Lonely Life
Odette was looking around her apartment. I sighed because I actually liked this place yet here I was packing up again. For once, mom was ending her relationship because she was on a timeline. She wasn’t breaking up with him for several more weeks, but I was packing up all the same.
I remembered when she burst into my place in Nashville utterly furious. Mom yelled, “What the hell is this place? Why aren’t you at your apartment I helped set up for you?” I frowned, “Mom, I emailed you what happened. Men broke in and…”
Mom instantly grew concerned, “What men? What did they say to you?” I answered, “They were obviously crazy. They thought they were Demons.” Mom relaxed immediately saying, “You’re very dramatic.”
I ignored that jab, “They abducted me. My friend Ashley…” I’d nearly said Melanie but something in me cautioned me not to give her real name to my mom. I continued, “saved me and set me up with this place so I would be safe.”
Mom was breathing heavily again, and I realized she was angry. I asked, “Wait. How did you know I was here if you didn’t read my email?” Mom glared at me, “I’m your mother.” I raised an eyebrow in response, because that did not answer my question. I couldn’t help but remember my kidnapping.
Flashback
Odette hated this apartment. It was dull, drab, and should be condemned. I’d just been released from that psychiatric ward with no explanation. They just tossed out and a car brought me here. Luke wasn’t here, but that was for the best. We were definitely over after what he did to me.
I wasn’t as sad as I should be about the ending of my first relationship. Luke was my first boyfriend, who was my literal first everything but we were over. He’d injected me with something that burned and Tatum stopped talking.
I dug my nails into my skin, “No, Odette. You don’t miss a voice in your head, that’s crazy.” I let myself cry because I missed Lux, my half-brother. Sometimes, I’d dream I was younger and we were together again.
That my big brother was taking care of me. Waking up was the worst dose of reality to the lonely existence that had become my life. I shook those memories and went to the fridge. My stomach growled while I studied the contents, wincing.
The building paid the heating bill on averages. So, even though I wasn’t using that much heat other people did. My bill had been larger than the past months, which wasn’t in my budget. All I had to eat was some cheese. I needed to ration it out too so I cut myself a small slice and ate it.
Of course, my stomach protested. I snorted, “Hey, I want food too.” Someone knocked on my door and I frowned. Then a feeling like this was bad gripped me. I backed away from the door like it would help me and crawled back into my room, sliding under the bed.
I nearly screamed when I heard the door be kicked in. Were the police here? Was this a raid? I’d heard them in a couple in apartment buildings I’d lived in the past. Someone whispered, “Where is she?” The other said, “We’ll find her.” They were looking for me?
Then I felt someone grab my ankle. I screamed as they pulled me out from my hiding spot. I threw punches and pulled hair. It was sloppy but it was all I had. The guy yelled, “HOLIST, GET IN HERE!” That was an odd name.
Holist chuckled, “I’m right here and loving this. You’re such a weak Demon. You can’t control one little girl who has clearly never learned a fighting technique a day in her life.” Rude. I screamed and scratched at them both. These people were actually crazy.
The man fighting me snorted, “As opposed to the Demon observing and not finding her, sure.” I scoffed, “You’re crazy.
” The man smirked, “Yeah hon, we’re the crazy ones not you.
Don’t worry, everything will be explained.
We are getting top dollar for getting you.
” What? Then it hit me. They may be crazy, but they were probably human traffickers.
I kicked and screamed and saw doors quietly shutting. People here were not going to get involved. This was the nicest place I’d lived in years, but they still wouldn’t get involved in other people’s business. A man shouted, “Hey!” Then got tased by my captors.
Doors actually slammed after that. No one else was going to try and help me. I was on my own. What was new? Terror began to overtake me because I was going to get kidnapped. How utterly cliché my whole life was turning out to be.
It was a cautionary tale of other people’s choices making yours hell. It was straight out a tragedy trope from my books. I was thrown in the back of the van. Ok, think Odette. In the books, they kick out tail lights or find a way to untie themselves. You can do this.
I heard the guy up front call someone, “Yeah, we got her. Her perfect skin is ready to be cut into.” I started to sob, then I swore I heard a shot and tire blew. I grabbed onto the seatbelt as we swerved and crashed.
I heard odd sounds then I didn’t hear anyone’s heartbeat. Except a new one. God, I was so crazy and weird. I thought I could distinguish heartbeats and differentiate between them. No wonder I got locked away. Everything in me stiffened and my body revolted. I couldn’t think about that right now.
The doors of the van opened and I recoiled.
My traitorous body relaxed the second I saw the woman who’d opened it.
I practically screamed at myself, “WE DO NOT RELAX AFTER BEING KIDNAPPED AND SEEING A WOMAN IN ALL BLACK! WHO TOTALLY KILLED THE DRIVERS!” Well, ok they did kidnap me, so that was justified. BUT STILL!
The woman told me, “I’ll help you get home…
..I promise.” Something in me screamed I was safe now, but a larger part held on skepticism.
I whispered, “You’re wearing a mask.” The woman reasoned, “Well, yes… that’s true…
but they didn’t and they kidnapped you….
whereas I’m rescuing you. I guess we are doing this the opposite way that we should… in your mind…I suppose.”
In my mind? Well, actually, in my mind that meant the guys that took me calling themselves Demons were going to traffic or kill me. Maybe harvest my organs. You didn’t let someone go when they saw your face.
That was true in every documentary I’d seen and every non-fiction true crimes books I’d read. Secondary locations are bad, being in a mode of transportation is also bad. Seeing someone’s face? That was a death sentence. I managed to nod and the woman cut the zip ties off.
We got out of the van. At least with my hands freed I had a better chance of getting away. Except my hands were shaking incessantly. When the woman turned her back to me, I knew then she wasn’t like the crazy guys.
I gratefully said, “Thanks for saving me from those weirdos. They were crazy.” The woman took her mask off, which had me start blinking rapidly. This woman could not be that much older than I was. Could I go to the bad ass rescue school she did? I’d love to be able to fight back in my life.
The woman asked me, “Why do you say that… about these guys being… crazy?” I snorted, “They said they were Demons, and I think they actually believed that. Can you imagine? Demons. They need mental help.” I thought I heard a voice and got locked up. Nope. We still were NOT thinking about that.
My rescuer replied, “We could all use some help… when you think about it. I’m Melanie… but people call me Ashley. What’s your name?” Sometimes people’s nicknames made no sense, but this one literally didn’t unless her middle name was Ashley. Don’t focus on ridiculous details right now, Odette.
I shrugged saying, “People call me Adair around here.” That wasn’t my name, but it is what people called me.
I guess I didn’t really have room to judge Melanie’s name situation.
Melanie asked, “What’s your real name? Because…
trust me. I’m kind of the expert on saying people call me Ashley…
when my name is Melanie. So…” I wanted to laugh. The way she talked made me at ease.
I admitted, “My mom said I can’t tell people my real name.” Melanie questioned, “Where is your mom?” It was a reasonable question, but I didn’t know the actual answer. I vaguely answered, “Off with her boyfriend of the month.”
Melanie snorted, “Well, I won’t tell your mom if you want to tell me your real name…
. I don’t tell anyone that I’ve told some people my real name.
I actually usually have someone with me to say my name…
I’ve been told I’m a truly atrocious liar…
which… sounds harsh. I’m not great… which is annoying… but atrocious seems harsh.”
I would’ve easily guessed this woman was a bad liar if I was being honest. Now, I found myself wanting to hear her lie to see if she was actually atrocious. I really was in some type of state to be caring about such things.
Melanie put on the radio. My one lucky star was working for me because one of my comfort songs happened to be playing.
Now, I was fully relaxed because I could hum it.
After a minute Melanie completely not casually said, “I play in a band. If you want… you could sing with us sometime.” Yeah, this woman wasn’t subtle, but I liked it.
I acknowledged, “I love to sing.” Melanie nodded, “I’d imagine so. You hum very well… so logically you are a good singer.” She was hilarious. Mom would hate me singing in a band, but she’d have never known I got kidnapped.
I threw out, “Maybe I could sing with you guys. I usually work to help keep the electricity on in my apartment. Do you guys pay for gigs?” It was comical how poorly Melanie hid her utter shock and horror over that answer.
Melanie answered in the most interesting way by starting with a question. “Your mom doesn't keep up with the bills? Yes… I pay people… we get paid for the gigs… so it wasn’t like a for fun offer… though we do play together for fun sometimes.”