Caged (Savage Men 1)

It’s Suzie.

I scream, but the sound disappears into a sea of trees echoing my voice.

“I’m sorry.”

A voice makes me turn my head toward the direction its coming from, just behind a tree not far from Suzie.

“I only wanted someone to talk to,” he adds.

It’s him. The man who took Suzie.

He quickly turns and runs, disappearing into the forest.

Without thinking, I slide down the slope of the cliff, careful not to fall as I rush to her. I wrap my arms around her and shake her, but she doesn’t respond.

“Suzie?” I call out her name maybe three, four … fifteen times.

Nothing I say or do reaches her.

No matter how many times I push her, how many tears roll down my cheeks, how many times I scream—nothing will bring her back.

The more I cry, the less my voice is heard. And even though I try, the sound of my voice keeps fading until nothing’s left.

Nothing.

Suzie’s gone and so has my voice.

She screamed my name, and I didn’t get to her in time. She lost her voice because I refused to use mine. And now it’s all gone.

She’s gone.

But I promised Mommy … I promised.

And now I’ll never bring her back home.

Chapter Two

Accompanying Song: “Summa For Strings” by Arvo Pärt

Ella

Present

When I’ve gathered enough flowers, I stroll through the streets until I get to the cemetery. I open the iron-clad fence, its loud squeak a stark difference from the silence up ahead. As I walk along the pebble path, I notice I’m not alone, but that’s okay. Everyone here has lost someone dear to them, and not a single soul would dare to say they don’t miss them.

I do too.

I place my hand on top of the cold stone in front of the grave and say a prayer. Sometimes, I even talk to her in my head.

I brought you these flowers.

I place them on the grave.

I know you always loved to steal them from the park, so I thought I’d pick them for you instead of buying a bouquet. Are you okay here? Do they treat you well in the afterlife? I hope you don’t miss me too much. I promise I won’t be long. But I won’t come until it’s my time. I know you’d want me to enjoy the life I have here. It’s just hard, you know? Of course, you know … you lived it.

I sigh and bite my lip.

Twelve long years. And still, nothing has changed.

The world still revolves around the sun. People live their lives, oblivious to the pain of others. And me? I’m still stuck in that same memory … still unable to move on.

I turn around and make my way out of the cemetery, determined not to stick around for too long or else I might even spend the day. I have to get this out of my head. Have to find my happy place again.

Turning the corner, I start across the bridge over the river and stop in the middle. I grab my loaf of bread and pull off a few pieces, chucking them into the water. The ducks and seagulls quickly gather to gobble them down, fighting over every last bit as if it’s the only food they’ve gotten in a week. Except they’re as fat as can be, so that can’t be it. They’re so used to people that they practically follow me around just to get more of that bread, and it makes me giggle. Especially when one of the ducks nibbles on my dress.

I try to shoo it away but have no luck. When I twist and spin on my heels, I notice a car with tinted windows on the road at the end of the bridge. A man in the driver’s seat has rolled his window down and is staring at me.

A chill runs down my spine.

I don’t know why, but when he drives off seconds later, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

To this day, every single incident scares me. Makes me want to scream with the voice I’ve lost long ago.

I’ll do anything to stop the terror, so I start walking. Even with all the ducks chasing me, I keep going. One of the ducks latches onto my dress again. I pull it back and throw another piece of bread behind me. They’re so busy and distracted that I can make a run for it.

I’m completely out of breath when I get home. I can’t believe I got so worked up again over just a car. It was fun feeding the animals, though.

I take off my coat and put the loaf away then I put a cup of water in the microwave and heat it up. After I make a cup of hot tea, I sit down on the couch and pick up my Kindle. I love reading … and I love tea. It’s odd because most people I know don’t drink tea, but I love it. Then again, I’m not like most people.