Appetite for Innocence: A Dark Psychological Thriller Page 8

  The rest of the night is easy. The food is delicious and I hate even admitting it to myself, but I’ve grown to look forward to it even though I don’t want to. Throughout the day, I catch myself imagining what I’ll eat that night. Last night when he brought Paige upstairs instead of me, for a second, I felt disappointed. I was going to be stuck eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while she got to eat whatever amazing concoction Sarah created. As soon as I realized I was disappointed, I was flooded with disbelief and felt like I’d sold part of my soul to the devil.

  I can’t believe I’m adapting to this place and it scares me. I don’t want to get used to it here. It’s been nineteen days since he took me. Almost three full weeks. Pieces of my old life feel like they’re slipping away from me. The other night I woke because I’d dreamed about Mom and broke out in a cold sweat because for a minute I couldn’t remember the sound of her voice.

  I used to think about her every day all day long. It was all I thought about. How she was feeling. Where she was. Did she think I was dead? Where was she looking for me? How was she making it through? I spent lots of energy trying to reach out to her with my mind and let her know I was okay. Paige told me that she does the same thing with her mom.

  The other day when we were swapping stories about our lives, Sarah stormed out of her room like she does sometimes when we’re irritating her.

  She pointed at each of us. “Stop talking about what it used to be like. Nothing from before matters. Forget all of it. It only makes this harder. Seriously, do yourselves a favor.”

  I wanted to slap her and scream at her to shut up. Replaying the memories are the only way I keep them alive. I will not forget who I am or where I come from. My mom. All my friends. The things I like to do. The way our house smells. That’s the thing that terrifies me the most. More than him. More than what happens upstairs. The forgetting.

  ELLA

  (NOW)

  They’ve shifted from focusing their questions on John and turned toward asking about Sarah. I don’t understand why. I just spent another hour with Randy and it was all she wanted to talk about too. I haven’t seen Sarah since we met with the sketch artist. I’m tired of the questions and sick of being in the hospital. It’s starting to feel as confining as the basement.

  “Mom, can we go outside and go for a walk?” I ask. They’ve been promising to get me a wheel chair so I can move around easier but it’s been two days and nobody’s brought one yet. I think they like keeping me in this bed, but if I stay a minute longer, my head might explode.

  “I don’t see why not,” she says.

  She has to be as bored as I am. She never goes further than the hallway outside my room. They keep trying to get her to go down to the hospital cafeteria and eat, but she refuses. She has them bring a tray up to the room for her just like they do for me.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Randy says.

  “I think it might do her good to get some fresh air,” Mom says.

  I can tell she’s getting tired of Randy always acting like she knows what’s best for me or the right way to talk to me.

  “Paparazzi are swarming outside. They’re all over the place and the police don’t want her giving any statements to the media.”

  “So, we’ll put her in a disguise,” Mom says, matter-of-factly.

  It sounds like a good idea to me.

  “Please, can we go, Randy?” I ask.

  “You don’t need to ask her permission,” Mom snaps. “She’s not in charge of you and besides, it’s not like you’re under arrest or something. They can’t keep you in this room forever.”

  “I–”

  Mom interrupts her, “We’re going outside. You might have been in these kinds of situations before, but I know my daughter.”

  I smile. My mom might be small, but she doesn’t take any crap from anyone, especially when it comes to me. Never has.

  “Honey.” She looks at me. “I’ll be back.”

  For the first time, she leaves the room and doesn’t just stand in the hallway to wait. I’m so excited to be away from all of this. Tension fills the room after she’s gone. Randy stares out the window.

  “Your mom really loves you and she’s just trying to do what’s best for you,” she says without turning around. “But she doesn’t understand that I have experience in these situations.”

  “Do you have any kids?” I ask.

  “I do,” she says. “Two of them. They’re both grown now. In fact, last month I became a grandmother.”

  “Maybe you should start thinking like a mother, then, and not like a therapist all the time.”

  I’m shocked by my words. I’m never rude to adults. Ever.

  “If I thought like a mother, I wouldn’t be able to do my job and my job is to help you.” She still hasn’t turned around.

  “How’s that any different than my mom? All she’s trying to do is help too.”

  “I understand–”

  I cut her off. “Please stop saying you understand. I’m so sick of hearing you say that. I can’t handle it anymore. You don’t understand.”

  “It makes sense that you would feel that way.”

  “Oh my God—that’s like saying you understand. Have you ever been kidnapped by a freak? Have you?”

  She shakes her head. Still as calm as ever. For some reason, it just makes me madder.

  “Then don’t tell me what it’s like. Don’t tell me you understand how I feel. Just shut up!”

  I don’t even know why I’m so angry. It’s not even that big of a deal, but I’m filled with rage and it feels good to scream at someone. I want to hurt her. Make her cry. Do something to shake her up and make her stop acting like everything is okay. Nothing is okay. Nothing about this is normal.

  “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Just get out of my room. Go talk to Sarah. Maybe you can help her,” I snap.

  SARAH

  (THEN)

  Paige has been on edge for days. She’s barely talking and when she does there’s an underlying anxiety in her voice. She can’t shake the fear from her voice.

  I get it. I’ve been exactly where she’s at except I was all alone in the basement. There was nobody but me and the place certainly didn’t look like it looks now. There was no toilet. Only a bucket. They complain that this one smells bad but they have no idea. It used to smell like a dirty Porta Potty. I didn’t have a bed, only a bunch of blankets laid out on the floor and nobody was there to bring me food. I starved for days waiting on John to bring me something to eat. I had nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. They have each other and books, games, and art they can work on. It took a long time for me to earn those things, but he just gives them to them now.

  When he came home one night with a girl I’d never seen before, I was elated to have someone with me. I wouldn’t leave her side. I clung to her like I was a stray puppy. I sat up with her all night long, trying to soothe her even though I wasn’t allowed to untie her. I rubbed her back while she sobbed and promised her it was going to be okay. I told her she’d get used to it and after a while it wouldn’t seem so bad.

  It didn’t take her long to trust me and tell me her story. Her name was Tiffany and she was fourteen. She was from Minnesota and worked at a department store at the Mall of America. She was walking to the bus stop after work when a man stopped and asked her for directions to the airport. It was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the basement with me.

  Her dad was a Southern Baptist pastor and I’d never met someone who was so religious. She prayed constantly. She talked about God like he was a real person and thought he talked to her back. She’d say things like, “Today when I was praying, God told me I’m going to get through this.”

  The only thing she wanted from John was a Bible. She begged me to ask him for it. He looked at me like I was crazy when I asked, but he handed it to me at our next dinner. She grinned like it was Christmas and hugged it to her chest when I gave it to her. She read it out loud f
or hours every day. The wording was so weird. There were so many words I’d never heard before, but I liked the stories, especially the one about the guy who built an ark and put all the animals inside it. I made her read it to me again and again.

  She was a great singer too. She’d grown up singing in her church choir and had a voice that gave me chills. She taught me all her favorite hymns and didn’t care that I’m incredibly tone deaf. We didn’t only sing gospel music. She liked regular music and we sang popular stuff too, arguing over whether Twenty-One Pilots or One Direction was a better band.

  For weeks, it was just us. I went upstairs with John, but she never did. I started to think he might have just brought her there to be my friend so I didn’t have to be alone, but one night, he called for her instead of me. We both froze.

  Things changed between us after that. She was never the same and neither was I. We tried to pretend like nothing had changed, but something had shifted and we both knew it.

  For a while he took turns. One night it was her. The next night it was me. But then she started going upstairs more and more and I was left in the basement. It didn’t take me long to figure out he was replacing me and I seethed with rage. I didn’t understand how he could do that to me after what we’d been through and everything he’d done to me. I’d given him the most intimate part of me and now that’d he’d taken it, he didn’t want me anymore and was just going to toss me aside for another girl. How could he?

  I was plagued with questions. What would happen next? Would he just let me wither away and die in the basement? What if he gave me back to my dad? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d bought me for a price, how could he just return me like I was some used-up gift?

  I wasn’t going back with my dad. No way. John might have hurt me but it wasn’t anything like what my dad had done to me. John’s pain had a purpose, but my dad was a monster. I was never going back there and wasn’t going to spend the rest of my days living in a basement either. I’d find another way.

  And I did. Because I’m smart. I don’t care that my teachers said I was a slow learner and had difficulty paying attention. It wasn’t true. I paid plenty of attention to the things that mattered.

  ELLA

  (NOW)

  The sun feels amazing on my face. I want to soak it into every pore. I hungrily gulp in the smell of fresh air. Mom is a genius. She bought me an oversized hat at the gift shop and pair of sunglasses. She tucked my long hair up under my hat and threw on my shades. She did the same with herself.

  One of the officers was nice enough to take us through the service department in the cafeteria and through the kitchen in the back so we wouldn’t be seen. There was an outside area behind the kitchen where maintenance workers took their break and nobody would be looking for us. It’s surrounded by a gray chain link fence encircling the dumpsters and recycling bins, but I don’t care. It feels so good to be outside. I savor the feeling, trying to let it seep into my soul and erase the darkness.

  “I wish I could tuck you into your Baby Bjorn and carry you close to me everywhere I go just like when you were a little girl,” Mom says. “I’m just so glad to have you back. I never thought I’d get you back. They told me the more time that went on, the more likely it was you’d never be found. It was so awful. After a while, they stopped looking for you and started looking for a body. They never came right out and said it, but I knew.” Her eyes are wet. “I never gave up hope, though. Never. It’s such a miracle you’re here.”

  She gazes up at the sky and I know she’s saying a silent thank you to God. She tried to pray with me on my first night back and I asked her not to. So far, she’s respected my wishes. I’m done praying to God.

  “I was starting to think I wasn’t ever going to come home either,” I say. Yesterday, I found out I’d been gone for four months. In the beginning, I counted every day. I kept track because each day that passed meant I was one day closer to being found, but as the days added up, I stopped counting. It was too depressing.

  She crouches in front of me and places her hands on both of my knees. “Whatever happened in that house, and I know it was terrible, it doesn’t have to wreck you. You’re strong and you’ll get through this. I know it probably doesn’t feel like it right now, but things can go back to normal. They really can. We can both use this as an opportunity to be grateful for everything we have in life.” Her face radiates hope. “We’re going to do whatever it takes to put it behind us. Whatever it takes.”

  Her words don’t reach me. The hope doesn’t penetrate. John took pieces of me I’ll never get back.

  “You don’t know what I’ve done.” I swallow the lump of emotions in my throat.

  She still thinks I’m the same person. Like nothing has changed, but the Ella she knew died in the basement.

  She cups my face in her hands. “Nothing you’ve done can ever change the way I feel about you. Do you hear me? Nothing.” Her face is solemn, concern making her forehead tight.

  My secrets eat at my insides. I try to smile but it’s a crude imitation. She pulls herself up and stands beside me, resting her hand on my shoulder.

  We sit in silence, enjoying being out of the hospital. It’s a relief not to have to talk, but I still feel nervous and jittery. I jump at every sound and have to keep reminding myself that there are police officers watching us from the doorway even if I can’t see them. They’ll pounce if John appears, but even though I know they’re there, it doesn’t stop me from continually scanning for any sign of him.

  SARAH

  (NOW)

  When I come to, I’m flat on my back, lifeless. My body numb. I can’t move my arms. They’re tied up with something. I struggle against them. The straps bite my skin.

  No! No! No! Not again.

  A cry slips past my lips.

  Officer Malone’s dark face appears in front of mine. His eyes are a deep brown and so soft. “Shh, shh,” he says, running his hand through my hair. “You’re in the hospital. Don’t be afraid.”

  But I am. I’m strapped down. I try to kick, but I can’t do that either. I arch my back just like before, trying to free myself.

  “Just take a deep breath. I’m right here.” Randy appears next to him.

  I’m breathing so hard, I feel dizzy. My head is rolling on my neck.

  “We can take the straps off you, but you have to promise not to hurt yourself. The doctors had to put them on for your safety.”

  I look down at my arms. They’re covered in chaotic red scratches like I’ve been attacked by an angry cat. Did I do that to myself? I don’t remember.

  “Please, take them off me,” I whimper.

  The two of them stare at each other. Officer Malone gives her a nod and she begins working on one side while he works on the other. Within seconds, I’m free. Relief washes over me. I can breathe again. I sit up in my bed, pulling my knees up to my chest.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning when Blake and Phil talked to you. I wish I was. Can I sit next to you?” Randy asks.

  I don’t want anyone to touch me. I shake my head. She stays in her spot.

  “Do you remember what you talked about?” she asks.

  I stay mute. I’m done talking to any of them.

  “When kids go through trauma, they do incredible things to survive their situation. Sometimes it means their brains create different stories and other realities to help them cope, elaborate fantasies to make something horrible make sense.” She leans forward, her skirt fanned around her. “You were only twelve when John took you. Young. Impressionable. I imagine he terrorized you and made you one hundred percent dependent on him for everything because that’s what people like him do. He probably withheld water and food and offered them as rewards for good behavior. It’s what people do who need to control you and John very much wanted to control you.”

  She doesn’t know anything. I was special. John loved me.

  “You aren’t alone in what happened to you. I’ve worked with lots of girls who’
ve been taken by predators and manipulated. Do you remember Mindy Steward?”

  Of course I do. Everyone knows about Mindy Steward. She was the girl kidnapped by some homeless man and lived near her home with him for nine months. She never tried to escape even when she could have. I’m nothing like her.

  “I was part of the team that worked with her after she was returned to her family. There are hundreds of other girls just like her. And you. People like John use systematic forms of abuse to chip away at your reality until eventually, you stop believing you were kidnapped and start to believe their lies.” Her face is as relaxed as her voice.

  It takes great control not to interrupt her and set her straight. She’s totally wrong. John never lied to me. He always told me the truth.

  “I know it’s probably very confusing for you and doesn’t make sense, but girls often end up developing feelings towards their kidnappers and forming a bond with them. The attachment grows stronger the longer they’re held captive. It doesn’t mean you’re crazy or a bad person. Blake should’ve explained all of this to you this morning and I’m sorry he didn’t.” She frowns. “If he had, it might have made it easier for you to understand what he was saying and lessened the emotional impact. Unfortunately, the detectives can get so focused on the case and catching the bad guy that they forget about how to treat the victims.”

  I sit up straighter. I’m not a victim. I’m special. He told me that many times.

  Officer Malone has kept quiet, but he speaks up when she’s finished. “She’s right, you know. You should trust her. She can help you work through all of this. She’s done some amazing work with other girls. I can vouch for her since I spent all last night googling her.”