Chapter 3 Maya #2
I quickly reach the doorway, but he scoops me up by the front of my shirt before I can go inside. He holds me at his eye level, slamming me into the wall. My head crashes so hard against the wood paneling, I see stars, the air knocked from my lungs.
“Worthless waste of space you are. Don’t you dare come out of this room until it’s time for school in the morning. Do you understand me?” The veins in his neck bulge and his body trembles with rage.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Daddy puts me down. When I turn to walk away, he kicks me from behind, causing me to fall to the floor, hitting my already bruised knees. I hold in my shaky breath to keep from letting him hear me cry.
Later that night, after Daddy is drunk and passed out, Mama brings me a plate of warm food. I beg her to leave, but she won’t. I think she is afraid of him too. She’s always trying to keep him happy and his attention away from me.
Mama was truly an angel on earth. My piece-of-shit father never deserved her. Everything changed after she died. He became a bigger monster, an object of pure evil. He forced me to quit school at sixteen to go work at the local diner to pay the bills.
If I was ever short of money, he made me pay for things in other ways. He sold my virginity to the local drug dealer days after Mama’s funeral for an 8-ball of cocaine and a pack of smokes.
He told me I was ugly and nobody would ever want me, so we might as well get my virginity out of the way. He said my brown hair and eyes were the color of the muck along the riverbank and nobody would ever find that attractive.
I struggle to finish the eggs and bacon on my plate and swallow down a full glass of orange juice. My body trembles with anxiety.
“Are you ok?” the blond one asks. I nod, trying not to show weakness. “What’s your name?”
“Maya,” I whisper.
“That’s a pretty name. I’m Ethan.” He extends his hand for me to shake. “That jackass is over there, is my uncle, Nick. Don’t let him scare you. He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”
By the way Nick cuts his eyes at Ethan, I’m not sure I can agree.
Unsure of what to do with myself next, I take my plate to the sink and start washing the dishes, but Ethan stops me. “Don’t worry about that, our housekeeper, Emma, will get those.”
“Are you going to let me leave now?” I hope and pray they let me go so I don’t have to be a burden here any longer. They can go on with their lives, and I can find a way out of mine.
“Absolutely not. Nick says it’s in your best interest to stick around here for a while.” Ethan replies firmly, crossing his arms, but still in a relaxed state.
I leave the kitchen and walk towards the room I woke up in. I don’t have the energy to fight with him.
There’s got to be a window I can get out of.
Ethan follows. “Nick had Emma bring some clothes for you. She has a daughter your size. They’re in the closet.
The bathroom in your room is fully stocked with female amenities and clean towels if you want to get a shower.
I’ll be out here if you need me.” He gives me a sly wink and million-dollar smile before exiting.
I may be from the slums, but I know a playboy when I see one. Ethan is most definitely that. I sigh. At least he attempts to be nice, Nick scares the life out of me.
As soon as he leaves, I run to the windows, frantically checking for a latch and hinges. There is no way to open them. I’m going to have to find another way out.
“There are cameras on every corner of this house, inside and out, and an alarm on every door and window. Keep trying me and a guard will be placed at every exit. It wouldn’t be wise of you to try to escape.” That harsh voice comes from behind me.
“Why are you holding me hostage? Please just let me leave.” I’m wheezing and gasping for breath as the last bit of air leaves my tired lungs. They must still be inflamed from all that exertion and water I inhaled. My chest is painfully tight.
“You can’t be trusted to be left alone. Ethan and Emma will be here to keep watch on you. I’m leaving for work.” He turns and storms out of the room.
I sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. Burying my head in them, I start to cry. How do I always manage to screw everything up?
It’s midafternoon before someone comes knocking on the open door. A female enters the room carrying what smells like a tray of food. I’m assuming this is Emma.
She’s middle-aged, but very attractive with her light brown hair and curvy-but-fit stature. She reminds me so much of my mom.
“You look like you could use a decent meal. I won’t force it down you. Please, take your time and eat when you’re ready. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” She has a softness in her face as she sets the tray down. She doesn’t hover but lets me know she’s here. I like her.
When evening rolls around, I pick myself up off the hard floor.
I’m chilled to the bone and my body aches like I have the flu.
Emma brought me another tray of food but I still haven’t eaten.
My appetite is gone along with all my hopes of getting out of this prison.
I wish I could take a nice hot shower, but I’m so tired and not sure I have enough energy to stand in there.
I haven’t had a hot shower in over two years. My father traded our hot water heater for drug money. He said it cost too much to run it anyway.
Then I realize I am not dirty or smelly like I’ve been in a river. My hair and clothes are clean. I shudder and try to push the thought of who saw me naked out of my mind. I bet they were disgusted by my scrawny body.
I climb into bed and can’t stop coughing. Great, I must’ve caught a virus. My head spins from the lack of oxygen and my lungs desperately try to fill with air. After several long seconds, I fail to catch my breath and my vision goes black.