Little Girl Lost.

017.

"Calayah."

I heard a faint scream echo from somewhere in the distance.

"Am I dreaming?" I mumbled groggily, not meaning to let the words so easily fall off my tongue.

How long had I been sleeping? Had I been sleeping at all? What I wouldn't give for a watch.

"Up." The voice hissed, anger echoing on the edge of the owner's tone. I felt his boot lightly kick my foot that peeked out from under the thin blanket.

The memory of the dark haired, dark eyed stranger came careening back, how he yelled and hit me at the interpretation of the slightest transgression. My heart thudded in my chest and I could feel the familiar chill of that panicky fog creep up my spine, threatening to pull me back out of my body.

"I'm up, I'm up." I stuttered, scrambling to sit upright. I wondered if he could hear the panicking and uncertainty in my voice.

I let the silence stir through the room, too afraid to say anything or move for fear he might snap and bring his fist against my cheekbone again.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

The air crumbled around me.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't do anyt-"

"Be quiet." His piercing tone cut the tension like a hot knife sliding through butter.

I rubbed my hands up and down my sore thighs, trying to massage out the kinks and knots sustained from working and cleaning nearly all day. But my hands had been torn raw from the bleach and the skin felt more like sandpaper than anything else.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He repeated, slowing his words as if he was struggling to restrain his tongue.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I sighed, frustrated and exhausted.

"Shut up and let me sleep, asshole. Haven't you done enough to bother me? I'm set for life, really." I thought to myself, internally scoffing in annoyance.

"They tell me everything, Calayah! I'm in charge of you. I'm held accountable for whatever you do, dammit. You can't breathe without me knowing about it." He fumed, beginning to pace back and forth in the small cell.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Watch your tongue, Calayah."

"Don't give them a reason. Fight like hell and don't back down but kid, you have to know when to stop. Once they bring you here, you'll give up. I'm not letting you do that, you hear?"

I remembered Tracey's words and sighed at the disarrayed, confused state of what was going on in my head. How was I supposed to, "fight like hell" but without giving them a reason to..do that? The chaos spun my head around like a whirlpool, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. This was all too confusing.

"Calayah, are you paying attention?"

I snapped.

"I don't know, are you paying attention to the fact that I have no idea what you're talking about?" I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him. I pushed the nagging voice at the back of my head that screamed at me to stop, to not take the risk, to be quiet and blend in with the gray backdrop. Now it was my turn to be angry.

"Do you really want to play this game, little girl?" He looked down at me in disgust, repulsed by the fact that I was even trying.

I shrugged my shoulders, refusing to budge in my stubbornness.

"Fine."

He grabbed hold of my arm, just above my elbow and pulled me up off the mattress. He paused for a moment, studying my face intently as if looking for something before he turned and shoved me backwards into the cold, hard wall. The back of my head hit the solid wall and I involuntarily whimpered, my hands flying to the back of my skull to attempt to soothe the pain.

"You are not in the position for this, Calayah. You don't have the cards to play, you have no idea what you're up against."

"Wait and see, asshole." I spat back.

He grabbed my jaw in his hand, his fingers sharply digging into my skin, and forced me to look at him. I could feel bruises beginning to form beneath his steadfast grip and I grimaced.

"You're a naive child. This isn't a movie, this is real life and you are no hero here." He whispered, the edge of his mouth coiling up into a sickening smile. He was enjoying every second of this, "No more jumping in between guards and the girls, Calayah. You have nothing to give any of them and all it will do for you is send you to the Hole. Believe me, you don't want to go there."

I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to kick and scream, to fight and yell. I wanted to tear him apart, to tear this place apart, to leave everything behind in a pile of smoldering ash. I wanted to burn it down, run away and never look back.

"Do you understand me?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to turn away but he only tightened his hold on my jaw. His fingernails dug into my chin, breaking the bruised skin open.

"Do I need to ask again, Calayah?"

"Fine." I hissed through grit teeth.

"Good girl." He chuckled, releasing his grip on my face.

I slid to the floor.

"If you pull that stunt again, I'll make sure that you get a lot worse than that pathetic brat did."

I didn't have the emotional energy to fight back, I just let his words hang free in the air until they evaporated upward like thin wisps of gray smoke.

"I have your work assignment, by the way. You're starting off in the kitchen, report there tomorrow after you're released for work and you'll be told what to do. And if you happen to get lost between here and there, I'll find out. Don't try anything, Calayah. You're already walking on thin ice."

Maybe I'd fall through and drown.

"Did you hear me?"

I nodded.

"Calayah, speak."

I felt like a dog being commanded what to do. I swallowed the nausea and ran my shaking hands through my tangled hair.

"Yes, I understand."

"Sir."

"Control freak." I thought to myself.

"Yes, I understand." I paused, gritting my teeth, "Sir."

Satisfied, he turned away and pawed through a manila folder clutched in his hands. What exactly was he reading about? What kind of information did he have in that file? What did it say about me? I remembered how he had spouted off facts about me before. My name, my age, my gymnastics. It was nerve-wracking knowing that everything about who you were could be reduced to a few words on a piece of paper in a folder, offered up to whoever was willing to take it.

"Are you aware of what I am expecting of you, Calayah?" He was still staring intently at the file in his hands.

"Enlighten me."

"Watch it."

I'd like to reach down his throat and pull out his vocal chords, make it so he could never talk again. I wouldn't have to hear the harsh, icy tone snap out at me. I enjoyed the thought of hurting the pompous bastard.

"It's not difficult, but you clearly enjoy making things hard on yourself. I don't know why you have to make your situation so complicated."

"I'm the one who is making this complicated? Are you saying it's my fault for being kidnapped, for being assaulted? This isn't my fault!" I could feel the panic beginning to rush over me, threatening to engulf me in its static.

"Know your place." He simply remarked, unmoved by my sudden bout of defiance.

"That's not right. You're a really sick person if you think this could possibly be my fault." I felt my voice shake and I couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger.

"It's going to be your fault if you don't shut your mouth in the next five seconds." He tucked the folder under his arm and thrust his now free hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.

"Blame me for you being a dick who has to beat up kids so he can feel good about himself."

I turned away, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears beginning to brim on the edges of my eyes.

"I'll be back tomorrow, I hope there won't be any further reports of your behavior getting out of hand."

I ignored him.

"Oh, and Calayah? This made me think of you." I could just make out the remnants of a smile playing through on the edges of his voice.

I heard him set something on the ground near his feet and the sound of paper being slid across the floor. I refused to turn my head to look until I heard the metal door slide open and shut again with the all too familiar scrape of metal against concrete.

I glanced down, a plain white piece of paper sat next to my bare feet. It was upside down, I could faintly make out letters and a small photo that had been printed on the opposite side that lay against the dingy floor.

"What kind of sick joke is this?" I scoffed before reaching down and pulling up the small flier.

Bold black letters printed across the top spelled out, "Join the family and friends of Calayah Davis." Below was a small, black and white photo. My school picture that was taken the year before.

"Oh my God, no." I screamed, crumpling the piece of paper and throwing it into the far corner. I couldn't bear to see what else was written, what else they had said. Was that just some sick joke he was pulling, trying to break my sanity bit by bit? Or did that actually happen, did he actually go to a vigil..that was being held for me? He was there with Rodney and my team and my coach. I felt sick.

"You sick bastard, you sick bastard." I cried, holding my head in my hands as I rocked back and forth.

I could hear someone off in the distance scream again, the terror echoing up and dissipating against the gray walls and ceiling.

"I'm in hell."