IN THE PRESENT

The fact that my head is pounding steadily to the beat of my heart is my first clue that I’m somehow alive, albeit not in the best of shape. My mouth is dry and I force myself to swallow just to try to get everything working again. It feels like my insides are coated with sandpaper.

I crack my left eye open and I’m greeted by a sea of nothingness. It’s a darkness so complete that I am not even sure I’ve actually opened my eyes for a moment. I wouldn’t even be able to see my hand right in front of my face.

Then again, since my hands are still secured behind my back, I guess that isn’t an issue at the moment. I wiggle my toes, and sigh. At least my ankles aren’t secured to my wrists anymore.

I force myself into a sitting position. My shoulders scream in protest as they get pulled back. I wonder how long I’ve been kept bound like this.

I try to stifle the groan that threatens to escape past my lips. I don't know who might be listening.

Beneath me the ground is cool, if not a little damp. I lean back and my head brushes against a wall. It’s as cool as the floor, making me think I am being held somewhere underground.

Before I can think about what that means for me and any attempt at escaping, the room explodes with light. I shut my eyes and turn my face away from the blinding assault that only intensifies an already bad headache.

I can’t tell if this development will be good or bad for me. With my track record, I’m voting for bad.

I hear something scrape along the floor and then the shuffle of boots. Someone else is in here.

“Wow! You look like shit,” a familiar voice exclaims from somewhere nearby. “They left you tied up. Come on….” The man mutters a few choice expletives beneath his breath.

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A hand brushes along my arm and I clamp down on my fear and try not to move. His hands are gentle as he reaches around behind me and cuts whatever was holding my arms.

Fear screams at me to open my eyes and run now that I’m no longer bound, but my body simply cannot obey.

“Zo, it’s okay. You’re safe. Zo, can you hear me?” A finger brushes my cheek and I shy away from it. Against my will, a whimper escapes. When did I get so whiny?

The man moves away from me and after a moment I can tell the lights have dimmed. It no longer seeps past my eyelids and the pain ebbs just a bit.

“Can you open your eyes?” I don’t want to do what he says but I know that just me being spiteful.

I open just my left eye again and look around the room. The man who released me is standing by a simple steel door, his leg bent at the knee with his foot back against it and his arms crossed. His face is in shadow from the cast of the ceiling lights. I look away from him and see that I am in a makeshift bedroom.

It’s sparse but not devoid of furniture. There is a bed pushed against one wall with a chest at the end, presumably for clothing, and on the far wall in a sink and mirror positioned beside a toilet and long dark rectangle that reaches from floor to ceiling.

A shower would be nice.

I open my other eye now that I've adjusted to the light, which seems to be what the man was waiting for. He moves in closer, and sits back on his haunches a few feet away from my huddled position against the wall. From this distance I can see him clearly.

A strong jaw with a hint of a bread and full lips that are pulled to the side by a scar which runs from just under his left eye, down his cheek, and stops as it reaches his chin.

My eyes move up, past a nose that looks like it’s been broken one too many times, to his eyes. They are brown, light and warm like brown sugar.

I know these particular eyes look like amber in sunlight.

I know exactly how his nose has been broken 4 times.

I know this face as if it were my own.

“Ander?” I croak out, not sure if I can let myself believe it.

A smile spreads across his face, though the scar distorts the left side so it looks more like a pained grimace than a joyful smile. It’s a wound that has long since healed, but it’s a regular reminder of things past.