“I’m Niko.” She doesn’t respond. By her stare and the steady rise and fall of her shoulders, I’d guess she’s concentrating on breathing. “I thought we could talk. Is that okay with you?” She nods again. “Can I get you something to drink?” This time, she gives a punctuated shake. Okay, so she’s good with using nonverbal communication. That’s a start at least. I can work with yes-or- no questions.

“Do you know where you are?” Her gaze flits to the open door and the hall beyond. Once again, I’m left staring at the state of disfigurement this woman has been left in. It’s obvious these are signs of abuse, but from who? Her pimp? Was she attacked for trying to leave that life? A victim of domestic violence? Could she be connected to the person who took Rebecca? I don’t realize I’m staring until she shakes her head again, and the movement pulls me from my thoughts. I trail my eyes over her wounds again, and the sight makes me sick. I grind my back molars together to get ahold of myself.

Once I feel calm, I ask another question. “Do you know your name?” She shakes her head. Damn. I try a different route. “Do you know how you got all these cuts?” At my words, she glances down at her arms. She runs her right index finger over a spot of dried blood on her right thigh. “Yes,” she croaks in a quiet voice that startles me. “Can you tell me how?” “All of them.” She goes on as if I didn’t speak. I try to keep my expression neutral but I’m confused. “All of them? What do you mean?” “I know how I got all of them.” She faces me with a blank stare. “I remember them all.” The sound of her voice sends a shiver down my spine. Monotone and quiet, it reminds me of nothing.


That void of hopelessness. Of no going back. “Who did this to you?” I prod gently. She shakes her head again, and my stomach sinks. “I can’t remember. I remember the shadow man and the screaming girl. And the pain,” she goes on in a hollow voice. “I remember being hurt, but not who did it. I think… I think I did it.”