When she had made it past the buildings and saw that there was no one on the sidewalk leading toward the S-train station, she thought with relief that she was safe.
She noticed a spot where the grass on the roadside had been churned up.
This must be where Michelle was killed, she thought before hearing a car speeding up behind her.
47
Monday, May 30th, 2016
“Come on, Rose, it’s Vicky! Come out now. Dad has left for work. He’s on the night shift this week.”
Her shivering fingers reached for the key in the door to her room, but she didn’t turn it. Was he on nights? Was it really already Thursday? And who was shouting out there?
The voice had said it was Vicky, but that wasn’t true because she was Vicky. So why did the person out there think she was Rose? Who would even want to be Rose? No one liked her, whereas with Vicky . . . it was different.
When I can come out, I’ll put a shirt on, she thought. Today should be a yellow-and-black-checked shirt buttoned down to show off my cleavage. She giggled. She would make people’s eyes pop out.
But I’ll just smile when they stare and tell them I plan to marry a certain actor. I don’t remember his name just now, but never mind. He knows I’m the one for him. Oh yes, he knows.
They say Vicky is so beautiful, so therefore I’m beautiful. Rose is just Rose. It’s a shame for her. She can’t help it; it’s just the way she is. Dad has said so often enough, and he’s right, so I’m glad I’m not her.
Who would want to be her? Have I said that already? Well, I certainly wouldn’t. And now Dad is on nights, so I’ll just go out dancing. Thankfully, they don’t have any say in that. None of them do.
Then the uncomfortable burning sensation in her throat returned. She wasn’t really sure whether it was part of the image she had just been thinking about. She certainly hoped not, because it was going so well. Only a moment ago, she hadn’t been in any pain at all, but now the pain had returned.
Ouch, I vomited again. When will it stop? Oouuch!
Rose opened her eyes. Everything around her was blurry. Her eyes were dry and her whole body ached. Or did it? Wasn’t it only her throat and tongue that hurt?
Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a female voice cursing. Was it real or was it a dream again?
Am I drifting off again already? She seemed to have done that many times over many hours now. In fact, she had no sense of time and only a vague sense of where she was.
The overwhelming facts were that she was tied up, her crotch and throat felt like they were on fire, and she couldn’t feel the rest of her body. As far as she knew, it was at least twenty-four hours since she had been able to feel her hands and legs. But how long had it actually been?
Now the woman out there was talking again and sounded very angry. She was swearing and cursing the one called Denise. But then this must be reality, and if it was real she only hoped that she could stay here. As soon as she disappeared, she saw her father lying there on the floor, his flesh and bones crushed and with a wide grin on his face directed right at her. Those staring eyes burning their way into her and never fading. They glowed more and more intensely each time she slipped into the dream. Of course, she knew that her sisters would come to her aid every time. Suddenly, they were inside her and she was inside them, and then she felt at peace. And peace was the only thing she was looking for. Come as it may.
“Where the hell is she?” said the angry voice.
What was the name of the one who was talking? Was it Michelle? No, she was the one they had said was dead. Or was that also something she’d dreamed?
She said, “Mmmmm,” from behind the duct tape, meaning that she was thirsty, but she was drowned out by the woman’s voice, which just continued on. But then it hadn’t normally been her who had put the straw in her mouth. That much she could remember. Maybe she had done it once, but that was all.
She felt her stomach cramping up and the burning sensation returned in her throat with a vengeance. At least her body could still react—everything was connected.
Rose opened her eyes wide. Her heartburn had pulled her out of her stupor.
She looked around. The light was already dim in the hallway. Did that mean that it was early morning or late at night? It could be hard to determine at this time of year when it was light almost around the clock. It was that time of year when summer was waiting just around the corner, people fell in love at first sight, and everyone was full of anticipation and joy. She had experienced this once in her life, and the memory made her happy. Falling in love was often described as something that happened by itself and countless times. That wasn’t Rose’s experience, but she had felt that joy inside even though her father put an end to that too.
Now the woman out there was talking again—almost shouting, in fact.
Rose frowned. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t a woman shouting at all. She looked out through the doorway toward the hallway. There was nothing out there, and still a voice filled the entire space. The voice was much deeper than the woman’s, and she recognized it. It was Assad’s voice, wasn’t it? Why would she suddenly hear that voice? And why would he suddenly be shouting that he knew there was someone in the apartment and that he just wanted to ask some questions?
Was she only dreaming, or was Assad really trying to tell her that he knew she was in there? Or did he want to ask her questions? Then why didn’t he just come in and ask? She would happily answer him. He was her friend, after all.
She mumbled, “Mmmmm,” and this time it meant that he should just come in. He should come in and remove the tape from her mouth so she could spit out the vile taste in her mouth and answer his questions. She would love to do that.
Come on and ask me something, Assad, she thought, feeling her dry eyes welling up and her chest heaving. It felt good.
Then she heard another voice far away that almost sounded like Carl’s. She felt moved when she heard it. So moved, in fact, that the tears ran down her cheeks. Could this be real? Were they out there somewhere? Did they know she was in here?
If that was the case, maybe they would force their way into the apartment. And finding her there in her humiliation, would they still hold her tight?
She hoped they would.
She listened for a long time, trying to make sounds that were louder and more meaningful than inarticulate groans. She was wide-awake, and the adrenaline pumping through her kept her in the real world.
Then the pain suddenly rushed into her shoulders and back. It was a violent onslaught of insistent protest from her joints and muscles. All her nerves came to life, and Rose groaned in agony behind the duct tape.
She saw the silhouette of the woman walk past the bathroom door. She seemed to be moving differently. She seemed hectic and tense. “Shut up,” she hissed at Rose as she passed, and a few minutes later she could hear noise coming from the sitting room. A click and a few bumps and then it went quiet.
Deadly quiet.
48
Monday, May 30th, 2016