Deception and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  The distinct sound of whispering voices beside me has me fighting to open my eyes, I can’t decipher what’s being said, no matter how hard I try to piece together the conversation. With every ounce of strength, I force them open. I slowly blink a few times until my eyes adjust—finally settling on a sterile, white ceiling.

  Laying in a hospital bed, I was in the center of a normal looking bedroom with large windows. On one side of my bed stood Garrett, a middle-aged woman and two other men. The large looming men have my pulse sky rocketing, and ice flooding my veins. The other side of my bed holds the machines and IV’s that are hooked up to me.

  Cautiously, my eyes flick across the expanse of the room looking for an escape. I don’t know these men, and that can only mean one thing—I need to get away. The most uncomfortable ache in my back forces me to shift my position by propping myself up. Before I can even try to move, I feel a sharp pain that shoots throughout my entire upper body. My eyes widen, and I gasp at the searing pain, prompting all conversation to halt around me.

  I dart my eyes up, looking toward the group of strangers, who are all staring at me now like I’m some animal in the zoo. The conversation ceases, and all eyes are trained solely on me—unblinking. Garrett jumps into action—he couldn’t have gotten to my bedside any faster even if he tried.

  “Hey, Sophie. Just relax, don’t try to do any unnecessary moving. You’re safe here.”

  I look up into my big brother’s troubled face and all I see, all I’m able to recognize is his pain. He has dark bags under his eyes and he looks beyond exhausted. With words caught in my throat, I just stare up at him, unable to find anything to say.

  My big brother looked the same, yet so different. His green eyes were exactly as I remembered, just tinged with a new form of sadness. He had the same military style cut that he’s rocked for ten plus years and still had that stocky build. I wasn’t sure what to do or how I should feel. I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to cry out in joy or scream in pain. Disbelief floods me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t believe I was actually here, with him, my rock.

  When he reaches his hand toward my face, I stop breathing. And for a split second, I’m back in that dark, dingy little room with those four men. With their vile faces still fresh in my mind, I flinch away from his touch, unable to stop myself. I’ve been accustomed to pain for so long this has become a natural reaction for me. There’s no mistaking the pain in Garrett’s eyes from me flinching away from his touch. The hurt plastered all over his features soon morphs into anger. His eyes lock with mine and narrow.

  “Sophia, I would never hurt you. No one here will ever hurt you again, do you understand me? You’re safe. It’s all over.” He forces the words out in his controlled no holds barred voice. I swallow the thick lump in my throat and force myself to nod. Bending down, he kisses my forehead, his voice hoarse. “I’m going to make them all pay, Soph. I promise you that.”

  I feel the tingle of a single tear trickling down my cheek. My big brother, still trying to play the role of super hero to his baby sister. I wanted to thank him, ask him where I was and what happened, but it was like my vocal cords were ripped out and left on the pristine floor in the mansion of horrors. Those men took everything from me. They broke me.

  Turning my attention away from my brother, I hone in on the strangers still in the corner of the room observing us. Garrett follows my line of sight and purposefully clears his throat.

  “Sophia, there’s a few people I’d like you to meet. I don’t want to overwhelm you, so we’ll start off with everything slowly.” Garrett shifts his gaze back to me, making sure I’m still conscious. “This is Mera Jones. She’s the nurse who has been taking care of you while you’ve been here. She will continue to be your nurse until you’re able to move around on your own.”

  I rake my gaze over Mera slowly. Cautiously.

  “She’s a trusted member of the team and I’m sure you’ll feel comfortable having her around soon enough.” Garrett adds, sensing my unease.

  Mera is an average looking woman with blonde hair, big brown eyes, and skin that is starting to wrinkle slightly around her eyes and mouth. She’s wearing the sweetest smile, deepening those wrinkles. She takes a tentative step closer to the bed.

  “It’s very nice to meet you now that you’re awake, honey. I’m Meralyn, but you can call me Mera. Please, feel free to call me for anything. Even if you just need someone to talk to.” Her eyes shine with sincerity, and if I’m not mistaken she looks close to tears.

  Upon closer inspection, I conclude Mera is more than likely in her mid-fifties or so. She has the kindest eyes, and the sweetest voice that makes me feel like a child again, being taken care of by her parents or grandparents. It’s very nostalgic. She gently pats my hand and steps back, urging the two other men forward.

  The first man I notice is large, with dark mocha colored skin. He looks like a bodyguard with all that muscle and the stern look plastered on his face. My eyes shift to the man standing slightly beside him and my breath hitches. Something flashes in my mind but as quickly as it comes, it disappears. There’s something about him that’s so familiar, I can’t quite put my finger on it. I wrack my brain, but it only intensifies my headache. I drag my gaze up and down his form, hoping the answer will come to me. He’s frighteningly beautiful.

  Is it wrong to classify men as beautiful? Because that’s what this man is, pure male perfection.

  He has a full head of unruly black hair with the grayest eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, just as big as the other man; well over six feet. His firm body is covered in thick slabs of muscle that make it hard not to stare. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him even if I tried. His thick black hair is cut different than the other men and my brother. He looks rugged. But it was his eyes that caused my breath to escape in short little spurts. They were so familiar yet foreign. And that’s when it clicks in my head. Suddenly, all the pieces start falling into place like that of a jigsaw puzzle. This is the man that was holding me. The same man I hoped wasn’t just another monster.

  Dragging my gaze up, I’m met with the stark intensity of his crystal eyes, and my heart rate spikes, pounding violently against my rib cage. But it wasn’t fear that had my body reacting this way, no, it was something else entirely. I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t even understand it. All I knew was that this man made me feel something other than fear.

  “This is Creed and Kameron. Creed was among the group who saved you.”

  I close my eyes, my mind flashing back to the horrors of that night, then to the secure feel of his arms wrapped tightly around me. It was the safest I’ve felt in a long time.

  I peel open my eyes, meeting my brother’s worried stare. He shifts closer to my side of the bed.

  “They’re here to protect you as well as I am. These are two of my closest friends, Sophia. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my baby sister.” He bends down and freezes when he sees me tense against the bed. I don’t mean to do it, but I can’t hide my body’s reaction. Garrett clears his throat painfully and backs out of my personal space.

  “Did you want to get some more rest? What do you need, Soph?” My brother looks down at me with so much pain in his eyes I have to shift my gaze away. It’s too much. All of it is. My brain feels like it’s firing synapses off like it’s the Fourth of July, trying to keep up with all the information I’ve just learned.

  As if sensing how hard it is for me to find the words to speak, Mera nudges my brother in his arm, pushing a small pad of paper and a pen toward him. Garrett looks down at the pen and paper in confusion until Mera pointedly looks at me then down to the items in her hands. Understanding dawns on his features. He hands the materials out toward me and all I can do is stare at him blankly.

  I still don’t understand who these people are and why I’m here. What’s even more puzzling is how did my brother find me? And why did he seem so surprised to see me, it was almost like he was there for a completely different reason. I didn’t know w
hat to believe anymore—who to trust.

  I open my mouth to say something, then close it, still unable to find words. I look down at the pen and paper in his hands that is still held out for me, and consider using it, but something in my peripheral vision catches my attention. A dark figure near the door sends a shiver of dread down my spine—cold sweat litters over my skin. My mind drifts to the worst of places.

  I’m not safe here.

  They’ve come back for me.

  My chest visibly rises and falls as it works to accommodate my heavy, and erratic breathing. I stare at the hauntingly familiar man near the door; those brown, coffee eyes stare right back at me. My mind wanders back to the room with all those men, and the English man who I could at the time tell wasn’t comfortable but at no point made a move to save me. He’s just like all of them. A monster.

  I’m vaguely aware of Garrett’s panicked voice in the background. The buzzing in my ears is so loud I can’t concentrate. My body is vibrating with panic and I gasp for air as the fear claws at my throat, blocking my airway.

  “Breathe Soph, just breathe. He’s not here to hurt you. It was his job. He’s not here to hurt you, shhh,” Garrett whispers in my ear, penetrating the fog of panic that was enveloping me. The anxiety slowly tapers off, and I’m able to take deep breaths to slow my heart rate.

  Once I’m grounded, I meet Finlay’s eyes and force myself to stay calm. He stares at me with a sad expression on his face and takes small cautious steps forward.

  “Sorry love, don’t fret. I was just doin’ my job. Glad to see you’re healing.” The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile. I stare back at him blankly, unable to find words to reply. I shift my gaze back to Garrett who’s glaring, looking beyond irritated with Finlay. My gaze treks across the room and lands on my pale-eyed savior, Creed. Such a unique name. One you don’t hear very often.

  My gaze lingers on his for a beat and he continues staring back at me unabashedly. His face is a mask, no emotion, just blank, but his eyes, those eyes are unlike any I’ve ever seen. It’s like they tug somewhere deep inside me, sifting through my insides, searching for my soul. The heavier my eyelids get, the harder I find it to look away from him. I begrudgingly break our stare and look at my brother. Garrett stares down at me, worry lining his features. Before I close my eyes and let my body rest peacefully for once, I force myself to reach for Garrett’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

  OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS I was kept in bed, still unable to move on my own. Mera had given me strict instructions that I was to be kept on bed rest because I was hardly able to move without crying out in pain. Those few days were close to the worst of my life. Garrett came in to see me three times a day, and every time he tried to get me to talk. To say something, anything. And every time I tried to speak up, but nothing came out. It was like someone hit my mute button and tossed out the remote. I couldn’t find the strength to talk or explain and I refused to use the pen and paper as the easy way out. I was prisoner to the memories of the horrors I’d endured. I was different now. I wasn’t his little Sophie anymore, I was broken. Maybe even beyond repair. I can tell my brother is worried about me, I see it written all over his face. I wish I could appease him, and his worry but I just…I can’t do it.

  Before he leaves every night, I squeeze his hand tightly to let him know, I’m still here. They may have broken me, but somewhere, deep down, I’m still here. I’ve spent most of my time alone with my thoughts. Sitting helplessly, feeling sorry for myself as I replayed what happened to me over, and over again, on a loop. I suffered from the pain, not just on the outside but on the inside. Every horrible detail I relived time and time again. It was torment. My mind was my very own torture chamber.

  PAST

  “Are you hungry?” He asks in that thick accent that I loathe. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I bite down until I draw blood. I hate feeling so degraded and low, but I’m starving. My stomach is in so much pain. As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly and curls in on itself painfully.

  “Please, I’m so hungry.” A sob bursts past my lips as I perch on the edge of the bed.

  “Then get on your knees and beg me, if you’re so hungry, whore,” he sneers back at me maliciously. I clench my eyes shut as the tears slowly leak out down my face.

  Pushing past the anger and the self-depravation, I drop to my knees and whisper, “Please let me eat. I’m so hungry.”

  I sniff into the silence waiting for him to drop the tray of food. He takes a slow predatory step toward me and smiles. It was an unsettling smile, one you knew meant bad things. I hated that smile. It never ended well for me.

  “Kiss my boots if you want this meal.” He challenges. I snap my gaze up to his and stare wide eyed. I didn’t want to beg for food like some animal. I’m a goddamn human being.

  “Please,” I plead, my voice a mere whisper.

  “I said kiss my boots, whore!” He bellows.

  I hastily crawl forward on my knees until I’m in front of him and lower myself until my face is centimeters from his boots.

  Not even given the chance to prepare for the blow, he kicks his foot straight into my face, forcing my head back. I howl out as pain laces across my face. My hands grapple at my throbbing nose, fruitfully trying to stop the blood pouring down. My body trembles violently as I sob onto the cool concrete floor. At this angle, I can feel the warm blood gushing from my nose, making a crimson trail down my face, rolling under my chin. I hated seeing blood, it made me queasy. And this time was no different.

  He bent down next to my ear and whispered menacingly, “Next time I tell you to do something, I expect it done the first time I ask. You can starve until you learn how to obey me, kalb.”

  Without a second glance back at me, he left the room, leaving me on the floor soaked in my own blood.

  PRESENT

  I JOLTED AWAKE WITH A start as I replayed my dream. Sweat clung to my skin and my heart raced wildly in my chest. I allowed my heartbeat to steady and took a moment to study the room, focusing on my surroundings.

  I’ve become very familiar with looking around this room. I still haven’t been able to walk yet, and speech still hasn’t returned either. You would think with all the time I spend in this room, I’d feel comfortable in here by now, but I don’t. I don’t think I ever will.

  The room is big. Bigger than my childhood room, and the one back at my apartment. There’s mahogany wood floors and one large floor to ceiling window on one side of the room. The window is covered by a dresser, blocking my view outside. There’s no doubt it would’ve been a great view. The decor of the room is comfortable, but not overtly personalized. It looked like a room that was there to be used for whatever purpose arose. There was no personality, no color. It was plain.

  After the degrading flashback in my dream, I’m more determined than ever that today is the day I get out of this bed and start moving forward.

  Literally.

  Testing out my strength, I place both hands at my sides and try to lift my body into a sitting position. An overwhelming surge of pain lances throughout my limbs. I wince at the discomfort in my shoulder and ribs, grinding my teeth. Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I test myself further by swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I do so shakily, using every ounce of strength I possess to stand. The effort it takes to complete that small movement has me gasping for much needed breath. The cold floor is a shock against my bare feet, sending a chill up my spine. I wiggle my toes and try to smile. I can’t remember the last time I was able to feel my feet against a bare, clean floor; the sensation brings an onslaught of emotion.

  A loud knock on the door has me stilling on the bed, wiping the emotion clean off my face. There’s a beat of silence before Garrett pops his head through the door looking utterly shocked to see me sitting up.

  “What the hell, Soph? If you needed help getting up, why didn’t you call? You shouldn’t be trying to over exert yourself,” Garrett says in exasperation. He comes to my side q
uickly and helps me stand almost effortlessly with his strength. He clicks the call button on the remote that has still been untouched in the same place he left it the other day. There’s an aching pain in my shoulder that lingers, infuriating me to no end. I clench my eyes shut against the discomfort, hoping it will subside.

  Mera comes gliding through the bedroom door seconds later. When she spots Garrett and I, she places her hands on her hips and smiles at me cheerfully.

  “Well look at you, up and standing.” She turns her attention to my brother, giving him a pointed look. “Garrett, please give us a minute so I can help your sister get dressed properly. Thank you.” Mera walks toward me, effectively dismissing my brother. Internally, I stifle a laugh at the expression on his face, but outwardly, my face displays no emotion. My brother looks like he wants to argue, but in the end, leaves me in the hands of Mera. Although, I assume he’s waiting just outside of the door for me to be done.

  Mera carefully walks me throughout the room showing me my walk-in closet, that should be filled with clothes, but instead, it’s sparse with only a few shirts hanging and a few drawers filled. Moving onto the large bathroom, she helps me familiarize myself with the knobs of the shower and where I can find the essential toiletries. She leads me toward the floor to ceiling window seating area that would have been beautiful, had it not been for the boards and dresser covering it.

  “That man has been worried sick about you, won’t even leave your side to shower for Christ’s sake.”

  I force a smile. Typical Garrett behavior.

  She gathers towels and a set of clean clothes, placing them inside the bathroom. She turns to me with an expression that makes my stomach drop.

  “I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Sophia. Would you like to keep your undergarments on?” She flicks her chin toward the shower and the sterile white stool sitting front and center. Tears burn behind my lids and helplessness consumes me.