A few random rays of light tickle the worn wooden floor beneath me. My eyes pop open and I am fully awake. I sit up and look around me, frantically; something's telling me it's now or never. I'm not quite sure what that means, but I go with the feeling and let it guide me.
Something propels my body forward, toward that closet where my weapon is (hopefully) still safely hidden. I scrunch myself into the darkest corner and I wait. I don't know why I'm choosing this, but I know waiting is the right thing for me.
It seems like hours pass, and maybe they have; I have no concept of anything at this point. The stick begins to slip from my sweaty palms and I tighten my grip, only to realize that my knuckles are frozen. I close my eyes and try my hardest to regain my grip, but nothing seems to help. It slips to the floor with a thud, and I fall against the wall in a pool of tears.
This cannot be happening, I think. Just when I find a little bit of hope, it is snatched away so quickly, that I barely get used to the idea. Over to my right, I see a tiny vent and from it, I hear voices filtering through.
"Oh my god," I say, leaning down closer, just to make sure I'm not imagining things. I work furiously, trying to regain some sort of movement in my fingers. Nothing happens for the longest time, but then the tingling begins and I know it will be a matter of moments before I regain the use of everything.
As soon as it happens, I grab the rod and bang it against the metal grate. I don't care how much noise it makes; all I want is to get out of here. "Somebody, help me," I yell through the slats. Suddenly, they stop talking; I know they're listening to me. "Please, help me," I speak quickly, "I've been kidnapped." I almost burst into laughter; kidnappings usually don't happen to people my age and the term somehow seems inappropriate.
"Who's there?"
"Please, my name's Tea Delgado. Help me! Call the police or…or…" I'm frantic now, and I rattle off Todd's cell phone number.
They say everything happens for a reason and sometimes I doubt that. But in this case, I believe there was a reason I woke so early and crawled into that closet and my fingers locked and I fell to the floor. I breathe easier; I know in my heart this will be my last day of captivity.
When the door opens, I'm not afraid that it will be Jared; I know he's busy lying to the judge. I look up at the man with the kind eyes and give him the most pitiful look that I can. It never hurts to have as many bases covered as possible, just in case I might have to use him in the future.
His eyes soften even more; I know I have him in my corner, but I still play it cool. He asks if I'm okay and my voice comes out very hoarse when I answer. This isn't totally an act I'm putting on; it's more of a combination of what's real and what isn't. I am really sick and I am really in pain, but I play up both of those things.
"You need anything?" he asks, looking at me with a concerned expression on his face. I'm sure he sees what I see when I look in the mirror, a person with sunken eyes, surrounded by darkness.
"No," I respond, quite dryly.
"Um, you need some water…something…you don't look so good."
"Because I don't feel very good. Because your boss beat me. Because I'm without things I need for my very survival; no, I don't think I'm supposed to look very good."
His face drops, as if I've scalded him with hot oil. I could almost feel bad and I probably would, if I wasn't the one locked in this tiny room with nothing than stale, re-circulated air. I turn away from him because I don't want him to see me in my weakened state.
He stands there for a long time without saying anything. Then, as if what I said just dawned on him, he asks, "are you sick or something?"
"Gee, what gave it away?"
"Is it a cold or something?"
I almost laugh out loud; I wish it was only a cold. There's no cure for that but time and that's something I could deal with. No, what I have is much worse than that; what I have isn't so easily cured, or curable at all. I choose to save my sarcasm and ignore the question entirely.
"I can get you something," he insists.
"I don't need anything," I mumble.
And so he leaves without another word. I keep an ear out for the sound of sirens, or any sign that help is on the way. There is nothing other than the blaring horns that seem to have no beginning or ending.
I listen for the sounds of footstep from one of the other rooms, but there is nothing but an occasional shoe stomping against the floor. I approximate that maybe ten to fifteen minutes have passed since I last heard the voices of the men from another part of the building. If they called for help, it should only be another ten to fifteen before the police come busting down the door. Of course, that's probably not what will happen because my luck hasn't been so good lately and I've learned that the only person I can rely on, in this lifetime anyway, is me.
I can't just lie here and wait; I feel helpless this way. I get up and pace around the room, as if somehow the answers will come to me, and I will find the quick and easy way out of here. I pace back and forth, wearing a path into the already worn wood.
There is a pounding against the door, as if someone is trying to break it down. I quickly make my way to the closet, which has become my war bunker. I grab the one and only weapon I have at my disposal and quickly shuffle back to the door. I am positioned so that if it flies open, I can hide behind it and surprise my enemy.
I hear something going on beyond the wooden barrier, but I can't make out the words. There are angry voices, rising with each passing word. I listen more closely, listening for Todd or some signs that this person or people are coming to my rescue.
Someone is running down the hall, toward me and I grip my weapon tighter. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that I'm not forced to defend myself. The lock outside of the door clicks and I prepare myself for whatever is coming through.
I can't say for sure what tells me it's not Todd. I think maybe it's the cologne that gives my enemy away, but as soon as he steps through the door, I swing wildly, somehow connecting with the side of his skull. Immediately, I drop the wooden rod, terrified of my moment of brutality.
The body drops to the ground at the same time as the rod. Too scared was I to move, that I stood with my feet glued to the ground. My hands instinctively reach for my mouth, unintentionally muffling my screams.
"What have I done?" I ask.
The arms that suddenly encircle me from behind will not cause me harm; somehow I know that. I lean into his arms, knowing without looking that it's Todd and my breathing relaxes. My body then goes limp, and I allow the exhaustion and sickness to take over.
"Hey, Delgado. Delgado?" he asks, this time there is a little more urgency in his voice.
I do not have a voice, nor do I have the energy to answer him. His grip around me tightens with each passing moment. He reaches into his pocket, grabs his cell phone and presses a few numbers. From his end of the conversation, I hear he is calling for help. I almost don't know where I am; I'm stuck in that state where the world around is almost surreal. I do know that I am safe in his arms and this nightmare is finally over.
I allow my self to relax, just a bit because it could all be one awful nightmare. I can't help but think, with the history I've had, that the rug could be yanked away from me just that quickly. He whispers words of love softly in my ears, low enough so that if anyone was to enter this room, they wouldn't hear a word.
I can hear the sirens in the distance; they aren't moving quickly enough. What if this guy wakes up and attacks us both? What if he tries something violent? What if? What if?
I do not hear anyone coming through the door, but I do hear the footsteps quickly making their way down the hall. "Hello? Is everyone all right?" someone asks.
I don't think I've ever been so happy to see the men in blue. I don't know if I've ever been so relieved to see anyone in my entire life. I vaguely hear Todd explaining what happened as the man with the kind eyes is cuffed and taken away. There is no sign of Jared; as far as they can tell, the cuffed man worked alone.
I lie down on the gurney as I am instructed, lifted the gurney off the ground and slide me into the ambulance. Todd is right there with me, telling me I'd better not leave him and other things like that. And I know that I will not leave him because it is as simple as this: I can't.
If you colored and can make them some money, then you all right with them. Otherwise, you just a dog in the alley.---Ma Rainey (Whoopi Goldberg in "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom")
