Missing Like You

FOURTEEN

ISABELLE DONOVAN
FRIDAY JUNE 17, 2022

I feel myself on the brinks of consciousness. My brain registers that I'm awake and no longer dreaming before I even open my eyes. To another person, it would appear that I'm still asleep, blissfully in a dream state. But I am not. Now, I am awake.

It all happens so fast. I try to grasp onto the last remnants of the dream I was in as I'm sucked into consciousness. I try to hold onto it for as long as I can, remembering how I felt, how calm and happy I was. I try to remember it. But it fades so quickly and I wonder how that can be. I feel traces of it, lingering at the forefront of my brain. I squint and try to get it back. I remember clouds and flowers. I remember sun on my skin. I remember being kissed. And then just like that, darkness. I remember nothing. It is gone and I am awake.

That's when everything else starts to settle in, the slow but stark realization of where I am. The bed is hard beneath me. I am on a bed. A very uncomfortable bed. This is not my bed. Next, I open my eyes, slowly and carefully, although already sensing that something is amiss. Once my eyes adjust and I register my surroundings, they open all the way, and just like that, I'm in a full blown panic; mouth dry, heart accelerating.

I'm in a room. The sunlight is seeping in through the window. It must be morning. I sit up quickly and try to take in my surroundings. There's not much in here. The walls are plastered in a hideous red patterned wall-paper that looks like it's from the seventies. There's a dresser against one wall, but no mirror or vanity above it. There's a small table beside the bed with a lamp and a glass of water. Other than that, there is nothing in here.

I look towards the door, then get up and immediately go to it. I try the handle but it doesn't turn. It's locked.

I try again, twisting and pulling the handle, thinking that if I somehow maneuver it enough, it will magically open. But it doesn't.

I start knocking on the door, gently at first, calling out for somebody who might be out there. I grow impatient very quickly. I begin pounding on the door, banging as hard as I can, yelling at the top of my lungs. I seem crazy, unhinged, as though I'm locked up in a psyche ward for this exact reason. I am insane.

I take a step back, catching my breath. I try to compose myself, try to gather my thoughts and figure out where I am and why I'm here. I rush over to the window and look outside. There are slates of wood covering it from the outside. I can only see through little lines where the sun seeps in. I try to make out my surroundings. I can see a driveway and trees. Lots and lots of trees. I am in a forest.

I pace back and forth, then eventually sit on the bed. Okay. Let's go over the facts. This is what I know: I am in a room. It is in a house that must be in a forest. I am hungry, a little thirsty, and do not recognize this place at all. I don't remember anything prior to waking up or have even the slightest recollection of how I might have ended up here. Is it a family cottage? Was I visiting a friend? Was I with Scott? Surely I must have come here with someone. And surely I had a bit too much to drink if I can't even remember anything. But why is the door locked? Why am I suddenly starting to feel like I'm trapped here?

I begin to panic again. Thoughts flood my brain and I'm not sure how to get it to stop. I don't want it to stop. I want to figure out where I am.

I feel a pang in my head and I close my eyes and wince. I bring my fingers to my temple and squeeze, willing myself to remember. I've always been able to handle my alcohol. I scarcely get hangovers and have never blacked out. Is this what blacking out feels like? Waking up without a trace of the night before?

What if I was roofied? Then it hits me – the date last night. Oh my God, I don't even remember the date. Which means that most likely, Justin drugged me and brought me here. That would make sense. That's why I can't remember anything. I suddenly feel nauseous. I keel over and begin to dry-heave, but there's nothing in my stomach.

Just then I hear movement from outside the door. I stop and sit up, trying to calm myself and breathe. I watch carefully as the knob turns, and then slowly, the door opens.