Ruth Benziger

Author’s Note

I’m working on a novel that will be published in December. I hope you enjoy this excerpt. -Ruth

…

I’m not sure how I got here. The lights are bright, and my wrists are heavy as lead, and they sting. I whimper as my eyes blur and follow the red lines that pool under the metal rings wrapped around my skin. It’s cold, and I know I have no clothes on, but I’m too tired to lift my head and examine myself. Slowly, my ears begin to recognize noise that I realize is coming from me. I can hear my breath in my ears and the metal clanging on the cold metal table. My vision is blurry, and I immediately close them to shield myself from the bright fluorescent lights. I can hear them buzzing, and I want it to stop. I lift my head about an inch and instantly regret it. I’m dizzy and feel like my head is too heavy. I’m nauseous and scared.

I try my voice, but it comes out in a hushed whisper. “Hello?” If someone were standing next to me, they wouldn’t hear it. I am becoming more aware, and my head is starting to clear. It’s like climbing out of a thick fog. Panic is clawing its way out of my gut. The more I look around, the more reality seems to set in. There are four white, unadorned walls and a fluorescent light swinging from the ceiling. I hear the echo of it squeaking above me. It casts one side of the room in shadows while lighting the other. It is disorienting and makes my head swim.  

I try to remember what led me to this room, who would’ve tied me here. When I try to remember, there’s something dark and unpleasant that my mind refuses to conjure. My eyes adjust to the light casting shadows along a metal shelf bolted to the wall. I blink and try to focus on the items, but the blur won’t clear. I must have a head injury, I deduce. It hurts on the left side under my ear. I try to lift my shoulder to test the pain, but the chains prevent me from moving.

When I wiggle my fingers, I realize something is wrong. It doesn’t feel right. I touch my first finger to my thumb and move onto the next. Only when I try to touch my fingers, I don’t feel anything. Same with the third. My hand is numb, my arm too. I wiggle my toes and realize the same goes for my lower extremities. I can’t feel anything on the left side. I wonder if my head injury is the cause. I’m hurt, and I realize it’s bad. I can smell blood and urine and know it’s mine.

Shame swallows me when I realize I’ve lost control of myself. Tears well in my eyes and slide down my face. It’s so quiet, I hear them dripping on the metal table by my ear. As time slips by, I start to remember flashes of me standing in a cafe. I ordered my usual coffee, but it didn’t taste right. I remember my head swimming. I sat down. I recall the barista, concern on his face, asking if I was alright.

All at once, my eyes dilate, and I close them to block out the unpleasant truth. I recall a familiar voice taunting me. Telling me he was coming. Reassuring me that he would get what was owed to him. Tears fall in earnest because I know who is outside of this room. I know because I tried to hide from him. I thought I sought sanctuary in a safe place. I was so delusional to think that it would keep me safe.

I hear a click, the whooshing of a door sliding open, and the voice of my nightmares. “Harper, I see you are back with us.” I try to focus on his face, but he dips right and left. My eyes go wide as I see him step closer and get a look at his sly smile. My breathing goes deep and heavy, and I know whatever is about to come is bad. Fear swallows me when I feel a prick on my neck. Before I can react, I’m encased in total darkness.

…

Sanctuary, coming December 2026. ©Ruth Benziger