Chapter 5
Kinsley
Slipping Away
Every inhale scalded my throat, burning my lungs. Each exhale caught on the edges of the sobs I fought back. I couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears—only the ragged pull of breath and the frantic slap of my feet on the ground.
I had no idea where I was, but it was rural, with an unpaved road leading…somewhere. To safety, maybe? It seemed like a logical choice to stay on the current path, where someone might see me and help, yet every instinct screamed to dive into the forest.
In a moment of intuition, I chose to stay on the road, my feet pounding against the unforgiving gravel. Each step I took sent shockwaves of agony up my legs, the rocks cutting into my bare feet. Fear surged through my veins as I took a second to glance behind me to ensure no one was giving chasing.
Dense trees enveloped the cottage I had escaped, making any movement hard to see.
I couldn’t dwell on it. There was no way I was stopping.
My very freedom depended on my ability to keep moving.
Cool air whipped against my bare skin, goose bumps forming on my arms and legs.
Somewhere behind me, the rustle of leaves—or the cracking of twigs?
—sent a jolt of fear through me, pushing me to run harder.
My breath came in ragged gasps. In the distance, a cluster of cottages lined the road. But with my next step, my foot caught on something, and I stumbled forward, crashing into the ground. Pain shot through my body as I scraped my hands and knees against the rough surface.
The darkness seemed to swallow me whole as I lay there disoriented and vulnerable. Crying out, I forced my trembling limbs upright. The stinging pain in my scrapped skin only reminded me I was alive.
As I ran, the shadows danced and the wind moved through the trees like whispers all around, taunting me almost. My mind was playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t give in to the fear.
My muscles ached with exhaustion, and I nearly fell again.
The cottages were farther than I originally thought.
Tears streamed down my face as I paused to catch my breath.
Angrily, I wiped them away and tried to refocus.
The fear of being caught again faded away as I realized I wasn’t in immediate danger anymore. No one was following me.
I took a tentative step and collapsed onto the road. I pulled my feet up and cried out. The gravel had bitten into the bottoms, and they were a bloody mess.
Ripping small pieces from the bottom of Ivan’s shirt, I covered the cuts as best as I could.
I tried once more to stand and convince myself it was better.
Each step I took screamed that I was a liar, but I pressed on, walking slower.
Until another misstep had me hurtling down a muddy embankment I’d missed seeing in the dark.
I tumbled through the unknown, arms flailing as I fought to right myself.
The impact as I landed sent a jolt of pain through my head when I hit something hard and unforgiving.
Mud now clung to my body and clothes, along with the dried blood, mingling with the sweat and tears that streamed down my face.
I lay there, stunned. The world spun around me, and despair settled in.
The throbbing in my head and the warm trickle let me know I’d hit it hard.
Maybe I could take a little nap and then start again?
I looked up and realized I’d fallen pretty far.
I couldn’t see the road from where I was.
Moving closer to a hollowed-out area in the ground, I rolled into a ball and began singing to myself.
Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and I closed them.
“What is it, Samuel?”
“Abigail, you stay right there.”
Had I gone crazy? Birds chirped, and voices floated in the breeze, filling my head with noise. I cracked my eyes open and nearly sobbed as an elderly gentleman came into focus. He gasped and stepped back.
“Help me, please?” I whispered. My voice felt scratchy, and I was so thirsty.
“Abby, dial 999,” he yelled, and I closed my eyes again. Somewhere in my brain, it registered that he sounded British, and the numbers made sense.
The next time my eyes fluttered open, I was in the back of an ambulance. Panic surged through me, electrifying my senses, and I instinctively lashed out, resisting the care of the paramedic. Fear and confusion intertwined, transforming my ability to think clearly.
“It’s okay, Miss, you’re going to hospital. Everything is going to be okay.”
Filth clung to me. The shirt had dried and was stuck to my skin. Disoriented, my mind clouded, I continued to struggle.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
It was the first of what would be a thousand never-ending questions. Ones I had no desire to answer. Darkness consumed every part of my brain. I wanted to sleep and never wake.
Later at the hospital, they tried again. Numbness had set in, and when they removed my T-shirt and replaced it with a clean robe, tears flew down my cheeks. I was both relieved to be rid of the offensive material and sad that Ivan was gone forever.
“Miss, I know this is difficult.” A nurse took one of my hands and scraped under my fingernails. “But we need to do a full examination, rape kit, and to photograph you. Do you consent?”
Seeking refuge within the depths of my mind, I retreated and tuned out their voices, distancing myself from their prying gazes. I just wanted them to leave me alone, but they wouldn’t stop.
They removed the gown, exposing my body and the various marks I had.
A surge of shame consumed me. And then the blinding flash of the camera triggered a haunting memory, unearthing the time when the Collector had snuck into my room and photographed me.
That led to me thinking about the more recent ones the Russian man said he took.
Unable to suppress my visceral reaction, I was overcome by a wave of distress.
Yet they continued to take pictures. With each flash of the camera, my panic grew.
The simple sound rekindled every agonizing moment of torture I had endured, causing me to recoil.
The lines between the past and present blurred.
“So pretty. Smile for me.”
The echoes of his voice, along with the memory of his hands brushing my skin, had me losing it entirely.
“No,” I screamed.
Grabbing the medical tray, I threw the contents to the floor with a clatter of noise.
Holding it like a weapon, I must have looked crazed.
A nurse approached me, a needle in her hand, but her face swam until it became that of the Mask.
The sight of it, combined with my confused thoughts, paralyzed me.
I guess I should add needles to my list of items that make me freeze.
“No, please. I’ll be a good girl,” I cried, before everything went dark.
“Miss?” The doctor’s voice grew stronger as the sedative they gave me wore off. “Miss, we completed the exam. But I need to ask you a few questions about the marks on your body.”
I ignored him, fixating on the too-bright light above me. My mouth was dry. The sheet scratched against my skin, and suddenly I was aware of how much of me they’d seen.
“It looks like someone took a blade to you. Do you remember what happened? Can you tell me?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Heat flushed up my neck, blooming across my face, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me, as if it could hide it all. Every mark, every cut and bruise—they’d seen it. Cataloged it. Shame hollowed out my chest, sharp and unrelenting, leaving me raw and too visible.
I closed my eyes as sobs escaped. Two of the cuts, the ones to my body, were from Ivan.
The other my own doing. My pussy was still sore, and I was terrified that maybe the man raped me while I was unconscious.
I had no idea how much time had passed; hell, I didn’t even know what day it was.
Next she asked about the hickeys on the top of my vagina and the one on my ass.
“Miss, please. These marks are very fresh, and it’s clear you’ve been hurt. We really need you to tell us what happened. We’re trying to establish a timeline.”
I remembered the man’s words from before about waiting and relaxed. Knowing he didn’t violate me and that the soreness was from being with my Kings had a sense of peace settling over me.
But her persistent questioning messed with my fragile state and pushed me further into the recesses of my mind. Seeking solace from her prying gaze, I instinctively rolled away and maintained my silence.
As my distance grew heavier, they brought in a counselor to provide additional support. I ignored their attempts as well. Having a therapist ask questions only made me long for Marcel. I succumbed to tears, their silent rivers tracing a path down my cheeks.
Throughout the day, they would periodically try, but again, I ignored every attempt.
I wanted to talk, but words wouldn’t form, and I sank deeper into my self-imposed hell.
Inside, a war raged. Fragments of their conversations reached my ears, and I overheard the doctor confiding in a police officer.
“The cut on her cheek and hand are fresh, while the others are in various stages of healing. I think she was raped. There was some tearing, but from the look of it, I’d say it wasn’t within the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours.
She fought back. The amount of blood on her would suggest you should be looking for a body. ”
Indifferent to the fact they might find him and I could be thrown in jail, I simply blinked.
It held no sway over my thoughts. Even when they tried to confront me with that knowledge, I remained quiet.
I realized how lost I truly was, because any looming threats failed to ignite any flicker of concern.
A gradual descent into the abyss awaited me, and I surrendered to it.
Over the next few days, I let the familiarity of darkness consume me. In sleep, it enveloped me, drowning my senses in suffocating waves. It was one endless nightmare after another, blending reality and fiction in my head.
When I was awake, the reality of the bone-crushing loss eclipsed any semblance of hope.
Once again, my life had become a series of pain and loss, and there was no end in sight.
I had no one and no way to get home, so I sought solace in the sanctuary of my mind.
I’d spend the day with my eyes closed, curled up in a ball.
Vivid images of my season sister bears danced in the recesses of my thoughts. Locked inside my head, I had whispered conversations with them, their presence a comfort to my aching heart. Occasionally, my yearning for them spilled forth into words spoken aloud.
This only intensified the concerns the attending physicians had. They scrutinized my every move with mounting apprehension and then, finally, with no other choice, they had me transported to a psych hospital.