The floor is torture on my back; the hardness feels as though it's going to fuse with my spine. I try to open my eyes, but only one will cooperate; the other is painfully swollen shut. Every single muscle in my body aches with a pain more severe than I have never known. I slowly turn my body over, onto my stomach where I lift my knees beneath me, place my palms face down and crawl ever so slowly toward the bathroom.
I am determined to make it without help, no matter how much pain I am in or how badly I want to stop. I move forward with the speed of a snapping turtle, with its same methodical movements and its same calculation. I drag myself across the worn tile and lean into the bathtub where I proceed to vomit endlessly.
I leave my body draped over the side until I can no longer take the stench or sight of my mess. God, I think, using all my strength to turn on the faucet and do my best to clean it up. The door in the other room opens again, but it's not Jared's footsteps I hear this time; it's that other man with the kind eyes.
I hear him looking around in the other room, probably seeing my dried blood on the floor. Finally, he walks to the bathroom door; I can feel his eyes on me. I pretend not to notice him, sort of play the game of possum with him. Just to test him. Just to see what he will do.
"You okay?" he finally asks. I only shake my head with what little strength I have. I know my ticket out of here is through him, playing on his sympathy and kind eyes. "You need anything."
"I'm sick," I whisper hoarsely, but he still manages to hear me.
"What do you need?"
"I need my medication," I say, "or I'm gonna die."
I know that gets to him because his footsteps come nearer. He tries to lift me up, but I shrug off his touch. He tries again and again I break away from him. "I'm just tryin' t' help you up," he says quietly.
"I CAN'T STAND UP! HE BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ME AND I CAN'T STAND! I'M SICK AND I NEED MY MEDICATION. WHAT I DON'T NEED IS FOR YOU TO LIFT ME UP WHEN I CAN'T STAND!"
He jumps back at my angry outburst, causing me to feel slightly powerful. This is all about money for him, money and nothing else. I turn my head to look into those eyes and they're shining with unshed tears. I turn toward him fully, showing him the damage that has been done to my face.
"Oh shit," he says, covering his mouth.
I believe that is all the speech he is capable of at this moment. I suppose if I could lift myself to look into the mirror, my response would be very much the same. I have always tried to not turn into one of those vain women I loathe with everything in me but knowing what I must look like, I want to crawl under a rock and stay there until my appearance returns to something resembling human.
He grabs a towel, wets it and moves toward me to wipe the blood I suppose. I flinch and scurry away as fast as I can, which isn't very fast at all. The thought of someone touching me right now, even myself, hurts. His hands, though they have shown me nothing but kindness, frighten me.
"I'm just tryin' t' help you," he says sincerely.
"If you wanna help me, help me get out of here."
I can tell he is affected by my plea, simply by the way he stares at me. It's like he is trying to assess the damage that's been inflicted upon me and if the risk he'd take in helping me would truly be worth it. It's almost as if he's in a daze when he finally shakes his head in slow motion and mouths the word, "no."
"Then get away." My voice comes out sounding weak and strained. "Get away," I repeat, meaning it with everything left in me.
After waiting for what seems like an eternity, he grants me my wish and closes the door without so much as a goodbye. For some reason, I am not deterred by his refusal this time; I know there will be other opportunities. I will just keep hammering away at him until he relents and stands up for himself because it's obvious to me, this is nothing something he wants to do.
I manage to crawl back into the other room and turn onto my back because it seems to be the part of my body that hurts the least. I try to let my mind go blank and stop racing with so many different escape plans, I can't even keep them straight. I try to think of happier times to calm myself because I feel the energy draining from my body.
The monitor is on, showing but I try not to look at it because I will only show my emotions and I knew Jared is somewhere watching me. I try to block out the various voices that walk in and out of rooms; rooms filled with people who care about me on various levels. Just then, there is a loud crash; the sound of wood splintering and I snap my head toward the monitor.
To my shock and surprise, my brother, Del has Todd by the collar and pinned against a wall. "What the hell did you do to her now?" Del asks angrily.
"I didn't do anything," Todd protests, trying to pry Del's hands from around his clothing. Del doesn't loosen his grip at all and Todd is forced to stop fighting because he knows he will never win.
"You better start talking now, Manning, or I swear to God, I will kill you," my brother says with such conviction and determination, I know he is speaking the truth.
With one last burst of strength, Todd breaks away screaming, "I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"
At that same moment, a look passes over Del; it's the expression of belief. If Todd had done something to me, it would've been easier to deal with, but the unknown has always terrified him. He lets his hands fall, where they softly beat against the sides of his legs. Ever since he was a child, he did that when he was afraid. Most people searched his eyes for signs of what he was truly feeling, but it was his hands that exposed all his secrets.
His voice is much softer when he speaks again. "Tell me everything you know."
Todd plops down on the couch from exhaustion. He runs his fingers through his hair repeatedly, as he tries to hold it together in front of my brother. "We went out last night…we came here…I dropped her off outside-"
"You didn't even wait to make sure she made it inside?" Todd doesn't respond.
"Answer me, Manning?"
"No."
"What the-"
"Look, I thought she would be okay; she was just outside." He repeats, almost to himself, "She was just outside."
"SHIT!" Del yells, picking up a picture frame and reaching back to throw it, but just as quickly as he lifts it, he carefully places it back onto the table.
Rachel, who I presume, was in another room, staying clear of the action, walks in and gives Del a piece of paper. "What's this?" he asks, unfolding what he is given.
"You should check him out."
"Isn't he-"
"Yes," she interrupts.
He carefully folds the paper and puts it into his breast pocket. With the eyes of an officer of the law, he scans my apartment for anything that can possibly lead him to me. He reaches into his pocket, retrieves his cell phone and dials the police. While he is distracted doing that, Todd quietly and quickly slips out of the room without anyone noticing.
*****
The room is spinning and I am trying to grip the cracks between the wood, trying to hang on, try to keep from flying off. My head is throbbing, feeling as though it is simply going to explode from this constant pulsing. I bring my hands to my temples, thinking holding my head together is more important than trying to hang onto the world that is spinning out of control.
"Oh," I moan, knowing this has everything to do with me not having access to my medicine. The room is moving faster; I cannot hang on for much longer. The nausea rises up from nowhere; I don't even have time to prepare myself. I somehow manage to turn onto my side, just as the back of my throat fills with the sour taste that I have grown too familiar with.
The first couple of times it happens, it's not that bad. But as it continues, it becomes more and more difficult to not scream in agony. I wouldn't be surprised if much of my stomach lining is now mixed in with the puddle on my floor. With a few coughs and gasps for breath, it finally ends and I fall against the wood from exhaustion.
*****
"Mr. Manning, have you heard anything about Miss Delgado?" asks Jazz.
Those are the words that rouse me after I have passed out. I turn over slowly because everything hurts so damned much, if I do anything suddenly, it feels as though my body will break apart. Todd is standing in front of her desk with his hair hanging wildly around his face and breathing hard.
"Nothin'," he answers disgustedly. "Any ideas?"
"You check out that prosecuting attorney?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"Nothin'. I can't find a fuckin' clue anywhere and the cops, they don't wanna find her 'cause of this fuckin' case! SHIT!"
Jazz doesn't even seem rattled. Where everyone else is barely holding it together, she is the calm in the storm. The wheels are turning in her head; she has that expression she always wears right before she says something so utterly profound, you suddenly forget she is as young as she is. She calmly reaches across and touches his hand, not in a romantic way, but in a way that is meant to calm him. It works; immediately the lines in his face relax.
"You have to calm down, Mr. Manning; you have to believe that she's okay." He nods his head slowly, mesmerized by the truth that lies behind her eyes. "I'll tell you what I know."
He nods again and manages to whisper, "Thanks."
"Look very closely at opposing council; I get the feeling he's the key. But you have to be careful; don't go off half-cocked because he's very smart. I don't think he's your biggest fear, I think her illness is."
Todd hangs onto her every word as if they are his lifeline. I have never seen him react to anyone the way he reacts to her, it's as if she hypnotizes him and forces him to listen. He doesn't fight her the way he fights everyone else; he takes her word as gospel. "Where do I look?"
"Start with her neighborhood and work your way out."
"What makes you think he hasn't taken her to another state or somethin'?"
"Because you should expect the unexpected."
"I didn't have anything prepared because it's been like since the Pleistocene era that I've won anything." - Meryl Streep, actress, upon winning a Best Supporting Actress Golden Globe for her performance in Adaptation.
