She ran her hand along the ragged edge of the heart, seeing a chain like this in her mind. A little girl with brown skin and black hair obscuring her face holds out the necklace. "You put it with mine," she mews, her voice like a cat's purr.
The little girl holds up the missing half of the necklace that says, 'ST NDS EVER.' She drapes this over her neck and then the other half over Samantha's. "Best Friends Forever," the girl says.
This is mine, Samantha thought. Pryde took it from her the day he captured her. Samantha scoured the rest of the safe without finding the other half. That meant the little girl with the wild black hair hadn't been one of Pryde's victims. She was still alive somewhere with the missing piece to the necklace, and Samantha's life.
With tears in her eyes, Samantha donned the necklace. She left the rest of the jewelry in the safe, not wanting to desecrate the dead any further. She closed the safe, the door ringing like a church bell, a funeral bell.
Samantha searched the rest of the room without finding anything that brought back any memories. By the time she finished, her stomach churned with nausea again. She staggered out of the room and searched for a place to throw up. She finally knelt in a corner and spewed a stream of yellow bile, having nothing in her stomach to throw up.
For a minute she remained on her knees, panting from the effort. Then she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of the jacket. She made her way unsteadily back over to the pile of clothes. A stomach cramp sent her tumbling into the pile.
She closed her eyes. She just needed some sleep. Then she would feel better. A little rest and then she could try to sneak back into the village to get some supplies. Then she would go back to the United States, where her family had lived; where some of them still might be waiting for her.
***
Samantha had picked the bed nearest the window and the air conditioner. Light trickles through cracks in the vertical blinds to fall onto the paisley motel bedspread. When she peels the bedspread away, Samantha can't put her hands to her mouth in time to suppress the scream.
Blood. A smear of red against the white sheets on the bed, against the white hem of her nightgown, and against the white seat of her panties. She sticks a hand between her legs, her fingers coming back stained red like everything else.
"Oh my God!" she screams. She races into the bathroom, searching for a first aid kit or a Band-Aid or something to staunch the bleeding before she passes out.