I begin to feel sick, her words stirring up unwanted memories, memories I promised to deal with once I got back to New York. But hearing Rebecca say the words I know to be true sends my past torpedoing into me, and I’m going to hurl.
“Excuse me,” I say, standing quickly and making a mad dash through the room.
The moment I reach the restrooms, I crouch over the toilet bowl and heave up the entire contents of my stomach. I vomit until there is nothing left, but I continue to purge until I’m gagging on my tears and regret. My loud sobs echo off the bowl, and I thump the cold tiles underneath me, wishing I wasn’t so fucked up and vulnerable to my past.
The dizziness kicks in and I cover my ears, his words on a cruel repetitive loop, one I’ve been trying to silence for thirteen years.
“You’ll do this, Sunny. If you love me, you’ll do this.”
31
Skeletons in the Closet
DIXON
I have no idea where she is. I’ve searched this entire hotel for Madison, but she has vanished without a trace. The concierge has checked her room, but she’s not in there, and I’ve tried her cell, but it goes straight to voicemail.
When I returned to the table and saw she was gone, Rebecca said she went to the restroom, and would be back soon. However, when twenty minutes went by and she was still gone, I knew something was wrong.
Charging down the corridor, I see a small group of people crowding around a room. Looks of confusion and concern mar their features, and I race toward them, my heart in my throat.
“What’s going on?” I bluntly ask an older lady in a lime pantsuit.
“Someone’s in there,” she replies, pointing to the linen closet. “Some poor girl ran in there and has locked the door. We’ve tried contacting staff, but they seem too busy to deal with us normal folk,” she adds, looking down her nose at me.
Of course they are—they’re too busy with my drunken colleagues.
“Please, will you let me through?” I ask, pushing my way past the nosy bystanders.
The moment I reach the door, I squat low and place my ear against the door because I can’t hear much, thanks to the murmuring crowd. As I listen closer, I hear a tiny sniffle and then some muffled words, and without a doubt I know that Madison is inside.
“Madison? Are you in there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice soothing and calm.
When she doesn’t reply, I ask again, “Madison, it’s Dixon. Can you hear me?”
Still nothing.
“Should I call security?” an onlooker asks.
I hold out my hand, shaking my head. “No, I’ve got this. Please, could you all give me a minute?”
Most comply, while others take a step back, still loitering close by, but it’ll have to do.
“Angelo, it’s me. If you can hear me, please give me a sign that you’re okay. You don’t have to come out, I’m right here with you. I just need to know that you’re okay.”
The crowd hushes, listening to me reason through a door.
I press my ear against the wood, listening closely, but hear nothing. I’ve got to keep trying, because if she doesn’t reply, I’m minutes away from breaking down the door. I could call the concierge, but I really want to save her the embarrassment of the entire hotel staff knowing she’s locked herself in a linen closet.
My brain churns through the reasons why she would lock herself in such a confined space, and only one reason comes to mind.
She’s scared.
Something happened during those few minutes while I was gone, and I hate that I wasn’t there to protect her. But I’m here now, and I’ll do everything in my power to make her feel safe once again.
Thinking back to when I was a child and scared, I employ the only thing that ever made the monsters go away.
I sing:
Farfallina
Bella e bianca
Vola vola
Mai si stanca
Gira qua
E gira la
Poi si resta sopra un fiore
E poi si resta spora un fiore.
This is the nursery rhyme my mother used to sing to me when I was a child, and each and every time she made the nightmares go away. I just hope I can do the same for Madison. Just as I’m about to sing verse two, I hear the lock on the door click open and the crowd around me gasps.
“Please don’t crowd around the door. The person inside is very important to me, and when I go in, I don’t want her to think she’s in some kind of freak show,” I say, hoping they get the hint and leave.
I don’t wait long enough to see if they listen or not because I slowly open the door, and peer inside the darkened room. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, but once they do my heart breaks when I see Madison pushed up against the far wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, her feet bare. She’s rocking backward and forward, her face pressed up against her knees and she’s humming softly.
“Madison?” I whisper, pushing open the door a fraction further.
But she continues humming, her face turned away from me.
The only way I’m going to snap her out of her near-catatonic state is making contact with her, so I slowly crawl inside, shutting the door behind me. I can’t see a thing, so I use Madison’s humming as my beacon of light.
“Madison, it’s Dixon. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help. I’m going to come over there, okay?”
She doesn’t reply, but her humming ceases.
I slowly crawl toward her, all the while cooing to her. “It’ll be okay. I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Reaching out, I gently place my hand on her leg. Her skin is icy cold, and the moment I make contact, she scurries backward but has nowhere to go because of the wall behind her.
I instantly back off, my hands raised in surrender. “Madison, you’re safe. We don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll stay here with you until you’re ready to leave. No matter how long that takes, I’ll be here. I won’t leave you, I promise.”
I decide to make myself comfortable and sit, stretching my legs out in front of me. The sliver of light coming in from under the door is the only light source we have, and although it’s dim, it’s enough for me to see Madison’s broken frame as she curls in on herself, not wanting to face the real world.
It goes without saying something awful happened to this beautiful creature, and I have a feeling that something is one heinous, unspeakable betrayal of the worst degree. I grind my teeth at the thought because there are only a handful of things that would evoke a breakdown such as this.
“Oh, angelo, what did they do to you?” I whisper, running a hand down my face and slouching in defeat.
“D-Dixon?” Madison stutters, her voice small and hoarse.
“I’m here,” I reply, quickly sitting upright.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I don’t know how I ended up in here. Last I remember I was in the bathroom and then everything went blank. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m going to come over, okay?”
“Okay.”
I crawl over slowly and extend my hand until I touch Madison’s knee. I breathe out a sigh of relief when her skin feels a degree warmer. “I’m just going to slip my hands underneath your knees and around your back,” I say, not wanting to freak her out with any sudden movements.