26. Mina
Chapter twenty-six
L ying on my stomach on my tiny mattress, I try to find a position where the loose spring doesn’t scratch me. The lash mark on my stomach is barely a bother anymore, but the four on my back are still fresh and painful. The mark on my arm, though, is starting to really worry me. I thought it might be starting to heal, but it’s definitely getting worse. The entire area around it is red, swollen and painful to the touch, and the wound itself is still oozing. I thought my mother would have given me something for it by now, but I’m convinced she’s completely forgotten about it.
Pulling my phone out from under my pillow, a smile tugs at my lips. The guys all texted me last night while I was lying here unconscious. I felt bad when I saw all their worried texts this morning, but I made sure to take the time to say good morning to each of them.
Texting is amazing. I can have full conversations with them without ever saying a word. I’ve already learned more about them this morning than I have in the past two weeks. Not only that, but these are the first real conversations I’ve had in over eleven years. Even then, from the age of six to ten, when I did speak, I had no one I could talk to.
Which means it’s been fifteen years since I’ve had a conversation with someone who actually wants to talk to me. And before that, I was a small child. This feels life-changing for me, I finally have hope of being normal, even though I can’t talk. But can you? A voice in my head asks.
There were a couple of times, years ago, when I was alone and tried to make myself speak, but both times ended with me throwing up. I wouldn’t try again after that. I’ve never been sure if I threw up from panic or if something is physically damaged from the bleach my mother forced down my throat. I used my new friend Google to search what could happen if you drank bleach and realized I came out of that event lucky to be alive. Was she actually trying to kill me?
Shaking my head to rid myself of questions I’ll never know the answer to, I glance at my phone again, grateful that for once, I can be heard without words.
Max has been texting me non-stop since I woke up. I re-read our conversation, and it brings a smile to my face.
Me: Good morning Max, sorry I fell asleep last night before I could respond.
Max: I’m just glad you’re ok. Did you sleep ok?
Me: Yes. You?
Max: Not really, I miss you.
Every time I re-read that, my heart speeds up in my chest. He misses me? Is that something you would say to a friend? It must be. I think I’m just reading too hard into what it could mean, what I want it to mean. Regardless, I blush at the thought of my secret desire that he, or any of them, might like me as more than a friend.
Me: You just saw me yesterday…
Max: I don’t care, I want to see you every day. Any chance you can come out to play today?
Me: No sorry, my mother wants me to stay home .
Max: What do I have to do to convince you to let me break you out?
Me: I’m sorry, I can’t. She’s really strict and wouldn’t want me hanging out with boys.
I figured telling him that much would help stop their constant requests to drive me to and from school and to hang out afterwards. Of course, I’d love to do all of that, but I can’t risk it. I’m not telling them anything that isn’t true, but I’m also not telling them the horror that is my home. I think if they knew the full extent of my life, they wouldn’t want to hang around me at all anymore. They don’t deserve all my drama in their carefree lives, anyway.
Max: I’ll dress Ben up like a girl, since he’s the shortest, and ‘she’ can come over and ask you to come hang out.
Me: Poor Ben! Don’t do that to him! Besides, all of you are too masculine and handsome to be mistaken for girls.
Max: You think I’m handsome? :)
Me: Umm… yes?
Max: If you aren’t sure, you’re welcome to stare at my face anytime. You know, get a deeper look at all my chiseled masculine features.
He then sent me a pic of his face with some cheesy model expression. It was really hot and funny. And now I could look at it whenever I wanted. When I didn’t reply back straight away, he texted me again.
Max: You’re staring at me now, aren’t you?
Me: You wish.
Max: I do.
Max: Send me a pic of you, I want to see you.
Me: I’m still in bed.
Max: Even better .
Me: I can’t.
Max: Pretty please with a cherry on top?
Me: Fine… hold on.
I hold the phone over my head with the pillow below me. It’s better than the cement walls around me, and then I fumble to teach myself how to take a photo. When I’ve finally figured it out, I send it to him.
Max: Sweetheart…
Me: Yea?
Max: Are you sure I can’t come break you out of there? You look so beautiful and sad, I just want to stare into your eyes and find out if your lips taste as good as they look.
The first time I read that, I dropped my phone in shock. I’ve re-read that line at least twenty times, trying to understand what I was reading. I might be naive, but I know that isn’t the way friends talk. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I’ve never had a boy talk to me like that before. Then again, before this week, I’ve had almost no interactions with anyone outside my family in years.
But besides that, there are others to consider. I’m not sure I can be close with him while having to be around the others and pretending I don’t have feelings for them too. Jasper would be around all the time at school, and it would be so uncomfortable. I care for both of them equally. I have no right to have any sort of relationship right now, anyway, not with the way my life is.
Right now, my focus needs to be finding a way to get out of the house for good. And I couldn’t do that if I was drooling over a bunch of guys… really, really kind guys, who also happened to be drop dead gorgeous.
I must have taken longer than I thought to reply because he’d already texted me again before I had a chance to respond.
Max: I’m sorry, did I scare you off?
Me: No. It’s just…
Max: It’s ok sweetheart. When you’re ready. Jasper is giving me weird looks, so I’m gonna start a group chat with him and you.
I appreciated his understanding and thoughtfulness about changing the subject.
Max: Tell us something about you, what’s your favorite drink?
We proceeded to share our favorite things, drinks, games, and subjects in school. Of course, mine was pretty limited to what I knew before my father left and everything changed.
Jasper: Tell me your happiest memory?
That one really had me stumped. I tried to remember something specific from when my dad was around. But now it was more like an echo of feeling happy, with no specific memory attached to it. I thought about the past week and had a handful of good memories with these men. I wanted them to know I valued our friendship and what it meant to me.
Me: Can I pick more than one?
Jasper: Yes.
Me: When I met each of you.
Max: Sweetheart, you met me after being bullied by that dickhead.
Jasper: And you met me after passing out from a panic attack.
Me: I stand by my answer. Same question to both of you.
Max: You calling me handsome :)
Jasper: She did? We’re identical twins, so that means you think I’m handsome too, Mina? Now this is my happiest memory ;)
Me: You guys are so cheesy ;p
Jasper: You love it!
Jasper: Sorry, we gotta go do some stuff. We’ll ttyl
Max: Take care and msg if you need anything or decide you can come out to play!
Me: Bye.
Voices upstairs bring me back to the present, so I stop re-reading the conversation and switch off my phone, hiding it under my mattress. I don’t want to risk getting caught. I use the bucket in the corner to relieve myself. That’s probably the worst part of being locked down here—no bathroom. It’s disgusting, and there’s no way to clean myself. I don’t dare unwrap my wounds until I’m in the bathroom upstairs where I can clean them, who knows what sort of germs are down here?
I clutch Jasper’s hoodie to my chest and take another sniff, his masculine scent calming my nerves instantly. I’m afraid to sleep with it on, worried my mother might come down while I’m asleep and see it. She seemed to have forgotten about it yesterday, more concerned with the punishment than the reason for it. So I slept curled around it in a little ball, my nose pressed to the material. I can’t describe the scent, but it smells like Jasper and is comforting. I slide it under the mattress with my phone in the pocket. I’ll bring the hoodie back to school on Monday to return it to Jasper.
I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, trying to make out the voices above, but it’s all muffled. I think I hear footsteps right before the basement door bangs open, startling me as I jump up in surprise. I grab my own threadbare sweater and put it on for extra protection from my mother.
But I quickly realize it’s not a woman’s legs descending the stairs, it’s a man’s. Why would Jeff come down here? Worry floods my body, he’s never been down here before and I can only think of a couple reasons why he would visit me here. But when his face comes into view, true terror grips me as I stumble backwards. It isn’t Jeff. It’s someone much, much worse. Simon .