Stained

by Cheryl Rainfield

  I start to hide my cheek, then stop myself. “He was here. He shot at us—and hit Eliza. They saved me, Eliza and Tessa both,” I babble.

  “When was this?” a woman officer asks, squinting in the dark at us.

  “Not long ago. Maybe a few minutes,” Eliza says.

  The woman officer turns to the others. “Go call it in, then fan out and look for him. He may not be too far off.”

  “He shouldn’t be. I got him in the shoulder,” Eliza says proudly.

  “I’m Detective Sato,” the woman says. She reaches over and flips on the lights.

  “Don’t!” I say. He can see us now. Shoot us.

  The detective looks at Eliza’s gun, and then at Tessa’s and my makeshift weapons. “You can put those away,” she says. “I think we’ve outnumbered him.”

  I put down my knife, my hand shaking.

  Detective Sato’s eyes grow softer as she looks at me, her short black hair shining in the light. “He’d be crazy to do anything with so many uniforms around, honey.” She nods like that should make me feel better.

  She studies my dirty face, and then the way Eliza’s holding her arm. “Are any of you harmed?”

  “Eliza got shot,” Tessa says. “And Sarah here needs some looking after. She seems half starved.”

  “I’m okay,” I say quickly. “I’m not the one who was shot.”

  “I’m just fine,” Eliza says. “I’ve had worse than this.”

  The detective purses her lips, lifts her radio to her mouth, and calls for an ambulance.

  “I tell you, I don’t need no ambulance,” Eliza protests.

  “Me, either,” I say.

  The detective hooks her thumbs through her belt. “You’re both going to get yourselves checked out. A gunshot wound is nothing to take lightly, especially at your age,” she says sternly to Eliza. “And you, young lady—you’ve had months away from home, and who knows what done to you. We need to make sure you’re all right.”

  When I open my mouth again, she holds up her hand. “No arguing, now. I’m in charge.”

  I look over at Eliza’s pissed-off face and start to laugh. And then the laughing turns to sobbing.

  Tessa’s by my side in an instant, gathering me in a warm hug. “There, there. It’s okay now. Everything will be okay.”

  I want to believe her, but I don’t know how. I stuff the sobs back down, shudder a few times, and pull away.

  The detective’s gaze slides over to Eliza and rests on her bandage, then moves to Tessa’s white face. “I know you’ve had quite a night, but I need to get your statements. I can ride with you all to the hospital.” She looks at me. “Your parents will meet us there.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  The detective nods brusquely. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

  “I told you, I don’t need—” Eliza says.

  “Would you prefer to ride to the hospital in my squad car?” the detective interrupts. “Because that’s what we’ll all be doing if you don’t get in that ambulance. I’m not having anyone hurt on my watch.”

  “We’ll go in the ambulance,” Tessa says quickly. “All three of us.”

  We stand in silence, Eliza shifting uneasily. My mouth is dry, my heart beating hard.

  A siren wails in the distance.

  I clear my throat, and the detective’s sharp gaze snaps to me. “Brian killed other girls before he tried to kill me,” I say. “And he said he’d go after my parents. Can you make sure they’re safe? And Tessa and Eliza, too? He won’t like that they helped me.”

  “We’ve already placed a uniform at your house, and I’ll make sure we put one here, too,” the detective says. “We are taking this very seriously.”

  I don’t know if that will be enough. Brian’s intelligent and sneaky. He worked with my dad for at least six months before he made his move, and none of us suspected him. “He’s really smart,” I say hesitantly.

  “We are, too,” Detective Sato says. Her foot taps once, before she catches it. “We’ll get him.”

  An ambulance pulls up outside, lights flashing.

  “Let’s go,” the detective says, holding the door open.

  SARAH

  9:00 P.M.

  THE HOSPITAL SMELLS LIKE disinfectant and stale air, and there’s so much noise around me—voices on the loudspeaker, nurses talking, carts rumbling, people crying out. The lights are too bright, but I’m grateful for them after all the months of darkness. I sit on the edge of the hard hospital bed, arms wrapped around my chest, feeling naked in the thin hospital gown the nurse gave me to wear. “I’m Lynda, a SANE nurse,” she said when I first arrived. She laughed when I looked at her, puzzled.

  “It stands for Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. I’ll be examining you today, doing everything I can to get you comfortable, and I’ll stay with you until your parents arrive.”

  She led me into an exam room and explained what she’d be doing. Then she had me strip. Detective Sato couldn’t grab my clothes fast enough, especially once she heard the blood on the shirt was Judy’s. She looked almost excited. I know she was just doing her job, but all I could think about was that a girl was dead, and I almost was, too.

  I shudder now, feeling the pain. Though Lynda is gentle, I can’t bear the speculum—or the swabs that scrape at my insides. I fisted my hands and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain.

  Lynda draws her breath in sharply.

  “What?” I say.

  She looks at me over her glasses, her eyes sad. “You have some internal scarring,” she says. “But the vagina is incredibly good at healing. It shouldn’t be permanent or affect your sexual health.”

  I look away faster than she does.

  She clears her throat. “Looks like you’ve got a urinary tract infection.”

  I look at her blankly.

  “It hurts to pee.”

  I nod, shame rushing through me.

  “That’s common after rape, even just intercourse. Don’t worry about it; I’ll give you something to clear it up.”

  The physical exam is almost as bad, with Lynda examining every inch of me, clipping fingernail samples, taking my temperature, my pulse, my heartbeat. But when she is done, she lets me take a shower, where I scrub my body until it is red and sore. Then she leads me to a room where she puts an IV in my arm.

  “Please, could I have some clothes?” I beg.

  Detective Sato comes to the doorway.

  Lynda looks at me. “Just one more interview, and then I’ll get you some. Think you can hold on that long?”

  I shudder and nod.

  Lynda sits with me right through Detective Sato’s questioning, asking me to tell her everything I can remember about what Brian did. She tries to be sensitive, but her questions make me feel ill, and I just want it to be over.

  Lynda smiles at me. “You want me to see if I can find you some clothes now?”

  “Yes! Please.”

  Lynda pats my hand and says she’ll see what she can do. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll feel better if I can just have some clothes.”

  “All right, then. You stay here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I sit at the edge of the bed, feeling sore and bruised, emotionally and physically, and strangely removed from everything. I keep telling myself I’m safe, but I don’t feel it yet. Maybe because they still haven’t caught Brian.

  I wonder where Eliza and Tessa have gone; I haven’t seen them since they wheeled Eliza away, protesting over all the fuss. Tessa shook her head and hugged me fast. “You take care, now. Let us know how you’re doing,” she said before rushing off after Eliza.

  I turn and look out the hospital window. It’s dark now, and I see my reflection.

  A stranger looks back at me. Long hair that’s limp even though I washed it five times; shadows like bruises under my eyes; cracked, peeling lips. Pale, unhealthy skin with raw patches from the blindfold
, and the purple-red stain on my cheek brighter than ever. Hollows in my cheeks that didn’t used to be there. I look like I’ve been on street drugs. The only thing that feels familiar and reassuring is my port-wine stain. A croaky laugh escapes my lips.

  I turn away from the window. If I see a stranger, what will my parents see? I can’t wait for them to get here, but at the same time I almost don’t want them to come. I’m not the same person I was before Brian took me. What if they don’t like who I’ve become?

  And what are they going to do when they find out it was Brian? I wish I’d told them when we talked. Oh, god. What if Brian finds them first?

  Wheels rumble along the floor. I pull the thin gown closer around me, wishing it covered more. A cleaner pushes a mop in front of my doorway, his cap pulled down low over his face, his blue uniform hanging baggily, like he’s lost a lot of weight. He doesn’t look at me, just keeps mopping the floor, missing areas, pushing the bucket on wheels closer.

  I tense so tight I shake inside and stare harder. I can’t see the man’s face, but he’s about the same height as Brian.

  My throat narrows, my voice drying in my mouth. How did Brian get past hospital security and Detective Sato unseen?

  I half rise from the bed and make a strangled noise. The cleaner looks up.

  It’s not him. This man’s face is softer, chubbier, his eyes tired and relaxed.

  I sag back onto the bed and hang my head. Of course it isn’t Brian. But the fear doesn’t leave. I know he’s coming after me. There’s no way he’s going to let me go. It’s just a matter of when. I have to be ready for him. Have to stay on guard.

  Quick footsteps squeak down the hall. I sit up straight, and Lynda bustles in, clothes folded over her arm.

  “Here you are, dear,” she says, shaking out a pair of sweatpants and an oversize T-shirt. In her hand is a pair of sweat socks and some scuffed sneakers. “They might be a little big for you, but they’re all I could put my hands on right now. They’re my workout clothes.”

  “I’ll get them back to you,” I say, reaching for them.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Lynda says, waving her hand. “I can spare a few old clothes. They’ll do you a lot more good than me, anyhow. I haven’t had time to exercise in weeks.”

  My eyes water. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “No need. I have a daughter about your age. I’d want to know someone took care of her if she was ever in need.”

  I hold the clothes tight to my chest. “How do I get into them with the IV?” I say, holding out my arm, the tube stretching up to the metal pole.

  Lynda reaches over and unhooks the bag from the pole, handing it to me. “You pass it through the armhole of the shirt.” She sits down in the chair next to the bed to wait.

  I go into the bathroom and change, imagining the clothes as armor. A layer that Brian hasn’t touched.

  I stand taller, pushing my hair out of my face, and look at myself in the mirror. I do feel better. Stronger. More normal, even if the clothes hang from me like curtains. I tilt my chin higher and try to smile. My teeth are stained yellow, with darker brown spots on some. God!

  “Sarah!” a voice calls down the hall.

  Not Brian’s. Dad’s?

  “Sarah!” I hear again. I rush out of the bathroom, the IV bag still in my hand.

  Dad and Mom enter my room, Nick a few steps behind. I can’t move, can barely see them through my tears. They’re here. After so many months, they’re finally here. They came to get me. To take me home.

  “Dad! Mom!” I run toward them, hot tears curling down my cheeks.

  Dad closes the space between us, his strong arms holding me tight. “Oh, Sarah. Sarah!” he says, pressing his mouth against my hair. “You’re safe!”

  But even with his arms around me, his voice in my ear, I don’t feel safe. Not the way I used to.

  Lynda starts talking to my parents, the detective quickly joining us.

  Nick hangs back awkwardly. I reach for his arm and pull him into a hug. “Thank you for coming,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course I came,” Nick says, his face growing red. “I’d do anything for you.”

  “Hey. No acting weird just because I’ve been gone for a while,” I say, lightly punching his arm. “I’m counting on you.”

  “No acting weird. I promise,” Nick says, and grins at me, the way he always does.

  I grin back at him. I’m so relieved he’s here. Just his presence should keep my mom from sobbing all over me, and Dad from making a big production. I can almost believe things are normal again, seeing him.

  I turn back to listen to the detective and the nurse.

  “Brian? My Brian?” Dad is saying, his face stiff.

  “Yeah, Dad. I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault,” Mom says.

  “I’m going to kill him, just kill him. When I get my hands on him . . .” Dad says, his voice shaking. “That bastard. Asking me every day whether there’s been any news of you, acting so concerned. He’s going to regret he ever laid eyes on you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Shhh!” Mom says, and pulls me closer.

  Detective Sato shakes her head. “You’ll leave any justice dispensing up to the police, sir.”

  Dad rubs my back and doesn’t answer. He’s hardly let me go since I ran into his arms. He and Mom always have a hand on me, touching my face, my arm, my back, like they’re afraid to let me go.

  Before, I would have felt smothered, but right now all I want is that contact, that feeling of safety. I know it’s an illusion—Brian is still out there, waiting for us—but it still makes me feel better.

  “He had us all fooled,” Nick says. “He even helped me put up Missing posters all over town.”

  Dad frowns.

  Lynda pats my shoulder. “Mr. and Mrs. Meadows, it’s my recommendation that Sarah stay here overnight for observation and that she see a psychiatrist before you take her home. She’s been through a major trauma.”

  Her words punch my gut, taking my breath away. “I want to go home!”

  “You heard my girl,” my dad says. “Don’t worry, honey; we’re taking you with us.”

  Mom looks at the IV bag hanging from my hand. “Is Sarah all right?” she asks tremulously. “What is the IV for?”

  “Malnutrition, dehydration,” Lynda says. “Make sure you feed her healthy food, give her a daily vitamin, and get her to rest, and she’ll be fine. But psychologically, it’s better that she have someone to talk to.”

  I shake my head. “I just want to go home. Please!” I can’t keep the desperation out of my voice.

  Mom squeezes my hand. “We’ll make sure she gets everything she needs, and we’ll find her someone to talk to close to where we live. But we’d like to take her home now. She’s been away for so long.”

  Lynda sighs. “I understand. I’ll get a doctor to sign the release papers.” And she leaves.

  Detective Sato looks uncomfortable. “If Sarah remembers anything else, let us know right away.”

  “For all the good it will do us. The bastard’s probably long gone,” Dad says. “If you people had done your job in the first place . . .”

  I stare up at Dad. He never used to be like this—combative and blaming. Even when he was angry, he found a way to be reasonable. This man is someone I almost don’t recognize.

  Detective Sato raises her chin like she’s going to snap at Dad, but then she softens, watching us all huddled together, unable to let go of one another. “I’m sure the detectives in your area did everything they could to find the suspect.”

  “You’re kidding, right? We contacted them immediately, and they did next to nothing. No, we’re better off finding the bastard ourselves.”

  Detective Sato stiffens. “I realize this is an emotional time. But for your safety, if you should find the suspect or he should contact you—”

  “I will protect my family,” Dad growls.

/>   And then he’ll kill us. I smell Brian’s piney odor, feel his fingers digging into my skin, see his face as he leans toward me. Even free, I can’t get away from him.

  “Don’t try to take things into your own hands,” Detective Sato says. “That never ends well.”

  “I won’t have to if you all do your job,” Dad growls.

  The detective flushes. “We’ve made this a priority from the minute we heard that Sarah had been found. And I know the detectives on your case would have done the same as soon as you contacted them. We don’t take abductions lightly.”

  “That bastard had Sarah for four months. Your lot didn’t find her.”

  Four months? I stare at him. I thought it was only three. The floor moves beneath me.

  It must be June, then. School’s out. Graduation over. I’ve missed so much.

  The detective is talking again, but I don’t hear what she says. Instead, I notice how stiff Dad is beside me, how fast he’s breathing. “Dad,” I say, tugging his arm.

  Dad looks down at me, his jaw clenched.

  “It’s not their fault.”

  Dad rubs his jaw and sighs. “You’re right.” He looks at the detective. “I’m sorry.”

  She nods brusquely. “We’ve been in touch with your local precinct. They’ve assigned an officer to monitor your house in case the suspect shows up there. Officers are out looking for him now. Please contact me or your local precinct if you gain any new information.”

  “Oh, you can be sure we will,” Dad says. “Come on, Sarah; let’s get you home.”

  Home. The word feels like warm pajamas, and for a moment I let myself hope that everything will be okay.

  NICK

  Day 122, 10:05 P.M.

  I WALK WITH SARAH and her parents to their car. They never stop touching her, like they can’t believe she’s really here. I understand. I feel the same way.

  I hardly recognized Sarah when I first saw her. She looked like a starved waif. Long stringy hair, her body too thin, almost fragile, baggy clothes that didn’t hide how frail she looked. And the fear in her eyes—it went so deep, past anything I’ve ever seen. It was so vivid in her face, her jerky motions, her cracked voice. And then she raised her chin defiantly, and I knew her. My Sarah.