WARNING: Long chapter with some suggestive themes~...
I remember the days where Mom would tell us stories of how cool Dad was, where he was now, and what he was seeing. I remember holding Marley on my lap as we listened intently to her words, believing every single detail. She was our mother, a person who we thought was incapable of telling a lie to us, her children. Everything from her mouth was fact.
I also remember the nights we spent camping in the backyard, catching fireflies in the warmth of July, telling ghost stories and singing songs. I remember Marley's laughing so vividly that I fear it'll be the only thing I remember as years go by and my memories fade with age and experience.
I never want to forget my sister, not for one moment. I never want to forget a single detail.
And as I look back at the times my mother fell asleep on the couch after coming home late from work I recollect on the tales she told, and wonder if at all they were true.
Kapitel Tre
Madison felt her heart throb wildly in her chest. The anticipation was making it difficult for her to breathe. Every single split second that it took for the doorknob to turn felt like an eternity, an eternity of suffocation.
She felt something was wrong. It may have just been the atmosphere from today but she definitely, really and truly, felt as if something was amiss.
The door opened. She was positive that if she gripped the nail file any tighter her nails would break skin.
"Madison Dean?"
Oh, it was the middle-aged gentlemen from the lobby. What was
he doing here?
"Mr. Flemming?"
"Madison?"
"O-oh, yes, that's me," she answered, still caught off guard by this surprise choice of visitor. She put the nail file on the low table when she realized he was staring at it somewhat oddly. "Is something wrong?"
"Mr. Andersen needs to see you," he told her a bit nervously, his Danish accent thick. "He says there is a problem."
"Oh, of course, right away, just-" She blushed at the fact that he was staring at her attire. "Just let me get dressed."
"A-alright, miss..."
"Thank you..." Madison closed the door lightly, wondering if the Danish-Canadian sleeping on her door had woken up or stirred at all, for that matter. She'd been too preoccupied with Mr. Flemming to notice.
After a few minutes she was presentable and, wondering idly if the blond young man was still there, opened the door slowly.
The man from the coast was leaning against the wall, rubbing a true green eye with the side of his hand, and looking rather weary. He yawned as she stepped outside, taking a moment to notice her.
"So you-" Another yawn interrupted his speech. "So you're in trouble, princess?" he kidded lightly, not a trace of a smile on his tired face.
"Please," she scoffed as she began to walk away. "I'm no damsel and I'm most definitely
not in distress."
"I-I didn't mean-"
"Look," the agitated female began, turning sharply to face him. "I'm sorry about your sister but I just don't want anything to do with you." She didn't realize how coldly her words came out at the time.
He stood there with his mouth agape as if about to protest. Before any words came to him, she was gone.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
I was seven when we left Denmark. I remember that day well, but not because we were leaving such a beautiful place, the very place where I was born and raised, but because we were leaving someone else. That someone was leaving the country as we were, but leaving us as well. Either way, Denmark was a long way from both of our destinations, and I'd never dreamed I'd end up in Copenhagen again.
Sometimes I look at my hands and wonder if maybe, just maybe, my hand would match his now. I dream of the days where I'd ride on his shoulders, the days that we played pirates, and even that one day where I tried to run down the dock and leap into the sea. But he'd caught me, I recall, before I could get halfway down.
He was always so tall. There was never a number, for I would ask and in response I was told he was "a brave and strong giant," and that would be that. Sometimes it occurs to me that I asked less in my childhood than I do today. I wonder why that is, but I stop myself for I realize how childish that seems, to ask questions upon questions upon questions and to never be satisfied with a simple answer.
Some questions cannot be answered, I know this, and yet I still don't want to believe it. That doesn't mean I'll stop trying to find those answers. I've learned from many sources that trust is not something you should give to just anyone, and belief is something you should keep only to yourself.
Listen well, trust little, but deep down you still want to believe.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Andersen?" I inquired to the man behind the counter in the pristine lobby. A bar was connected to it. My eyes wandered to two men chatting about something in Danish and a third who was quiet yet smiling.
After sorting out his pens, as I realized he did often, the brunette man laughed lightly, playfully, and pulled out something flat and shiny that I recognized to be my credit card.
"I found this on the floor," he exclaimed in his charming accent, smiling as he handed it to me. "I was off duty when you went out this morning. I apologize that I could not get it to you. Did you have trouble today?"
"Oh no," I explained, laughing airily in my embarrassment, "everything was fine! I only used cash today, anyway!"
"Ahaha, that's good! Good for you!" He smiled at me again, though I could tell something was off. It seemed as though he was forcing it.
I put my Gold Card into the pocket of my jacket and thanked him before turning to go back to the elevator. I noticed that the quiet man from before was standing beside the elevator as well. I waited with him as it came down.
He let me in first, like a gentlemen, and closed the doors for me.
"What floor?" he asked politely. What a nice rhythm in his voice... From what I could tell he was British.
"Sixth, please," I answered, feeling the butterflies stir in my stomach a bit. He wasn't that bad looking of a specimen.
"Right-o," he replied, smiling as he pushed it. "We're on the same floor then, I suppose."
"A-ah, yes, I guess." I
guess? What was I, twelve?
The speaker in the contraption gave a beep with every floor we passed. I don't remember hearing the third beep.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
My father had always loved history. He always told me that one day he'd be famous. I figured he'd be a scholar but he'd told me that that sort of stationary life was not for him. He was adventurous. He wanted to go places, see things.
I believe, in some way, that was hereditary.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
I woke up. Where had I fallen asleep, in bed after coming back from the lobby?
Wait... No, I... I hadn't gotten to my room. It seems I had blacked out before I was able to get off the elevator. Was this even my room?
No, this couldn't have been. It was the same style, yes, but the arrangement was different.
Why the hell was my top exposed?
My heart took a jump into my throat and my panicked face flushed at this discovery. I had been ridden of my shirt and bra and my limbs were tied uncomfortably to the metal legs of the bed. The rope was long enough so it wouldn't be too painful, I assumed, but I couldn't lift my arms and legs at all.
"Have you ever been in or near a tornado, dear?"
My head whipped to face him, on instinct. He had just come out of the bathroom. He was brandishing something that looked like a knife. It was held in a faded yellow rag, and from the looks of it, both items were fairly old.
I wanted to scream but there was a piece of duct tape over my mouth. That would hurt later, if there even
was a later...
No, I couldn't think like that! I had to stay strong, stay focused!
I threw him the best glare I could in my current position. He laughed.
"Oh my, you've still a bit of fight in you, eh?" He began walking over to me, smirking. His short and wavy, shaggy yet well kept brown hair became darker once out of the blinding light of the sink area. He pressed flat side of the knife to my face. The steel was cold, cold like his deep blue eyes, cold like the depths of the sea.
"Once you've been though what I've been through," he began, his voice softer and breathy, taking on a crazed tone, "you won't see things like you saw them before. When you get thrown into a mountainside and live, when you wake up in a dark cave and discover that nothing is as it is before, you will
never be
able to go back."
This man was insane. Dear God, there was a psychopath with a knife to my face spewing things at me which made no sense. I was certain of my death.
He broke into a low chuckle which grew slightly louder. "I've gotten into things which don't concern me, just like you. It's about bloody time that someone else can suffer. I'm sick of being the one at the end of the vice!"
I saw the knife go up. I flinched hard, tucking my head into my shoulders and clenching my tearful eyes shut, but the blow never came.
Instead I felt his breath on my sternum. I shuddered at the feeling. Was he going to go beyond this violence and commit rape? Was I going to be raped and murdered after all the troubles I had escaped back home?
The tip of his tongue run along the place where my scar was. It sickened me. I felt as if I would vomit at any time.
"You're a special girl, you are," he commented as he pulled himself onto the bed and straddled me. I looked at him in horror. "You've got a special heart, you do, a real special one indeed."
Said organ pounded hard as he said that. Words from days long gone rang in my head, but I was broken from my thoughts when he went on.
"You're the cause of all of my misery, you are," he muttered in his low, breathy tone, still rather touched in the head. He ran his index finger down the scar and past my navel, going on to toy with the buckle of my foot printed belt. His devious smirk made me only shudder harder. "Perhaps I should make you suffer before taking what I need."
I shut my eyes. There was no way I could escape this, so I figured if I shut my eyes and tried to ignore it, or perhaps just imagined someone else and go along with it, it wouldn't be that bad. I was convinced that I wasn't going to live through this ordeal.
I prepared for the worst, feeling his sinister hand undo the clasp and rip the belt from my pants in a swift jerk. I felt my zipper move downward and his vile and sneering mouth on my neck. It was enough to make me cry. Tears ran down my face. I came here to escape the pains of home, not to find new ones.
He popped the brass button of my jeans and tugged them roughly until they were just below my knees. I felt myself quiver harder than I had ever remembered in my life.
I felt his finger dance just under the elastic band of my underwear, the last obstacle to his awful plot.
"I once had a girlfriend, you know. Her voice was so powerful and she was so persuasive. I swear, that girl could move mountains with a single command." His hand tugged at one side of my panties but not enough to remove them, just to taunt me, to shake me, to make me squirm in fear.
"She lived in the 'States, she did, in a little city surround by the Appalachians." His finger went in a bit more and he traced it around the perimeter of my hips. I muffled a wail.
"They say tornadoes can't occur in areas surrounded by mountains," he went on. His voice had become more serious, a bit more tense. "But there was a flaw." I felt his hand come out from under the fabric and touch the scar again, tracing it from the top to the bottom.
"There was a path, a large gap that no one really payed attention too, in between the mountains."
The door slammed open. He was off of me like lightning, reaching for the pistol he had on the table. I screamed in shock, relieved yet still very alert and terrified. I strained my head up enough that I could see who had burst in, just in time to see the Englishman grab the gun.
Marley's brother tackled him, not unlike a football player, to the ground. The gun went off and pierced the ceiling. I began struggling and yelping from under the tape in a frenzy.
I couldn't see what was happening. In fact, most of what happened next was a blur because of my panic, but I remember looking up and seeing the blond young man from the coast, bleeding from a cut just below his temple where something grazed him, smiling as if everything was going to be okay.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
I've had a few girlfriends in my time, but they never lasted. Marley always asserted herself and inspected them, and like any jealous little sister, pointed out (and made up) whatever flaws she could find. I've never had a relationship last for more than a week. It seemed her dominant nature scared them away.
One night I prayed to God that Marley would "let me be" and "leave my personal life alone." It's one of the things that haunts me to this day.
Mom said Dad was a mountain climber. Over time I started to disregard these tales as scapegoats, covers so that Dad would be safe. Perhaps I fooled myself because I just couldn't bring myself to think badly of my father. He was the person I admired most.
Why did you leave me?
Why did you have to go?
So many questions I had, yet in my childhood I didn't ask enough, and so I got no answers. I regret that. I regret a lot of things.
I regret not being able to save Marley.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
He'd covered her in a blanket and taken her back to their room. She'd asked how he got in there, still ashamed of the tears that refused to dry, and he explained that he'd felt that there was something wrong. He'd gotten worried and asked the man at the front desk where she'd gone. All he did was give him a card key and a room number, proceeding to drink his tall glass of iced coffee with trembling hands. Clearly he was unwillingly a part of this scheme.
Madison clutched the soft cover to her chest as he laid her down, her face an impressive shade of red and tears still held in her disturbed eyes. She curled onto her side.
She looked up at him as he took the spot in front of her, laying on his side as well, facing her and looking a bit distant, perhaps thoughtful. The girl hesitated before asking in a small, hoarse voice what was wrong.
She didn't get a reply straight out of him, but after a minute of silence, he put his hand lightly on the portion of the blanket which covered her bosom. She flinched a bit, heart rate accelerating unwillingly, and stared at him with wide eyes.
He gripped the cover and paused. She waited for any sort of sign of what he was thinking.
Finally, he spoke, though his voice was so low and it was so out of the blue that she almost didn't catch it. "Can I see it?"
That's when it hit her. All of this, the meeting, the polite demeanor, the cheer, the rescue, was for his sister, or more precisely, his sister's heart.
Madison bit her lip and closed her eyes in consideration. She could have sworn that he'd stopped breathing.
"Alright."
There was no exuberant cheer, no grin or smile, just a simple pursing of the lips as if he was anxious. He must have been waiting so long for this.
With a deep breath for stability she pulled the covers away from her naked upper body, revealing herself to him. He didn't blush, didn't blink, only stared at the scar, not her chest. Somehow this made her feel a bit more at ease.
She was startled when he wrapped his lean arms around her torso and scooted closer to her, reaching up a hand to nudge her breast out of the way so he could see the mark in its entirity. She jumped a bit at the sensation, not used to such contact, and awkwardly looked away, not wanting to peer in on or interrupt this personal moment.
She gasped when she felt him press his face into her cleavage and kiss the blemish endearingly. Her face found a newer, fresher shade of embarrassment.
He hugged her body close to him, laying his face now just above her breast. He heard the rhythm of her heart,
Marley's heart, a heart which to both him and her meant so much.
Madison calmed down, knowing how much this meant to him, and placed her arms around his shoulders, stroking his hair as she felt the tears fall upon her bosom.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
My father was a wise man. My sister was an amazing girl. Losing them hurt more than anything I could possibly ever describe. You never know how much a person means to you until they're gone, but even though I can no longer be with them physically, I will always keep my father's wisdom with me, I will always keep my sister's strong will and vibrancy in my heart, soul, and memory.
I know they'll always be with me. I just hope I can make them proud.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
"So you've seen him before?" she asked him, surprised, as they looked over the balcony at the Baltic Sea. She swore she could almost see another country in the far, far distance.
The morning wind danced through his bedhead. "Yeah, I have. He came to see me a few months after Marley died." The tantalizing sunlight made the water glisten and sparkle.
Madison, from her position leaning on the rail of the hotel room's lovely balcony, turned her head to face him. The fresh sea breeze made her plain white cotton dress billow in the cool moist air. "What did he want?"
The blond turned his face to the sea again, pursing his lips and sighing as he thought back on it. "He wanted to know where Marley was."
"And you told him...?"
"I told him that Marley was no longer with us. Then they left."
"They?"
"Ah, yeah, another man was with him..."
Madison didn't like the sound of that. She stood straight and put her hair up in a ponytail, the wind's antics becoming a bother to her face. "Do you think," she began, sounding unsure yet still a bit positive in her own way, "that they came after me because of her heart?"
He twidled his thumbs as he leaned on the rail on his forearms. "I think... That's a good idea, actually. They might have been able to get her records from the hospital, somehow."
She grunted a bit, annoyed. "They sure don't have any inhibitions when it comes to force..." He glanced at her and chuckled at the way she folded her arms over her chest, so sure of herself.
"You're so cute when you pout like that," he teased. She playfully pulled his hair, mock glaring at him.
"I'd watch what I say, Mr. Hero."
"Well, you
were in distress last night and you sure look like a damsel
now..."
Madison blushed and grunted, kicking him in the leg. "Shut up, you!"
"Aaaagh! You
kicked me!!"
"So?"
"We're on a
balcony!! What if I fell?!"
"Then you would have died...?"
"Don't be so mean to your hero~!" This earned him another whack. They fell quiet for a moment after this, just enjoying what little peace they had, at the moment. It felt like things were only going to get more complicated from here on out.
"There were two of them," she muttered to herself, lost in thought, and then turned to him to speak. "That means there's more of them, doesn't it?"
"A sound assumption," he concurred. "I wouldn't doubt it."
Madison looked down, eyes a bit sad and confused, and let her back fall against the outside wall of the building. "But why do they want her heart...? That man said it was "very special" and that I, or rather "it," was the source of all his misery..."
"Then maybe he's not the main guy behind all this."
"Someone's pulling the strings..."
"Exactly."
"But why...?"
Don't you think I'm wondering that too?! he wanted to yell, but he refrained. If he just kept these things to himself he wouldn't seem so impatient and childish. He was with someone other than himself now, he needed to respect their thoughts and give them space, lest he scare them off.
"You know," he prompted, still not facing her. "Things are gonna get rough."
"I... I really didn't want this..." she groaned and put her face in her hands in exasperation.
"Well you got it," he told her, standing straight and making his way to her. He put his arm around her waist. "I figure we should stay together."
"What?" She looked at him blandly. "What are you up to?"
"No, really, honestly!" he laughed, not removing his arm. "If I'm with you, we can solve this mystery together! And if anyone attacks you, you've got me for protection!"
"You really need to stop this whole "damsel in distress" idea you've got playing in your peanut brain."
"Well, can you fend them off on your own?"
"I can damn well try."
"Haha! That's the spirit!"
They stood there for a moment, enjoying the quiet before the storm, until he spoke again.
"You can't get to the peak without fighting your way through."
"What?" She looked at him, a bit befuddled.
"It's something my dad used to say. He was big on mountain climbing. "You can't get to the peak without fighting your way through." You can't get what you want without struggle." He smiled to himself, closing his eyes. "You never know what obstacles might present themselves, but if you really want it, you have to persevere." The charismatic man turned his head to face her once more, the sunlight catching the plastic of the Band-aid on his head. "No matter what."
She blinked a few times as she looked at him incredulously. "What happened to the dork I met at the coast?"
"He's starting to show you his emotional side because he really cares about you and wants to stick by you until we get through this?"
"...You still do that."
"What...?" He blinked obliviously.
"That thing where you say something really straightforward and then go back to normal."
"You don't like it?" He play pouted.
"Stop that," she sighed, flicking him on the forehead. He recoiled and chuckled.
"You just love abusing me, don't you, Maddie?"
"If you value your life, you'll never call me that again, um..." Her attempt to be intimidating ended up failing at the end. "Wow, I don't think I ever caught your name..."
"Otto."
"Otto?"
"Yep. Otto Bentson." He grinned like a fool. She was very tempted to push him over the railing. "So, my dear grumpy partner, how would you like to spend this morning in Copenhagen?"
"I need a haircut," was the simple, monotone reply.
"What?"
"A haircut," she began to explain, facing him and lifting a strand of dull brown hair which had escaped her ponytail. "And a dye job. They know what I look like, apparently."
"And your identity," he interjected. "I think I might be able to get you a new ID, actually."
"Really?" she looked slightly amazed.
"Yeah, I have a friend who knows a guy who has a cousin who knows a friend who-"
"Okay, never mind, we can find someone, don't worry."
"Hey," he huffed, unimpressed with her actions.
"Anyway, it has to be dramatic... doesn't it..." She gulped and twirled her hair absentmindedly.
"Yep! And I have the perfect idea, too!" Otto grabbed her hand and pulled her back inside.
"Hey, wait! Otto!! Stop it, I'm gonna fall!!"
Sunshine poured over the city of Copenhagen, not a cloud in the sky. The air was fresh and cool, the scent of the sea everywhere you turned. The morning seemed to hold promise, promise for a new day, a new beginning. Madison just hoped a new beginning would be enough to throw these guys off of their trail, for now.
I wanna know what happens with Madison!
