Birth and Rebirth

Meanwhile, in the warehouse . . .

Despite her earlier notion that her prison was too isolated for anyone to hear her, Jessica’s desperation for freedom propelled her to stand in the middle of the room and cry out for help when she believed her captors were no longer around. Unfortunately, she discovered that she was always being guarded, and they did not take kindly to loud noises.

A very large man in the same purple robes as the others came into her ‘cell’ upon hearing her screaming. He slapped her so hard her head snapped back and she stumbled back onto the cot, clutching her cheek. He glared down at her, as if daring her to make another sound. She stared up at him in wide-eyed terror, putting a shaky hand to her cheek. When he was satisfied that she was adequately fearful, he left her alone again.

It was ironic. This was the most emotion any of them had shown her. She was almost glad to know that they could feel at all. Then she realized that much like all the others, he had not spoken to her, not even to warn her to be quiet. She longed for social contact, even if it had to be from these lunatics.

She walked over to the sink. One of the men had left her a washrag, in case she had to vomit again and needed to clean up. She wet the rag with cool water, and pressed it to her cheek. The whole side of her face throbbed from the blow she’d received, and the pressure of the washrag was almost unbearable at first, but the cold soon soothed her pain. When she rested the cloth against her lips, she felt a slight sting. She pulled back the rag and discovered that the side of her lip was bleeding. She touched it with her fingertip, wincing at the pain. She pressed the cold washrag to her split lip, hoping that it hadn’t swelled to twice its normal size.

While tending to her wounds, she had an epiphany. ‘If he came up here to silence me so brutally, this place may not be as isolated as I thought. Maybe there is a chance of escape.’

She searched the desk again. It was empty except for a few old invoices for imported goods. The invoices were old and faded, and she couldn’t clearly make out the name of the warehouse, but on one invoice, she could just make out that the company’s name began with a ‘B’ and ended with ‘Inc.’ and it was a shipping invoice. Jessica’s face lit up with a smile. She tiptoed over to each wall pressing her ear against them, listening carefully. Finally, she heard it at the wall that her cot was up against . . . the river. She heard the splashing of the waves and the occasional squawk of a seagull. She was in a warehouse on the riverfront.

Now she had to get a message out. She knew only one way to do that. She sat on the cot, closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts. She then concentrated on what she knew about her prison and captors. In her mind, she then repeated her whereabouts over and over again.