Mikayla

It had been two days since she saw Nolan. True to his word, he left her alone. Dropping her meals promptly at nine, one, and six o’clock, he delivered them with care and always with that signature flower. He put more thought into making sure she’d stay hydrated by leaving bottles of water outside her door. On the second day at lunch, she found a note. Reading it, she hated that it caused her insides to melt in a different way than any other man sparked within her. She read every word as if he’d been whispering in her ear. I miss seeing your pretty face. Please let me know if you need anything.

Her purpose for her “time alone” was supposed to be to investigate the weaknesses of the farmhouse, wandering around to look for keys or a phone or something—anything. In the end, she realized he was not stupid.

It was a long two days, and as much as she hated Nolan or tried to ignore it, the loneliness in his absence dominated her thoughts. His desire made her feel wanted and special, but in her diluted mind, she was special enough to kidnap. She understood there was a psychological reason she’d been reacting this way to her captor. It was stupid, for fuck’s sake. There was a diagnosis, but she couldn’t think of it right then. She wasn’t falling for her captor; she wouldn’t allow it.

After the two days were over, Mikayla walked out to the kitchen, and he was there with his stupid big smile. It’d been two days since she wanted to slap that look off his face but also take it all in. “How was your time alone?” he asked.

“It was wonderful. I didn’t have to see your fucked-up face.”

He continued to smile at her. He had to be certifiably insane. There was no way Nolan was letting her leave in six months. “Well, I missed you, sweetness. You are quite the companion.”

“I hope you die a long and slow death,” she said, grabbing the hash browns and bacon that he had on her plate.

He watched her as she devoured her breakfast. “I see being mean and mouthy makes you hungry,” he joked.

“Mean? I’m mean? Are you serious? You kidnapped me. I’m your prisoner. So, asswipe, if I look up mean in the dictionary, I’m sure that is just one definition.”

“I want to think of you as my guest, but I guess there is truth to it. What do you want to do today? I had some movies sent to me. We can watch them and even pop some popcorn.” He didn’t skip a beat, admitting to his cruelness in keeping her prisoner and planning his day all in the same breath. She stood abruptly, almost tossing the small table over.

“Are you fucking for real right now?” As much as she wanted to yell, she was more confused. Changing her tone, she finally admitted, “Sure. I guess. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You could recon again? I mean, it was the reason for your little sabbatical from me, right?” He smiled, and she knew he was certainly baiting her, though she was playing into his hand.

“Eat shit,” she replied, knowing she was busted. He must have cameras. The hopelessness she felt at that moment, knowing she was indeed stuck in this situation, made her heart race as if it might pound out of her chest. She had to hide that. He couldn’t see her look so broken. No, she’d have to just be the best actress he’d ever seen.

“We can watch a movie later. I was hoping you would share something with me again. Sometimes, the questions a person asks another reveal more about the person asking the questions than the answer given.”

This was her chance, but she wasn’t sure what angle to take with him. She thought long and hard for several seconds. “Sure, I have one. What’s your plan? Surely, you think I will fall in love with you. I’ll succumb to you. I just have to have you. What then? A happy family. My parents will never believe I left willingly. And my brother will kick your ass. He’ll probably kill you,” she added for emphasis.

“Well, we have options. It depends on what you want. The night I took you, you were yelling in your sleep. Don’t hurt me. Don’t say those things to me. No, no. But we all know why you were screaming it. You were not scared of me.”

“That can be debated,” she quipped back.

“I didn’t physically lay a hand on you. Anyway, I heard a name. You said, Don’t hurt me. No, please don’t.” But he never spoke the name she’d uttered. Bringing his hand to her face, he tipped her eyes to his. “Sweetness, who’s hurting you?”

“No one. I must have had a bad dream. That’s all, a bad dream,” she bellowed stubbornly.

Nolan leaned in, close to her and she could smell his aftershave again. He attempted to reach for her but pulled his hand back at the last second. “I know I’m not one to judge here. In essence, I took you from your family, but do you think I might have my reasons? The name you said; he’s someone you should be able to trust.”

She needed to defend her words, not understanding them herself. “It was just a stupid dream.”

“Does he hurt you?” He extended his hand to take hers, but then he pulled back. “Has he taken advantage of you?”

“Ew, like sexually? NO! He’s just loud and mean at times. That’s all.” Mikayla’s face turned bright red as she denied the accusatory words.

“It was enough to get you to cry out in fear.”

“Wait, do you know more than you are sharing?” Mikayla pleaded; she needed understanding and answers about the night he’d taken her.

“I’d never hurt you. And I swear I’m going to let you go home if that’s what you want. But, sweetness, I saw a sad girl the day you and I bonded in the library.”

Scoffing his way, she replied, “I bond with people easily; you’re the only one who’s taken me against my will.” She hated him right now, making her remember who was really inflicting the pain. But it was never something she’d share with anyone. Why would she? She had a handle on it, right?

Nolan’s arrogant grin swept over his face, but he was right. He had hurt her; the he she couldn’t even speak of had hurt her. Nolan finally said, “I wonder if whoever is hurting you has tried to justify his abuse toward you. I know I am defending what I’ve done, but I am not physically hurting you, sweetness. Maybe it’s the same thing. I have this very real and warranted anger toward him because I care for you.”

This time, she reached for his hand and gave him a tender smile. “Then let me go now, Nolan. I’d never love a man who kept me against my will.”

“First, sweetness, you are trying to convince yourself of this. I see how you look at me and how when I walk in the room, your tits become as hard as my cock.” She jumped at his crude words, but he wasn’t done, nor was he wrong. “Back to the person hurting you because, believe it or not, I will never let another person hurt an innocent woman again. I suppose you haven’t told anyone yet what he’s doing to you?”

In her quietness, she couldn’t justify why she’d allowed someone to hurt her.

Standing up, he poured her another cup of coffee and put just the right amount of sugar and creamer in it. Mikayla hoped this Spanish Inquisition was over but no such luck. “You are right, Mikayla. I promised you a movie, and regardless of the fact you didn’t willingly share with me, you did. It helps me understand you a bit better.”

As she drank her coffee and watched him clean the breakfast dishes, she wondered how he’d made such great coffee, since he didn’t drink it himself. Her favorite breakfast was bacon and eggs, and he cooked it for her four to five days a week. She loved salads with lots of different ingredients in it. He always had grapes, celery, oranges, apples, avocados, cheese, cucumbers, walnuts, pecans, dried apricots, peppers, and onions on hand. He also made a homemade salad dressing that was to die for. She didn’t understand how he’d learned so much about her. She loved homemade mac and cheese. Her two favorite dishes were stuffed shells and meatloaf, and those were on the menu for dinner quite often. Not only her favorite foods, but her comforter was also purple, her favorite color. She loved giraffes and had several of them in her room along with her favorite magazines.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course,” he said with his back to her, doing the dishes.

“You know how I like my coffee and my favorite foods. You know more about me than my family does. How?”

He turned around, and she knew he was entertaining how to answer her series of questions. He scrunched his face every time he had a hard decision to make, having done the same thing when she bartered for an extra day of solitude. Sitting down, he continued, “The medicine I used on you makes you forget. Those were questions I asked you as I walked you to your car. The medicine was in your water. I guess you thought I was going to ask you out.”

“I barely remember talking to you.”

“We had a great conversation. You told me you had a boyfriend, but you seemed interested in me.”

“I did?” Though she already recognized the answer to this.

“Well, if I was reading you right, you did.”

“Then why didn’t you just take your chances and just ask me out?”

Putting his own tea down, he didn’t look at her eye to eye as he normally would. “I know an abuse victim. I can read it really well, and I had to protect you. I can’t explain it.”

“But you never revealed to me you wanted to protect me that night. Maybe I’d have listened to you. Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Mikayla asked.

“I’m not sure. I have this thing about protecting girls from abusive relationships.” That revelation he’d admitted was a conversation she needed to dig deeper into, trying to understand what gave him this God complex. Maybe by knowing him better, she’d convince him to let her leave, breaking the distance and her need to put many miles between her and him.

* * *

Libby

Life was adjusting to the new normal, not that Libby wanted it to return to any sort of normalcy. In her mind, a future without Mikayla was not one she could even imagine. Maneuvering life without Mikayla was as if she had awoken to find her arm or leg missing.

Her heart was still an organ that functioned as it should; however, it had a constant ache to it. There was hope she was still alive since Mikayla’s body had never been found, yet that optimism ate away at her every day. Could today be when her daughter came home? Her anticipation felt as if it were a two-ton boulder weighing her down from day to day. Sometimes, it was so heavy, she couldn’t get out of bed.

Today was a milestone for Jenna. She’d finished her Doctor in Pharmacology degree earlier than expected and was moving home. She’d been in Seattle for years, commuting on weekends to see her boyfriend, Trenton. Right before graduation, he, proposed to her, and she was going to live at home until she and Trenton bought a house. Losing her sister was something Jenna couldn’t articulate, and she barely held it together to complete her degree. “If I sit here and feel sorry for myself, don’t finish school, or make any plans with Trenton, how is that honoring Mikayla’s memory?”

Libby was more concerned about Blake. He was incredibly close with Mikayla. She was shocked that Mikayla decided last minute to move into a dorm with Jill instead of staying at the house when Blake suffered an ACL injury, ending his football career, and moved back home to plan the next phase in his life. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have gone missing. She was gone for over twenty-four hours until anyone knew she’d vanished.

Blake blamed himself. He seldom spoke about his sister. He was hurting, and Libby didn’t know how to help him. No one did.

Blake had been devastated after his injury, and Mikayla was there for him at every turn. At her urging, he changed his degree from computer science to biology so he could apply to physical therapy. Then he could help athletes in a way no one could help him.

At those times, Mikayla stood next to him; she was always the one Blake let in before anyone else, and she realized that her son was in very bad shape without his little sister.

In retrospect, she reflected on the pride she felt knowing two of her children were inseparable. Not only that, but Mikayla was also able to make Blake’s life make sense again.

Now, Blake seemed like a lost soul. She never understood how close they truly were. Blake was so upset the night that Mikayla was reported missing; she really thought he might hurt someone. His room had holes in the walls where he’d let his frustration out. She had never seen a temper like this in him before, but these circumstances were certainly not normal.

He hadn’t left the house in days, and one day, when Libby tried to offer him some sort of comfort, he snapped at her. “What the fuck, Mom? Just leave me be. I am not like you and Jenna. I don’t have to talk about everything under the sun.” He knew better to have treated her with such disrespect in front of Adam, and she turned a blind eye to his uncalled-for reaction. After all, everyone was in horrific pain.

* * *

Taylor

She didn’t even pretend she was upset about Phillip. She had changed completely in the four weeks since the abduction of Mikayla Miller; she grew tired of explaining herself to everyone. Why wasn’t anyone else concerned about this girl who could have been anyone of us? Then in her own rationalization, she’d told herself, most things in life don’t make sense, and I am tired of explaining. It was then that she no longer felt the need to justify the weird connection. It was what it was, and it wouldn’t change anytime soon.

With the case completely stalled, Taylor never believed Mikayla left of her own accord.

She was walking out of her room one morning and almost hit her sister head-on as Alyssa exited the bathroom while she entered. “Tay, are you wearing that today?” Alyssa asked as she watched her sister pick up her toothbrush and toothpaste.

She examined herself in the mirror. “Yes, what’s wrong with it?”

Alyssa looked her sister up and down, and Taylor could feel the self-consciousness descend on her. “You used to dress cute and wear makeup,” Alyssa said as she casually walked away.

It was true, she’d taken on a more natural look, not wearing a smidge of makeup with bell-bottom jeans and an array of neutral colored shirts with Birkenstocks. It was her hippy, “I’m going to Woodstock” look. She had changed; no longer caring about the frivolities of life. Two-hundred-dollar shoes and designer jeans didn’t make sense anymore. This was what she wanted. Couldn’t anyone see this?

In Taylor’s mind, this radical change made perfect sense, but she couldn’t quite explain the reason. She could identify with the concerns of her parents and her sister, but it didn’t make her want to halt her metamorphosis. She liked the new person she was transforming into. She was going from a caterpillar to a butterfly, and in the alteration, she recognized the beauty and loved it.