Deviance

Author's Note

Thanks everyone for the words of encouragement. This has not been edited and may have typo, but nonetheless, enjoy.

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Trapped in the in-between state of consciousness and unconsciousness, I couldn't move. My body was rigid and heavy, but the space around me was warm, soft, and comfortable--I could tell that much. I tried to open my eyes, but they would not budge. Instead, I could only hear voices around me.

"How is she?"

"I've just received her films." This voice was much closer to me. "She has a small hairline fracture in her right clavicle and scapula that should heal on their own without intervention. I'm more concerned with this." There was a rustle of something, and then it hit me. I could smell antiseptic and something else as the voices moved closer.

"How long?" a familiar voice asked.

"If I can set it now, a few days to be safe. I'll need to follow up in a few weeks as a precaution. She won't feel a thing, and I'll keep the pain managed for now."

There wasn't a moment of hesitation. "Do it. And the other thing we discussed?"

"Won't be an issue."

"Good. What else have you found?"

The voices began fading, but I could barely make out the words.

"She's relatively healthy. A few bruises, low blood sugar, and some dehydration, but nothing serious." The voice moved farther away, and the words soon fell to an unrecognizable mumble.

"Good." His footsteps grew louder as he approached. I felt the gentle caress of his touch as he brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

I tried to move away from him, but all I could manage was a twitch of my hand.

"It's time for her meds; she's starting to come to," I felt someone at my side. A hand grazed my arm, and then I smelled something funny.

"Keep me updated and notify me immediately if something changes."

"Of course. She's in good hands."

I couldn't teeter between the two realms anymore, as I fell back into unconsciousness, or rather, pulled down.

*****

This time I woke in darkness, but it was not the same kind I'd been subjected to since leaving my cage. I wasn't trapped inside my mind anymore; it was nighttime, or at least I thought so. I blinked away the hazy film that covered my eyes, but the darkness did not go away. I'd been blindfolded, I realized.

The more I tried to focus, the clearer my thoughts became. Relying heavily on my other senses, I noticed the room still smelled like antiseptic with a hint of something... cloves? I was still in a bed, but my body felt different.

There was something cold on my left arm, an IV maybe? And my other hand felt trapped; it felt as if it had been wrapped in a thick brace. When I shifted, an ice pack fell to the ground with a thud.

It was only then that I realized I couldn't move. I pulled and pulled, but the restraints that bound my wrists would not give. I only fought harder. The machine beside me started sounding, detecting my elevated heart rate.

Just then, I heard a beep at the door as someone walked across the room. My first thought was my abductor had come back, but I had no way of knowing. I heard a cabinet open and the clanking of glass bottles.

"Easy, I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here." I recognized his voice from earlier.

"Let me go." I shook my head and pulled at the restraints again.

His footsteps approached me.

"Get away from me." I stuttered as I felt him release something into the IV. "Please... don't."

"This is for the pain."

"No," the room was already starting to spin.

"Just rest now."

*****

The following days blurred together, but I was shocked to find that I was in my bedroom when I finally came to. Lunging forward, I was relieved as I recognized all of my belongings. Not a moment later, I wondered if the entire thing had been some sick, twisted dream, but when I looked at my hand, it was wrapped in a thin black, rigid support brace.

There were signs of some old bruises that had nearly healed, but it confirmed my worst fear. I hadn't been dreaming. I was living the nightmare.

Scanning the room, I found my phone on the nightstand alongside a note that said Read Me. Warily, I picked the elegant cardstock up and opened the letter.

Roisin, I promised you I would not hurt you, but I did not account for your tenacity. In an attempt to free yourself, you broke your hand. My medical team was able to set the bone. Wear the brace for another week, take the pain medication as prescribed, and be careful. If you need medical assistance, the number has been programmed into your phone. I take my privacy seriously, and I ask that you are equally discreet. Should you mention our agreement to anyone, you'll soon find yourself in a very different situation. Continue with your routine, and I'll be in touch.

Beside the note was a bottle of prescription painkillers with my name on it that I had no intentions of taking. It wasn't that I wasn't in pain but that I did not trust the source, not after everything that has happened.

A wave of relief washed over me when I reached for my phone. I have seven missed calls from Cillian and three from my mom. Listening to the voicemails, Cillian sounded upset that I had left him an email saying I would be out all week after breaking my hand falling--only I hadn't sent him any email. It was hard to tell if he was truly angry when he wished me a speedy recovery at the end. And my mom was eager to know how the campus tour went.

The campus tour! I had nearly forgotten as I glanced at the calendar. Today was Monday, but not the right Monday. I dropped the phone on the comforter, jumped out of bed, and paced the short space as I realized a whole week had disappeared.

I had missed my opportunity to tour the campus, and I hadn't even been aware of it. That was the part that bothered me the most--that I hadn't been able to track the time as it slipped by.

After I had paced about all I could, I picked up the phone and called Cillian. I hadn't quite figured out what to tell my mom yet. Cillian answered on the second ring.

"I was beginning to think you'd been abducted." He said, his voice an even monotone which only made my fake chuckle turn into a cynical laugh.

"Roisin, are you okay?" While I knew I couldn't detect the concern in his voice, I knew he was sincere since he was asking. And part of me had no idea how to respond. Do I tell him he isn't wrong and that no, I'm not okay? I mean--physically, I was fine, short of the mending hand, but mentally, I was confused and lost, angry, and determined to tell someone, but the note's threat stopped me in my tracks.

Cillian filled the silence. "Anyhow, if you're feeling up to it, I could use you tomorrow night. Caitlyn quit, and with you being out for a week, the place has been in a steady state of chaos. So, what do you say?"

"Uh, sure. I'll be there."

"Awesome, and if it's too much with your hand, let me know." If only he knew...

I could sense he was getting ready to hang up. "Wait, Kill--is my car still there?" I asked, peering out the window onto the street below where I usually parked it, finding it missing.

"No. You had it towed, remember?"

"Oh right," Only, I had done no such thing. "Do you remember which company I used? I called so many of them, I can't remember." I hated lying to him.

"Bronski Brothers, I think? Don't quote me on it."

"Thanks." I hung up the phone, tossing it back onto the bed, and leaned against the brick wall of my rundown apartment.

It wasn't much, but it was affordable, and I didn't have to share it with anyone, which I couldn't say about most of New York. A majority of the floors had been covered in a thick carpet, and the windows were replaced a year ago with more heat-efficient double-paned glass; it was such a little thing, but it made a world of difference in the winter months.

And Mr. McLaughlin, my landlord, was a decent human being. I truly lucked out.

Pushing off the wall, I was determined to figure out who took me, but as I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, I decided a bath was in order.

Fifteen minutes later, I was soaking in a hot bath. Muscles I never knew I had, ached, and my body felt stiff. The only conclusion I could come up with was that it was because I was bedbound for the last week. Once my muscles began to loosen, I scrubbed every inch and then again before washing my hair and rinsing off.

When I reemerged, I looked several degrees livelier. The misty green color of my eyes shimmered in the light. My skin looked healthier, and my mind sharper than ever. I began studying the bruises and small scar on my hand when my phone rang.

Rushing back into my bedroom, I grabbed it on the third ring. It was a restricted number. I hesitated for a moment, but with a sigh of resolve, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Miss Roisin Ward? This is Amy Wright from Columbia University. I am just calling to confirm your private campus tour later this afternoon."

Private campus tour? I hadn't scheduled anything, but just as quickly as I finished the thought, I was reminded of the other things I hadn't done lately.

"Oh, right. Would you remind me what time it is scheduled for?"

"Of course, I have you down for two o'clock this afternoon. Will that time still be acceptable?"

"Yes. I'll be there."

"Great, see you then."