Page 29 of Rise
16
Natalia
The steady bangingof something in the distance grabs my attention, wrenching me from my man’s arms and pulling me from my dreamy haze.
Fuck.
I jump up from the covers and stumble to my feet, realizing where I am and who’s knocking.
“Um,be right there,” I say, my voice as groggy and unsteady as my footing.
I head toward the motel room door, my feet padding against the carpet, hoping that Jeanie hasn’t been out there knocking for long. On my way over, I catch a glimpse of the clock beside the bed. Jesus. That can’t be right. Nine o’clock? Fuck.
“I’m so sorry, Jeanie. I must’ve slept through my alarm!” I begin totell her while failing miserably at trying to undo all the locks on the damn door in a panic.
“It’s okay,” she answers through the still locked door. “Good morning, Talia!”
It takes me a beat, but I finally release the chained lock and pull the door open a few inches to find my boss, her beaming face shooting me her usual cheerful smile.
“Good morning,” I tell her. “I’m reallysorry about this. Were you knocking for a long time?”
“No, not for long. It’s all right. How was your sleep?” she asks while her eyes search curiously past me into the room as though she’s looking for something in particular.
I stifle the yawn threatening to escape my throat and contort my face into as normal an expression as I can manage. “It was good, thanks.”
Jeanie’s lipstighten into a straight line for a split second before they return to a stiff smile. “The bed was that bad, huh?”
I tilt my head to one side, puzzled. Though my confusion is no surprise to me. I’m no morning person. “I… um… I’m not sure I understand,” I admit, my mind still cloudy.
Jeanie points into the room. “Looks like you slept on the floor.”
“Sorry, what?”
As sheprattles on about switching the mattress with one from a vacant room, I look back in the direction her finger is pointing, confused. Well, I was confused, right up until I see what she’s talking about.
Fuck.
Did I really do that?
I don’t remember leaving the bed last night. The pillow and blanket from the bed are on the ground near the far corner of the room. The quilt thatwas originally on the bed is now spread out underneath the blanket. The bedding looks wrinkled and creased, like a sleeping bag that someone slept in overnight.
On the floor.
Not someone.
Me.
I have no memory of moving from the bed to the floor, but I must’ve done it sometime during the night.
Shit.
I get it, though.
I mean, for the past howevermany days, weeks, months... those men held me hostage, and I was forced to sleep on the cold, hard, dusty floor. I remember having to twist and turn and curl myself into a ball, trying for what felt like hours to find a way to get comfortable, and would fail miserably. I only passed out because exhaustion would eventually come over me. Sometimes, I’d pray for sleep, and hope for a pleasant dream.A good dream was an escape from the horror of being stuck in that dark, filthy place. Even a fantasy was better than that reality I had to live through.
But I’m safe now.
I’m fine.
