Save Her

Natalie - Chapter 3-4

“He busted me. I felt horrible. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.

“‘What’s that?’

“I took a nibble of my crumpet. Apologizing is not my strong suit. I — what’s the word? Oh yeah — hate. I hate it. Hate apologizing. My parents both say it’s my worst trait. I’ve been like this always. Ever since I was two, they said I hated apologizing. It was a defeated bite, one that shouldn’t have taken so long to chew, but I felt bad, and he had cornered me, and I don’t enjoy being cornered, and like even less being wrong.”

“‘I’m really sorry,’ I finally said. I expected him to say ‘that’s okay,’ or ‘no problem, I was just messing with you,’ but he didn’t. Instead, he waited for something beyond the weakness of the overused apologetic word, ‘sorry.’ He was right to wait because he had done nothing wrong. ‘I hate the law,’ I said. ‘I despise everything about it,’ I said. ‘And I think you must have made me nervous or something because I only talk about Robeiro when I’m anxious. I don’t think you’re stupid. Not at all. I think you’re interesting and smart, and—’

“‘And?’

“‘And very handsome,’ I said, blushing deeply, suddenly worried that I had said far too much and frightened him away. He reached across the table with his pinky extended. He had forgiveness in his eyes. He had relaxed. I curled my pinky into his. The connection was warm. We maintained eye contact as we held each other’s pinky. It was sweet. It was the most intimate feeling I had ever experienced with a boy. I mouthed ‘sorry’ again to him.

“‘Let’s try our hardest not to lie to each other anymore. How does that sound?’

“I nodded my head and squeezed his pinky with mine. Words had never failed me until that moment.”

“‘Thank you,’ I finally said.

“‘For what?’

“‘For forgiving me.’

“Something I hadn’t felt before was happening to me in that cafe. I was falling in love. I felt as if I had found him, and wow, how much more randomly could it have happened than him falling out of a tree right smack in front of my car! And wow, thank god in heaven my car had not killed him! Because then I wouldn’t be able to stare deep into his dark blue eyes and wonder what hues of paint I could mix to form the deep oceans staring back at me, or how I would be able to make the whites of his eyes realistic, because to reproduce them exactly on canvas would seem fake, because even in real life, looking at him in the evening light of the bar, they were too white to be true. His dark brown hair was slightly overgrown over his ears, and I wouldn’t find out for a while that his hair would never grow any longer, and that cutting it would do no good because it would somehow reform to the exact length over and over again like magic. You know it’s because of the nanos, but still, it might as well be magic as far as I’m concerned. His upper lip was exactly half the size of his lower lip, and I was sure I could shade the light pink perfectly, and blend it with his smooth olive skin, but I got distracted from my mental painting when I looked back at his lips and wondered what it would be like if he kissed me. He smiled then like he knew what I was thinking, and I smiled back with all my guilt. I looked away, caught and embarrassed, and inadvertently pulled my pinky away from his.”

“‘Why do you have your brother’s notebook?’ I had to ask him something. I had to change the subject from my staring. He struggled and looked down and around, and I could tell I hit a sore subject.

“‘My brother died last week,’ he said. ‘Murdered,’ he said more quietly, and more to himself than to me.

“‘Oh, Drayden.’ I wanted so badly to hold his hand again, to comfort him in some physical way, but he was too far away already. My mouth dried and my brain told my hands to fidget with my crumpet, which is something I do whenever I’m nervous — fidget, I mean — not play with crumpets.

“‘Was he younger? Older?’

“‘Older by four years.’

“‘Did it happen here?’

“‘What do you mean?’

“‘I mean did he live here? Is that why you’re here?’

“‘No. He lived in the states. Pittsburgh.’

“I wanted so badly to shut my trap, to stop being so obnoxious with my questions, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know something about him. I still had no idea why this was only his second time here! Any tidbits would have sufficed. His silence made me chatterbox to the point that I annoyed myself. Kind of like your silence,” Natalie said to the stiff lady sitting across from her. “Only his is charming because he’s listening to remember for future conversations and to learn my somewhat manic mannerisms, while you’re simply listening because you’re hoping I’ll give something away about some weakness he may have. Your way sucks, by the way. The phrase ‘you catch more flies with honey?’ Yeah, that’s something that might benefit you. That reminds me about this one time I got into this humongous argument with Drayden because he thought the saying was ‘you catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.’ I asked him why a bee would let itself be caught by something it makes. Because the bees want it back, he said. I meant to look it up on the internet, but I don’t think I ever got around to it. You know, now that I really think about it, it kinda does make sense to catch bees with honey. Would you be a doll and look that up for me?”

“No,” said the interrogator with a glint of a smile. A smile! Natalie was knocking down the hardness of the woman’s trained exterior. She was so pleased with herself. She was having fun telling her story about her and Drayden, and to her delight, it looked as though her interrogator was having fun as well. That small victory gave her strength. It rejuvenated her! “Did he say anything else about Reginald?” The interrogator’s voice was deadpan — devoid of any energy. She was such an automaton, and Natalie realized that the small glimpse of a human reaction was gone now, and so was her tiniest of victories, but that was okay because something small had changed between them.

“No, not that time. He wanted to change the subject and asked if that would be okay. I said of course it was, you know, because I was prying and had gone too far, and also because I liked him — a lot now. He was so mysterious. So closed off. So gentle like when he held my pinky. We finished, and he left cash on the table, and we left the restaurant. I was in a schoolgirl-crushed daze. It felt amazing! What a high. We went outside and headed back toward my dorm.

“‘Can I see you again?’ Drayden said to me. My heart raced. I don’t remember it ever beating so quickly for a boy.

“‘Yes,’ I managed to stammer out. And then the insecure little girl in me said: ‘You mean I didn’t ask too many questions?’ He smiled and shook his head. We walked more closely than we did on the way to the cafe. Our arms naturally hooked into each other’s, and since he didn’t seem inclined to pull away, neither did I. My coat bristled against his nylon sports jacket with every step together, making a sound as light as the autumn leaves blowing across the dry grass. I felt like we were close enough to be walking like best friends, like the end of our movie had already arrived, and the credits were rolling, and we were strolling at peace together forever.”

“You didn’t find out anything about his powers then?” The interrogator asks.

Natalie shakes her head. “At that point, I was sure I’d see him again. And I was thinking about if I loved him, or if they were other confusing feelings.”

The interrogator rubs the space between her eyebrows.

“You don’t care much for love,” Natalie says. The interrogator ignores her. “What’s your name, anyway? Don’t you think it’s a tad odd I don’t know what to call you?” The interrogator stops rubbing her forehead and looks down at her notes. She flips a page over, and Natalie catches a glimpse of a lot of smallish upside-down handwriting on it. “I’ll make up a name for you,” Natalie says. The interrogator looks up and c***s her head sideways as if expecting something harsh. “I will call you Agent Love. Yes, that fits nicely! Because you’re hearing my love story — the only one I’ve ever known — and since I’m sharing things with you I have never shared with anyone before, I think it’s fitting to call you something that makes me happy. Do you like it?” Agent Love doesn’t answer. Her face is tightened and appears less hydrated than usual. She looks like she’s in pain.

“Livia suffers migraines. Is that what you have? Have you ever tried triptans? Livia swears by one of the ones she takes. What is it that she takes again—?”

“How long was it until he visited again?” Agent Love asks.

“That night,” Natalie says, unable to keep from smiling guiltily, not even by biting her lip to suppress the pleasure of the memory.

Agent Love looks as though she wants to hear more, every undressing detail, and Natalie is more than willing to share, but she surprises her by looking at her watch.

“We’ll continue in the morning,” she says. Agent Love pushes out her metal chair. The sound of the metal scraping on the cement floor is shrill, like nails on a chalkboard, and she winces. She walks past Natalie without another word.

Two guards appear from around the corner and escort back to her room. Natalie’s baby tells her he or she is hungry. She knows there will be something delicious and healthy waiting for her in her room because there always is. At least they’re feeding her well, she thinks. Certainly, her baby is getting the nourishment he or she needs because he or she is getting stronger and bigger every day. Oddly, in the short time she has been a prisoner, they have made things so predictable and have fed her so well that she felt a secureness — not quite contentment — about her situation. She’s doing okay. Her baby is doing okay. And she knows that Drayden is definitely looking for her. She knows he’s probably fragging all over the world searching for her. Until the time he comes to rescue her, she’s okay. And though Natalie longs to be free and with Drayden again, wrapped in his arms in bed or walking hand in hand on a beach somewhere, at least their baby is progressing and developing healthily.

But then a thought hits her as soon as they arrive outside the door of her room. What if he’s injured? What if they had captured him? What if he suffered the same fate as his brother Reginald?

The guards put Natalie inside her room. The heavy door closes, and she knows escape is impossible. She’s already tried tugging on the door, hoping the latch was loose or that there’d be some way to jimmy it open, but there isn’t. The ceiling has a vent that she’s thought about accessing, but it’s too high, and the vent is too small. She’s too pregnant and trying to climb through a ceiling would inevitably end in disaster. She’s stuck. Pregnant and stuck.

She worries about Drayden again. That worry compounds until she feels restless inside her room. Inside her prison. The walls feel closer together than she remembers. Nothing feels right. She longs for space. She wants something less sterile. Natalie suddenly misses the mess of dirty laundry that Livia was accustomed to leaving all over the floor of their place. She suddenly longs for escape. She wants out!

She runs to the door and hits the thick glass window as hard as she can. She pulls at the door handle as hard as she can. It doesn’t budge. Not at all. It’s heavy and perfectly engineered. She looks at the camera in the ceiling that watches her every minute of every day. She needs to be with Drayden again and feels the urge for his protective companionship as much as she feels the need to protect the baby inside of her from these people and their plans, whatever those plans are. She slides down the door and sits on the floor. Soon she won’t be able to do this. Her belly is getting in the way. It limits her already.

Drayden. Where is he? When will he come? How much longer?

There’s no way out. Even if she could get out of this room, she wouldn’t know where to go. The walls are so thick and soundless. She thinks they could be deep somewhere. How far underground is this kind of silence? She might be a mile into the ground for all she knows.

Natalie looks at the camera for one more angry second. Her stomach growls menacingly, and she knows she has to get up and eat. She lifts herself mostly with her legs and refuses the immediate urge to grab at the delicious food on the metal stand near her bedside. She thinks of her man, his intensity, his passion for her, and her bare skin touching his. She misses his physical touch. She misses it very much.

Images flash in her mind of the various dangerous scenarios that might have befallen Drayden. Her pacing picks up. She walks past the food again and again, each time subconsciously getting closer and closer to it. Why had he not found her?! “Oh Drayden, please be careful,” she whispers so barely any sound comes out. “Hurry, Drayden. Get us all back together. You, me and our baby. Our little family.” Her hunger takes over and forces her to grab a blueberry muffin from the tray. Her brain is not aware that it took food or that the food is raising to her mouth. She takes a huge bite and quietly whispers again. “I have to get us out of here. There’s a way. There has to be a way. I can do it. I can get us out. Oh, Drayden, where are you?” She finishes the blueberry muffin and grabs a pre-cut piece of chicken parmesan. Her chewing is frenzied now. There is no decorum to maintain. “Drayden, please hurry,” she says with her mouth half-full.

The tension within Natalie calms. She feels comforted. Because he will definitely find her. He’s out there somewhere, and he’s stronger than her prison in every way. They can’t keep him out. It would be impossible. He will find them — both her and their baby. He has to.

Her hunger and thirst overtake her. She looks to the locked door one more time and then forgets about it as she rips a large piece of a roll and stuffs it in her mouth and chases it with a glass of apple juice. She forgets about the camera watching her. She doesn’t think about her prison. She thinks only of filling her belly and how tired she’s getting. She mostly finishes her food and lies down in her oversized hospital bed. Her eyes are heavy. She’s had a long day. She made a friend today! The talk with her was pleasant. More of that tomorrow. More catching flies with honey.

Before she dozes off, she thinks one last time about Drayden. In her mind, he’s hurting. No, it’s not just hurt, it’s agony. His face is contorted. It looks like he’s screaming. Natalie’s eyes fully close and the thoughts of Drayden go away.