Chapter 2

I rushed towards the operating room. Waiting for his operation to end, I stood dazzled in front of the walking nurses. It was as if time stopped. Was it a coincidence that he was admitted few days after that letter, after years of disappearance?

That confined room he was laying in, and even the more confined space in his mind held the secrets of the past. And its buried keys. It was as if those keys were magnetic, dragging me towards them. There was no escape this time, and he had to wake up and give me those keys.

I didn't spend my childhood with my parents- unlike most kids. They only came twice a year, and left me with my Aunt Olivia. Although her strong bones had given up, her young heart never did. We used to play for hours in the garden, where I was the princess and she was the knight. How wonderful of a mother she would have been, if it wasn't for her infertility.

While my Aunt offered the warmth I needed as a child; her husband, Uncle William could only give his hatred. There were nights where he beat me until I was a helpless body on the bloody floor. But that didn't stab as much as seeing Aunt Olivia enduring his ruthless beating, just because she couldn't give him a child, and couldn't see me as his own. Despite my fresh bruises, I would stay nights by her side. Bandaging her arms, giving her the medicine and reading her stories. There wasn't much I can do with broken hands and bleeding wounds.

I felt trapped between the walls of the hospital, unable to leave. Anger boiled in my veins as I remembered the blue bruises he left on my arms each night. But, I was somehow sitting on the cold chair, trying to ignore his actions, and waiting for answers of a past I always ran away from. Uncle William had the lost strand of my childhood- my parents. He was the sole carrier of their answers, and that letter, after Aunt Olivia's death. And curiosity kills if not killed.

After hours, I saw his weak body lying on the hospital's bed as he came out of the operation room. There were many machines attached to him in the ICU. If machines could think, they wouldn't sacrifice a bit of their energy trying to save that of a hopeless man.

"Hey, Ethan," I responded to the phone call, with a brittle voice.

"Aryn, what happened? Are you crying?!" he worriedly questioned.

"No, no. It's nothing really," I replied as tears finally escaped.

"Where are you? I am coming right now."

"Ethan, I need to stay alone."

"You're in the hospital; I could hear the Doctors speaking. Hang on there; I am coming!"

"No, don-"

Before I continued, he already hung up, and I was left with the echo of my thoughts. Without noticing, I fell asleep on the hospital's chair while watching Uncle William. Confined by the walls of the hospital, I only woke up when Ethan, my fiancé, came.

"Aryn, Aryn?" his gentle voice called.

"Why did you come? There was no need," I answered, realizing I wasn't home.

"It doesn't matter now. You seem very tired. Please, allow me to drive you home."

"I can't. I need to wait here for my uncle to wake up. Please go, I don't wanna drag you into my problems."

"When will he do? Did the doctors say anything?"

"His state isn't stable," I replied

Ethan left in a while, after receiving a phone call. There was nothing I could do, except watch that man through the transparent glass, and think about the few seconds that will join us if he wakes up. What will I ask him? How he killed my childhood, or how my parents reached me after so long?

I went inside his room, when the nurse allowed me to see him for a few minutes.Through the machines I saw his masked face, and in mere seconds all my memories rushed like a film tape.

"I can't say I'm sad to see you in this state. It's the least that can happen to a man like you. But do one last good deed in your life, and tell me what do you and my so called parents want and die in peace!"

The time for my short visit was over, and I left home holding the hatred and grudge against that man in my heart. The next morning, I headed to the hospital as usual. Routinely, I performed the required surgeries and checked on my patients, where the day usually quickly passed.

While hundreds of questions raced through my mind, I took the blood results and went to my patient, Louis Craven's, room. Noting down his vital signs, I heard a whispering voice, murmuring some unrecognizable words. I turned and looked at him. His wide-green eyes gradually began to open. His clutch on his wound got stronger. When light fully radiated on his rose-beige skin, he looked astonished, bewildered of his surroundings.

"Did I suffer from blood loss?" he demanded with a weak voice, scratching through his black-thick hair.

"No."

Upon his question, I knew that he was aware of the mysteries surrounding his blood.

"Why are you asking? Are you feeling any symptoms?" I asked.

"It was just a question. I am not feeling anything."

"Louis, your blood has a component I couldn't identify. The problem is that it isn't the first time I see this component in someone's blood," I stated with a determined tone.

"You saw someone with the same blood in this hospital?"

"Yes," I replied, looking into his widened eyes.

"Who could it possibly be!"

"What is that component? I need to know," I said, ignoring his concerns.

"It isn't time for your questions. Who in this hospital has this component in his blood?" he asked angrily.

"Me," I replied with a serious tone, after a long pause.

Immediately, his eyes escaped mine. Regardless, I managed to see how his eyes broadened while his hands dropped the blanket. When he asked about the person who had the component, the spark in his eye expected someone he knew. The curiosity in his tone only indicated that he wanted to confirm his assumption.

"When will I be able to leave this place?"

"Your vital signs' readings returned to normal. But your wounds will hurt you for the next few days. So, I recommend that you remain under our supervision for a few more days."

With unspoken words haunting my lips, I left. I instantly went to my office, with his shivering limbs in my mind. I had a few patients left before my shift would end. I remained distracted, thinking about the secrets he hid.

When the last patient departed, I finally had the authority to leave. Uncle William was still in a coma, with not much hope of surviving. Some Doctors told me that he will soon be brain- dead. Looking at him, I realized that no one was around him. No friends. No relatives. It was only a woman he always abused. He would die, with probably no one to attend his funeral.

As I approached my house's entrance- after a short ride- the feeling of each droplet of rain wetting my skin was like oil put into the fire. The muddy grass underneath lost its champing sound in the battle against the heavy rain. A ferocious battle between the clouds and the ground occurred. And, the victim was a groaning thunder strand.

I went to the roof and sat there on the wet ground. The roof was my freedom of society's cruelty, and the rain was the absorber of my hatred and the extinguisher of my flames. Whenever I feel trapped from all sides, the rain and the roof served as the liberation from the past, present and future. Although I could only sit for a few minutes, it almost felt like an eternity of peace.

I headed down, ready to sleep for another day in the hospital. Approaching the door of the main entrance,it was almost mid-night where there wasn't a single soul besides mine.

Or so I thought.

Suddenly, I felt a strong-muscular arm clasping my mouth. Among the darkness, the white cotton it held gleamed. My nose and lips felt the damp substance of the cloth. I clutched his arm, but he was far stronger. The powerful smell of the substance itched my nose. After holding my breath for about a minute, I finally gave up. I felt a sensation of my energy descending, and the world swirling around me. I didn't hit the ground, where I saw a glimpse of his black mask when he held me. I had no control over my body anymore. I was paralyzed. But, I still heard the thumping of his shoes.

At that moment, I lost my sight, but I could still distinguish my surroundings by hearing. I heard the blasting sound of a motor, and I no longer felt the pressure his arms exerted on my back. The rich scent of his perfume accompanied the pungent smell of the liquid I inhaled. The roaring sound of the motor started fading. That was where I recognized that I started losing the ability of hearing. Aside from the ambiguous words, he said through the phone, I no longer heard. One thing remained. I was still able to smell. The aroma of his luxurious fragrance abated for a few seconds.

Then, it returned. But it was very close to me.

I wasn't aware of how long passed, but a sound of water droplets dripping rang in my ear. It splashed into a puddle. It splashed, and the water continued to tick like a monotonous clock. Eventually, blurry images started rolling and churning around me, but a black-figure in the centre was their dominance. When the image clarified, I saw the same black mask. There was something familiar in the vibrant eyes the mask revealed. The mask covered his entire face, but it, and his lips.

There was a sharp smell of what seemed like an acid accompanied by a choking-smell of petrol. Many faint voices completed each other through the green walls that inundated me. The sound of water leaking from the rusty-wooden roof ordered the flashing bulb to squeak irregularly. I sensed blood reviving my limbs. However, they were tied. The rough-wooden strands that jolted from the chair scratched my warm-ivory wrists. The duct tape embedded on my lips tasted bitter.

The glass windows left no option for ventilation, forming sweat droplets that glued my messed hair strands into my sweaty cheek.

He leaned closer and kneeled. Without saying a word, he untied only my hands' ropes, leaving my feet glued to the chair sticks. He then grabbed the silver tape without a single stutter, which burned my lips.

"Listen, we will play by my rules here," he said with an unclear voice through the mask.

"What do you want?!"

"Rule number one, I am the only one who can speak."

"I never agreed to play. Let go of me!" I yelled.

He turned around, scrambling in the toolbox at the far end of the room. Taking advantage of my free hands, I dug my nails into the ropes circling my feet. Trying to ignore my agitation, I continued untying the ropes, with heat surrounding my whole body.

Suddenly, I only found his green eyes staring in anger and dismay. My desperate attempt to escape all came falling by. He didn't reply by words. But tension took over my pale limbs when I saw his hand digging for something inside his pocket. Indeed, he knew its position since he didn't bother looking to where his hand proceeded. It then re-appeared in glory. It was grasping into an object.

A knife.