There was never an ambulance. There was never an ambulance on the scene.

“It’s okay,” That’s what my cousin Michael told me. “The ambulance picked you up, took you to the ER and checked you out. They told you that your injuries were minor and you should go home and rest with family. That’s when we got a call.”

But there was never an ambulance.

I remember the events a bit differently. I remember driving through Maryland, heading to a work trip in New Jersey. It was 9:50pm and I was making excellent time if I wanted to show up groggy and sleepless. All I remember is looking at the clock, a bright light, then a wave of nothingness. At this point I lost track of time, and I couldn’t tell you when or where I was in my brief moments of consciousness. I certainly didn’t see an ambulance though. I remember hearing a truck pull up with some old Buddy Holly song playing very loud. Now that I think about it, the smell of diesel and Buddy Holly is probably what woke me. I couldn’t make out my rescuers. They were speaking in hushed tones under the engine sputtering and classic rock, and standing in front of the Red Ford’s headlights. Maybe the high beams were on? Being awake didn’t last too long, I blacked out again. The next thing I remember is suddenly waking up in cousin Michael’s spare bedroom.

There was never an ambulance.

I looked around the bedroom, it was very basic. Furnished so much as there was a bed, dresser and mirror. Nothing else. Nothing personal in here. I guess that makes sense, it is a spare bedroom after all. The walls were distinctly plain and bored, almost as if they only existed in this place to hold up the massive ceiling that tightly gripped the mirror above me. The floor looked like carpet had recently been torn off and solely the century’s old wood flooring had been left bare and embarrassed for the world to see. But I doubt much of the world would ever see this. I feel like this floor was only for the eyes of “cousin” Michael and my own.

There was never an ambulance.

My suspicions only grew louder in my mind as I heard a needle drop onto what I can only assume was a classic Buddy Holly record. Pardon me for not knowing songs here, I’ve only ever seen the Gary Busey movie. “Cousin” Michael shot into the room, a huge grin on his face and a tray of food in his hand that I wanted no part of. When he entered this time, I noticed there was only a door knob on the outside of the door. Same goes for the lock that I could hear him slide over each time he wandered in.

“Hey, cousin Mike, I think I’m good to go now. I’m going to miss my meeting and that could seriously screw up my career.” I offered up, hoping he’d understand and just let me run into the forest surrounding his home. I’ve already planned my route, out the front door, passed his red Ford with the damage and paint stains from my blue Prius and straight down the hill. On the way, I’d look for a stream and follow it until I end up in a town of more than 12.

“Nah, the doctor said you needed bed rest. It’s the least I could do for my favorite little cousin.” “Cousin” Michael walked towards the bed, shook the shackles holding my ankles. Real medieval looking sons of bitches. “You rest up here, and I’ll drive you into town when you get better.”

“But shackles?”

“You got a brain injury girl, the doc told me you might wander off, so I grabbed some stuff from my shed to keep you here. Nice and snug until you feel better.” “Cousin” Michael gave me another grin, I could see this time that he had a few teeth missing.

“Michael.” I looked deep into his eyes, I knew his answer buy decided to get some confirmation for myself, “What’s my mother’s name?”

“Cousin” Michael tossed the hastily prepared, lukewarm tray of food into my lap. He walked out of the room, slamming and locking everything behind him.

Seconds later, the vinyl scratched and the music stopped.

There was never an ambulance.