lids tighter, screaming at my brain to give me something more. I tried again and again, picking, poking, tearing apart my muddled mind to figure out how I got here and where she went. But there was nothing else.
“Shit!” I yelled.
The ringing in my ears increased. My spine begged to move from the unyielding surface, but all I could do was fling my weakened arm out toward what I assumed was a door. I hissed as the tape holding my IV wrenched against my skin.
“To hell with this!” Gritting my teeth, I took hold of the tape and plastic and yanked it from my skin. Blood dribbled down my arm, and I applied pressure, holding my hand against the wound for a moment before yanking the rest of my IVs free. No longer tethered to the tubes, I combed the door’s surface in search of the handle. Pins and needles swallowed my arm, forcing my hand lower and knocking it into the doorknob. Relieved, I took a moment to rest my useless limb, and then I twisted.
Locked.
I twisted harder. My sweaty palm shook, sliding against the metal. Metal that didn’t budge an inch.
No. No. No!
Needles prickled beneath my skin.
I heaved my other arm over and twisted with both hands.
Tears rolled off my cheeks. I jiggled the knob until my sobs were wet gasps of air.
“No!” A wild energy shot through me. Shaking, I forced myself up and toward the door. But even with the added strength of my upper body, my fingers could no longer twist.
“Let me out! Someone please! Let me out of here! Help me!” I screamed.
Dots invaded my vision, and sand weighed down my arms. Thump after pitiful thump, I pushed past my weakness and continued to bang on the door. I couldn’t stop. But the stabbing pain rose. The pressure pressed against every inch of my skin like something vicious begged to escape.
“Please!” I cried. “Help me!”
My screams tore through my throat, raw, guttural sounds. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision until a pulse vibrated the air.
Light lit up the tiny, damp room. I grabbed for the door in a frenzy. But the knob didn’t give.
