Minnesota

 Confessions

Nena's face color was only a shade darker than the white pillow beneath her. Her brown eyes were darker than usual, almost black. The bruises on her face and neck stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Yet, she managed a smile when Connie walked through the oversized hospital door.

            “How are you holding up, kiddo?” Connie sat on the edge of Nena’s bed.

            “Okay. My throat hurts and my head feels huge.” Nena paused and glanced at the door. “Is Lars coming?” She spoke with a lisp and spittle dripped. Her motor functions still suffered the consequences of the brutality inflicted on her. Can’t swallow when your mouth is bruised and swollen.

            “He's right behind me, finishing up at the bakery. All the regulars wish you the best, by the way.”

Nena looked at Connie. “Oh, yes, of course, the bakery, I forgot.” She turned her head toward the window.

Connie flinched at the sad and lonely look on her face. I'd do anything to make her feel better.

            “Lars closed the store last week and he sat on that chair, “Connie pointed toward a single chair to Nena's left,” until the staff kicked him out.” Connie noticed more flowers had arrived. “These look nice.” She nodded at the daisies on the side table.

            “Cliff brought them. They’re my favorite.” Nena sighed. There's my chance to ask her without making it sound like I am too curious.

            “Oh, he was here this morning, wasn't he? “I think that sounded casual enough.

            Nena nodded. “And a Detective Burrows. Have you ever seen such furry eyebrows?” Connie laughed and shook her head.

            The second of silence grew into minutes. Nena's eyes stared into the distance. Her hands wrung tightly around each other.

            “If you don't want to talk, it's okay.” Connie couldn't stand the agony of unspoken words any longer.

            “No, it's not that. I am trying to figure out how to ask you something.” Nena sighed but didn't elaborate. Connie didn't push.

            “All I remember is Duane suddenly stood in front of me at the bus station. Then came a horrible smell. I woke up in darkness, feeling cold and wet” Nena clasped her hands tightly, the knuckles white as the bed sheets. “Detective Burrows kept pushing me. He asked if it's possible that I killed the guy because the brick was found next to me. I told him that I don't remember. They kept me drugged, I only remember pain and being cold.” Nena cleared her throat.

They? Connie handed Nena a cup of water. She drank in small drops, pausing frequently. When the cup was empty, she clung to it, cradling it. Nena’s skinny body moved beneath the blanket; her legs restless. “Everything hurts.” She leaned her head back into the pillow.

            Connie reached for the call button. “I’ll get the nurse, get you some medication.”

Nena’s pale, shaky hand stopped her. “Not yet.” Nena reached for Connie’s hand and the cold fingers wrapped around hers. Her left hand still clung to the plastic cup.

            “I kind of remember there was another guy. He raped me too, but only when I was not awake. That’s probably not true then, is it?”

            “I don’t know.” It was the only answer she could think of.

            “If he’s real, I only remember his eyes. Blue, but a cold blue, like the sky in winter, right after the sun comes up.” Connie’s caressing hand paused at the description; at the familiarity of it.

Nena didn’t notice her hesitation. “He always wore a black bandana. I couldn’t see his hair. Maybe he didn’t have any. I remember thinking he was blonde, but it feels wrong.”

Connie took the empty cup from her left hand. By now, the plastic was bent into unrecognizable shape. Nena's hand, deprived of the comfort of holding onto to the container, gripped the blanket.

            “I am getting kind of tired.” Nena leaned back into the pillow.

            Connie brushed a strand of hair out of Nena’s her face, careful not to touch Nena too much. She didn’t want to startle her. “Then let’s continue this later. I’ll call the nurse, get you some medication. When you open your eyes again, Lars will be here.”

            Nena shook her head. Her haunted face looked small against the large pillow. “Did I dream you were there? That you saved me?”

There it was. The dreaded truth. It’s not as startling or shocking as I anticipated. Connie exhaled. “It'd be best if I am the one telling Cliff and Detective Burrows.”

Without hesitation, Nena began shaking her head. “No, no, no – you can’t. It isn’t what I mean. I didn’t tell them about you. I won’t tell them. You can’t, either.” Nena lifted herself up, her thin fingers digging into Connie’s arms, pulling her closer. Tears streamed down her slender face. Eyes large with fear.

            “I’m just asking because I don’t know if I was dreaming. It feels so unreal, the pain, the cold. But you saved me, and I need to know, but no one else ever has to. Cliff might understand, but the big guy, please, I don’t want you to go to prison …” Her voice trailed off. Exhausted, Nena's head fell back into the pillow. She plead with Connie. “Burrows focused on the brick next to me, but every time I asked him questions, he dismissed me, saying ‘it's just a thought’. Until I told him about the camera, that's when he finally stopped asking me questions. He kept looking at Cliff and they left shortly after that.”

            Connie's hand froze. The relief she felt at Nena’s confession and the assurance that she wouldn’t rat Connie out was replaced by panic. She tried to remember every detail of that day, her mind racing, trying to recall everything she saw - the purse, the clothes, and the pile of bricks. There was no camera, I am sure of it.

 Oh my God, am I on a camera, killing this guy?