One Blood

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Monday

Location Unknown

A tickling sensation in her ear brought Karen into consciousness. With her eyes closed, she felt pressure on her chest like someone was giving her CPR. But the hands were concentrated on her breasts, not her breastbone.

A male voice attached to those hands grunted, “Damn, girl.”

His tongue probed her ear cavity as he humped her hard and fast. Karen’s pelvis convulsed in a sharp cramp.

He twitched frantically on top of her and after a few shudders rolled away.

Karen opened her eyes. She felt separated from what was happening to her body, as if it was another girl getting raped.

How did I get here? Where is here?

The charley horse galloping inside her abdomen brought her back to reality. Her lower back felt as if a migraine migrated there for the winter. She clutched and then rubbed her sore pelvis.

“You aight, yo? Whassamatta?”

“Cramps.” Karen exhaled as they subsided.

“Cramps from what?”

She pointed down.

“You fo’ real?” He moved a few spaces away. “Damn. What we gone do now?”

“Where…am I?” The past few hours were a blur. She vaguely remembered someone talking to her, telling her to get up in harsh whispers. She remembered the smell and feel of wet grass, too. Pain and wet grass.

Where is my fucking shot? I wouldn’t be feeling this way if I had my shot… 

“I rescued you,” the voice said.

Karen rolled over, gazing upon her hero—a short, bald-headed, black kid who looked to be around her age. The word “Shorty” was written in Old English lettering on his inner forearm. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Don’t worry bout all that. I’ma take good care of you.”

“How did I end up here?”

The boy ignored her question and got to his feet. “You want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Is that your name on your arm?” Karen persisted.

The boy walked out of the room without answering.

Karen tried to focus. Bit by bit, snatches of memory began to return to her. Her new captor had liberated her from the small, windowless cell where the fat, sweaty black man, a.k.a. Flashlight Man, had been holding her prisoner. She’d been refused everything but the stuff in the syringe as they prepared her for the “ceremony.” Every time she tried to remember details about the ceremony, she saw she and Kristopher on the swings in their backyard beneath the curved branches of Melinda Weeps.

Karen looked around the boy’s room. It was unremarkable except for a huge gun sitting atop the dresser.

That gun is my ticket out of here.

Karen was about to reach for the gun when Shorty reappeared. “Here, drink this.” He stood over her with a dixie cup full of thick, pink liquid.

“What is it?”

“It’s called Lean. It’ll make you feel real good. Slow everything down a bit.”

Karen’s heart flip-flopped with excitement, the gun completely forgotten. She greedily gulped down the contents of the cup, praying it would numb her senses again. It tasted like watered down cough syrup with a kick.

Thankfully, the drug worked fast. As she lay back and closed her eyes, a plan began to form. She just had to find a way to make the boy leave.

But she couldn’t think straight; she kept nodding off. A vision of her father’s screaming face being ripped apart by a black panther forced her eyes open again.

“I need tampons.”

“Huh?”  

“I’m on my period, gonna bleed all over myself if I don’t get one.”

“My moms got toilet tissue…that cool?”

“No…is there a store…you know, around?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’ll handle it.” He pulled on his sweats.

Karen scanned the floor for the condom she prayed he’d used. There was none in sight.

“When I get back, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Once the boy was completely dressed, he dug around in his closet and emerged with a roll of duct tape.

“Sorry, bruh. I can’t trust you to stick around while I’m away,” he said as he bound Karen’s hands to the posts of his bed in a spread eagle position.

Karen didn’t resist.

“Gots to make sure I get that reward, ya feel me?” 

Karen fixated on the word “reward.” In a brief moment of clarity, as she looked at her increasingly thinning arms, the idea that her life meant something to her kidnappers hit home.

Her captor grabbed the gun off the dresser and left. Hopeless, Karen tried to maintain her high. The tears streaming down her face made it difficult, but she managed to drift off, even as her arms began tingling from the loss of circulation.