Monsters 11: Shadow

I thought about you last night. Your face came into my mind as I went walking through the woods behind my house. I wondered what you were doing now, who you were with, and if you were safe. I hadn’t heard from you since we survived, not that I expected to, but I hoped you were well.

If I never bumped into you that night, it never would have happened. I never should have helped you, or them, and I should have trusted my gut when it twisted as I stared into those faces. Even my insides knew how dark and dangerous they were. I wish I would have listened. If I had, then none of those people would have died.

Maybe they would have died someday, but it’s a worse feeling, knowing they stopped breathing, stopped living, because of your hands around their throats, or because of the knife you stuck into them. It went in so easy…

I remember your eyes when one of the men grabbed you. You were completely and utterly terrified, even as you fought him. When he slammed you into the wall, I squeezed my eyes shut for a second at the mixed sounds of your body slamming into it and the groan that crawled out of your mouth at the impact.

I tried to stop him. Believe me; I would have killed him if I could have. I didn’t know what the other was about to do until he did it. I felt something jab me in the rib. It felt like I touched an outlet, only the current of electricity was enough to bring me to my knees. I hissed as I saw what he was holding, and the last thing I remembered before I passed out was a second noise from the taser and the man’s boot smashing into my face.

When I awoke, I could barely move. No doubt they had both taken turns in beating me. Every time I shifted, I felt vomit rise in my throat, but only once did I actually throw up. I reached up to touch my face and felt the blood before I saw it; it covered my palm. Then I lifted my head, ignoring the awful sensation that came with the movement, and saw you.

You were sitting curled up in the corner of the small room. I didn’t have to look closely to know that you were crying. Every part of you shook. Every part that those fucks didn’t touch, didn’t bruise, was quivering. You had your knees pulled up to your chest, your hands around your head, and you wouldn’t stop sobbing.

I wanted to ask if you were alright, but as I opened my mouth the only thing that came out was, “I’m sorry.”

You managed to turn your head as it rested on your knees and I saw your bloody nose, your bruised cheek, and black eye. Your lip was busted too but you didn’t seem to care. All of those wounds made no difference to you.

“It’s not your fault,” you said softly, your voice raspy. “I should have known better.”

I lifted myself from the cot they had been nice enough to put me on. I groaned as I sat up, almost gasping because of the tremendous pain brought from the action. When I was finally able to move more without throwing up again, I silently thanked my body.

“You couldn’t have known,” I said as I slipped onto the floor.

“They were strangers,” you said as you came toward me. You sat beside me and reached for my hand. I let you take it.

“So was I,” I said. “How did you know that I wouldn’t just drag you into the nearest alley and…” I shook my head.

“You were different,” you said.

When your hand vanished from gripping mine, I frowned. When it reappeared, you held a white wash cloth, water dripping from the end. You placed it on my face and proceeded to clean off the blood. It was warm so it relaxed me, if only for a moment.

“But I could have been -- ow, that stings.”

I hadn’t realized I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, you were in front of me, on your knees, one hand on my face, moving it from side to side, the other around my neck, holding me still. You were frowning and chewing your bottom lip.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

When I narrowed my eyes, I felt like closing them completely. I was so tired. Tired and scared, for both of us, and whatever was going to happen.

“You tried to help me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“I failed,” I reminded you.

“But the point is that you tried.” You forced a smile and continued to clean my wounds. When you were finished, you cradled my face in between your hands. Then your eyes welled up. “No matter what, we’re going to get out of here.”

Your last words were like a shadow -- always hovering, forever haunting.