Eloida

Silence conquers silence. Again and again.

I stare into the window. Just birds. Five to the east, seven to the west.

That's Twelve. Twelve birds, again.

Interstices of light, spliced by the criss crossings of a boxy design. The window is consumed by light, casting shadows to accommodate the window pane's pattern . Producing little rectangles of sun rays, viciously caressing my thighs with its warmth. The warmth is soothing, and for a minute I close my eyes. Repeating the events in my mind. Playing the memories in rewind.

Fast forward.

Rewind.

Stop.

And still I don’t understand what is going on. The tiles on the floor are so clean they almost sparkle. I've never seen a place as clean as this. The last thing I remember was being on the edge of my roof. Scared to death. Wanting to end it all. Then someone grabbed me from behind, and everything went blank.

Then I wake up in this room. A hospital room. My clothes are the same as it was 3 days ago, but I have an intake bracelet.

3/12/20

I’m not in a hospital gown, but I am in a hospital. In chains. I am chained to a depressing little chair in this dreary room. Bleary eyes fighting the deluge of tears threatening to burst down my cheeks. I haven’t slept in three days. Every time I inch towards sleep, a staff personnel bursts into the room. "To check on me".

I haven’t slept, yet somehow I am not so tired. My thoughts are racing, yet I always feel calm. Like something. Someone, somewhere is protecting me. My mother used to say, "the feeling of calm is the unique power of the universe. The feeling of calm in the face of adversity is always curated by a higher being who is funneling energies of warmth towards your way. It means he is bending the laws of the universe for you. The miracle of calm when situations are dire." One must be humbled to be so favored.

Yesterday the doctor came in. Powerful in her white lab coat glory. Yet inwardly trembling in my presence. Pen tapping furiously on her clipboard. She’s always nervous. Fumbling through the same questions. Questioning me repeatedly. The same questions. Feigning control, but utterly broken. And perhaps even wildly terrified inside. Like she knows me from somewhere.

“Before you are released, I must ask you some questions.” Today she looks as exhausted as I feel about being trapped in this room. Three days. Aren’t they supposed to send me someone more intimidating? Why is she so afraid of me?

We rehearse the same set of questions. Feels like a production. A show. A show of strength, and a show of intimidation. Does she know I can sense how terrified she feels inside? Then she seems to go on a tangent. A bit off script.

Okay, the good cop routine, here we go.

She places a USB on the table between us.

“Where did this come from?” “Where is Michael” “”What do you know?”

We’ve been through this before. Like the good ‘ol days when the sweet innocence of childhood so thrilled with the opportunity --the magic-- of surrendering to the fight against gravity. Screaming into oblivion as the roller coaster throws you into the air, and furiously drops you towards the ground. It's the closest thing you'd feel to flying, so you got back on. Over and over again. The repetition of the joys of childhood. My fondest memories. My escape from unwanted realities. It was all cotton candy, laughter, teddy bears, and the excitement of---

“You need to eat something.” She is scribbling on her notebook as she demands this.

“No.” I replied with respectful force. Firm, yet pleasant. Stifling the bubbling anger in my gut. Elegantly negotiating my anger and fear. Pushing back the tears that are betraying the strength I’m attempting to broadcast, I blurt out: “I want to go home. You are wasting your time.”

She lowers her voice and inches closer to my face. “Hey, listen. I don’t think what they are doing to you is fair either, okay? Tell me, what do you like to eat?” Wow, she smells nice. Accent a bit thicker when she whispers. Maybe she's from my country?

“Doughnuts. I like doughnuts.” Feeling a bit more confident now. I straighten my back, push my chest forward. Like a feminine king of the zoo, displaying my prowess. Proud of myself for making demands. I am in control here, don't you understand? I wiggle my wrist around, trying to feel the superiority I just tasted with my previous demand. Longing for a taste of freedom that a tasty doughnut would bring. “Also, can we take off the chains on my feet. They are starting to bruise my ankles.”

“I can’t do that. You need to answer some questions. Do you hear voices?”

Well, it was worth a shot. And just like that, I am a terrified little cat once again.

“No. You’ve asked me this already.” Also, even if I did. I sure as hell would never tell her. I’m trying to go home. Is this even legal? Who are these people?

A man with a curious hairstyle is peering through the tiny box on the door. Merciless, piercing, gray eyes. Somehow familiar. He is wearing a mask so I can’t tell. There is a lot going on in the world today. Suddenly the doctor perks up as if she felt an electric shock pulse through her mind.

You were sent here to protect her. And what have you done? You were tasked to descend unto earth to derail the progress of a nuclear war. You were supposed to warn them that there are consequences to producing a virus. But they pompously deemed themselves as deities. Including you. Insulting me. You never studies for these exams. I got you where you are now. And you became like them. Deciding who has the right to live and die. We are the Galactic beings that created this place. You are supposed to protect my favorite avatars, this is my favorite character. And you've jailed her. She doesn’t see this, but I am here watching her. Maybe talking to her. Right behind her? Maybe behind you. Did your stomach just drop, doc? She doesn’t understand this, neither will you. Your powers are gone because you've failed me. Do not anger me, you need to let Eloida go.

Quizzical, she wipes her forehead of sweat for the sixth time. The room is quite frosty, aside from the slivers of sunlight resting on my lap. She clears her throat a third time, staring into the distance as if hearing voices herself.

"Eloida, one second please ma'am. Ah..."

She immediately rises from her seat, like an unthinking zombie. Eyes glossed over but very fidgety. Almost frantic. Jeez, lay off the coffee sis. Leaving her clipboard full of thick paper notes, she slowly exits the room. Completely spooked. It’s as if she was listening to a command in her mind. Man, what is going on? Did she just call me "ma'am"? She is definitely from the Philippines. Or maybe somewhere else in Asia.

I redirect my attention to the window again. My eyes follow a few birds fly by. Seven to the east, five to the west. Twelve.

Twelve birds again.

I look at my wristband: 3/12/20.

Three days captive. Twelve birds. What’s Twenty?

I try tilting my head a bit to see what she's written. Same numbers. Three. Twelve. Twenty. She's making the same observations too. Perhaps a bit more superstitious than mine"

3/12/2020: Admission Date.

Twenty patients. Twenty minutes every interrogation.

3:20 PM: Eloida Evaluation.

3+12+20 = 35

3+5 = 8? Not right. Drop Zero. 3+1+2+2 = 8

And more math scribbles. All the same numbers. Strange. If there is twenty of us, where are the other people? This place has been quiet.

She burst into the room. This silly looking doctor. I’ve stopped crying. She looks pathetic now. I am just ruminating through my thoughts again.

Twelve birds. Twelve months. Twelve days of Christmas.

Maybe it's all benign.

She is holding a box. I sense something nefarious from it. Something awful.

“It’s for you”

“No, thank you”

“Open it”

“No.”

You've Failed Me, Doc...

There she is again, glossed over. As if she's listening to something. Suddenly there is rage in her eyes. The pockets of light beaming down my thighs have now disappeared into the sun. Something bad is coming. Something bad always happens when the shadows start to take over.

“Guards!”

She screams for the guards, and four men advance towards me. Imposing on me. Holding me eagle-like. Like so. Forcing me to the ground as a wayward chain cuts deep into my skin.

“Can you administer 40CCs? She hasn’t slept in three days.”

Before I slip into darkness, the last image I see are tears running down her eyes.

She is mouthing the words: “I’m sorry.”

~

I awake in a stack of hay. I wipe the hay and dust off my face. Spitting and cursing, body aching all over. An empty barn in the middle of nowhere. Where am I?

I rise to my feet and head towards the door. On the ground, I see the same brown paper box. Except this one is wrapped in a silky crimson ribbon. There is a card inside. The letters HELLO in big blank ink on the cover. I flip the card open.

It reads: “Congratulations, Eloida.”

Strange. Congratulations for what? Really beautiful calligraphy too.

I untie the ribbon, and slowly open the box. A burner phone and a small bottle of whiskey. Michael’s favorite. In a small, brown paper box inside, I find twenty silver Hershey’s kisses.

Well, there's twenty.

I look at my wrist again. The hospital bracelet is still there. 3-12-2020.

Twelve birds. Twelve months. Twelve days of Christmas.

Now this. Three days in captivity. Twelve birds. Twenty Chocolates.

The phone beeps. 3:20 PM.

Nothing makes sense. I’m sure it’s benign.

I trace my hands on the bruises on my ankle. I open the whiskey, and start to cry. And a big, ugly scream bubbles up in my throat:

“WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON????”

As if on cue it starts to ring. My voice is still shaky: “Hello?”

“Good Job, Babe”

“Good job with what?”

“Be ready in an hour”

“Wait what’s---”

Click.

Whoa... am I dating a spy?