“Samantha? Samantha, are you in the bathroom?” my mom’s voice called from down the hall.
Staring at the long, blonde locks lying at the bottom of the bathroom sink, I set the kitchen scissors down. With a long sigh, I looked up at my reflection. Better. I tugged the oversized gray hoodie back on over my tank top, leaving the hood down, and opened the door.
My mom gasped from behind me. “What in the world did you do to your hair?”
Turning around, I stared at the tan carpet separating us. I stated the obvious, “Cut it.”
“I can see that, but why on earth would you…” My mom’s words trailed when I met her gaze. She forced a smile. “It looks good, Sammy, but can I take you to my hair dresser to even it out a bit?”
I shrugged. Great, stupid therapist will want psychoanalyze why I don’t want to be attractive all over again. For the past four weeks since being found, my therapist had grilled me on why I’d only wear worn-out sweatpants and ratty T-shirts. Why’s she so dense? It’s the only way to be safe.
Riding in my mom’s sedan, I fumbled with a fast food napkin I found in the glove compartment. My mom chatted the entire way to the hair appointment and I never responded, leaving her in a one-sided conversation. I knew she was pretending not to notice.
Wish I could pretend it all away. I sickened as the memory of Jeremy coming to the hospital popped into my head. It had been the day I was discovered in the woods, and I had screamed accusations at him. The police had ripped apart my now ex-boyfriend’s life and found nothing; he had alibis for everything. We’d dated over a year.
That’s over now. I’m sure he despises me. Being the biggest story on the six o’clock news, I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock for the past month. Some of my friends had come to see me, my best friend, Mack, being my most-frequent visitor. I knew he’d understand anything. He’d become my shadow years ago, not long after my near-drowning experience. He’d never question my fear of water, never balked at being left behind on lake trips; he’d always just hung out with me. Even with all our history, he did all the talking when he came to see me. I said little. Poor guy. I just wasn’t the same.
“Whenever the therapist thinks it’s a good idea, we can get you back to school. I’m sure you’re dying to start your senior year, right?” my mom asked, interrupting my reverie.
I cringed. Not really. But I nodded back at her. If it were up to me, I’d never go back. Halls full of teenagers terrified me. The monster could be anyone. I suppose the only comfort is that be Mack will be there… and Jen.
“Here we are,” she said, shutting off the car.
Once I was seated in the salon chair, the stylist eyed my hack job. “Mm,” she hummed.
My mom grimaced. “You’ve seen worse, right?”
The stylist nodded immediately. “Oh, yes.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at both of them. As if a hacked haircut is the worst thing in the world. Instead, I pointed at the hair chart on the station next to them.
“I want that one,” I interrupted.
Both women stared at me.
“What?” my mom asked.
“I want to dye my hair that color.” I purposely stared at the stylist, not my mom, as I pointed at the chestnut-brown sample.
The woman with auburn hair, caked makeup, and French-manicured nails, glanced at my mom for guidance. My mom’s hazel eyes appeared puzzled. “You want to dye your hair, Sammy?”
“Yes.”
“Honey, no one’s going to recognize you with your hair short and brown—” my mom began.
“That’s the point.”
“Are you sure? I’m sure Brenda can do a really cute hairstyle for you.”
Cute? I stiffened.
My mom must have seen it because she rushed on with, “Sure, hon. You can dye your hair.”
Brenda tried to work her ‘magic,’ but when she pulled the towel off my head, revealing short, wet, black hair, I could see the pain in my mom’s eyes. It looks boyish. Perfect.
The ride back home was quiet. Once my mom parked, I wordlessly made my way to my bedroom. I was too tired to keep up pretenses any longer. When sharp pains shot down my abdomen, I collapsed on my bed, curling into a tight ball. Lousy stomach, always killing…
I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until there was a tap on my door. “You awake?” my dad asked, his 6’3” frame filling the doorway.
I rubbed my eyes. Sitting up, I gave him a small smile. “I am now.”
He entered and sat at the foot of the bed. After a moment, he glanced at me. “Mind if we talk a bit?”
“No.” I let my eyes fall to my fingers clasped in my lap.
He sighed. “Samantha, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now. When your mom and I got the call that they’d found you, well, we’ve thanked God every day for your safe return.” His eyebrows gathered as he glanced over. “But watching you now, I can’t help but feel maybe my baby girl’s still lost somewhere, fighting to survive.”
I swallowed. My dad’s eyes welled up as he gazed back at me. I felt a shattering within my heart, and I gasped at the pain. Something wet dripped off my chin. Glancing down, I was surprised to see wet streaks on my arm.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
His arms were around me instantly. “Don’t you ever say sorry; I’m the one who’s sorry. It kills me I couldn’t protect you from this. We just want to help you get through it all.” Though I appreciated his words, I didn’t think there was anything anyone could do to help me. What’s done is done. My dad released me and sat back. “Maybe we need to start over. Move somewhere new?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want the whole family to uproot for me.”
“Your sisters only live here on and off with school, I can put in for a transfer at work.”
“Dad, you worked really hard to get promoted. Besides, Mom would never want to leave. She’s involved in every kind of committee imaginable.”
My dad shook his head. “I don’t care about my promotion. And your mom can get involved somewhere else. You’re more important than those things.”
Never having had a son, I was the closest thing my dad had. While my older sisters coddled baby dolls, I snuck water snakes into the house. My dad and I had a bond that my mom and sisters didn’t understand, but even still, the thought of moving panicked me.
“Please Dad, it’s okay, really. I don’t want to move.”
He waited for me to say more, and it killed me I couldn’t. This wasn’t like me with him. Guess closing my heart to fear means shutting everyone out, including Dad.
“What more can we do?” He sounded defeated.
I hated to see him hurt on my account. I’ll be ok, as long as I’m never beautiful again. Why can’t they understand that?
“I don’t know. I’m sorry I’m not the same anymore.” The words sounded flatter than I intended.
He flinched and then gave me a halfhearted smile. “Time, we just need more time to heal, that’s all.” His words seemed to be directed at himself more than me.
I mumbled, “Yeah, I just need time.”
He paused, the hesitation obvious, and then asked, “Have you remembered anything new that might help us?” His jaw clenched. “I know you were sedated most of the time, but maybe he said something?”
My face heated at the memory of the nurse checking for DNA on every part of my body. It was a relief to know he’d done nothing to me while I’d been unconscious. There was one thing I hadn’t told a soul. I couldn’t repeat the monster’s promise—that one day I’d fall in love with him. Even thinking the words paralyzed me with fear.
“It’s all really hazy now,” I answered, while thinking, If only that were true. With my therapist pushing me to talk about it in our weekly sessions, it was easier to say I was forgetting it all.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to resting then.” He stood up, giving my foot a squeeze before leaving.
Lying back on my be
d, I counted backwards from one hundred. It was something I’d done in the cabin. It lulled me to sleep, letting me escape my reality.
Hidden Monster Page 4