pears into the variegated crowd of people ; a massive , intense crowd of people they are .
I ’ m washing my hands . I squeeze some blue soap on my palms . They feel strangely too cold and too real . But who cares , I have to get back into the dreamland fast . I quickly rub them together and rinse them off under the sink . Blackout .
How did I get knocked out while washing my hands ? I try to find traces . What have I been missing ? I try to go back . No , it doesn ’ t ring a bell . Oh wait , maybe it ’ s her . She ’ s faded and cloudy but she ’ s there .
A stranger — a total , complete stranger — had been in all the places I was . Behind , in front , far away , everywhere in my memory of scenes . She had followed me all throughout . She followed me to the toilet , went in as I went in , and washed her hands as I washed mine next to her . She smelled like lilac and cigarettes . She moved in a gingerly manner , I had simply thought she had OCD . But there was something eerie about her .
Now that I ’ m thinking about it , I can remember her clearly from the pool of crowd : thick red scarf covering her mouth and jaw , oversized sunglasses , and a sunhat on a cold , winter day . I didn ’ t think it strange at the time , but now looking back , I wonder why I didn ’ t think so : she had such an unordinary , distinct look . Then , I remember , a foray . A quick , sudden attack . Struggling in the snare of exceedingly strong , metallic arms , a glimpse of white and red , then flash of black .
Suddenly , I realize that this stuffy taste of crude peppermint in my mouth must be : Chloroform .
Now a few things I understand from this trip down the memory : somebody wanted to kidnap me on purpose . Somebody with a red scarf on . Somebody with strong arms and a scent of lilac and cigarette . They locked me up in this room — probably to take me into custody and to use me to get money off my dad . They won ’ t give me food or water ; they probably won ’ t care if I die . Someone knows who I am and what I can do . Someone knows who my dad is .
Someone knows that I ’ m the one and only daughter of a former Hollywood star . A star who has fallen due to gambling and drugs , yet one who still has three resorts , four houses , a vast amount of fortune , and a daughter and a son . A star who could easily afford a lifetime of wealth for anyone , if he wanted to .
So it ’ s likely that I won ’ t be able to get out of this room for free . They could charge at least ten million dollars , maybe more . Perhaps I would be found too late , stale cold and dead . I see no way out ; I see no way in . No way to survive for more than a day . I can ’ t do anything in this room but to sit and face the morbid facts unless something happens . Long after the sound of gushing wind reaches an even rhythm , I lie awake , trying to think of a way out .
51
If only I could call someone . If only the window was low enough . If only there were doors . If only I didn ’ t have to go to the toilet . If only my dad wasn ’ t famous . If only I didn ’ t leave home today . If only I hadn ’ t gone to Disneyland . If only it wasn ’ t Christmas .