Arsen followed Maya into the hospital room, but he stayed far from the bed, wanting to avoid overwhelming Roxie with his presence. Maya, however, sat right next to the bed, scooting the chair up so she was as close to Roxie as possible. Arsen felt like he was waiting on pins and needles, half-expecting the traumatized teenage girl to scream at them to go away. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“Do you remember me, Roxie?” Maya asked. “From a few hours ago, at your house?”
Roxie slowly nodded, but her jaw was shut tight, as if it was screwed shut by a metal contraption. Her lips were sealed into a thin, flat, expressionless line, but her eyes were wide and clear, unlike before when she was stumbling up to her parents’ house.
“Do you want to tell me where you were, Roxie? What happened to you?” Maya asked, her voice soft and sweet, as kind as Arsen had ever heard her. Usually, Maya was more blunt and direct, a very no-bullshit kind of person, but he guessed she was different when she was dealing with victims. Or “survivors,” he supposed was the preferred term. Was that what they were supposed to be called, technically? Something about that sat wrong with Arsen, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Roxie stared at Maya for a long moment, her gaze unblinking and intense, but after a minute or two passed, she looked down at her lap and shook her head.
Arsen expected Maya to push, but instead she just said, “Okay. That’s okay. That’s fine, darling.”
They were all silent for a minute, and Roxie looked up to stare at Arsen, her gaze piercing him like a knife, but he didn’t move. He wanted to be there for Maya, in case she needed it. He’d only leave if Roxie told him to get out. After a minute, she looked away from him, refocusing on Maya.
“Can I hold your hand, Roxie?” Maya asked, reaching across the bed and turning her palm upwards, offering it for Roxie to take. Roxie didn’t answer her either way, not shaking or nodding her head; she just left Maya’s hand in the middle of the bed, untouched.
Arsen expected Maya to retract her hand, but she left it there, awkwardly lying on the bed. Another minute passed before Maya spoke again. “Can I tell you a story?” she asked.
Roxie’s mouth moved a little at that, one side of it twisting upward for a second before falling back down again. Arsen wasn’t sure how to interpret that, but Maya seemed unbothered by it, just waiting for Roxie to answer the question. Eventually, Roxie nodded slowly, her eyes slipping down to stare at Maya’s hand on the bed next to her legs.
“Once upon a time, there was a little princess in a dirty, filthy kingdom. She wasn’t really a princess, but she liked to pretend that she was, just for fun. One day, she was so caught up in her own head that she didn’t realize she was talking to a monster. The monster was very charming and very nice. He gave her an apple to eat, and well, you might be able to guess what happened next. The princess fell asleep and when she woke up, she was in chains in an awful dungeon, somewhere far from home.”
Roxie shifted a little on the bed, clearly uncomfortable, her brow furrowing as she listened to Maya speak.
“The monster visited the princess at night, sometimes during the day, and he’d do bad things to her. He hurt her. And he said he was going to cut her heart out because monsters like to destroy good, pure things. Because they’re scared of goodness. Because they’re terrified of beautiful girls.”
A single tear fell from Roxie’s left eye, streaming down her face before falling down on the bedsheets below. But Maya kept going.
“But the princess wasn’t just beautiful, she was strong. She was really, really strong. She managed to get out of her restraints and find a way out of the dungeon, running away across the forest and the fields until she got back to her palace. That’s the kind of princess she is,” Maya said softly, and Arsen could tell by the thick, strained way that she spoke that she was holding back tears herself, pausing to collect herself before speaking again.
“And the monster is scared of the princess because she has the power to destroy him. She can make him into a tiny, insignificant little man again. That’s his true form. He’s just a little boy, playing with magic he doesn’t understand.”
Roxie fumbled with the edge of her sheet, picking at it with her nails.
“Do you know who that princess was?” Maya asked.
Roxie shook her head, eyes flicking up to look at Maya for a single moment before going back down to her own lap.
“It was me,” Maya said softly. “And you.”
Roxie was very still for a long moment, frozen in place like a photograph, before a single, choked-off noise left her throat. A single sob—that was it. The next second, Roxie’s hand flew forward and grabbed Maya’s. Arsen could see, even from across the room, that she was clutching it as hard as she could, holding onto it like a lifeline.
“Yeah, there you are; that’s the girl I knew you were,” Maya mumbled encouragingly, bringing her other hand forward to cover Roxie’s. “So strong.”
“Am I?” Roxie asked, her voice hoarse. Arsen wondered if she had ever spoken while she was being held captive. It was as if her throat was relearning how to speak.
“You are,” Maya said, sounding more confident and secure in her statement than Arsen had ever heard her. “You’re like me.”
Arsen felt a weird sensation in his chest, like a painful bubble that grew in diameter the more he looked at Maya holding the battered teenager’s hand. She would make a good mother, he suddenly thought out of nowhere. The thought stung him like he’d been burned; he physically reared back and hit the wall behind his head, causing both Maya and Roxie to look over at him for a second before turning to stare at each other again. That’s a stupid thought, he said to himself silently. You’re not with Maya. You don’t have her, no matter how hard she fucks you. She’s not yours, not really. You have no future with her. You have no future at all.
Roxie and Maya were quiet for several long minutes, just holding each other’s hands and trying not to cry, visibly fighting to hold back tears. Roxie opened her mouth and shut it a few times in quick succession, seeming to struggle to force words out. But Maya was patient, just sitting there, waiting rather than pushing for information.
“I wasn’t far from home,” Roxie finally mumbled, using her free hand to rub at her own knees, scratching through the thin white sheet that covered them.
“What?” Maya asked, an urgent tone seeping into her voice for the first time during this conversation.
“The dungeon, where I was kept—it wasn’t far from my house. That’s why I was able to get back. I don’t…I don’t remember exactly where it was, but it was near my neighborhood, so I could walk back without getting on the subway,” Roxie said.
There was a long pause where neither of them said anything, where Maya just rubbed the back of Roxie’s hand with her thumb. “Do you remember anything else?” Maya whispered after several moments.
Roxie bit down on her lower lip and nodded slowly. “I can talk about it, if you want,” she whispered.
“Only if you’re ready,” Maya said. “But it could really help us. It could help us find the monster. We can turn him into the little shrimp that he really is.”
Roxie lifted her free hand and brought it close to her face, staring at the fresh scars that lined her young skin. “The last thing I remember, I was waiting for my friends after soccer practice. We were going to go to this pizza parlor for dinner. But this guy was there…he was selling stuff, like cotton candy and caramel apples and junk, like carnival food. He said it was for charity. My friends…my friends laughed him off. He looked so weird, just this weird middle-aged guy hanging out around the high school. I felt bad for him. So I bought something. I walked away and ate it and then…I woke up in a dark room, tied up.” Roxie paused and blew out her breath, struggling to keep herself composed well enough to keep telling her story. “I couldn’t tell when it was day or night because the room was so dark and the windows were covered. But I could tell there was a girl beside me, tied up. But she was knocked out, like she’d been there for weeks already. I tried to talk to her, but it never…she never answered.”
Roxie took a long pause where she just sucked in air and breathed heavily, probably fighting off an impending panic attack, if Arsen’s experience with Maya was anything to go by. He was tempted to reach forward and take Roxie’s other hand, just to give her something to hold onto, but he was worried that she might panic at having a man touch her right now, so he held himself back. Maya patiently waited, a soft, encouraging smile on her face as she looked at Roxie.
“He would come every couple of hours, I think. At some point, I thought, well, he must have a job where he can come and go as he likes because he’s always popping in and out of his own place. He’d come and untie me and do…stuff, and then he’d bring out his knife. He’d make little cuts at first, for the first couple of days. And then deeper. And then more deep, each day I was there,” she said, sighing heavily as she finished talking.
“Did he ever talk to you?” Maya asked softly.
Roxie nodded, visibly swallowing before she spoke again. “He said he was making a pie for God made up of the best ingredients, but that he’d take out my heart, give it to my parents for them to eat. He said they deserved that much,” she said with a humorless laugh that transformed into a sob halfway through.
“Jesus,” Arsen whispered under his breath, softly enough that Roxie and Maya couldn’t hear him. He was just utterly disgusted, feeling the contents of his stomach twist around uncomfortably as a result of Roxie’s words, but Maya was calculating, her eyes burning with something that Arsen couldn’t identify. One thing was clear—she was taking everything in, grabbing as much ammunition as possible to use against the killer.
“How did you get out?” Maya asked. “Did you get out of your bonds or…?
“No,” Roxie said, a sad smile spreading across her face. “No, I couldn’t even do that. One day, when I was really weak, he took the bonds off my feet and massaged my ankles with some kind of oil. At first….it felt….nice, in a way, like maybe he was sorry for what he’d done.” Roxie paused to scoff, rolling her eyes at herself. “Ridiculous, right? No, I think it was just some part of the ritual, making sure I was pretty enough to be baked into a pie for God. Anyway, a couple days after that I realized what it meant. It’s so sad, right? It took me days, literally days, to realize that my feet being freed meant I could walk away. But I had to wait until I felt strong enough, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. So one day, after he fed me and massaged my feet and left and I heard some door slam upstairs, I just started hobbling to where I saw this skinny little line of light. I figured it had to be the window, even though it was still covered up. I tore off the cover…and then I forced it open with my hands…” Roxie paused again, lifting her hands to show where the glass had cut up her skin. She visibly swallowed, her throat working hard as she collected herself before speaking again. “I just climbed out and broke into a run and didn’t stop running until….well, you know the rest.” Roxie tore her eyes away from Maya, cradling her forehead in her hand for a second before peeking out through her fingers. “You know what the worst part is? I knew there was another girl tied up in there.” She shook her head and dropped her hand, sighing deeply before meeting Maya’s eyes again. “And I didn’t do anything to help her.”
“That’s not true, Roxie,” Maya whispered, shaking her head. “You’re helping her now by getting yourself out and telling us what happened. It’s the only way you could have helped. You couldn’t have carried the other girl out of the window and gotten away with her. He probably would have come back by the time you got her out of the house, and by now, he would’ve killed both of you just to punish you for trying. But now you’re here, and you’re helping. You’re being so brave, darling.” Even from across the room, Arsen could see Maya tighten her grip over Roxie’s hand, like she was clutching the girl to reality, keeping her from sliding off into the darkness again.
“I guess…” Roxie murmured, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced, despite the overt sincerity of Maya’s words.
“Do you remember where the dungeon was, Roxie? Where he kept you? Do you think you could show us where it is?” Maya asked after a short, loaded pause where the two young women just looked at each other.
Roxie shook her head, her face falling like a wave of sadness just crashed over her. “No, I’m sorry. I just…I just ran, when I got out. I just ran until I found a road I recognized. I don’t think I could retrace my steps.”
“That’s okay; that’s okay, Roxie,” Maya rushed to say, patting her hands lightly. “You’ve given us more than enough. Believe me.”
Roxie licked her dried and cracked lips, staring across the room at Arsen for a second before looking back to Maya. “Will you find him? Will you save her?”
Maya sighed a little before nodding. “I’m going to do everything in my power to save her. I promise, Roxie. And he’s going to pay for what he did to you. To all of you. This isn’t going to end here.”
Roxie seemed to relax in response to Maya’s words, her body sinking further into the hospital bed like the tension in her muscles had evaporated. “Okay,” she whispered, and she dropped her free hand on top of Maya’s, squeezing it tightly. “Okay. Thank you.”
“No, no,” Maya said, leaning over to press her lips against the top of Roxie’s forehead. “Thank you.”
“Can I sleep now?” Roxie asked in a soft, low voice, almost like she was afraid to make the request. But Maya just smiled and nodded, getting up from the chair next to the bed.
“Of course. You get some rest,” Maya said, finally dropping Roxie’s hands after the girl shut her eyes, her forehead scrunched up with worry even as her breathing slowly began deeper and more even.
Arsen and Maya quietly left the room, walking down the hallway before even looking at each other. Arsen knew Maya didn’t want to give her opinion on the case close enough where Roxie might hear it, in case any further discussion of the murderer was a potential trigger for the traumatized girl. When they were at a safe distance, Arsen turned to face Maya, staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to present her analysis of the case.
Instead, Maya stared up at him with more pain in her eyes than Arsen had ever seen her exhibit. “Take me home,” Maya said, rubbing her own arms up and down like she was freezing.
“Okay,” Arsen said, his hands itching to reach forward and pull Maya into a hug. He held himself back, aware that sometimes Maya didn’t like to be touched when she was upset. And she was clearly upset right now, even though she was trying to hide it. That’s my girl, he thought to himself as he followed Maya back down the hospital hallway. Always trying to be strong.