Abigail

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

                I sit on the bed with a line of crinkly paper, waiting anxiously for the doctor to return. There’s a man over in the corner, staring straight ahead and glancing over at me every few minutes and it feels liked I have a body guard. My father sits in a chair to my left, scrolling through his phone and finally looking relaxed.

                The doctor returns with a file and starts taking my vitals and doing some other stuff to check my injuries. Nothing is broken –although it feels like everything is- mostly just bruises, cuts, sprains and I needed stiches in some places.

                “Thanks, Sal,” My father intones and accepts the prescription the doctor hands him. “Let’s get you showered and fed.”

                I follow him out of the room, my whole body aching because this is the most I’ve moved in weeks. We turn a corner and are greeted by another long hallway, climbing a flight of wide stairs. The house is beautiful, I’ve never seen such an expensive home on the inside.  It must have cost a fortune, but since he’s apparently a drug lord, it doesn’t surprise me.

                He stops in front of what looks like a spare room and holds his arm out, gesturing for me to enter. “Bathroom’s to the left, everything you need is in there. I’ll have your- um, Kate get you some new clothes.”

                He walks away and presses his phone to his ear, shouting angrily as he turns a corner and slams a door. I hesitantly enter the room and close the door, looking around at the room that has way too much expensive furniture for a guest. There’s a large bed to the right with a night stand beside it. Next to me is a dresser along the wall and a painting above it. To my left are two doors, one is the bathroom and the other must be a closet.

                I slowly approach the bed, looking around and approve of all the nice decorations. I trace my hand along the blanket, the silky feeling cool against my fingers and open the door to the left like he said, surprised by the huge, sparkling bathroom.

                I step in and close and lock the door behind me, checking the cabinets to see what is stocked in here, but only find the essentials.

                I use the bathroom, looking around to make sure there aren’t any hidden cameras, even though I probably wouldn’t see them. I strip out of my clothes and fold them on the counter, looking at my hideous reflection. I have cuts and bruises and dirt and other marks all over my body.  On my right leg there’s some kind of plastic over the stiches so that I can shower with them in. I sigh and look away, turning on the shower so that I don’t break the first mirror I’ve seen in weeks.

                I think I spend too long in the bathroom, but considering I haven’t showered since I’ve been taken, it feels so good to be clean again. It takes me a while to get out because the steam makes me dizzy and I have to sit down on the toilet while my vision clears.

                I brush my teeth and hair, shoving it into a French braid before very carefully opening the bathroom door.

                No one is in the room, but there’s a stack of clothes on the bed. I carefully creep out and take them, hiding in the bathroom to change. The underwear fits snugly, which is kind of strange, but I don’t question it. The sweater is large on me, which I like and the tights seem kind of lose in all the wrong places.

                I finish in the bathroom and return to the room, seeing if there’s anything besides furniture. The closet and drawers are empty so I take a seat on the soft bed and wait, not sure if I should leave or not.