In His Hands

Part 1 - Awakening

Hannah flickered into consciousness. It hurt to swallow, and her mouth felt dry as sand. Sand. She rubbed her hands over the gritty ground. I'm lying on sand. Her eyelids eased open, and she stared into a blinding azure sky. Waves crashed against the shore. Why am I lying on a beach? It didn't make sense.

She pushed into a sitting position, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through the back of her head. Hannah cried out and shut her eyes. Nausea built in her stomach and, turning to the side, she vomited on the sand.

Stomach empty, she gasped and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She sat up and scooted away from the mess, her throat stinging. Squinting and barely able to focus from the throbbing in her head, she took in her surroundings. White sand spread out around her. The sea lapped the nearby shore and hot sun beat down. No boats sailed on the wild, dancing sea. Hannah's nausea swelled, but she swallowed and took a deep breath of salty air. Turning her head, she saw a dense jungle behind. Hannah frowned, trying to work out her location, but the pain in her skull intensified-making concentration impossible.

Lifting her fingers to the back of her head, she touched her messy hair and winced. Fresh blood covered her fingertips, and Hannah recoiled at the sight, jolting her head. How did I hurt myself so badly? Her hair tumbled out of hairpins to hang in lank curls. She needed to lie down in the shade. Could she stand? Drawing her knees toward her chest, she pushed with her hands, keeping her head level. Her legs wobbled but held.

Hannah took shaky steps to the jungle's edge. The sun, at its zenith, shone hotter than ever, and the moist air made her clothes cling to her. Why am I wearing a white gown on the beach? She stared, puzzled, at the gown and petticoat and matching white satin slippers. Only the silk mitts were missing. Stumbling into the shade, she carefully lay down and closed her eyes, grimacing at her pounding head. She stayed motionless until the throbbing subsided into a deep ache. She couldn't think, couldn't contemplate whatever had happened. An old childhood prayer floated to her mind, and she repeated it like a mantra:

"Now I lay me down to sleep ..."

***

Hannah danced in the garden, her long blonde hair fanning out. All the little girls had come to her birthday party and brought special presents. A fully dressed doll with eyes that opened and closed. A basket of oranges. New silk slippers. The sun shone as she took pride of place at the outdoor table. Cook brought out a beautifully iced cake on a silver platter.

Daddy looked so smart in his new blue jacket with bronze buttons. He popped his tricorn hat on Hannah's head and winked at her. Taking a long knife, he lifted it high above the cake.

The knife came down. But Daddy didn't cut the cake. He cut himself. Daddy sliced his arm with the knife, and he was laughing. Blood flowed out and dripped all over the cake.

Hannah screamed and fell backwards off her chair, losing the hat. Daddy offered her a plate of blood-streaked crumbs and she pushed it away, heart beating wildly. Her breath stuck in her throat, and her lips trembled as she lay on the ground, cake raining down on her. Bloody chunks smeared her face and dress.

She reached trembling hands toward Daddy, but he fell down, too. And then Hannah was falling, falling, and the blood soaked into her skin, and ... and she spun around and around ...

***

Hannah awoke with a start. Despite the heat, a cold chill ran down her spine. The memory of screams faded. Dried blood on her fingers made Hannah flinch-then she remembered her head wound. Why on earth had her mind conjured such harrowing images? Did it link to her injury?

Plaintive birdsong floated out of the jungle, and the air had cooled. Gazing up into the blue sky, the dream receded. Hannah tried to swallow. Her throat had been dry before, but now it felt like a rasp, and her lips were cracked and sore. How long had she been asleep? The position of the sun told her evening was drawing in.

Gingerly, Hannah sat up and felt the back of her head. The smarting had diminished, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. She had a mild headache and a burning thirst. But no nausea. I need water.

She had to find water soon. Closing her eyes, Hannah tried to think, but nothing came. How did she get here? A whimper escaped her lips as the enormity of the empty beach and wide sea hit her. No houses. No people. And who knew what lay in the creepy jungle. A shiver ran through her as she contemplated the dark, leafy canopy.

The ebb and flow of the lapping waves tempted her. Common sense said salty water wouldn't quench her thirst, but the sea looked so cool and wet. Hannah rocked to and fro trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. The ache in her head increased. Why was she here? What if she couldn't find water? She glanced up at the expanse of sky. Lord, if you're listening, I could do with some help right now ...

A sound startled her, and Hannah twisted around, groaning at the shooting pain in her head. Faint rustling came from behind. She backed up against the tree she sat under. Her pulse quickened, and the sand stuck to her palms. Who was it? What would they want?