Page 143 - Musings 2020

11

Nightingale

Jayanth Tummalapenta 2017A7PS0075P and U Aswathy 2017ABPS1051P

Something hard jabs into my elbow and I wake up with a jolt. I look around groggily and see
Daniel leaning over my bedstead, his eyes scared and concerned. “What-?” I begin, my voice
rough with disuse, but he instantly shushes me with a finger to my lips and looks around like
he’s afraid someone might hear us.

There’s no one around, though. We are in a gloomy grey room in what feels like a hospital.
There’s a pitcher of water on my bedstead. I try to reach out for it, my throat aching, but
Daniel knocks it out of my reach. “Don't touch a thing,” he warns me testily. The clear water
spills all over the carpeted floor. “Daniel, darling, what’s wrong? Where are we?” I ask,
pulling his hand away from my mouth. My head is still cloudy, and my throat dangerously
dry.

“For the love of God Angela, stop yelling! Do you not remember anything at all?” Daniel
whispers to me frantically. “Remember what?” “We were abducted and you were drugged
and put to sleep,” he spits outs. “I was restrained, but I managed to break free. We must get
out of here, it’s not safe.” It takes a precious two minutes for my brain to sponge up the
information he gave me. “What do you mean, abducted?” I ask slowly, trying desperately to
grasp at any remaining threads of my memory. “The Nazis, Angela, the bloody Nazis! They
are planning to kill us, I heard them. Do you want to be gassed to death in a chamber
underground? I’ve been trying to wake you up for so long. Come on, we do not have time.
Please!” My husband pulls me to my feet.

As my mind slowly catches up with the world around me, my thoughts become clearer.
Memories of our abduction come back to me in flashes. A ferocious knock at our door.
Daniel asked me to run as fast as I can out the back door. Angry men streaming into our
living room and chaos everywhere. A large man’s hand closing around my mouth and the
sting of a needle on my forearm and finally, nothingness. Everywhere.

“Honey, I-I’m scared. My head hurts, what did--” Daniel slaps me once, hard, and the world
comes into sharp focus. “Trust me,” he says. “We need to get out.” I sit on the lone chair to
regain my bearings as my husband slowly and methodically searches for a way out. Now that
I no longer feel like a flashbang just exploded under my nose, I begin to pick up more details
about our strange prison cell. The room is spartan but comfortable. It is much larger than an
average living room, and I wonder at our captors’ generosity. My eyes are momentarily
drawn to Daniel as he moves into what seems like a bathroom. There are no windows, and a
pair of halogen light bulbs illuminate the interior. The door is made of solid oak, and nothing
short of a battering ram would be able to coax it open.

The room is totally devoid of background noise, and the silence is absolute. My body lets out
an involuntary shiver. “I think I found something!” my husband calls triumphantly, striding
back into the room. He leads me to the dingy attached bathroom. He points at the ventilator
high up on the wall beside the dirty bathtub. “That’s our key out of here.” He helps me stand
up precariously on the edge of the bathtub and I reach up to the vent’s edge to hoist myself

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