Mama…
I flicker my eyes open. Light burns them, making it hard to see. I’m warm, soft pillows around me. I’m in a different room, on a bed I don’t recognize. My heart beats loud again as I sit up, taking in the room. It’s so big. White walls surround me. Odd pictures with silly faces hang on them, like Mama does with photos of us in our house. There’s a giant window. I can see trees outside and the sky. It’s daytime. A burning pain heats my neck.
“Ow,” I moan, my fingers rubbing there. It’s covered with something. A bandage?
“Mama?” I croak, searching. My voice is different, broken.
“You’re awake.” That voice, the man from my house, deep like Daddy’s but it isn’t Daddy. My tummy clenches.
I move across the bed to face him. He’s sitting in the corner of the giant room on a green chair, wearing a suit like my teacher wears. My insides squirm. I look for a door but I’m too scared to move. I wet myself. I can’t stop it. Daddy’s going to be so mad at me. Where is Daddy?
“I know this is disorientating for you. You’ve been in and out of sleep for a few days. We kept you that way to help you heal.” He points a large finger to my neck.
“I’m going to give you information, and I want you to nod your head so I know you’re listening to me. Do you understand?” His voice is firm, but he’s not shouting. “Freya?”
I gasp when he says my name. How does he know my name?
“Do you understand?” he asks, shifting in the chair. The light shines on his face, and my hands twist in the duvet. He doesn’t look scary. I think I’ve seen him before, talking with Mama at the house.
“I don’t like repeating myself, Freya, but I’ll ask you one last time, do you understand?”
I jerk my head and whisper, “Yes.”
“Good.” He bows his head, holding his hands out, looking them over. There are cuts on them. And ink. Tattoos.
“This is your room now. You’ll live here with me,” he says, standing up. He’s so tall and big, I want to hide under my blankie but it’s not here.
“Where’s Mama?” I croak, my nose running and dripping into my mouth. It’s salty and gross.
“You don’t have a Mama. You have me. A nice lady will be here in a minute. Her name is Dominque. She’ll be taking care of your needs from now on. If you need anything, you will ask her for it.” He walks back and forth close to the bed, watching me.
“What about Mama?” I ask, feeling sick.
“You don’t have a mama,” he tells me again. It hurts my brain and heart. I want Mama.
“I want to go home.” The words are quiet compared to his. He stops walking and holds his hands behind his back.
“You are home. This is where you live now.”
Mama…
“Are you hungry?”
I nod my head. My tummy hurts I’m so hungry.
As he walks toward the door, I get brave. Throwing the duvet away, I get to my feet, holding my hands over the wet patch on my pants so he doesn’t see. Will he get mad like Daddy does?
“Midnight?” I want my kitten. He was so scared. He’ll be lonely without me.
Silence.
I fight the need to pee my pants again as he stares down at me. The color of his eyes is like fire. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d think they were cool, pretty.
Moving his arm, he points to a box in the corner of the room. My tummy flips as I follow his finger. My feet take off running toward it. Please be here, please be here, I say in my head, dropping to my knees. Hurriedly, my fingers unlatch the small door on the side of the box.
“Midnight.” A sob bursts out of me. My black fluffy kitten meows from inside. I’m happy and sad at the same time. I wish Mama was here too.
“It’s a good name,” the man says, looking between me and Midnight.
I like his name too.
“He’s not to leave this room,” he adds, his hand on the doorknob. Where’s he going?
His attention drops to a picture on a table by the door, a pretty silver frame with a photo of two boys who have the same face standing back-to-back, they’re smiling at the camera. They seem happy.
Picking the photo up, the man’s face crumples. He’s sad like me.
Gathering up Midnight, I stroke his soft, warm fur. He’s the fluffiest, softest kitten that ever existed. Mama said that’s why she picked him for me, to give me warm cuddles when she couldn’t. I wonder if those boys’ mama gives them hugs. “Who are they?” I ask.
Do they live here too? Taken from their home like me? Do they have a mama?