Larceny

25

I push the black key cover back revealing the ivories gleaming in the dim rays of moonlight that stream through the window to the right of me. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and lay my fingers against keys. A melody begins to bellow from the piano almost as if on its own; the reinstatement of the dexterity in my hands and the familiar feel of the ivory against the calluses on my fingertips reminds me that that is not so.  As the notes continue to come in droves, I organize them mentally keeping track of their pairings. Forming from my chest bubbling past my lips are lyrics; some that sound familiar from ideas I've jotted down, some new melt together into almost poetic phrases.  Something I've haven't been able to create consciously for some time. I pour all of my over the keys; blood, sweat, guts stain the white of the keys until they hum a maroon red. Sweat trickles  from my temples and my biceps clench. I play the final note and as the sound echos filling the emptiness that is usually present in the room, I hear an unfamiliar sound.

Its sounds resembles one of a heavy metal door opening. Then there's the sound of several set of footsteps. They lack a synchronized rhythm that which tells me there are definitely more than one person. I stand and walk over to the door and kneel down to listen near the bottom of the door. The sound of on of the cell doors follow; it opens the footsteps enter and moments later the footsteps exit and the door closes. Once the heavy sound and vibration of the metal doors passes I step to my door, open it and peek out into the hallway. It's vacant, just as I hoped it would be. Why would they come so late at night? The faint red glow of a holographic keypad catches my eye. It's three doors down from mine at El's room.

Quickly, I close my door, grab my backpack, open my door, close it and make my way down the hall to El's room. After entering her code I enter as quietly and carefully as I can keeping my eyes peeled for any difference, any sense of life in the room. I set my bag down at the door and scan half of the room, from the mirrors and bar to the bathroom and the large window on the far side of the room. Nothing seems to have been touched or moved a single inch from its place. I begin scanning the right half of the room. My eyes widen and my eyelids refuse to allow me to blink; El is right where I have been hoping she'd be, in her bed. I walk to her.

Alongside her bed is a small heart rate monitor depicting a faint but steady peek and valley. A pair of twin tubes that originate from her nostrils wrap around the backs of her ears then downward to a small oxygen tank. I lean in close to see better. On the right side of her neck is the faint yellow discoloring of a fading bruise. Another tube runs from a needle in her forearm and a steady stream of clear liquid flowing into her body from a small baggie hung on a metal stand. A bandage is wrapped around the area. Clamping on to the pointer finger of her right hand is a plastic and metal clip. Her complexion extremely pale almost ghostly, there are bluish-purple bags beneath her eyes, her cheeks seem to have sunk in and her lips are dry and cracked. My eyes travel down from her face over her torso and the pale look to her skin continues; I can almost see bowing of her ribs. Where her tank top would normally reach the top of her shorts, her stomach is exposed but instead of skin I see gauze. I gingerly lift her tank; the gauze wraps all the way around her from just above where her bellybutton should be to her hips. I look down to her legs and at the center of her right thigh is a set of stitches nearly seven inches long. Surrounding the area is a faint bluish-yellow bruise that stops very close to her right knee. The muscular look that her once had has become muted, stunted in away; the muscles seem to have shrunk somehow. Her small, narrow feet are bare and as though it has never gotten better, her ankles and now lower calves are badly bruised, discolored and swollen.

I touch her hand, lightly placing my fingertips on the back of her hand; she is just barely warm; she doesn't stir whatsoever. She appears so weak. Her body lacks its slender but strong fit appearance. Her skin has lost its natural tanned tone. She doesn't look anything like the Elinea that was taken from this room nearly a week ago. I draw my hand from her; I don't even want to touch her from fear that she'll crumble right in front of me. I grab the chair from her desk and sit beside her. 

I put my hand beneath hers. "El," I whisper watching her face. "El if you can hear me, try and squeeze my hand; just let me know your there." I had hoped for an answer but, truthfully I wasn't expecting one. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here," I say  attempting to reassure her.

Across the room the moon draws my attention calling my eyes to its thin crescent shape. Tiny, faint stars dot the surrounding sky but the moon lights the darkness. Eyes glued to the night sky my lips begin to form words. "Hey God, I know we haven't spoken a while and I know that that is my fault so I apologize. I know I haven't been the best I can be and for that I seek your forgiveness. I've always been taught to live up to my promises but I've gone back on my word and it really got me this time. Thank you to getting El through whatever insanity these 'Snatchers' put her through but please help her to pull through. I wouldn't have been able to endure me time here without her please help her to recover in Jesus name, Amen." I glance back and El and reach into my hoodie pocket for my phone. I hit the second speed dial. 

"Bruno," Mike says. "Anything new?"

"She's back Mike; they brought her back but she's in bad shape."

"How so," he asks as thought it is a statement and not a question at all. 

"She on oxygen and fluids, she has several bruises and gauze wrapped around her stomach and forearm."

"That's exactly what  I was afaraid of," he says quietly with both anger and pain in his voice. "I will stop by tomorrow night."

"Aright."

"How are you Bruno, now that she's back?"

"I'm just happy that she his at least breathing though not on her own. I just want her to wake up. I've never seen her like this." 

"None of us have. I'll meet you in her room right after lights out tomorrow." 

"Thanks Mike."

"No problem." With that he hangs up. I hit the third speed dial. Before I can even say anything, Amy speaks. 

"Bruno, is she back? Is she alright?" 

"She's back but not awake. They have her hooked up to a oxygen tank and she looks like she's getting fluid through an IV. She looks bad Amy, really bad."

"It's too late to come over now but I will for sure be there tomorrow night. Have you told Michael?"

"Yeah, he says he's coming over too."

"Good, he'll know what we should do to help her. Please take care of her tonight, just watch her to make sure nothing happens."

"I will. I wasn't planning on leaving until just before daybreak."

"Thank you Bruno."

"Don't thank me. There's no reason to,"I reply. From now on, despite what she says or what she really thinks, whether she likes it or not, I will protect her; I am not letting something like this happened again. Never.