The Wrong Sister

There was a knock on the hotel door, and I stumbled over to it sleepily. I tried to look out the peephole, but it was too high for me to reach, even when I stood on my toes. Too tired to remember to ask who it was or what the code word was, I slid the chain off and opened the door. I gazed in terror into Lisa’s blazing black eyes. My heart began to jackhammer in my chest just as she grabbed me and proceeded to drag me by the throat down the long corridor. The corridor seemed endless. I didn’t remember it being that long when I was first brought up to the hotel room, but maybe I just hadn’t paid attention. I kicked and screamed as she dragged me past what had to be nearly thirty doors just on one side of the hall. I didn’t understand why no one heard me and came out to investigate. What happened to morbid curiosity? Finally, after passing another thirty doors or so, we came to a set of elevators. The pressure on my throat began to make it nearly impossible for me to scream. Keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead, Lisa punched a button angrily, not at all concerned with the noise I was making. Why wasn’t she afraid of drawing attention? I hoped and prayed that there would be people on the elevator when it reached our floor and the doors sprang open. But when it did, it was completely empty. Lisa pushed me ahead and into the elevator so roughly that I was almost knocked off balance. Catching myself on the railing inside the elevator, I begged and pleaded for her to let me go. “I won’t say a thing. I swear!” She ignored me, never once glancing my way. She punched the button for the lobby, and the doors closed. Certainly, there would be plenty of people in the lobby, and someone would intervene. There was no way an individual could drag a screaming person out of a hotel without being stopped—or at least followed, with the police on the way. It seemed to take an eternity for the doors to slide open once again. To my utter relief, there were about a dozen people milling about the lobby, including a few behind the desk. Lisa grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the elevator, still never saying a single word. I wasted no time screaming for help. “Help! Somebody, please help me! I was placed here as a witness in the Witness Protection Program. She found me! She’s going to kill me! Please call the police! Help! Please help! Help, help, help!!!” When no one even so much as looked my way, I was struck with a disbelief that almost made me sick on the spot. I just couldn’t believe that no one noticed us. Had Lisa suddenly perfected the magic trick of making us both invisible and inaudible to others? I kept on screaming, yet no one seemed to hear or even glance in our direction. Lisa continued to drag me toward the exit, with everyone acting as if we weren’t even there. My terror rose another notch at the shocking reality of what was happening and just how powerless I was to do anything about it. Next, we burst through the doors and into the bright sunlight, where there were even more people. I continued screaming for help, but still no one looked our way. They didn’t even so much as flinch, suggesting they couldn’t even hear us. Had everyone gone deaf in San Francisco? Next, the deranged detective forced me into her truck, and I knew without a doubt that as soon as she got me to wherever she was taking me, she would kill me. This was it. I was living my final moments on earth. I was really about to die. The only question was how many minutes—or hours—she would decide to torture me for before she put me out of my misery for good. She handcuffed me to the passenger door. I carried on screaming and begging for mercy as she backed out of the parking spot, tires squealing along the way. It was at that moment that I woke up, panting frantically, heart pounding, with sweat trickling down my body. I flung the covers off and jumped out of bed as I struggled to catch my breath and slow my pulse. If my nightmares could compete with each other in a contest for which one was the scariest, I had just had the winning nightmare for damn sure. I shuffled into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto my face. After I calmed down a bit, I realized that my hunger had finally caught up to me, and I chose a large blueberry muffin from among the snacks that had been left for me. I’d been served liver and onions the previous night, and a part of me wanted to complain about not being asked beforehand what I liked and didn’t like. But then I thought better of it—not only because I didn’t have much of an appetite most of the time anyway, but also because they were putting themselves out to protect me from the crazy bitch in my nightmares. I finished the muffin and climbed back into bed. Mariska popped into my mind as I pulled the blankets snugly around me. I hoped to see the kind detective again soon enough.