"If anyone knows this woman. Please call the toll-free number flashing across your screen."
Ken stood watching the screen as the news blared into the empty room.
His face fixated on the picture that flashed across the screen before staying stagnant, filming the entirety of the screen with the toll-free number in huge numbers at the bottom of the screen.
Rubbing his face, he wasn't sure of what to do, walking himself back over to the couch, phone in one hand with the number present on the call screen, his other clenched tightly together.
Going off his instinct, he went for it.
The trill of the phone ringing on speakerphone filled the dark room.
~
"Alright, Mr. Golden"
"Gaulden."
"Mr. Gaulden. You have been here for five days, claiming you know the woman on the news report. But have yet to prove how you know this particular woman."
The woman stood in front of his chair where he sat, looking at her blankly, before standing slowly, his bones cracking as he moved, having slept in the same position for almost a week, not uttering a word since he came in, declaring, "I know her." Not giving any further explanation when asked.
"I do know her, and if you give me a chance, I can prove it."
The woman slapped her hands against her thighs, frustrated by this exchange.
"Well, why haven't you done it, sir?"
"Because when I said I knew her, I was asked many questions except for the obvious, which is how do I know her and can I prove it."
Kentrell spoke, his voice wavering some as it hadn't been used in such a while.
The woman stood quiet, her clipboard in her grasp, filtering with an idea in her head of how to proceed because one wrong move and she could be sending this woman into the arms of danger.
However, she decided to have him explain himself. Knowing what she knows of the woman, she can attest to whether his claims are legitimate or not.
"Prove it."
"Ma'am, whenever you're ready, we will check on you."
The woman nodded as she sat up slowly, closing her eyes as the cool metal of the stethoscope came in contact with her skin.
After some time, the poking and prodding ended,
"Okay, you're all done. Is there someone I can call for you?"
The woman looked at her as she put away all the instruments to check her vitals.
Answering no, she sunk lower into the bed, relishing in the warmth of the thick fleece blanket.
Peeking above it, she whispered out her first coherent sentence since her arrival,
"Can I keep this?"
Gesturing to the blanket as she shook some of it in her grasp,
Nodding slowly, the nurse left the room.
Having checked on the noticeable signs that indicated her identity, she could confirm what the young man who had parked himself in the waiting room for almost two weeks had said she would have on her body.
His words rang true in her ear as she approached the room, where the man had pushed two big seaters together, fast asleep,
"She has birthmarks, their beautiful beauty marks, black dots littered on various obscure parts of her skin. You can't miss it."
The nurse held the clipboard, skeptical and trying her best to keep her face neutral to not give away that this man was right about what he said as it said so on her chart.
"Well, sir. I appreciate your help. The front desk has your information. Good evening."
He watched as the woman walked away. He stood there for a while, hoping she would return, but she didn't. He sat for a while longer, but eventually, he did leave, making sure to stop at the front desk again to give them his information once more.
As he entered his home, he felt dejected because he thought he was helping, but he was not. Right now, he needed a shower. He can believe in there.
The warm water rushed down his muscles, relaxing his body as he stood under the waterfall, sighing deeply as water dribbled off his lips, and he hummed to himself.
Soft circles pushed into his shoulder blades, making him turn his head and move away from the water stream. Glancing over his shoulders,
The doorbell echoed throughout the house. Ignored as the shower continued to mist the bathroom, coating the glass door. Ringing and knocking meshed together as acknowledgment was of great importance. The shower turned off, and the occupant moved from under the once-roaring faucet into the steam-filled bedroom. The movements became rushed as he now heard the insentient rhythmic tapping.
"Good evening, sir?"
