The Flowers of Omen

The ringing in her ears won't cease. Growing more powerful to the point where she can't hear the sound of the distant sirens outside anymore. The plastic bottles on the nightstand were empty, with no intention to be thrown out. The strong smell of alcohol filled the room as she stared out the boarded window. Cars passed closely by and sirens wailed streets over, now she couldn’t hear any of it. The hair tie she was fidgeting with slipped from her hand and rolled out onto the mattress she had been sitting on. She laid back and let her eyes flutter as she thought back to what caused everything. Three things came to mind. Three pictures. 

In the first, it was a photo of most likely a family and their small child. The child had dark hair and light skin unlike the older man in the photo. It couldn't be older than 1 or 2 years old. By the dress, she could guess the child was a girl, but it was an ugly child. It's grin showing only it's lower teeth, and it’s somewhat large nose is what made her think this. She didn't care about how rude it sounded to call a child ugly, she just simply stated what she thought. In the picture there were two people, most likely the parents of the child, holding basketfuls of flowers around the child. Red spider lilies. 

The second was of a woman. She didn't seem too old; maybe in college because of the textbooks on the desk. It was the same girl as before. She could tell by the large nose, but the girl had worked on her smile and now it seemed more natural to the average human, yet at the same time so it seemed forged. Her eyes were oddly watery in this photo. But not too much that you would notice by a single glance. The man and woman from before were not in the picture this time. But a common theme was flowers. A vase with a small amount of cyclamen lay on her desk along with the books.

The third was the worst of the pictures. She seemed older now but not by much. Maybe soon after she graduated from college? She didn't smile in this picture. She was covered in dirt and blood from her mouth. Streaks were formed on her face from tears that had cleaned away some of the caked-on dirt. In the picture, a gloved hand was holding her face towards the camera with her hair. The picture was taken in the dark with what was probably a flashlight, as the only source of lighting. This made it hard to look for any details in the background of the picture.

A knock on the door ripped her away from her thoughts as she shot back up into a sitting position.  As the door swung open a tired-looking man wearing gloves entered the room faking a smile. Hey took a key from the handle and put it into his side pocket in his dark jeans. She watched as he motioned for her to come towards him. She stood carefully making her way to the door and walking past. She didn't speak to the man. She was afraid of what he might do if she did. Her footsteps clapped against the cold wooden ground as she made her way down the corridor. She glanced around at the walls. They were covered in pictures. Pictures of the girl she had been thinking about in the other room. She could tell by the nose. But there was one thing that she accepted in his time that she refused before.

These were photos of herself.

In her mind, she had known that this situation was her own, but she refused to believe it. She passed on her feelings as if they weren't her own, as if she were just an observer. She dissociated.  But walking down this hall with a man she doesn't know made her reconnect her realize, “this is me”. Last night she had been taken from the bar by a man she had never met or seen. The only thing she remembers after that is three pictures, And this scenery made her realize why. She thought this has to be a mistake. How does he have so many pictures of me but I've never seen him before? She felt a large hand on her back forcing her further down the hallway. Once again split from her thoughts she continued walking.

WHAM! Before she had realized it the man was in front of her. He had slammed the door open on their right. She took this as a signal to enter and turned to see the inside. Similar to the room before, it was small, but this room had no mattress or nightstand. Only a small table and 2 pillows.

“Sit,”  the voice from behind her stated. His voice didn't match his looks. He was unkempt and threatening-looking but his voice seemed soft and kind, similar to her father.  She sat down on the pillow quickly, watching as the man sat across from her. She knew she had to escape from this mess, but how? The bustling city outside seemed close enough.

Just as she thought this the man said something to her. “I am not the one who kidnapped you. I hired someone else. I am simply too weak to pin down someone. I did not ask for them to harm you. My only request was for them to take a photo of you so I could see your true distraught expression. I apologize for their rudeness. However, I do ask for one thing. Don't try to leave. I want to make a deal with you. I know what you've lived through, but I will not tell you how I know. As long as you do not try to escape I will let you live here as a safe place. I promise not to do anything that you dislike nor will I try to harm you. You may leave if you want. You may call the police after you leave. But I assure you that this is what I think is best for you. Because if you stay with me… you won't be alone anymore.”