Chapter 11
Eleven
BLUE
“Shh, just breathe, V."
The small, trembling bundle tucked against me on my lap heaves for another wobbly inhale. I nod silently and continue rubbing circles on Violet's back.
She's only ten, so I can't be mad at her for the terrified whimpers that threaten to draw attention to us. I was the exact same way at her age when Linda would host some fucked up party.
The difference is I didn't have anyone to hold me and help calm the terror in my veins. "I'm here, Violet. It will be okay." And it will be. For her, I'll stand between her and any drugged-up fucker who might find us hidden away in this moldy ass closet.
Maybe I should have called the cops when I was a teenager and really started understanding how messed up living with Aunt Linda was. I was worried about losing the only normal I knew.
Now, even in my early twenties, I'm scared shitless to even have the police near us. If they knew what Violet was subjected to here, she would be taken from me in a heartbeat.
Does that make me selfish?
A tear rolls down my cheek at the sheer torrent of emotions battering against my heart and mind. I've heard horror stories about foster care, so all I can imagine is Violet shaking in a different closet all alone with nobody watching out for her.
At least with me under Linda's roof, Violet has a shield—me. I'll gladly take the brunt of Linda's scathing remarks and unwanted advances from older men.
More tears fall as I recall the last and only man who entered my bedroom when I was asleep.
It's been a while since that specific guy, but the awful feeling of having to drag my lopsided dresser in front of Violet’s and my bedroom door will never fade.
Others have tested my door, but they've never made it further than that.
As is normal after seven at night, our shared dresser is in front of our door, and we're hiding in our tiny closet. Rarely do we need to hide completely, but when the arguing penetrates our dreams, we huddle close and as far away from the threats as possible.
"Erica?"
"Yeah, baby?" My voice is rough and wobbly, but hiding my emotions all day, every day, is tiring and incredibly difficult. At some point, Violet will need to learn that adults struggle too.
She sniffles, then whispers in a trembling tone that breaks me. "I'm scared."
I have to squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw to stop the sob from breaking through. Being a role model and a protector was not on my bingo card. Ever.
I've been in survival mode for as long as I can remember, and for the past few years now, I've sacrificed myself in ways I never thought I would be capable of.
Deciding to be selfless in order to care for this young girl in my home was easy. Learning how to manage the impacts of it, though, is a lot harder. I never thought I could hurt so much because of a love so deep.
"I'll protect you," I promise. Until my dying breath.
Bang!
Jolting awake from another bad dream, I'm horrified to find myself sweaty and dizzy. The sweat coating my chilled skin is new. Am I ill?
I raised a little girl, and I know all the signs of sickness. I just don't know how bad this could get. Violet always had fluids, blankets, showers, food; I have none of the above.
My heart pitter-patters with anxiety and—BANG!
"Ah!" I croak, my throat protesting the startled sound. Coughing, I drag myself away from the wooden door that rattles. Bang, bang, bang!
What the hell?!
With my heart in my throat, I wait for some kind of rabid beast to bust the wall down and eat me. Except, the opposite happens. Everything stops, silence descends and coats my clammy skin in unease.
Trembling with fear, I climb to my feet and fight my body to stop swaying.
I can't ignore what just happened. No matter how much I would rather curl into a ball, I need to figure out what the hell is going on.
There's no way I can convince myself I just hallucinated some feral attempt at breaking the shed down.
"Is—" Cough. "Is someone th-there?"
Nothing. Conflicted, I don't know whether to feel relieved that nobody came in here and tried to kill me, but what if it was someone who could have helped me?
"Please, help me!" My voice is so strained, but it's the loudest I can be. Knees trembling, I walk toward the door. Just as I'm about to place my hand on it to give it an experimental nudge, it begins to rattle ever so slightly.
Gasping, I jump back with my hand pressed to my chest. My right leg gives out, sending me careening to the side and onto my ass cheek. I hiss as splinters dig into my poor, dirty hands.
My eyes sting with fresh, frustrated tears. What the hell is happening? "Who's there?!"
Thud. Thud! "Little bitch."
The sweat on my skin turns to fucking ice. I won't ever forget the memory of Linda's old boyfriend shoving against my bedroom door, calling me all the horrible names under the moon.
THUD!
As if I'm a bony seventeen-year-old all over again, I hold my breath and cover my mouth with trembling hands. It can't be. This is all just a horrible nightmare.
"Oh kitty..." Thud. "Everyone lets Clarence in at some point."
Clarence. Word for word, the man who dislocated my shoulder when I was a teenager, who snuck into my room at night until I learned to barricade my door, taunts me the same way he did eleven years ago.
His nasty, throaty chuckle makes me ill. "Sweet dreams, kitty."
Vomit comes hot and heavy over my tongue, then spews out of my mouth. The warmth puddling around my knees makes me sick all over again. This time, nothing but bile and gut-wrenching sobs spill from my lips.
"Felix..." I croak once I have my sobbing under control. My nails scratch at the slimy wood beneath me as I try to drag myself away from my mess. "Felix!"
I need him just like I did the last time. The first time.
Can't help you, he texted last time.
What the fuck, Felix?! He pushed me, and I swear my door rattles at night. What if he gets in?! Admitting what was going on was scary, but what made it even worse was that my message went unopened.
I was alone. Felix could have protected me, could have saved me. But he didn't care.
Pondering whether he cares now hurts my head because I think he does, but my feelings are out to hurt me before he can. Do they care? Will they save me this time?