of my life. I’d had to pick up men in bars just to have somewhere to sleep, and one night, the worst one, I had no other option but to hide in a public toilet in a park. Jumping out of my skin at every noise. Imagining the worst. That night felt like it would never end, like the light would never come. The toilet block looked a bit like this one.
For a moment my resilience slips and I imagine the other alternative: the warm bed, the full stomach and the kisses on the forehead. It’s enough.
The bottle breaks against the toilet seat easily. I pick a large shard. Squatting down in the cubicle, I hold my arm between my knees. I realize I’ve started to whimper, but there’s no time now to be weak. One more minute and that cop will be checking on me. Pushing down on the brown blotch, the pain is shocking. There’s more blood than I expected, but I don’t stop. My flesh peels up, like the skin of a potato.
The lining of my jacket slips against the open wound as I pull it back on. I throw the gory evidence in the sanitary bin and wash the blood off my hands. My vision is beginning to blur and the oily noodles swirl in my stomach. I grip the sink and breathe steadily. I can do this.
The slam of a car door is followed by footsteps.
“Are you all right?” the female cop asks.
“I get a bit carsick,” I say, checking the sink for blood.
“Oh, honey, we’re almost there. Just tell us to pull over if you want to be sick.”
The rain is heavier now and the sky is a rich black. But the icy-cold air helps to fight the nausea. I clamber into the back of the car and pull the door shut with my good arm. We veer back out onto the highway. I rest my throbbing arm up next to the headrests, afraid of the blood beginning to drip down to my wrist, and lean my head back against the window. I don’t feel the sickness anymore, just a floating feeling. The even patter of the rain, the soft tones of the radio and the heat of the car lull me into a near sleep.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving in silence when they start talking.
“I think she’s asleep.” The man’s voice.
I hear the squeak of leather as the woman turns to look at me. I don’t move.
“Looks like it. Must be tiring work being such a little bitch.”
“Where do you think she’s been this whole time?”
“My guess? Ran off with some man, married probably. He must have gotten sick of her and given her the boot. I reckon he was rich, too, by the way she’s been looking down her nose at everyone.”
“She said she was abducted.”
“I know. She’s not acting like it, though, is she?”
“Not really.”
“And she looks in pretty good nick, considering. If she was kidnapped, he must have been pretty fond of her. That’s all I’m saying. What do you think?”
“I don’t give a shit honestly,” he says. “But I reckon there might be a commendation in it for us.”
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t she be in a hospital or something? I don’t know if ass hat was really meant to just let her leave when she clicked her fingers.”
“What is the protocol, then? I know what we’re meant to do when these kids go missing, but what about when they come back?”
“Fucked if I know. Must have been hungover that day.”
They laugh, and then the car is quiet again.
“You know, I’ve been wondering all day who it is she reminds me of,” the female cop says suddenly. “It just hit me. It was this girl back in high school who told everyone she had a brain tumor and took a week off school for the operation. A bunch of us started a drive to raise money for her. I think we all thought she was going to die. She came back right as rain on Monday, though, and for a few hours she was the most popular girl in school. Then someone noticed that none of her hair was shaved, not even an inch. The whole thing was a crock of shit from start to finish.
“That girl, she looked at you just like our little princess back there looked at us when we met her. The way she takes you in, surveys you with that cold glint in her eyes like her head is going a million miles a minute trying to figure out the best way to fuck with you.”
After a while I stop listening to them talk. I remember I have to speak to the detective when I get to Canberra, but I feel too dizzy to try to plan my answers. The car pulls off the main road.
I wake to the jolt of the brakes and the light going on as the female cop opens her door.
“Wake up, little lady,” she says.
I try to sit, but my muscles feel like they’re made of jelly.
I hear a new voice.
“You must be Constables Seirs and Thompson. I’m Senior Inspector Andopolis. Thanks for pulling the overtime to bring her down.”
“No worries, sir.”
“We better get started. I know her mother is over the moon, but I have a lot of questions for her first.”
I hear him pull the door next to me open.
“Rebecca, you can’t imagine how pleased I am to see you,” he says. Then he kneels down beside me. “Are you all right?”
I try to look at him but his face is swirling.
“Yes, I’m okay,” I mutter.
“Why is she so pale?” he calls sharply. “What’s happened to her?”
“She’s fine. She just gets carsick,” the female cop says.
“Call an ambulance!” Andopolis snaps at her as he reaches over and undoes my seat belt.
“Rebecca? Can you hear me? What’s happened?”
“I hurt my arm when I was escaping,” I hear myself say. “It’s okay, just hurts a bit.”
He pulls my jacket to the side. There’s dried blood all the way up to my collarbone. Seeing that makes my vision fade even more.
“You morons! You absolute fucking idiots!” His voice sounds far away now. I can’t see the reaction from the cops; I can’t see their faces paling. But I can imagine.
I smile as the last of my consciousness fades.
Bec, 10 January 2003
Bec had decided months ago to live her life as if she was being watched. Just in case there was a film crew hiding behind a corner or her mirror was two-way. It meant no more yawning without covering her mouth or picking her nose on the toilet. She wanted to always look exactly like a happy, pretty sixteen-year-old girl should.
This felt different, though, this prickling on the back of
