Suffocating.

My eyes pop wide as the air is cut off. My aching lungs burn with the desperation to breathe. Fingers claw at the tightness in my neck, getting tangled in the masses of my brown hair. I suffer, desperate to live even as I live only to suffer.

Niko, save me.

My thoughts turn bleak as a blackness coats my vision like an oily paint. The only sound I hear is the galloping drum of my own heart and the rustling of the sheets as I thrash around in an ugly dance for survival. A monster is near, and he’s here to take and take and take.

The shadow man.

“Rebecca.”

I wake with a start.

Fingers curled along the wrought iron footboard, my uncle peers over me with a harsh look of worry coloring his face. “You were having a nightmare,” he croaks. As if I didn’t already know that by the turbulent way I was thrown from my dreams.

“Why are you in here?” I whimper, still half in the clutches of my sleep. Reality tips and skews at this hour, and making sense of it becomes nearly impossible.

“Your screaming woke me. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I-I...” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his chin to his chest. “I know you don’t remember me, but you loved me. You used to love me,” he pleads. “I pray that you’ll remember because every moment you look at me with vacant eyes guts me.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head sadly. “Don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry. I never protected you the way I should’ve. If it weren’t for me …” He looks away as if in pain and lets out a grunt. “Someday, we’ll get past this, and everything will go back to the way it should be.”

The lingering nightmare terrifies me, intensified by the darkness of the room. And even through that fear, and that of the unknown and newness of my situation, I can’t help but feel a nagging sympathy for my uncle. For what he went through missing me. Because he did miss me. It’s written all over his features and in the adoration of which he gazes down at me.

I want him to leave me alone, so I give him what feels like a small piece of me in order to make him go. “I want that too.”

With a small grin, he hikes up his pants at the waistband and turns from the bed. “Sleep well, Rebecca.”

I look down at the phone in my hand and Niko’s last text.

If you need to talk afterward, call or message me.

With fumbling fingers, I punch out the words, I will. My fingers tighten around the small phone and I hold it to my chest as if the move will bring me closer to Niko. Someday, I hope to be able to type as fast as he can, and we can have entire conversations with only our fingertips. It’s strange to write words and somehow the phone magically sends those words to someone else. That this is how people communicate. I know I’m quiet and don’t have a lot to say most of the time, but I’d still rather talk. I’d rather pick up the phone and call Niko, if only for his voice to comfort me.

This place is strange. My—uncle—is strange. He’s nice enough and cares for me, making sure I’m eating and not sleeping all the time, but I don’t feel a familial connection to him. Though, Niko said that could take time. That hopefully my memory will return now that I’m back home. I hope it happens soon. With every hour that ticks past, I begin to feel more and more alone.

A knock sounds on my bedroom door. I jump, the phone falling from my fingertips to the carpet, and I gasp out loud.

“Rebecca? Can I enter?”

I appreciate him giving me the option to say no. And I have. The first night here, I told him no when he asked that same question. He told me not to be afraid, and that he was there if I needed him. When I didn’t respond, he whispered, “Sleep well,” and left me alone.

Except he didn’t completely.

That night, I dreamed of the shadow man, and when I awoke from the nightmare, my uncle was in my room. He said he heard me and came to check on me. And while that’s nice, I wish he hadn’t. I don’t like knowing he was in here while I was asleep. Even if only for a few minutes and even if he was unsure of what to do and simply wanted to watch over me.

It unsettles me.

“Okay,” I reply, raising my voice slightly but hardly at a normal decibel.

The door creaks open, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. Inch by inch, the barrier separating us moves out of the way until he’s suddenly there, smiling at me.

“Dinner is ready. It’s late because I was waiting for you to come down. You didn’t, so I’m here asking you to come down.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t think—”

“For four days...” My uncle pauses and curls his hand into a fist. His shoulders visibly rise and fall with the force of his deep breath. “I’ve left you alone. You can’t hide in here forever. I know you don’t remember, but life used to be hard for you. I let you get away with so much when I should have been helping you heal. This time, I refuse. You will join me for dinner or else I’ll be calling your therapist for an emergency appointment because this isn’t healthy.”

He didn’t raise his voice to me, but the effect is all the same. Fear slithers through my veins and stays there. I begin trembling so hard that he notices. He takes a step forward.

“No!” I shout. He stops advancing. “I-I’ll join you. I need a moment to get dressed.”

His eyes drop to my pajama-clad body, and that fear intensifies. I don’t know why because he isn’t leering at me. I guess I’m just not comfortable with him yet.

As soon as I agree, he visibly relaxes. “Thank you, Rebecca.”

I respond with a jerky nod.

He walks to the door, gives me one last, long look, and then he’s gone, pulling the knob to close it behind him.

Scrambling from the bed, I fall to my knees. Pain radiates up my thighs. Ignoring it, I find my phone, open a text to Niko, and start to type. Can you come here? My fingers shake as I hover over the send button. Instead, I delete my desperate words.

I can do this on my own. I have to do this. There’s no going back to Niko. No escaping my uncle. He’s the only family I have, so the least I can do is give him a chance.

I quickly dress in a long-sleeved shirt and pair of jeans. Tucking the phone into my back pocket, I make my way to the kitchen. My uncle is already seated at the four-person table in the breakfast nook. I join him, sitting on the opposite side. A spread of pancakes, eggs, and bacon is laid out along with a bowl of cut fruit. Breakfast for dinner? Seems like an odd choice. I start dishing my plate in silence.

I feel his eyes watching me, so I add a second scoop of fruit to my plate, knowing he’s judging the amount of food I’m eating. His concern is in the right place. He’s also being way more watchful than Niko ever was.

“Thank you for the food. This looks good.” As I say the words, my stomach lets out an almighty growl.

“I’m glad you’re hungry and not sneaking to the refrigerator when I’m not around. There’s plenty.” He shovels his own forkful of food into his mouth, and we begin eating in silence.

Halfway through, after spending the entire time coming up with a conversation topic, I settle on a question.

“Do you… I mean, we, have a garden?”

The slice of bacon headed for his greasy lips pauses in midair. He sets it down and wipes his mouth with a napkin then wads the used paper in his fist. “No. But I’m long overdue for some yard maintenance. After I clean up the overgrown weeds and mow, you could help me find a good spot to start one.”

“I’d like that. The detective showed me his while I was there. It was nice to be out in the sun,” I share honestly. “I don’t remember that feeling. I mean, I don’t really remember anything from my past as far as memories go.”

He grunts. “You didn’t spend much time outside growing up. Even less the older you got. I’d be happy to start a garden for you. I’ll get some supplies after breakfast. Tomorrow, we can begin.”

For the first time since I got here, I feel a twinge of happiness. “Really?”

He smirks. “Really. It’ll be nice having you do some domesticated tasks.”

Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry. His comment sits like a lead weight in my stomach, and all the food I consumed threatens to come up. Domesticated. As if I’ve been tamed.

I desperately want to escape to my room, but I force myself to stay put. I need to make an effort. All thoughts point to getting out of here except I have no place to go.

A thought strikes me so hard, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Immediately, I pull my phone from my pocket and start tapping out a message to Niko.

“Are you talking to that detective again?” my uncle asks, an obvious dislike in his voice. The phone lands with a clatter on the table when it slips from my fingertips.

“Y-yes.”

His eyes drift to my phone before slicing to my face. “I’d rather you didn’t. Let’s move on from this, Rebecca.”

“But why? He helped me,” I mumble.

My uncle sighs. “He did, yes. I didn’t like the way he went about it, though. If he had listened to me in the first place, I would have had you back weeks ago.”

“What?” This was news to me.

He picks up his plate and takes it to the sink, so I do the same as I wait for his response. He rinses his dish then sets it down on the clean countertop.

“I told him who you were the first day you were picked up. He claimed I didn’t know what my own niece looked like, and that we had to wait for the DNA results. It didn’t help that you couldn’t remember anything.” He glances at me with almost a cold look in his eye as if that were somehow my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and drop my gaze to the floor. Why would Niko do that? And keep that information from me? I look back at my uncle when he gently tugs my dirty plate from my hands.

“It’s not your fault. And even though Detective James eventually brought you back to me, I can’t deny I’ve formed a slight dislike of the man for how he spoke to me. So I wish you’d stop speaking with him. At least give us time to figure out our relationship. If your memories never come back…” He looks away and swallows hard.

“They will,” I force out. They have to.

Bypassing me, he walks to the table and stacks the dirty dishes. “What did you need to speak to Detective James about?”

“Oh, I, um, I had an idea.”

He stumbles slightly as the toe of his boot catches on the linoleum floor. “Oh? Share it with me.”

“I thought I could get a job.”

“No.” His answer is sharp and swift. I inhale harshly at the finality of it. “It’s too soon.”

“Okay,” I mutter meekly.

He sighs. “Let’s wait until you see your therapist some more. She can direct you on what’s best for your healing process.”

“I just thought if I made some money, I could work toward getting my own place.”

“Your own place? What’s wrong with my house?” He throws his arm wide in a gesture.

I can’t say anything right by him. My words seem to offend him even when I’m trying to be helpful. “I-I thought it’s the r-right thing to do. I’m an adult, right? I can’t live with you forever.”

His eyes widen, and his nostrils flare. “I just got you back. Did the detective feed you this line of crap?”

“No.” I begin to tremble, so I take a step backward for some space. He’s frightening me. “I th-think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Rebecca…”

“Night,” I bid him and scamper from the room. As quickly as I can, I shed my clothes and pull on a pair of pajama pants and a shirt. I’ll have to do laundry soon as all I have left are the nightgowns Niko brought me in the hospital. I dash beneath the covers and turn out the bedside lamp, bathing the room in total darkness.

I wish I had a nightlight. Slinking out of the side of the bed, I walk to the window and fumble in the dark for the strings to the shade. Every second out of bed makes my scalp prickle. Squeezing my eyes shut against the blackness of the room, I almost cry in relief when I finally locate the string and pull.

Moonlight glows through the now open window and adds minor visibility to the pitch dark. I dive back beneath the covers, pulling them up to my chin, and listen for the sounds of my uncle moving around.

Floorboards creak in the hall, his footsteps moving closer and closer until they pause just outside my door. I feel my eyes widen, trying to take in every dark crevice, every dark shadow. The floorboards shift, and minutely I hear, “Sleep well,” before the sound of his footsteps move toward his bedroom.

If only Betsy were here with her comforting bodyweight and her soft fur I could slide my fingers into. Instead, I lie awake for hours with my eyes trained on the black ceiling and my ears straining to decipher every sound. Eventually, exhaustion and a full belly for the first time in days gives way to sleep and I’m pulled into fitful dreams.

I try to do better today.

I comb my hair and get dressed as soon as I’m awake instead of lying in bed and sneak to the kitchen.

Niko didn’t get to teach me too much, but I know how to cook a little, so I begin to fry bacon and chop veggies for omelets. The leftover fruit from last night is in a bowl in the fridge, so I grab that and set it on the table with plates and silverware. I’m just flipping the first omelet when my uncle walks in.

“What do we have here?” He grins at me and walks to the coffeepot I forgot to start.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you liked coffee,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“It’s okay, Rebecca. I’m just glad to see you up this early. The breakfast is a bonus.”

I go back to flipping the omelet.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” I move the first omelet to a plate and hand it off to him.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.”

When his eyes linger on me a moment too long, I start putting together the second omelet. “Will you get garden supplies today?” I ask boldly, hoping that my quick exit last night didn’t ruin my opportunity for my new hobby. I loved gardening at Niko’s, and if I’m going to be living here now, I’d love to have something to do.

He looks out the window across the table from his chair. “It looks like rain today. I might get the supplies, but we’ll have to wait until it stops to get started.”

I plate my own food, grab a glass of milk, and walk to the chair I sat in last night.

“You can sit closer, you know. I don’t bite.”

A shudder runs down my spine. “I’m okay here.”

We continue to eat our food in silence. As soon as my uncle finishes, he rinses his plate and grabs his keys.

“If I go quick, we might be able to get started before the rain comes.”

“Okay. I’ll clean up here.”

He pauses in grabbing his keys from the counter. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” Nervousness colors his tone. “Maybe you should come with.”

“I’ll be fine. I woke up pretty early, so I might just take a nap.”

He gives me a nod, and then he’s gone.

I go about finishing my food and then do the dishes. As I’m wiping the table clean, the exhaustion hits and I decide to take that nap. I drop the damp rag off at the sink and walk back into my bedroom.

“Rebecca? Rebecca!” My uncle’s shouting wakes me from a dreamless sleep. It must not have been a very deep one because I wake feeling tired instead of refreshed. His rushed footsteps sound near my door before a panicked knock rings out.

“Rebecca, are you in there?”

“Yes. I’m waking up.”

A pause. “I got some supplies if you want to come out back.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The sound of his footsteps retreating slow my heartbeat, and I climb out of bed.

My uncle didn’t do a bad job of gathering supplies for my gardening. I can tell he tried to make me happy. He bought paving stones for the outline to delineate it from the rest of the yard. Bags of soil and various flowers lined the garage when I stepped outside. It was nice. It just wasn’t the same as going to the nursery with Niko. But I would make do with what I had.

It took hours to prep the area, mostly because he had to mow the grass around it first so we weren’t working in the weeds. We dug out the perimeter and set the stones. All that took hours before I could even begin the fun of gardening.

By the time it starts to rain, it’s well past five o’clock in the evening. My uncle calls for me to head inside, and he’ll finish putting everything away, so that’s what I do.

Once in the dry warmth of the house, I think about texting Niko and telling him about the garden. It’s because of him, after all, that I enjoy the hobby. I reach in my back pocket for my phone, but it’s not there. I pat the other one but also come up empty. What did I do with it?

The bedside table is empty except for the lamp, the clock, and the crossword book Niko gave me. The bed is made, and the dresser only holds my toiletry items. Dropping to my knees, I check beneath the bed and table but come up empty.

I rack my brain as I walk out into the living room and scan the surfaces there. Besides the television remote and a few magazines, the tables are empty.

I remember having it last night and texting Niko before my uncle called me to dinner. And I took it with me to the table. But I don’t remember what I did with it after that.

Absentmindedly, I walk into the kitchen and check all the surfaces there, coming up empty. As I’m looking on top of the microwave, my uncle returns from putting the gardening things away in the garage. His shirt is soaking wet and slightly clinging to his paunchy frame.

“Looking for something?”

Remembering his slight outburst last night at the mention of Niko, I don’t want to bring it up. But at the same time, if I don’t, I may never find it.

“Have you seen my cell phone?”

His brows furrow, and his eyes drift as if he’s searching his memory. “No, I haven’t. You had it at dinner last night. Did you take it to bed with you?”

He slides off his wet shoes and tosses his keys on the counter where they slide to the middle before coming to a halt.

“Maybe. I’ll go check my room again.”

As I turn to leave, he calls after me. “Do you want some dinner first?”

I spin back around and find him regarding me gently with his hands on his hips. “I think I’m tired. I’m going to take a bath and get ready for bed.”

“You should eat. You did a lot of work today.” His eyes scan my dirt-clad body.

“I’m still full from breakfast,” I lie. I’m just desperate to be alone. And find my phone.

He clears his throat and walks to the fridge. “If you change your mind, I’ll leave some leftovers for you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble and slip off to my room.

My hands shake as I close my door gently and drop to my knees again in search of my phone. Why can’t I find it? What did I do with it? And then the painful thought of what will I do if I never find it? Will my uncle get me a new one? Even if he does, I don’t remember Niko’s phone number. I’ll have to see him, but in order to do that, I need to text him.

Oh, no. Tears spill down my cheeks. I hastily wipe them with the back of my hand. I’m sure it’ll turn up, but the thought of not being connected to Niko, even for a night, is killing me. I need to keep moving forward, and maybe tomorrow I’ll find it.

It’s with that thought that I gather my pajamas. A mint green nightgown is the only thing clean since I spent all day gardening and not asking for help doing laundry. I’m too used to Niko just knowing what I need and helping me, rather than having to ask for help. I add that to my list of things to work on and discuss with my therapist.

My therapist! I forgot to see my therapist!

With my pajamas in my arms, I throw open my door and deposit them in the bathroom before running to the kitchen. My uncle’s face pales as he sees me barreling toward him, but he doesn’t make a move away from the stove where he’s stirring something in a pot.

“I forgot my appointment today!”

At my words, he visibly relaxes on the spot. “Ah, shit, Rebecca, I’m sorry. I’ll call right now and reschedule.”

My shoulders slump. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just one appointment. We’ll get you back on track.”

I bid him good night for the second time and wander back down the hall for my much-anticipated bath.

And after soaking for an extra-long time in the tub, I put on my nightgown and crawl into bed.

I’m thrown awake by a noise. I lie still, nearly holding my breath, straining to hear it again.

A creak.

Something shifts.

A scrape of metal on metal.

A groan.

Then a barely audible whisper.

“Lelu.”

Like a dam breaking, images flood my head. My pulse races so hard I swear he can hear it. I force myself to lie still as long suppressed memories come spilling back in.

I’m tossed back in time to a little girl walking the streets alone. She missed the bus, or it never came to get her. Either way, she was forced to walk to school. A white car pulls up. A man she recognizes leans out and says, “Do you need a ride to school?”

“No,” she replies, smiling back but continuing to move forward.

The man frowns and pulls ahead, only to stop the car and get out.

Then darkness swallowed my vision.

A forest takes the place of my dark room. The smell of pine and damp earth assaults my senses. My lungs scream in pain as I huffed shallow breaths in and out. The uneven forest floor tore up the soles of my feet as I moved swiftly through the unmarked path. I was running. Running without a sense of direction. Running for my life.

I didn’t know if I was being chased, but I knew if I stopped moving, I’d wind up dead. Just like her.

The image shapes and morphs again, this time into something less frightening.

A boy. I’m a woman now, but at the time of the memory, he was around my age. With brown, messy hair and kind eyes that looked at me with fear and concern wrapped into one as he ran into my bedroom and dropped to his knees in front of me.

“North,” he whispered before reaching up and taking my hand into his. “Please talk to me.”

Another groan sounds, pulling me from the memories. Fear wraps around me like a weighted blanket, threatening to keep me here forever. But the face of the boy from my memories gives me the strength I desperately need. I refuse to go down without a fight. It’s time for me to take back what’s mine, once and for all.

Or die trying.

Another, “Lelu,” slips from his lips on a disgusting moan, and it’s then I realize he must be touching himself over my bed. The thought sickens me at the same time it spurs me into action. Carefully, I slip my hand over my head and wrap my fingers around the lamp on the bedside table. I swallow the vomit as I wait until his grunts get a little louder. Taking a deep breath, I scream, jackknife up into a sitting position, and launch the lamp in the direction of his head.

“Fuck!” He roars like the monster he is as I scramble from the bed and fly out into the hall. My socks slip on the hardwood as I round the corner into the living room. His heavy steps thunder behind me, sending terror flooding through my veins.

I race to the front door and grip the handle but find it locked. I get the deadbolt flipped. My fingers shake so hard I can’t get a grip on the small metal piece inside the handle. My blood whooshes through my ears, and I can feel him getting closer. Just as I get the piece twisted and turn the handle, I’m yanked back by a crushing grip on my bicep.

I cry out in pain as I’m jerked backward, my head twisting to see the murderous look on Mr. Stewart’s face.

“Never again!” he bellows as he twists around and backhands me straight across the face. My lips splits against my teeth and blood fills my mouth. I crash backward into the wall of the foyer and land in a heap on the floor.

Mr. Stewart advances toward me with his pants still around his thighs, evidence of my earlier thought he was masturbating over me. I try to push away from the wall and stand, but he climbs on top and forces me back down so I’m bent at an odd angle against the wall. My neck screams in pain with the weight of him putting pressure on my neck. Without warning, he starts rutting against me as bile rushes up my throat. His hard, vile erection presses against my lower stomach. I twist and turn to get away from him, but the struggle seems to spur him on.

“You’re mine,” he sneers as droplets of spittle land on my face. Abruptly, he stands, grabs my ankles, and drags me farther away from the wall. I thrash and kick, but it’s no use when he has both of my ankles in his grasp. He drags me a good twenty feet from the door before flipping me over onto my stomach. His abhorrent fingers begin yanking up the sides of my nightgown and all the blood in my body runs cold.

“No,” I scream, horrified.

“Yes,” he pants gleefully. He digs an elbow into the center of my spine, causing me to flatten, and his hot, disgusting breath fans across my neck. “I’m going to take my time with you, and I’m going to fucking enjoy it, my Lelu.”

He grinds against my backside, and this time, I can’t choke back the vomit. I cough and sputter, dragging welcome air into my lungs and then the unthinkable happens.

The door to the house slams open against the wall, and a voice I not only recognize, but am desperate to hear, bellows, “Stewart!”

Half a second later, Niko’s eyes zero in on the two of us wrestling on the floor and a look of pure, white-hot rage covers his face. He takes two giant steps before the audible crunch of his fist connecting with Mr. Stewart’s face resounds around the room.

The weight of him topples off me, and my lungs expand with a much-needed breath. Then Niko is there, hauling me off the floor and into his arms.

“Doe,” he chokes out. Taking one look at my vomit-covered pajamas, he yanks off his coat and wraps it around me as other people filter into the room. “I’m so fucking sorry, Doe.”

My teeth chatter loudly as the shakes begin, and his eyes do a scan of my face. When he reaches my split lip and the blood on my chin, he lets out a howl of rage. “Goddammit!”

“Niko.” I reach out and grab his face as he looks away, his face a mask of painful regret. I don’t want to go another minute like this, so I turn his attention back to me.

“I’m so sorry.” He tries again, but I put pressure on either side of his face to silence him.

“I remember, Niko.”

His much larger hand covers mine. “I know you do. I’m so sorry I left you with this monster,” he apologizes, misunderstanding what I’m trying to say.

“No, Niko. I remember everything,” I emphasize, watching the confusion steal over his face.

“I remember you.”