by Kristen Day
“Well, is there anyone I can call for you? Do you need a ride back to your house?” Parker asked.
“No,” I said, “I don’t--I-- I’m fine, I’ll walk, it’s not too far.”
“Are you sure, I could give you a ride, you don’t even have to ride in the back?” Officer Parker said, I liked him, he was friendly, and I knew he was just trying to help.
“Well, I actually don’t really have anywhere to go,” I said quickly.
“Surely there has to be somewhere,” Officer Parker said.
I shook my head and launched into my story.
Parker just sat there and listened to me quietly, when I had finished he took a deep breath and looked around. We were completely alone; it was too late for anyone but him to be here.
“That’s quite a story,” Officer Parker said, running a hand through his thinning black hair, “I suppose you could stay here for the night, but I’d have to book you.”
I felt myself smiling, “Really?”
“I’m sorry,” Officer Parker said a little loudly, he winked at me, “But you committed a crime, you’re going to have to stay here for the night.”
I smiled even wider, “Thank you,” I mouthed.
Officer Parker nodded and stood up to escort me to a holding cell. Maybe I had gone through a door without knowing it, maybe my luck was about to turn.
I remember walking into the holding cell, Officer Parker slammed the door behind me with another wink and left. I walked over to the bed, laid down and fell asleep faster than I thought was humanly possible.
I was awakened by a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I couldn’t even move. I put my hand to my stomach and found it swollen. There was no way my baby could have grown that quickly overnight, something was wrong.
“Officer Parker,” I called out in a panicked voice. No one came, “Officer Parker!”
A few moments later, Officer Parker came skidding around the corner, he saw me lying in bed, saw how distressed I looked and immediately knew I wasn’t just yelling at him because of cravings or maternal mood swings.
“I can’t move,” I said, “there’s something wrong,”
Officer Parker fumbled for his cell phone and dialed 911.
“Hello? Hello? Yes, I need help! I’m Officer Parker of the Carson City Police Department. I need an ambulance here right away.”
Officer Parker went silent for a moment, “This woman, she passed out in our lobby, I carried her to a bed in a holding cell, she just woke up, she’s pregnant and in pain. She says she can’t move.”
I silently thanked Officer Parker for tactfully avoiding the fact that I had actually asked to be arrested.
Another jolt of pain rocked my body, my back arched and I broke out into a sweat.
"Hurry!" Officer Parker yelled into the phone. He rushed over to me, "Can you breathe okay?"
I nodded; my breathing was fine, if a little shallow. I was just in so much pain!
"The ambulance will be here soon, okay?" Officer Parker said.
I nodded again. I tried not to focus on the pain; I closed my eyes and tried to think of happier things. None came. I opened my eyes again, and stared up at the cracking ceiling. Soon I heard the whine of the ambulance.
I saw Officer Parker breathe a sigh of relief; I think he was more afraid for me than I was. He got up and ran out of the cell to guide the paramedics to me.
"She's right in here," I heard Officer Parker say. Within seconds I saw two paramedics rounding the corner with a stretcher.
"We're going to put you on this, now," one of the paramedics said, "It could hurt."
I didn't respond. I just closed my eyes and let them work. I felt two pairs of hands carefully lifting me off the bed and depositing me on the stretcher. It did hurt, a lot, but I kept silent. The last thing they needed was a panicked patient. Besides, I couldn't be panicked; it hurt to do anything but lie completely still.
The ride in the ambulance was agonizing, I found myself wishing Officer Parker had been able to come with me; a familiar face would have been helpful. I didn't tell the paramedics this though. I let them do their job. They poked me with needles, kept me awake, and checked my vitals frequently.
Then one of the paramedics saw something, he motioned for the other to join him at the end of the stretcher.
They looked at each other in a way that told me this was more serious than I had thought.
"We need you to lie completely still," one of the paramedics said, I couldn't tell which from my angle. His tone frightened me.
"Will the baby be okay?" I asked through my heavy breathing.
Neither of the paramedics would answer me. We arrived at the hospital; I was pulled out of the back of the ambulance and rolled to the ER.
"What's wrong?" I asked again, I was starting to get panicked. Not a good thing when you're in pain and possibly dying again.
"Lie still," a nurse who had come to the side of my stretcher said. I was taken to a curtained off section of the ER where an ultrasound machine had been set up. I just laid there while the nurse spread petroleum jelly on my stomach and started probing.
"You were right," the nurse called, I assume to the paramedics, "We're going to have to operate, honey," she said to me.
“Operate? Why?" I asked, my voice was weak and I knew my situation was quickly becoming more desperate.
"You have what's called an ectopic pregnancy, the baby isn't growing where it should be, we're going to have to abort or you'll die," the nurse was using her most sympathetic and calming voice, but it didn't work.
"No," I groaned, but a dying woman's argument is often ignored if there is a way to save her life. My bed started to move, the last thing I saw was the doors of the OR opening in front of my eyes, and then I blacked out.
I woke up in a sterile hospital room; tubes were running out of my left arm, my burned right hand was bandaged. At first I couldn't remember why I was there, and then a tiny twinge of pain in my stomach made me remember. Carefully, I reached my hand under the covers and felt my stomach. Flat, nothing there, not even a tiny bump to reveal that I had been pregnant.
Everything hurt, emotionally and physically, I just wanted to go back to my hallway and stay there forever, escaping wasn’t worth going through anything like this again. I started crying, silently at first but raucous sobs eventually brought the same nurse I had seen earlier running in. She held me while I cried, gently rocking me back and forth like my mom used to when I was upset. She didn't try to tell me everything was okay, she didn't try to make light of the situation by telling me that I was at least alive, she just let me sob. Even though she knew it must be hurting me, even though she knew that the crying wouldn't help, even though she knew I should be getting rest and not wreaking more havoc on my already weak body she just let me cry myself dry.
Finally, I hiccupped back another sob and sat up straight. I looked at the nurse's scrubs, evidence of my tears were obvious there.
"I'm sorry," I said through a stuffy nose.
"It's nothing," the nurse said, with a smile, "What would you have named it?"
I thought about it for a minute, I brushed a few stray tears away from my face, "If it were a boy, I would have named him Daman, after his father, if it were a girl, Jane, I think."
"Those are beautiful," the nurse said, "I'm Katelyn, if you need anything, just hit the nurse's button."
"Thank you," I murmured. Katelyn left.
I felt completely empty, drained of all emotion, "Is this enough yet, James?" I asked.
In answer, the door of my room slowly changed. It went from blue, plain metal, to a familiar black door; one proclaiming itself to be full of woe.
I smiled; finally, I had done what I had to do.
I ripped the tubes out of my arm, swung my legs out of the hospital bed and crossed to the door. I took one last deep breath of clean air, before opening the door and stepping through.
Chapter Fifteen
I expected James to be waiting for me in the
hall; he wasn’t. I expected to feel better; I didn’t. I sighed and took inventory of myself. I still felt empty, I could still feel the phantom pains of my surgery even though my body was completely healed, my heart still ached for the little one I had lost. Again, I was struck with how real everything felt, no nightmare had ever felt so claustrophobic.
I stepped across the hall, away from the empty wall where the ‘Misery’ door had once been situated. I reached my hand out and closed it around the doorknob of the door labeled ’Joy’. It didn’t give way.
Angrily, I kicked out at the wall, I expected pain, but since I barely even existed, there was nothing. It gave me an idea. I walked calmly to one end of the hall, and stared at the other end. I let out a barbarian yell and ran headlong for the other wall. I flew down the hall and crashed into the other end. I didn't even make a tiny dent in the wall. I became even angrier.
I started punching, kicking, slapping and screaming like a banshee at the wall, letting out all my anger on the tauntingly perfect paint. Why was I here? I thought death was supposed to be the reward for living! What had I done to deserve to be stuck in such a Hellish place? I screamed again, not just one frustrated scream, but I screamed until I got bored.
I sprawled out on the floor and threw a temper tantrum. I banged my fists, yanked on my hair and cursed everything I could think of. I professed hatred to the man who was driving the car that killed me, hatred for Maria killing herself, hatred at the paramedics who failed to save my life, and mostly hatred for James. I hated him so much at that moment I could barely comprehend my own feelings. How could he not be there to help me when I needed him most?
Finally I calmed down, I felt myself returning to the reclusive state I stayed in for the year after my death. The corner I had sat in was looking more and more inviting, even comfortable. I crawled to the corner drew my knees up to my chest and stared blankly at the night end of the hall until the room was completely dark. And I continued to stare, I didn’t blink, I didn’t even move, I just sat and tried not to think.
When light filtered back into the room I realized I was no longer dressed in anything I recognized from my burial or the doors.
Now, I was wearing something that reflected everything I had been through since death. A kind of quilt of clothing. I was no longer constrained by the skirt and blouse I’d been entombed in. Instead, I was wearing jeans, a soft tee shirt and my favorite black canvas sneakers. I was also wearing an old air force jacket, embroidered on the left side in red cursive was Daman's name. Also emblazoned there was a tiny broken heart. I still wore the wedding ring which I assumed represented the ‘Love’ door, and the jacket represented my loss. But where was my token for ‘Misery’? I searched my clothing and pockets for anything that stood out to me, but there was nothing.
Then, I felt something cold on the exposed skin of my neck; my hand flew up to my throat and caught hold of the necklace there. I reached behind me and unclasped the chain gasping when I saw the pendant.
A shaking hand held back the sob that scratched at my neck, the pendant was made of cursive gold letters spelling out the name Jane.
I would have had a girl. A girl I could have dressed up, had tea parties with, and given advice to. And I had lost her, for no reason. She was lost to save my life when I had no life to save.
I wiped tears from my face and put the necklace back on. The pendant was now warm against my skin and felt like it belonged there, I knew I wouldn't be taking it off any time soon.
I closed my eyes and walked to my corner and slid down the wall, my legs protruding in front of me and going pigeon toed. My right hand went subconsciously to the pendant around my neck. I sat there for who knows how long, staring at the opposite end of the hall and stroking my necklace. I was incredibly bored, but there was nothing to do, other than trying to figure out how to open another door.
The only problem is, in life, I hated puzzles. I couldn't even do a 4x4 Rubix cube, how was I supposed to figure this out when I didn't even have the help of Google?
In spite of myself, I started idly banging the back of my head against the wall.
How?...bang...Where's James?...bang...Is someone else going to come see me?...bang...Why won't this hurt?...bang...it would be so much more satisfying if this would hurt...bang, bang, bang, bang, BANG! My head rebounded off the wall and I was surprised to find myself bent in half with my head in my lap.
“James!” I screamed into my lap, “I’m done, come open a door! I can’t do this by myself!”
The silence pressed in on me, hugging me like a heavy coat. It was suffocating me with its immediateness. The quiet felt louder than any sound I'd ever heard. It settled into my ears, making them ache as though I'd been underwater for too long. I realized I was afraid, afraid of the unknown. I was afraid to die for that reason, because I didn’t know what was waiting for me. Heaven or Hell? Reincarnation? Would we just disappear? I hated not knowing. It hurt my head trying to imagine it, and trying to imagine that life would continue forever when I had been taught since I could remember that everything ends. Everything ends. I found some solace in that. I thought I would be okay if when I died there was nothing and I just ceased to exist. The way I saw it, I wouldn’t know that I was no longer a being; I would just be gone, simple as that. No boredom, no stress of wondering if I had been good enough to deserve Heaven, just gone.
Now I could see that I was a fool for thinking that. Of course there was something after death! There was no resting in peace, obviously whoever thought that was an appropriate epitaph had not been haunted by anyone or they would have known better than to inscribe that on a headstone.
To keep my mind busy I started making up poetry in my head. I'd never been much of a poet, but after a while I came up with one I think I would have been proud of in life. It was a little depressing but so was my situation.
I tried to imagine what it would feel like to be with Daman again. He made me feel safe and wanted, besides being a companion in a solitary world.
“Come back,” I pleaded with my head still down, “please come back.”
“I could never leave you,” Daman’s voice said. I looked up, I couldn't believe my eyes and it took a few moments before my legs reacted to what my brain was telling them to do.
Her feet move fast
Bridging oceans
Her true love lost
Now has her hand.
Daman pulled me into his arms and kissed me, not lightly as he had done earlier, but a deep, lasting kiss on the mouth. It was surprising, and at first I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't. I had never gotten what the hype about kissing was, but since I'd never been kissed like that there was no way for me to know. I'd also never known exactly the danger that could be behind a simple kiss. The longer Daman held me there the more I wanted. I pulled him in and my instincts took control. My fingers went up into the dark curls of Daman's hair; I opened my eyes just for a moment to look at Daman. What I saw frightened me more than I thought was possible.
The blue in Daman's eyes had been overtaken by the blackness of his pupils, only a tiny ring of iris remained. The look was familiar and all at once I realized why. It was hunger, the kind of hunger you see in a predator before it strikes its prey, exactly as Maria’s eyes had looked before she pulled the trigger. I realized it had not been Maria at all holding the gun.
Terror raced through my body and forced me to draw away from Daman. My ring snagged, pulling a snake like coil of Daman's hair with it.
"What are you doing?" Daman asked harshly. He took a step toward me, clawed for my hand and tried to pull me into him again.
My rational mind took hold and I pushed myself away again. This time Daman's rough grip felt like a vice on my wrist and when he slammed my back against the wall I actually felt dizzying pain. My head had collided raucously with the wall causing stars to dance into my vision.
Daman leaned his face in close. His breath smelled like decay, the smell condensed into a moist film on my face.
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"Don't you dare leave me," Daman snarled, "I love you, remember?"
My head still hurt too much for me to think clearly, all I could manage was a whimper; I couldn't even pull my eyes away from Daman's. His eyes had gone completely black by now, not even a pinprick of white remained.
The thought occurred to me that I had gone through a door without realizing it. In vain, I attempted to look around the hallway to see if my suspicions were correct. All the doors were still there, which meant that what Daman was doing was real. He was really pinning me against the wall, really breathing his stinking breath on my face, and really hurting me.
"Daman, let go of me," I pleaded. My voice came out small and insignificant in the vast hall that seemed to be expanding. My head was swimming from the effort it took to look around and I wanted to vomit from the smell coming from Daman. By now I'd realized the odor wasn't just coming from his mouth, but was actually emanating from his person.
For a moment something changed in Daman, his eyes flickered back to normal and his grip on my wrists lessened. I took the opportunity to dart out under his arm and race to the other end of the hall. Something was wrong though, there was only one door left, and it was at the other end of the hall and Daman was already standing in front of it.
Chapter Sixteen
"Come on, Alice," Daman taunted, "I got rid of all the doors for you. All you have to do is go through this one and you'll never have to come back here again."
I just stood there shaking, the ring on my left hand felt as heavy as a boulder. I tried to take it off, but it wouldn't budge. Daman noticed what I was doing and laughed maliciously. He lifted his left hand, showing the ring I'd given him, "Yours doesn't come off until mine does. Now get over here."
I tried to fight the urge to walk to him, but my legs would no longer obey. Daman had some kind of control over me that I couldn't explain, and even though I was terrified of him, even though I didn't want to be near him, I still inexplicably loved him.