Cheyenne

After explaining that I seriously had no recollection of being kidnapped, that I only remembered starting to walk home and then waking up in the trunk of a car, the police sent me to the hospital. I had to give my best description of the two men that had been driving me, but I hadn't really seen their faces or taken time to study how tall they were when I was running for my life.

So now I was in the back of a police car being driven to the hospital. Owen had wanted to drive me himself, but the lead detective insisted that we follow protocol and that he could meet us at the hospital. Owen had tried to argue, but I told him that wasting time wouldn't change the answer he would get, so now he was following behind us.

I knew that I felt fine, but who knows what kind of drugs had been in my system that I didn't know about. Or even if I had been getting proper nutrition while I was missing. So, I knew that going to the hospital to get checked out was better to happen sooner rather than later.

~~~

Once I had been looked over, they sent some of my blood to the lab to be checked for common drugs used to incapacitate people, but we wouldn't get the results for a few days. I would be contacted with the results once they had been analyzed.

I was also looked over for any malnutrition or dehydration, of which they said I had none. They said I was in perfect physical health. This was a shock to me, as I don't think I have ever been without physical issues in my life.

~~~

Owen

Leaving the hospital, I was in shock. There was nothing physically wrong with Chey. Although, I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about her mental health. She says that she doesn't remember anything about being kidnapped, and if that is true, I can't help but question why.

How can she not remember months of being missing?

Maybe she is too afraid to talk about what happened, or maybe her subconscious is blocking out those memories because they are too painful for her to remember, but either way, how can she really not remember anything? Unless she was kept unconscious for the duration of it, but then she wouldn't be in perfect physical condition, would she?

Honestly, I don't know what to think, but I do know Chey needs me to get through this. She has been missing for four months, and she will need to adjust to that thought and back into people's lives.

~~~

Bringing Chey back to our apartment felt weird. There were piles of research around her disappearance on the kitchen table, a lack of real food in the fridge, and just the special touch that she leaves everyone had been fading more and more since she had gone missing.

She immediately shrugged off the windbreaker the police had given her and hung it up on the hooks next to the front door. The police had taken the clothes she had been wearing as evidence and given her a pair of navy sweatpants, a gray t-shirt, and a navy windbreaker.

She slowly walked into the living room, her fingers slowly running over the back of the couch, probably noticing the effects of her being gone in the small things around the room. The blankets on the couches weren't folded as pristinely as she folds them and the pillows weren't symmetrically placed on the larger couch. The coffee table had an empty coffee cup on it, from a late night of research that ended with me sleeping on the couch.

"I've really been gone," she whispered and turned to face me, her eyes watering.

Immediately engulphing her in a hug, I squeezed her into my arms, "You're back now, and that's what matters."

Chey squeezed me back, tighter than she had hugged me ever before, and we stayed like that for what felt like hours.

~~~

Cheyenne

Seeing what had happened to our apartment since I had been gone, missing, broke my heart. Owen had been so distraught that he had let the place get more disheveled than I had ever seen it. The kitchen table was overflowing with papers and folders of what I could only assume to be research relating to me and my kidnapping.

The dishrack had mostly coffee cups drying in it, with a couple of bowls, one plate, and a couple of pieces of silverware in it. I couldn't tell if he just reused the same dishes over and over, or if he just didn't eat very often. I knew that he wouldn't be in the best state, but I didn't think that he would have stopped eating, or even let this take over so much of his life that it would take over the kitchen table.

I looked at him, it was obvious we were both exhausted. I hadn't gotten proper sleep in who knows how long, and he looked like he hadn't slept well since I had gone missing. I didn't feel the need to use words, as I had already spoken so much to too many people that day, so instead, I just tugged him towards our bedroom. He immediately followed, understanding that I was ready for bed, and he was not going to argue.

After changing into some comfy pajamas, we both all but collapsed into the bed. He pulled me close to him and I welcomed his embrace, cuddling closer to him before falling into a much-needed deep sleep.