The Wrong Key by A.J. Campbell

Author:A.J. Campbell [Campbell, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838109141
Published: 2023-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

21

ELLIE

The medicinal odour of antiseptic cream overrides a lingering waft of urine. I feel as if I’ve been spun in a washing machine on a full cycle, my head spinning, my body beaten. Have I just woken up from an overnight sleep or a late afternoon nap? I can’t tell. I lie still for a minute, curled in the foetal position. Sixty seconds of hoping that I’ve woken up from a nightmare. Hope dissolving into despair as the taste of vomit tells me this is no bad dream.

This is my reality.

I’ve been kidnapped. Or is it abducted? I don’t know the difference. Is there even a difference? Not that it matters.

Visions of being in a cellar or somewhere underground cluttered with old furniture covered with dust sheets, and giant spiderwebs hanging in every corner, fill me with terror.

But then I feel super-soft cotton draped over my skin. I lick my dry lips, wanting to open my eyes, needing to know where I’ve ended up, but the lids are stuck together. I raise my hand to brush away the crusty discharge, but it’s an effort. My arms are like lead, as though someone has strapped exercise weights around my wrists.

I try to scream but nothing comes out. My throat is raw, as if I’ve been screaming all night.

The door opens. Someone approaches the bed. I recoil tighter into a ball, wishing I was a baby again in Mum’s arms, her holding me tightly.

‘Try to sit up, girl. You sleep too long. You get up.’ The accent is Far Eastern. Filipino, I think. She sounds like a girl in my class from school. I strain my eyes open. A grey-haired woman with a rounded tummy and plump hips stands over me. I snigger. I can’t help it. Is it the drugs I feel have been injected into my body, or because she looks like Mrs Kwan, the babysitter from The Cat in the Hat? Mum and I adore that movie. It’s one of our favourites. We used to watch it together all the time when I was a kid. I start whistling the soundtrack. Mrs Kwan goes all blurry. I want to sleep.

‘Come on, sit.’ She shuffles over to me. Her full lips are daubed a scarlet red, and she wears her clothes in layers: a pink cardigan over a gingham shirt over a vest. She hooks her forearm into my armpit and drags me up. I comply, completely numb. As if someone has flicked off my emotion switch. I’m scared, though. I know that.

Really bloody scared.

I try to scream again; this time emitting a loud piercing cry. The woman’s hand flies to my mouth. ‘No, girl. You no scream. Man outside kill you. Please. No scream.’

I push her hand away, coughing and spluttering. ‘Who are you? What do you want from me?’

She slides my knees over the side of the bed, where my toes sink into the soft carpet. I’m wearing a T-shirt and knickers. They’re not mine, but they fit me as if they were.

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