A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

MEREDITH
11 YEARS BEFORE
May
My hearing returns to me first, to a limited degree. What I hear is
spotty, sporadic. Slurred words. Wind rushing through a tunnel.
Drumsticks tapping a snare drum. I can’t make sense of it. I press
my eyes closed, avoiding sensory input. It’s too much. Vomit rises in
the back of my throat and I swallow it down. My head throbs. It
pulsates in my ears, my temples, the backs of my eyes. Someone
hums.
I don’t know where I am or why I’m here. I must have been
dreaming.
I force my eyes open to see the world hurtling past. It’s dizzying,
disorienting. My vision is blurred. It comes and goes, clouding over
with fog before clearing. Rain falls, everything a monochrome shade
of gray. I’m cold. I shake.
Things beside me start to take shape, my world coming slowly into
focus. I see a child’s board book, a dog leash. A booster seat thrust
to the floor, my feet on it. Gray and red with a pink water bottle
angled in the cup holder. It’s Delilah’s water bottle. It’s Delilah’s
booster seat. Plastic covers hang from the headrests of the front row
seats, to protect the fabric from little feet.
I’m in the back seat of my own car.
I sit slowly up, my body sore. I find that I’m bent over a car seat,
the knobby parts of it pressing into my skin, leaving marks. There’s
the imprint of the chest clip on my arm.
It’s Leo’s car seat.
I sit fully upright, looking desperately around. Where is Leo?
Where is Delilah? Why am I here? The car is in motion. It’s going
fast.
Disequilibrium overwhelms me. I grip the first thing I see to steady
myself.