Evermore Mariyah

The last thing I remember before everything went dark was walking to my car after my shift at the diner. There had been footsteps behind me, the sound of crunching gravel loud in my ears. Then I climbed into my car, and I was safe. The person who had been walking behind me continued on to the main road, a cigarette in his mouth. I had locked the doors and taken a deep breath, relieved that I had gotten to my car safely. Then, a sight that made my heart freeze in my chest. A face in my rearview mirror. And then darkness. 

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious. My tongue feels parched, my throat dry. When I try to move, I find that I can’t. 

Upon opening my eyes, I find that my arms and legs are bound to the chair I’m seated in. My eyes dart around the room, still adjusting to the dim lighting as my mind races, trying to figure out where I am. 

There is a set of stairs off to the far right corner of the room, leading up to a shut door. There are no windows, as far as I can tell. I can’t see behind me, but I assume there is a radio, as I can hear soft music playing. It is so quiet that I can’t make out the song, let alone the lyrics. 

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open, and I quickly drop my chin to my chest, desperately hoping that whoever it is up there will assume that I am still out cold. 

Their footsteps sound heavy on the stairs, and I automatically guess that it is a man coming down the steps. 

I peek open my eyes as the person enters the room and passes by me, and my suspicion is confirmed. It looks to be a middle-aged man with dark hair with the beginnings of a beer belly. He’s got on glasses and I watch as he takes them off, setting them down on a little desk just barely visible in my peripheral. 

I want to cry, the reality of my situation sinking in. Biting down on my tongue, I force myself to stay quiet. This is only ever supposed to happen on TV. Certainly not to me, a 19-year old working at a diner making minimum wage just to get by. 

The door creaks open again, and another set of steps come down the stairs. A partner, perhaps? Or an unsuspecting someone that may just be my saviour. 

The hope that fluttered in my heart only a moment ago is crushed when the man comes up from behind me and kisses the woman on her cheek. Both have wedding bands, and I feel any chance of escape I may have had just flew out the window. 

When the woman turns her gaze to me, I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that she didn’t just catch me watching them. 

I can feel her step closer, and then her breath on my face as she gently pushes my loose hair aside. The smell of artificial floral perfume overwhelms my nose and I resist the urge to cough. 

The gentle touch of her fingers are gone, and she grabs my chin, yanking my head up to look at her. I keep my eyes squeezed shut.

“It’d be in your best interest to open your eyes,” the man orders gruffly.

Despite the internal battle raging within me, I slowly open my eyes and find myself face-to-face with the woman. 

“Michael darling, you found my baby girl!"

She’s got on a full face of makeup, and bright red lipstick. If you squint, her and Umbridge, the crazy lady from Harry Potter sort of look alike. This woman also has short brunette hair that’s pulled back and she’s wearing a pink floral dress that comes down to her shins. She holds out her hand and strokes my cheek, an odd touch of affection from someone keeping me hostage in their basement.

“Mariyah, where did you go? I was worried about you. Don’t run off like that again, okay?”

I keep my eyes on the woman as she lets go of me and makes a slow circle around the chair, observing me at every angle. She touches my hair, rubs my skin. 

“I know you’ve been worried, my dear. But I found her. She got lost on her way home, but I found her at a diner.”

“Please, let me go,” I finally plead, sensing that they won’t be letting me go once they’re done with me. “I won’t tell anyone. Please, just leave me on the side of the road somewhere and I’ll keep quiet about all this.”

I force my tears back, not wanting to show any signs of weakness.

A door opens and shuts somewhere upstairs, and the sound of footsteps move past the basement door. 

The woman makes her way up the stairs as Michael opens one of the drawers. Should I call out for help? The person upstairs might be able to help me. 

“Help!” I scream, but I can’t get anything more out as Michael grabs me by the hair and puts a hand over my mouth and nose. I can feel my lungs slowly running out of oxygen and there’s nothing I can do to push him away. 

“Mom? Was that you?” comes a voice from upstairs.

The woman looks down at Michael. “Go, Lillian. I’ll take care of her.”

Lillian nods and opens the basement door. “Sorry, darling. I almost fell down the stairs back there,” she laughs lightly, shutting the door behind her.

Now that she’s gone, Michael brings his lips down to my ear. “If you make a sound, I will kill you. Understand?”

I nod quickly, desperate for him to let go. 

His hand pulls away from my mouth and I lean forward, gulping down deep breaths of air. Michael steps forward and kneels down in front of me, a cloth gag in hand. He wraps it around my head before roughly shoving the cloth into my mouth. 

“If I have even a suspicion that you are going to try and make noise or escape, I will strangle you. No one will ever find the body.”

He stands then and looks me over before turning and going up the stairs. He pauses when he reaches the top, flicks a switch, and then exits the basement, leaving me in total darkness.

***

My stomach continuously aches. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve last eaten. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I find myself searching the room for a possible escape route. What no one ever tells you about being abducted is the boredom. It feels as though I’ve been in here for days, but it’s probably only been a couple of hours. 

The basement door opens up and light floods through the doorway. To my surprise, I see it’s a boy, about my age, coming down the steps. He’s got a plate of food and a glass of water in his hands. He pauses at the bottom of the steps, eyeing me carefully. 

He seems tired and unsure, a concerned look in his eyes. He walks towards the desk and sets the plate and glass down. I can’t see him now, and my heart races in my chest. What if he hurts me? A family of psychopaths. How often do you hear of something like that?

The boy drags a chair over and sets it in front of me. 

“You’ve gotta promise me that you’re not going to try anything. I don’t want to hurt you, and my parents will be furious if they found out I untied the ropes.”

I stare at him for a long time, not knowing if I can trust him. He’s got dark, fluffy hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes. Before I know it, I’m nodding.

“Ok, just don’t move.”

He kneels down and begins untying my hands, his fingers brushing my wrists. When he’s done, he steps back and I pull my hands to my chest. There are red rings around my wrists where the rope dug in and it stings, but I choke back the pain. I will not show him any weakness.

The boy brings the glass over and hands it to me. Sniffing it, I make sure I can’t smell anything unusual.

“It’s not drugged,” he says.

Slowly, I gulp it down, a trail of water running down my chin and onto my shirt. Then he takes the glass and hands me the plate, and I take a large bite from the sandwich.

“What’s your name?” he asks, gently, sitting back in his chair. “I’m Marcus.”

“Jasmine,” I answer through a mouthful of food.

“Like the Disney princess?”

“Like the flower.”

“How old are you?”

I don’t answer, instead finishing the sandwich. Marcus takes the plate from me once I’m done, along with the glass from the floor. He turns to leave but I realize that I want him to stay.

“Don’t go,” I whisper.

He gazes over at me, a look of pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Marcus turns around and goes up the steps. To my relief, he leaves the lights on and shuts the door gently behind him. I hear the click of a lock.

***

If what Marcus tells me is true, I’ve been down here for a little over three months now. He visits me everyday. Michael comes down at night sometimes, once it’s dark and everyone is asleep. Lillian is much gentler with me. She does my hair often, and she’s done my makeup a few times. It confuses me, how kind she is with me. As though she doesn’t want to hurt me. She doesn’t call me Jasmine. Doesn’t call me anything, really. She’s usually silent when she’s down here with me. But she called me Mariyah that first day. I’ve heard her mutter the name to herself several times when she’s down here and I can’t help but wonder who she is.

Marcus comes down again today, sandwiches in one hand and a cardboard box in another. He unties my wrists as usual and we eat together. Once we’re done, he opens the box and I notice the logo on the lid; Scattergories. 

We play the game for almost an hour, before Michael calls Marcus up for dinner. He says goodbye and disappears up the stairs. Once again, I’m left alone in the darkness.

***

Lillian is down today. It’s one of her bad days, I can tell. She’s muttering something, and I can hear Mariyah’s name over and over again.

Lillian is at the desk, sorting through her little makeup box. She pulls out a comb and then sets a chair behind me. As she runs the comb through my hair, she sings a little melody. 

“Mariyah, why aren’t you singing with me? This is your favourite song,” she asks softly, pausing her work.

I realize she’s talking to me and sitting up a little straighter, I say, “Sorry, I think I forgot the words.”

“Oh dear. You always were forgetful. Just sing along with me, love. You’ll remember.”

Lillian begins singing again and after a moment, I join her, my voice hoarse. Mariyah was important to Lillian, I know that. She thinks I’m Mariyah. Although she’s one of the people keeping me locked up down here, I can’t help but feel a pang of empathy for the woman. Michael is the problem here; he’s taking advantage of his broken wife. 

Lillian braids my hair and then starts sticking flowers into it, prettying me up. At least when they find my body, I’ll look presentable, I think to myself. 

Lillian stands up and drags her chair so she can sit in front of me now. She takes my hands in hers, staring down at them. She rubs her thumb over my knuckles, a sad look in her eyes. 

“I love you, Mariyah. Always know that.” Tears form in her eyes and she looks into my eyes.

“I love you, too, Mama,” I say, my heart aching for the woman sitting in front of me. A sob escapes her lips and she collapses into my lap, her hands wrapping tightly around my waist. 

It doesn’t hurt me to say that as much as I thought I would. My own mother left when I was very young, and I bounced from foster home to foster home. Lillian has shown me more affection in the last week than I’ve experienced my whole life.

“Please don’t leave me!” she cries. 

Before I can say anything, Marcus appears by Lillian’s side and he’s pulling her to her feet. Away from me, to the stairs. 

She’s crying hard now, trying to shake out of Marcus’s grip and come back to me. 

“No!” she shrieks. “Let me go! I want my daughter!”

Michael appears then and he takes his wife by the shoulders. They disappear up the stairs, and Marcus stands across the room, staring at me. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Is she alright?” I ask, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, she gets like that sometimes. Her daughter died, and I guess you look like her.”

“You mean your sister?” 

“Yeah, my little sister. You look a lot like her actually,” he adds after a pause.

Shaking his head, he turns around and leaves the basement, shutting off the lights behind him. 

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. It mustn’t be long before I feel a tap on my shoulder. My heart freezes for a moment, and my body breaks out into a cold sweat. Michael. Is he back already?

I open my eyes, but I see that it’s not Michael. In fact, it’s Marcus. He’s got a large backpack on and he’s untying my wrists.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m getting you out of here.”

Marcus kneels down and starts pulling at the ropes binding my ankles. When he’s got them off, he pulls me to my feet and I would’ve collapsed right there if Marcus hadn’t caught me. I haven’t stood in almost seven months. 

“Come on, we have to hurry.”

He practically carries me up the stairs and down the hall, towards what I assume is the kitchen. 

Marcus comes to an abrupt stop and I look over his shoulder to see why.

Lillian is sitting at the coffee table, her back to us, staring dreamily at the wall, a cup of coffee in her hands. The back door is next to her.

“We have to take her with us,” I whisper.

“No! We don’t have time for this.”

“Wait! Please, let me talk to her.”

Not waiting for his permission, I release his shoulder and collapse. 

Stupid legs, I think, crawling over to Lillian and crouch down by her side. I take one of her hands and she looks down at me, her eyes glassy. “Mariyah, dear? What are you doing up so late?”

“Mama, I want to show you something I found. I think you’re going to love it.”

“What is it? If this is one of your pranks…”

“I promise, it’s not. Come, Marcus is going to take us.”

I pull her to her feet and lead her out the back door, where Marcus silently slides it shut behind us. We hurry to the car waiting down the dirt road and pile in, me sitting in the back next to Lillian, holding her hand tight in mine. Marcus starts up the car and speeds down the road.

It’s dark, and the houses are kilometres apart, separated by enormous fields of grass and corn. Hundreds of stars light the sky, and for the first time in months, I feel hope surge in my chest. 

Four hours into the drive, we’ve made it into a city. I don’t recognize it, and I assume that I’m in an entirely different state. Marcus brings the car to a stop at a gas station, and he goes inside to use the bathroom. 

Lillian is asleep next to me, and I shake her shoulder gently to wake her.

“Come on, Mama. We gotta go.”

***

“Happy Mother’s Day!” I exclaim, holding out a large bouquet of flowers. Mama takes them from me and sniffs them, her eyes fluttering shut.

“They’re beautiful, Mariyah. Thank you, my love.”

I wrap my arms tight around her small frame, breathing in the same perfume I smelled on her all those years ago.

“I love you, Mama.”