Mikayla

Nolan carried on with Mikayla as if they were long-lost friends just catching up on life. He told her to make herself at home as though it was her house or would be one day. His moods were truly at odds with one another. One moment, he’d be as sweet as a new litter of puppies, and then next, darkness covered his face, and he’d begin hinting around about the strong sexual tension they’d forged early on in the library. As much as she tried to ignore all he said, there was truth to the latter.

He brought her meals on a tray and always with a flower in a vase. Of course, it was winter in the tundra of Canada in January, so she often wondered where he got those fresh flowers.

She didn’t come out of her room—no matter how hard he tried to coax her. In her many hours of thoughtless meditation, her attention was always on her parents and family, but most of all, she thought about her mother. She could see her mom vividly—biting her nails as she anxiously waited at the front windows for her return.

Having a bond with her mom that she knew never existed with her other siblings, her demand for maternal wisdom was just part of the draw. It fulfilled a craving within Libby’s own soul, so the two women were dependent on one another. Everyone around them saw the connection they shared, and the family accepted this as the norm.

Within Mikayla was the heart of a fighter. She needed to find energy, and soon, if she was going to survive this.

Looking at “Nolan,” or whatever his real name was, made her realize he was not a stupid man. This was a well-researched individual. They had fresh groceries. She tried not to leave her room, but she had to get her bearings. Sneaking into the den a couple of times a day, she looked outside and it was white as far as the eye could see with barren trees covered in more ice. The white didn’t inspire the hope or purity usually associated in it; instead, it signified her desperation, need to escape, and the probability that all that white meant emptiness.

Every morning, she would ask, “Will you let me go home?”

And every morning, Nolan would smile at her with the same reply. “No, I’m sorry.”

One day when she asked this and thought a simple, “No, I’m sorry,” would be his reply, he stopped and faced her with that gentle smile on his face. “You know, Mikayla, I need you to start trying. I said six months. You’ve got to get to know me, so I can help you.”

Coldly, she replied, “I don’t need help.” What could she need help for? In her mind, her life was good—no, it was more than good at home.

Leaving the tray at her feet, he mused, “Actually, you know you do.”

At that exact moment, Mikayla understood Nolan knew of him.

* * *

She surveyed her surroundings. It was as if this man who called himself Nolan knew her intimately. Her room was more than just a mattress on the floor. For a captive, even she had to admit her environment was more than just comfortable. She wouldn’t be giving any sort of compliment to the man, though. Her room had a cozy queen bed, a desk, a reading lamp, several books, a couple of recent Seventeen magazines, which were her quiet and secret indulgence, and a cozy chair in the corner. The room was lavished in purple. It had to be a coincidence that purple was her favorite color.

At night, that man always came to check on her, but he knocked, giving her privacy. He never entered the room, and she never invited him in. He’d bring her meals during the day, and he left the door unlocked.

“Feel free to roam around as you please. This is your home now, at least for the next six months.”

She snorted at him, at the familiar words from her favorite Disney movie. “What am I, Belle from Beauty and the Beast? I guess I know what that makes you.”

Every time she insulted him, he’d only smiled, and dammit, why did it have to be such an attractive one? He’d kidnapped her, for crying out loud, and that should negate the fact that at one time she’d thought he was good looking.

The farmhouse, as he called it, was a nice rustic place that anyone would envision as a family getaway in the outdoors. She would have preferred a place on the beach if she was going to pick any destination to be held against her will for six months, but this place had running water and electricity, and in the middle of a Canadian winter, it went a long way.

* * *

Nolan visited her in the bedroom that would be hers for the next six months. Standing at the door, clad in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he looked disheveled but in a way that pulled her instincts in different directions. One part of her shouted, “He’s bad news,” and the other voice perched at her other ear and screamed, “But he’s hot as fuck.” Those two inner voices pulled at her, but at the end of the day, she relied on the fear he’d instilled into her the first day when she woke up wondering if the man would take her life.

“Hey, sweetness, I was just seeing if you need something or if you’d like to join me in the living room to watch a movie?”

Oddly enough, he’d bought her nail polish, and she’d been giving herself a pedicure. Looking up from the bed, she glanced at Nolan and then back at her purple toes. “What can I do for you, dickhead?”

“Your mouth has gotten pretty dirty since you’ve been here.” His smile created Olympic-size somersaults in her stomach mixed with anger and confusion. “Not that I mind,” he added.

“Fuck off. I’m not your friend.” She struggled to ignore the fireworks that exploded in her stomach every time his smile connected with hers.

Staying put at the doorframe, he began, “You won’t get your memory back, not fully, maybe bits and pieces, but, sweetness, we had a real connection.”

“I highly doubt it. Anyway, how would you know about my memory loss? What are you, a doctor or something?” She heckled him, not bothering to look up.

“Actually, I am a doctor. So let me know if you need an exam, and I will gladly help you.” Popping her head up quickly, she watched as he snickered. “No, just kidding about the exam part, but I really am a doctor.” With that, he was gone, leaving her speechless.

* * *



She stirred on the strange floor, feeling the coldness from the tiles against her skin. She slowly regained consciousness, and out of nowhere, a young, attractive man with dark brown hair appeared. She assumed this was Mikayla’s Ethan.

“Elizabeth, honey, you had me scared. I was about to call an ambulance.” Adam Miller only referred to his wife by her God-given name in situations of extreme fear. With Adam working on campus as a professor, he’d rushed to his wife’s side. Her little episode was insignificant, considering their daughter was missing. In his grimaces, she saw that he was aware what a dire situation this truly was.

“Do we know anything, Adam?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.

“No, honey. Campus police have called Whatcom County Sherriff. They need to assess the situation and make a final decision after they interview everyone. They’re checking now to see if Mikayla was in her classes today.”

“This is not like Mikayla,” she replied as the impact of her husband’s words sat on her stomach like undigested meat, knowing Adam’s face told her he recognized what she was insinuating. He didn’t have to be told what was like or unlike Mikayla, but she continued to harmonize the attributes that made Mikayla a responsible young lady. “Mikayla wouldn’t just take off, not of her own accord.”

“Lib, I know, but we need to let them do their jobs, okay?” She watched Jill pace their small dorm room as Ethan continued to look out into space.

“When was the last time anyone saw her?” She hungered for a shred of information about her baby.

Both roommate and boyfriend stared at one another, and her hope plummeted.

When neither Jill nor Ethan spoke, her direction changed. No longer was she the nervous mother missing her child, but the enraged mama bear wanting to protect her baby. “Fuck, you two, you have to give me something to go on.”

Jill’s eyes became as big as saucers when a curse word escaped the innocent mouth of Libby Miller.

Jill tapped Ethan’s shoulder, and he finally spoke. “Yes, we were supposed to meet last night at a diner on campus, but she called at the last minute and told me she needed to study for an exam at the library.” Ethan looked down as he said this, not wanting to face her and Adam. “She told Jill she was staying the night with me, and that was the plan until this last-minute exam got in the way. I guess Jill assumed she’d been with me, and I assumed Mikayla came back to her dorm.”

“And does she stay with you a lot?” she asked, though that was not relevant to finding Mikayla and she knew it.

“We are in love, Mrs. Miller, so yes, a couple of times a week.”

“And you live on campus?” she asked again.

“No, I have an apartment in town with a friend.”

Adam interrupted, “Lib, honey, Mikayla’s personal life is not relevant to finding her.”

Rubbing her eyes, as though it took a lot of effort to concentrate, she finally conceded, “I know. I guess I just wanted to know what kind of relationship they had; that’s all.”

Jill stepped forward. “He’s good to her, Mrs. Miller. I wouldn’t have let anyone close to Kay if he wasn’t.”

Her capacity for anything other than news of Mikayla hit an all-time low as she screeched at Jill, “It’s Mikayla; her name is Mikayla!” Her short and jerky movements indicated to everyone in the room that she was not responsible for her outbursts.

It was not like Libby to snap, and when Jill began to cry, she rushed over to her, and took Jill in her arms because she’d always been a second mother to her daughter’s best friend. The two had been inseparable since seventh grade, and Jill was the only one who understood the idiosyncrasies of Mikayla, besides herself.

* * *

Taylor

The day the news of Mikayla Miller’s abduction broke, Taylor was sitting at the table with her parents and sister when the morning news came on the television. “A girl from Western Washington University went missing in Bellingham. Mikayla Miller was last seen heading to the library two days ago. It wasn’t until she had plans with family the next day that Mikayla was confirmed missing. The police have no leads.”

That was it. It was all that was mentioned of Mikayla. Every day for the next week, the local news reported the same blip about the Miller case, but nothing ever materialized—the mystery stumped the whole state.

Her parents were worried this could become some sort of serial kidnapping case, locking down both she and her younger sister, Alyssa, which neither girl appreciated. After a couple of days of not hearing any updates about the missing girl, Alyssa finally said with the candor of an older woman, “I bet you she left on her own. It would explain why the police can’t find anything.”

“That is awful to say, Alyssa,” Her mom retorted. “That poor mom. If that were you or Taylor, I’m not sure what I’d do.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t leave without a major fight,” Alyssa assured them.

Her dad looked up from over his newspaper and laughed. “I believe that, Alyssa.”

Taylor remained quiet during her sister and dad’s interaction, feeling that eerie connection to this young girl. More so, her empathy for the missing girl and her family went beyond that of a normal scared seventeen-year-old. She couldn’t explain it in words, and in the upcoming months, the case would consume her.