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Natara Williams
For a moment, when I first open my eyes, I think that I've gone blind. The darkness around me is so thick, it seems to lie on top of me like a heavy blanket. Not only that; but it seem's I've gone deaf as well. There's a thick silence surrounding me; making sound nothing more than a memory.
My head throbs, and I reach blindly up to my temple, expecting to feel the bump from when the rock hit me. I'm surprised to feel not skin; but the cloth of some kind of gauzy material. Confused, I feel up and down my own arms and legs; expecting the rough feel of bite marks. But once again, there's nothing more than smooth well-applied gauze. Even my hand is bandaged. Good, whoever took me must at least have the slightest amount of medical knowledge. Maybe Melanie will make it out of this after all.
That is, assuming it wasn't her who took me.
It would make sense after all. She disappeared so quickly. If she hid in the bushes; I could have walked right past her. She's no idiot; she would know I would feel obligated to look for her. After that all she had to do was get me. With her being so small, I could easily overpower her, and she needed reinforcements. Nathan could have done it; if he was even helping her. No, he couldn't have. I saw the look in his eyes, his face; he wasn't lying. And if he was…that means I left Mal alone with him. Right now that's just too much to bare.
Assuming Nathan wasn't in on this, she could have easily used one of the dogs Nathan said Frank owned. If she and him were close, some of the dogs would probably listen to her as if she were their owner. Since Frank was a police officer; it would make sense that they were trained to fight so well. The only question is…why? Why would Melanie do such a thing? Did she have a grudge against Frank? Maybe she was angry at him because her husband didn't make it home. Maybe she blamed him. And the other one, Dane, he could just have been killed for the thrill. Melanie, just like most serial killers, could have just been chasing the first thrill. That first life-extinguishing moment. And what better way to get it than killing someone who would put up a good fight; someone trained to capture people like her?
Still, I can't think about that now. I need to figure out a way to escape. That is, assuming no one did anything to me while I was asleep, and now I truly am blind and deaf.
I snap my fingers close to my ear, and the sound is sharp and clear. That settles that; I can still hear. Next I wave my hand only inches from my face. I see nothing; but I can't assume that I have gone blind. I don't feel any pain around my eyes, aside from where I was hit, so it's possible it's just really dark in here. Blindly, I stretch one hand in front of myself, crawling around to figure out the features of the room. Several times I end up ramming my hand into a support beam, or something catches the side of my shirt, but eventually I reach wall. I pull myself up and keep my hands in front of me, reaching out like a blind person; which I guess isn't too far from the truth. After a few minutes of cautious pacing I find a door, but when I open it I find it's so small I can reach the opposite wall from the doorway. From what I can tell, it's a small bathroom. A sink is in one corner, a toilet in the other. The water doesn't seem to be working though; because the sink doesn't seem to work as I blindly feel for the handles and twist. I leave, feeling my way around again. I can't find any evidence of an exit; but I know there's one somewhere. And somehow I'll have to find it.
Knowing that if I'm not going to get out of this without my mind sharp and my body rested; I feel around until I find one of the metal support beams. From what I can tell, I think I'm in some storm shelter of some sort. If I were in a basement; I would probably hear activities upstairs. I highly doubt whoever took me is far from here; leaving me in some abandoned house would be too risky. I prop myself up against the wall, ready for anything that comes.
I feel something crawling up my arm and frantically go to brush it away; but my hand touches nothing but my arm. I'm not sure if there are bugs and rats in here, but that's the least of my problems right now. With two of my senses devoid of any input; they'll surely start to make things up. That's why prisons have used solitary confinement for thousands of years; you don't need knives or weapons to torture people. Rooms like these are their own kind of torture; they suck every bit of strength from people. It's not designed to take a life; but to break someone's spirit. That's why some people end up going mad in places like these. The mind is an amazing coping mechanism; but sometimes it goes overboard. In places like these time becomes meaningless, and reality doesn't have any meaning anymore. And when reality has no meaning, you go insane. How can anyone act normally, when nothing normal is left?
Soon that'll be me. That's what worries me more than the insects and the rats. What just happened now could be the first sign that I'm losing it. It could have been my first hallucination; and if I stay here much longer it certainly won't be the last. How long have I been here? An hour? A day? I never realized how steep of a slope madness really is. Or how easy it is to fall apart like this.
I pull my knees closer to me, telling myself it's useless to be afraid. I'm not that little girl who used to sleep with a night-light anymore. But still, I don't think anyone ever stops being afraid of the dark. People don't really grow out of it, we just tell ourselves that there's nothing in it that can harm us. Then we crawl into our warm beds and go to sleep.
But I don't have that anymore. This darkness is new to me, so thick I can't even see my hand in front of my face. I don't know what sinister purposes this darkness has. But there's no use dwelling on it. I close my eyes, even though it's so dark it hardly makes a difference, and fall asleep almost immediately.
Mal Fallon
Two days. That's how long Melanie and Natara have been missing. Every TV screen, every newspaper; has their faces plastered on them. Does it help? No. Are we getting any closer? Not one bit.
"I still don't understand" I say after several hours of shifting through files, looking for a clue that I know I won't find here. "How could anyone let Melanie become a police officer? What if she had a seizure during a shoot out?".
Nathan shakes his head. He hasn't been taking Melanie's abduction well. There are bags under his eyes and he looks like he's sunken into himself; every muscle he had before disintegrating. "I told you already; Mel just knew the right people. There's no law against people with epilepsy becoming police officers; and Mel's condition was well under control. Besides, say what you will about her, but she's damn smart. She's a good cop, always gets the job done". He pauses for a second, yawning and streching his massive arms. "What about Agent Williams?".
"What do you mean?".
"Her fiancé know she's missing?".
I stop what I'm doing, turing to him. "How do you know about that?".
"I'm a profiler, it's my job" he shrugs "Can't make it much more obvious with that big ring on her finger". He turns back to his work, but I keep watching him. "So what's he up to? Contact you at all?".
"No".
"Think he knows she's missing?".
"It'd be hard not to, her name's on every newspaper now".
I start to go back to my work, the tedious job of looking over every file for the umpteenth time, but I notice Nathan's staring at me. "What?". I snap.
"It's just…the way to talk about her…".
"What about it?".
He shakes his head "Nothing. Just forget I said anything". He falls silent, but doesn't stop staring. "It's just Agent Williams…you don't really like who she's marrying…do you?".
I don't answer right away. "It's just—he's hurt her before. I'm just looking out for her. Besides, he's not even here; he's not even trying to look for her. But I am; and I would be even if it wasn't my job".
"I see. I can tell she has some trust issues. And so do you. It seems both of you, from the moment I arrived, had an immediate distrust of both of us. It was something so subtle I doubt either of you even noticed it. Is Agent Williams dating a fellow law-enforcer that you dislike? Or perhaps a co-worker once betrayed you? Helped a criminal perhaps?".
I shake my head, for the first time since the case was closed remembering Eric. "You so saw all that on the news. About the Maskmaker".
"Did not. Like I said, I'm a profiler, it's my job".
I turn back to the file, blindly flipping though the pages. "Well, I prefer if you keep all that psychology crap to yourself. You sound exactly like Nat—". I stop in mid sentence as I come across a photo. It's of a group of people. I look on the back, where the date is written in faded letters. It's over ten years old. There's no mistaking that red hair; in the front is Melanie, a man who I presume is was her husband with his arms around her waist. A man who with dark hair resembling Frank Coleridge stands next to her, smiling. But it's who's on the left of Frank who catches my eye. A glasses-wearing man is next to him, his arm around a pretty blonde woman. The man isn't quite looking at the camera, but rather at the blonde woman. Even from here I can see the love in his gaze; and when I look closer I can see that the blonde is very pregnant.
"Who's that?" I ask. I can't shake the feeling that there's something off about them. If they were friends with Melanie; why weren't they mentioned? They could be targets too. After all, I can tell the man is a cop. I can see the badge pinned to his shirt from here.
Nathan leans over and studies the picture for a moment. "I think he used to be Mel's partner" he says "Can't remember his name. Ended up going missing I think; never found his body".
Even though I know it's completely irrelevant, I still separate the photo. It's worth looking into; and it could be the only lead we have.
Natara Williams
There's that same sensation that I've gone blind as I open my eyes again; and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. The darkness in the room hasn't improved; not that I thought it would. No light can get in here, it doesn't matter if it's day or night. In the night I must have slumped to the ground; I can feel the uneven concrete under my body. I just lay for a while; not really seeing a good reason to get up.
After what seems like hours I once again pick myself up, and as I do something catches my eye. A person. Mal.
I close my eyes, but the image doesn't disappear. Mal, leaning against a wall that I can't even see. Lit up like there's a spotlight on him. I open my eyes again and look. He's smiling, shaking his head at me.
Would you look at yourself? I thought you'd be close to finding a way out of here already.
That's it. I've completly lost my mind. I know it. Still, I don't want Mal to stop taking; it's comforting. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to die happy…right? "I can't even see" I reply. My voice cracks, barely audible. But still, it's my voice. It feels like it's been so long since I've heard it, heard any voice.
Come on, you're the smart one. Think of something.
"I can't" my voice is a little stronger this time. "I can't see anything".
Mal shakes his head again. Just stay alive, alright? I'm going to find you. I promise. I'm coming for you, Nat.
Nat. Is that my name? It's been a while since I've heard it…and if he's calling me that it must be.
That's right, you're Natara Mal says as if he can read my mind You're Natara Williams, don't forget that, alright? Just remember your name, and you'll be okay. I'm coming, I promise. Just try not to go too mad by the time I get here.
"Don't leave" I say, but already it seems like he's fading away. I can feel a lump forming in my throat, and I have to force myself not to let it dissolve into tears.
Come on, Nat. Don't let me see you cry. You never cry. You're strong; which is why you can make it out of this. You can beat this room. Just keep yourself busy. Find things to do. Keep your mind going. Think of all the things you'll do as soon as you're out of here, okay?
"Okay" I manage to choke out.
You can do this Mal says. When I blink he's gone, and once again I'm alone in the darkness. That is, until my vision explodes, light viciously attacking my eyes. I cover my face, trying to block it out. I force myself to look up, and that's when I see it.
A small door, no bigger than the palm of my hand, has opened up near the ceiling. Although the light is blinding, I can see a small hand sticking out of it.