My Heart in Handcuffs

Chapter 3

Next thing I know Eric is carrying me. Wait! What!? Eric’s carrying me? I had no idea where I was. The blindfold was gone and all I could see right now were Eric’s tanned biceps. I imagined running my hands down that soft muscle…STOP! What was I thinking? Man, it was just so unfair how hot this stupid officer was.

Had I fainted again?

“Wha-”

“We drugged you again.” He cut me before I even finished asking him what had happened.

“oh.” Was all I could manage. I felt parched. My throat was so dry that I couldn’t even muster some saliva up to wet my tongue.

“Cant I have some water?” I asked coarsely.

Eric stopped walking – he had been walking in a long white corridor in case I failed to mention that before. He put me down on a small bench that was on the side and walked off to put a coin in a vending machine that wasn’t far off. He came back carrying a small water bottle.

“Drink.” He thrust the bottle into my hands.

After I had wet my lips and throat, I asked the question that I had been meaning to ask for a while now, “Are we in the morgue?” 

“Yes.” I could almost feel the shivers run down my spine when he said that.

“Let’s move on. He scooped me up right into his arms like I was no heavier than a feather and continued walking along the long corridor.

“I was born with legs to walk with them.” I gave him a look.

“Oh yeah?” he said dully, as if he was just humoring me, and he didn’t put me down.

“Yeah! Put me down!”

“Fine.” He stopped suddenly in his tracks and nearly dropped me to the floor. As I stretched my legs to stand on them before I hit the ground, I found that they wouldn’t hold me upright. I felt Eric’s strong arms under mine just in time before I fell completely on the pristine ceramic, “You’re legs are a little numb from the drug.” He explained before I had time to ask.

He sighed and picked me up again. I was very angry that they kept drugging me, but before I could open my mouth to say some snarky comment, my eyes drifted to side, and I saw the black door with the little label out front. It read “Quirt, Mary.” And I remembered why I was here. This mightn’t be the door which lead to my mother, or rather my mother’s body, but that black door was somewhere along this corridor.

As dread filled my chest, Eric kept on moving. He walked for a few more feet and then finally, we were in front of THE door. He pushed it open with his foot; it was open for some reason, and I had to hide my face because I thought seeing my mother’s name on that white label would be too much for me to bear.

Eric set me down on a chair just then. Slowly, very slowly, I opened my eyes. In front of me lay a body covered with a thin white sheet. As hard as I could, and with all what was left of me, I prayed that this wouldn’t be my mother; that this be a big mistake, and that maybe this body was just a lookalike to my mom’s. As hard as I wished, I knew deep inside that no such thing would be true.

“Are you ready?” an old man asked me. I hadn't even noticed this man standing there before. He scratched his white beard noisily as he waited for my answer.

“Yes.” I managed to mouth.

He pulled back the sheet. But I couldn’t bear to look. It took me less than one millisecond to know mom’s blond bob and her arched eyebrows. I gasped and closed my eyes immediately.

“Take me away, please.” I turned my head away. I opened my eyes again to try to find Enrique but I couldn’t see anything. Everything was a little more than a teary blur.