#marooned

As we laughed and talked, she did make eye contact with me, but I never got a good look at her eyes.

I, for whatever reason, was glad. I wanted her to be safer. I don’t remember much of the conversation after that. Time moved differently on Route Forty-Four, especially with her. Months passed on the outside while we talked for maybe an hour. Or, perhaps we talked for months, but it only felt like an hour. The most I can recall are long periods of laughter in which the night’s events seemed to drown. Half of her face stayed facing away from me. The most that I could make out was the soft turn of her nose and the careful curve of her chin. As we laughed and talked, she did make eye contact with me, but I never got a good look at her eyes. I didn’t notice or care at first, but as time passed, I became more and more curious. I could sense something beckoning at me from behind her pupils. But, as I worked up the courage to look, I felt a buzz in my pocket, and a voice spoke through crackles.

You see, dear reader, I was intent on getting her back. That man, thing, had taken her with his brutality.