by K Larsen
Him
I’ve never craved anything like I crave her. None of the girls before her could withstand what I needed. None were as beautiful, either. The other girls weren’t useless though. They taught me lessons. Lessons that, I realize now, were essential for the success of me and Nora. I was prepared for her because of their failures. Ma used to say we learn from everything. A single moment can teach a thousand lessons.
Ma pulls me forward until my front is flush with hers. She grips my chin and forces my face upward. I am frozen in place, terrified of what will come next. “You are a poor excuse for the man of the house.” Her spittle hits my cheeks. “For that, you get the shed.” My eyes bug out of my head. It’s March and too cold to survive in the shed for a night.
“Ma, no,” I stammer. Her eyes sparkle at my defiance.
“Now, Holden.” Laura cries softly from where she sits at the table. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself. I strip my shirt off and kneel before her. “Girl, go to your room,” Ma snaps. I hear little footsteps thump along the floor and a door click shut. I breathe deep, waiting. Soon enough, I feel the blade, cool and sharp against my skin near my rib cage. The cuts, light and shallow, just enough to scar and hurt. “Art is purifying. A release. Cleansing,” she mutters, as she cuts. “Someday, boy, you will understand the need—the drive—to create your own art.”
When I wake, I am in the woodshed with an old wool blanket draped over me.
Lotte
I miss Nora. I miss the way she shook out the blanket and snapped it so it floated to the bed on top of me like a breeze whispering through the trees. I miss the wild flower crowns she made and how I felt like a princess and wore them until they wilted. I miss the way Holden changed when she was here. He was softer somehow. Less scary somehow, like Nora was able to tame him a little.
Holden is pacing back and forth, talking to himself. His hair is a mess. His eyes bloodshot, and I wonder if he’s slept at all in the last day or so.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.
His eyes snap to mine. “This is your fault,” he says, his voice deceptively calm. This is the voice he uses right before some sort of punishment. I stay still and silent. “If she didn’t love you so damned much, she would have stayed.”
I bunch my hands into fists. I miss her, too. “If you hadn’t hit me, she wouldn’t have tried to leave,” I shout back.
Holden’s eyes blaze. “She’s not here now to save you, Charlotte. Is that what you wanted? You wanted her gone? To be alone with me again?” The smirk on his face is terrifying.
I shake my head, and clamp my mouth shut.
“We need to get her back. We need to get her back.” He chants, as if he has no other words. Not like Nora. Nora always had words. Big words, little words. Words that made our life feel just the tiniest bit normal.
“How are you going to do that?” I ask. If I can just know the plan . . .
“You don’t need to know,” he snaps. I cast my eyes to the floor. I got caught up in the moment. Spoke out of turn. I only need to know what Holden tells me. I wrap my arms around my chest. The fire died out hours ago and the cabin is cold again. I cannot remain with Holden alone again. “You’re right. I’m only a kid.”
Something flickers in his eyes as he watches me. He takes my hand and opens the door that leads to the path I have taken for countless buckets of water or to feed the animals. He leads me. My body shivers violently in the cold wind as he pulls me through the snow and into the barn.
He fiddles in the back near the grains before coming at me. “Drink this,” he says. I lean away from the cup. I do not trust him. I do not know what he’s feeding me. “Drink, Lotte.” His voice is stern. I do as I’m told and drink the cupful. Holden leans his forehead against mine. His breath fogs between our faces. “We’ll get her back. I promise. We’ll be a family again.” I want to laugh but do not. A family. We were never a real family. My eyelids feel heavy. It feels good.
Then . . . I drift.
Nora
She thinks I’m crazy. I can see it in the way she looks at me. She doesn’t understand the beautiful hell I existed in with Holden. Her cheeks are tinged pink. I’ve made her uncomfortable.
“So you and Holden had consensual sex?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. I wanted it then.”
She jots a note on her pad. “Then? That implies you didn’t always.”
I bite my bottom lip. Sometimes it is better to be silent.
“Nora,” she says.
“That was before. A before moment.” Before was joyous. Before was safe. Before was . . . easy and uncomplicated.
“Before seems to be a safe place for you. What about the After?”
I turn my gaze back to the window. “The After is . . . complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“We all consume lies when our souls are starved.” And I consumed the most—willingly.
She cocks her head at me. “That is a very eloquent phrase for survival.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Sometimes it feels like there is someone in my head, but it’s not me.”
“How does that feel?” She blinks. Her pen is hovering over her pad—waiting.
“Marcid. Memories are the worst form of torture. There’s no room for me and Holden in this world, yet I can’t go back to his.”
“Would you go back to his world?” she asks. I cannot answer this question. I cannot give them reason to think I am not sane. I must be strong. I cut my steak into bite sized chunks and begin eating. Dr. Richardson sighs and rolls her shoulders before tucking her pen behind her left ear.
“This dinner is delectable.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. I lift my gaze to hers and smile.
My every move is monitored here. I was hopeful that Dr. Richardson might be swayed by my story telling. That she might see that Holden is not evil. But hope, as a tactic, never works out. I should have known better. I tried that approach before. It did not end well. I ask the nurse to turn out my light but it does little to help me fall asleep. It is amazing how quickly we become accustomed to things. I crave the silence of the mountain. Of the finite blackness of night. I miss fireflies and the dense beauty of the Milky Way. I miss the smell of the earth, the feel of fresh water on my skin. The modern world is tainted. Nothing is pure. I can taste the plastic from the cup, the chemicals in the food. There is always a sound or a light. They dose me with sleeping pills each night to help. It rarely works.
I stare at the ceiling and pretend I can feel his nose buried in the curve of my neck. Hear and feel his breath. I close my eyes and imagine the wildflower bouquets he’d hand me. I can almost smell them. Almost see their vivid colors. But as I drift, those things morph. The breath becomes rank. His stubble rough. The flowers black and dead. They look like I feel inside, shriveled and grey, tissue-thin and insignificant.
Agent Brown
“My guess is, she was in a fugue state.”
I toss a glance at Dr. Richardson. “What?”
“A fugue state. Fugue traces back to the Latin word fuga, meaning “flight.” If you’re in a fugue state, it’s like you’re fleeing from your own identity.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Is this a thing? A real psychological thing?” This sounds like a bunch of psychobabble to me.
“Sorry to break it to you, but yes. The brain is fascinating. It will do whatever necessary to provide respite to a person going through immense trauma. Something happened after her initial escape attempt. Something bigger than just being held against her will and tortured. Something that made her snap, step outside herself and become someone else, essentially.”
“And your feeling is she’s still this ‘someone else’?”
“No,” She hedges, “Not exactly. She came out of it enough to take the girl and escape. But those emotions and feelings and memories from her fugue state still linger. She very well may be suffering from Stockholm syndrome as well. So far, everything she’s had to say indic
ates that she has romanticized the relationship with him.”
“What does that mean for the case?” I ask.
Dr. Richardson shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. I spoke with her doctor; it looks like she’s due to be discharged in a few days. I’d like to keep seeing her. Honestly, I’m not sure you questioning her is going to get many answers. She’s hyper-vigilant, jumpy, and likely feels an extreme sense of being on guard.”
“So, you’re suggesting I back off and let you take the reins? Sorry, Doc, not going to happen.”
Dr. Richardson stops mid-step and sighs. “If you want information, you need her to be mentally stable. You need her to want to help you.”
I run a hand through my hair. “So, basically you’re saying she’s useless to me at this stage.”
“I wouldn’t say useless,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “But she’s probably not going to give you much. She wants to protect him and save Charlotte. She needs to grasp that isn’t possible and she can’t do that until she comes to terms with the fact that Holden is the bad guy.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. She sees you. I’ll back off. But if she tells you anything that can help, you pass that information to me.”
Dr. Richardson nods.
Salve meets me in the cafeteria, a cup of coffee extended to me. “Thanks.”
“What did Dr. Richardson have to say?” he asks. We move to a quiet corner. I lean against the wall and shake my head. “Nothing good. Something about a fugue state, Stockholm syndrome. I told her I’d back off for now and let her see what she can glean from Nora.”
“She’s just a kid, Brown; imagine if you’d gone through all this at nineteen or twenty.” I shoot him a look of agitation.
“I would have run. I would have done anything to get the bastard.”
He huffs. “You don’t know that. Nine months is a long time to have to survive with someone.”
“But the girl. Charlotte. She’s still out there and every day, we lose more time.”
“If he kept her alive after Eve escaped, it’s a good indicator he will keep her alive now, too.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But does that really matter? She’s twelve. She’s lived with a maniac for two years. She needs to be rescued.”
Salve nods his head. I know he agrees with me but it bugs me that he doesn’t share my drive for closing this case.
“When’s Eve coming in?”
“She’s already here. I told her to go visit Nora until we’re ready.”
“You what? They could be talking,” I say.
“Isn’t that the point?” Salve looks at me as if I have grown a third head.
“Yes, but with us there to listen. We could miss important details.” I groan. Gulping the last dregs of my coffee, I push off the wall. I toss the cup in the trash and start for Nora’s floor.
Eve
Nora shrugs. “I just went with it. It seemed . . . easier. It wasn’t all bad.”
“You never need to apologize for how you chose to survive.” I need to be awake and aware. He could be anywhere. He could be here. If Nora is so certain that he will come for her, I need to be on guard. Hypervigilant.
“But everyone makes me feel like I do,” she says, while picking at her cuticles.
“What do you mean?”
“You, Salve, Agent Brown. You all look at me as if I have three heads when I ask questions about what will happen to Holden in all this.”
I draw in a deep breath. “How Holden treated you isn’t normal. You know that, right?”
She lifts her gaze to mine and gives the smallest shrug.
“Even if it wasn’t. Even if it was wrong. My feelings are still the same.”
I cock my head. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”
“What happens when I go home?” I hate that she avoids the questions that will get us somewhere.
I puff out my cheeks. “Dunno.”
“No. I mean to you.”
My eyes bulge. “I keep doing what I’ve been doing for the last year—looking for Lotte.”
“But if he comes to me . . . she will, too,” she says.
“What are you getting at, Nora?”
“I live hours from here.”
“I know that.” I roll my shoulders and crack my neck.
“Maybe you should—” the door swings open and Agent Brown enters, Salve close on her heels. Nora closes her mouth and looks out the window. Small, harsh snow rains down in sheets from the sky. This morning, the weatherman said we’re looking at over a foot of snow before the storm lets up.
“Good news and bad,” Salve says, breaking the silence. “Good news is, you’re being discharged tomorrow, Nora. You get to go home and rest up.”
“Bad news is, this blizzard has hindered our ability to aerially search the areas on the map you two marked,” Agent Brown cuts in.
“No one’s going anywhere until this storm’s over,” Nora says. She looks to me for reassurance.
“She’s right. If Holden’s still up there, he’s snowed in. Winter was brutal at the cabin.”
Nora makes a clucking sound with her tongue. “The holidays were nice. And game nights. And it was quite beautiful.”
Agent Brown reaches out and slaps Nora’s cheek. I gasp. This is not the woman I’ve come to know. Nora’s hand flies to her cheek. She glares at Agent Brown. Salve is on his feet and moving until he stands between Nora and Agent Brown.
“This is not a goddamn game, Nora. There’s a child missing. How can you be so callous to make it seem like living with a monster was a good time?”
“It was a good time,” Nora shouts back. Salve moves toward Brown, forcing her to step backward.
“You’re never going to see him again,” Agent Brown snaps. Nora clenches her hands into fists so hard, that a trickle of blood drips from one fist.
“Enough.” Salves tone is dangerous and low. “This feud you two seem to have isn’t helping anyone. Agent, I think you should step outside and cool down.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say. Nora grabs my hand as I stand. Tugs it toward her. I lean my ear to her.
“When I go, come with me.” She releases my hand. I blink back my confusion. When she goes where? Home? Back with Holden? Nora might be crazy but she’s not dumb. Agent Brown stomps into the hallway. I follow quietly behind.
Nora
Salve’s fingers gently brush over the spot that still smarts from Agent Brown’s slap. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer and lift my chin.
Salve backs away a few steps. “Nora, what did you mean?”
I sigh. “About what?”
“About holidays and game nights?”
“I meant nothing. It was stupid to say.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Can I really leave tomorrow?”
Salve rubs a hand on his head. “Yes. Although you have to continue to see Dr. Richardson weekly and you can’t travel until this storm’s over.”
“I should call Aubry. So they can plan to pick me up when it’s safe to drive.”
Salve nods but says nothing.
“I don’t want to talk to Brown again today.”
Salve smirks. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you, either.”
“Can Eve stay? I don’t mind visiting with her.”
“I can ask.”
I nod. Salve brings me an ice pack from the nurses station and I want to laugh. A little sting from an open handed slap doesn’t need an ice pack but I don’t tell him that. I have to choose my words carefully.
“She has a gift for making people uncomfortable,” Eve says from the doorway.
“What?”
“Agent Brown.”
“Oh. Yes. She’s . . . an irritant.”
“She’s only trying to help, Nora.” Eve comes to the chair near my bed and sits.
“Yes. Help Lotte.”
“She’s the only one who needs it.”
“But what about Holden?”
“He’s broken the law
. He has to be punished for what he’s done. Nora, he’s killed people.”
I look at my lap. I don’t like to be reminded of some things. What significance do laws hold? What about his laws? Don’t they count? Who is to judge right and wrong when they are only shades of gray?
Eve huffs. “Okay. Listen. Let’s talk about something else. You can talk about Holden with your shrink. Are you excited to finally go home?”
I look at Eve. At this woman who I don’t like but who has known Holden. A link to him. “I am loth to go. What does home hold for me now?”
Eve doesn’t speak, but she has raised her head, chin resting on her knees now. “How do I go back to my life before? It seems . . . lurid.”
“Your words confuse me. Can you just say what you mean?”
“Home seems pale in comparison to the last year. The mountains are so beautiful. The landscape so peaceful. Everything here is so loud and intrusive.”
Now Eve nods. “I had that feeling, too. It was hard to sleep for a long time. Partly because of the nightmares and partly because every sound kept me up. I swore I could hear electricity.”
“Yes! Me, too. I can hear it. It is so different up there. Silent and calm.”
Eve stares out the window at the snow tumbling down. “Nora, do you love Lotte?”
“Like my own child.”
“What did you mean, ‘come with you’?”
“Live in my house with me. Come home with me. You don’t have a home here and Holden won’t be stupid enough to bring Lotte into town now.”
“Tell me she’s still my sister. Tell me she’s not . . .” A tense silence hangs between us.
“Like me?” Eve won’t meet my eye but I understand what she’s getting at. I wish, on some base level, that I felt bad for my feelings but I don’t. “Let’s see. Oh, I know.”
I have the perfect memory to share with Eve.