Everything I'm Not

CHAPTER 1 The four tiny feet of one plump rat scurried across a pair of flannel pants. The woman wearing them was lying on a slab of concrete. Her eyelids twitched as the tickling sensation started to wake her. She slowly opened her eye, just enough to let in some hazy light. Her irises rolled back and forth for a moment. She clenched her eyelids tight, then lifted her head off the floor, and opened her eyes fully. As she regained consciousness, the reality of her environment began to set in. The tape over her mouth restricted her accelerated breathing. Her eyes finally began to focus. She looked down at the rat, which had paused in its journey, and her throat attempted a shriek at the sight. Her ankles had been taped, but she did the best she could to kick her legs. Both of her arms were bound together behind her back. She struggled to maneuver, gradually pulling her body up into a sitting position. The woman took several deep breaths through her nose as she looked around the room. Cold tears rolled down her quivering cheeks. She couldn’t make out many details. Only one beam of light shined in from a miniature window near the ceiling. There didn’t seem to be much in the room besides some shelves on the nearest wall, and a broken chair discarded in the corner. An awful, musty smell lingered in the air. Other than the scratching of rodents and the distant trickling of water, the room was scarily quiet. She sat alone in the dark, thinking, problem-solving. The only thing she could contemplate doing was to make her way to the shelves to try to find something, anything, that could help her situation. She used her heels and buttocks to scoot across the dusty floor until she approached the old wooden ledges. There wasn’t much on the bottom one, other than an old pair of shoes and a cardboard box. Both looked as if they had been there for a decade. The next shelf up was a little more promising. Four Mason jars sat in a row. They, too, appeared like they had been there for many years. She raised her brows, hopeful that a broken jar could help with the tape. If she could just knock one down. The quiet was suddenly interrupted. Footsteps creaked on the wooden boards above her head. Clouds of dust drifted down with every step. The woman stopped moving, her heart rate doubled, and her breaths trembled. She listened as quietly as possible while the sound of the steps made its way across the room to the other side. It grew quiet again, only for a moment, then she heard keys. A padlock jostled on a door she couldn’t see. Another tear rolled down her face as she waited for the door to open. Reagan gasped and sat up quickly on the sofa in her living room. Her heart was pounding hard enough to feel it in her throat. She took a deep breath and raised a hand to her chest, grateful that she was in her home. She looked at her watch and shook her head. When did I fall asleep? The complaints of a teenage girl filtered through from across the house. Reagan stood up and made her way down the hall. She approached the doorway of the unhappy adolescent with caution. One by one, the shirts that comprised Emma’s wardrobe were being removed from the closet and returned with fury. She yanked another hanger off the rod and held the blouse up to her chest, looking in the mirror. Finally satisfied with what she saw, she slipped the shirt on and examined every possible angle in the mirror. “Where are you going?” her mother asked from the doorway. “Out,” Emma grumbled, not removing her gaze from the mirror. She grabbed a pair of shoes from the closet and slipped them onto her feet. Her mother’s burning stare practically forced her to look up. “What?” Reagan tried to remain serious, but she suspected the worry consuming her began to show on her face none the less. “I just . . .” “Mom, I don’t get you. What is your problem with Evan? I like him. He likes me. Are you going to question me every time I want to see him?” “No, it’s just . . . I worry about you, that’s all,” Reagan replied. “Why, because he’s eighteen?” “That, and you’re sixteen, Emma. He just graduated. He’ll be going to college soon.” “I know, mom. Is that all?” Emma snapped. “Well, to be honest with you, I don’t like the way he talks to you. He’s a little arrogant and controlling.” Emma shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. “He cares about me! You are unbelievable. You think you know everyth-” “Stop it, Emma! That’s enough. You don’t talk to your mother that way. I’m sorry for questioning you, but I’m only doing it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Reagan said, dropping her head. Emma rolled her eyes then looked back to her mom. They both remained silent, digesting each other’s words until Reagan could think of what to say next. Emma began picking at her nails, as if waiting for the next lecture. “Have I ever told you how your dad and I met?” Reagan asked. “You met at the mall, right?” “Yes, but there’s more to it than that. I was a very quiet girl. I didn’t have many friends or much confidence in myself. Then I met your dad and, at first, I didn’t think that he could like, let alone love, someone like me. But after what he did for me, I knew in my heart that he loved me.” “What did he do?” Emma asked. “Well, I can tell you, but only if you have time to sit and talk with your mom.” Emma looked down at her shoes and grinned, before gazing back up. “I guess we can talk for a little bit. I mean, I really don’t need to leave until six anyway.” “Why were you getting ready so early?” Reagan asked. “I don’t know. I’m bored I guess,” Emma replied. Her mom chuckled and walked over to her daughter. “Well, come sit with me. I should just start from the beginning.”