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Kali
The confined space feels like a tomb. “I don’t want to die,” I cry out, continuing to pound my shredded knuckles into the hardwood. I turn over and try to push with my back against the top. It doesn’t budge.
Where am I?
Who did this?
Why me?
I flip back over. The air is thick and wet, each breath a struggle. How long have I been down here? I was surprised to wake up, still alive. I lick my dry, chapped lips. The quiet, deathly silence amplifies the sound of my heart.
Someone has to find me. Right?
Does anyone even know I’m missing?
I freeze. What was that?
A sudden wave of terror grips me like a vise as a crawling sensation moves up my calf, like tiny little feet moving in unison. Eight of them, to be exact. My screams bounce off the closed-in walls as I thrash around, my bare legs colliding and scratching the wood to kill the supposed spider rather than just kick it off.
More tingles.
“I’m not dead! You can’t eat me yet!” I scream, the words echoing with a mixture of defiance and desperation. Sweat or tears burn my cheeks. It’s hard to separate them at this point.
Calm down, Kali. It’s all in your head. There’s nothing in here with you. If I say it enough, I’ll believe it, right? With heaving breaths, I squeeze my eyes shut, repeating the reassuring words aloud. The tingles fade, leaving behind a cocktail of emotions—anger and, now, embarrassment.
“Noooo!” I exclaim, my hand reaching for the middle of my shorts at the apex of my legs. I’m met with wetness. Urine soaks my panties and shorts. The acrid scent mingles with the already foul odor of dirt and blood. “Don’t throw up,” I whisper, swallowing back the sour taste rising in the back of my throat.
How much longer can I take this? Minutes? An hour?
Everything is so…dark. Cold.
“Please, God. Send someone to save me.”
“Just count,” a sweet, haunting female voice urges, not my own.
My head jerks from side to side. Mom? Her voice, long absent from my life, resonates in my mind.
“Who said that?” I ask, but the void offers no response. “Count what?”
I’m losing my mind.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I comply with the mysterious voice. Hearing her voice after each number, I focus on a happy memory with my parents. I have four years of memories that I’ve not thought about in a long time. It hurt my heart to let my mind go there. I had to suppress those feelings to move on, and before I knew it, they were nothing but a distant memory. I regret having to do that, but I was a kid, left behind in a messed-up world with no direction. But now, in this desperate moment, I want nothing more than to let their memories wash over me like a bittersweet tide.
“Four.”
I chuckle through the fear, reliving one of the memories.
“Dad! Why are you dressed like a dinosaur?” My face heats with embarrassment as I hide in my hands, trying to escape the laughter and claps. The last day of third grade, and this is how he picks me up? Is he trying to kill me?
We both knew my embarrassment wouldn’t last long. He was always goofy like that. Everyone wished they had a dad like mine. That was the last memory I had of my dad before their car accident the next day. I jump to the next number so I don’t get stuck on that day. I’ve spent countless hours in therapy reliving it. That is not happening today.
Good thoughts only, Kali.
One after another, memories flood my mind. I keep my focus on the next number, the next memory, never giving myself time to be pulled back into the darkness.
“Twenty. Oh my gosh. I forgot about this day,” I say to no one. Or maybe to my mom, who’s obviously listening.
“Jimmy, what does that mean?” I hold on tighter to the merry-go-round as he spins it faster, then jumps back on. My dad says I’m too young to be hanging around a ten-year-old. I’m not that young. I’m six.
