Nineteen #2
My eyes rapidly open when a drop of water hits my face.
I sit up, feeling around me and my blindfold is gone.
The space heater is glowing in the corner of the room and I rub at my eyes, scooting back on my twin?size mattress.
I’m back in the barn. Unless I’ve been here all this time and dreamed I was somewhere else.
What time is it? I try to stand and fall back down, a chain rattling.
No. I’m locked up again. I’m so stupid. I lost what might be the only chance I had. I can get sick again. If that’s what it takes for him to take me into the house again. It was real. I can remember the last words he read me of Water for Elephants before my eyes were unable to stay open any longer.
His room smelled way better than where I am now. He smelled better.
I sniff at my arm and run my fingers through my hair before bringing them to my nose.
He used his shampoo and soap on me. I smell myself some more.
I smell just like him. It almost makes me feel not so alone.
Almost. The space around me suddenly feels so big.
It’s cold too. I wrap my blanket all the way around me, and when drag it over my lap, my eyes widen.
I’m wearing underwear. They aren’t anything I’d usually wear but they’re clothes.
Too bad they aren’t going to help warm me up.
I look at the heater and drag myself closer, pulling the mattress with me.
I stop when it gets too heavy. My muscles are too weak to try again.
As I’m about to lie back down, I spot something on the other side of me that wasn’t there before.
It’s a mini fridge. I crawl toward it, shivering when my blanket falls off me.
I open it and there’s several small bottles of water stuffed inside, along with string cheese piled on the inside of the door.
My lips curl when my fingers come in contact with the yogurt tubes on the top shelf.
Behind them are three boiled eggs in a Ziploc bag.
I snatch a bottle of water, one cheese stick, and a boiled egg.
Carrying them back to the mattress, I crawl under the blanket and take a bite of the egg, moaning around it.
I woke up hungrier than I realized. I barely got to eat much yesterday with my stomach being so upset.
It’s a little uneasy this morning, so I eat slowly, letting the food sit on my tongue for a while before swallowing it back.
Wait, is it morning? It’s not very bright outside but not as dark as it usually is during the night here. I lift my head higher. It’s cloudy. Thunder and lightning strike the sky all at once, causing me to shrink in on myself.
I hate when it storms. It’s so loud and catches me off guard with all its unpredictable noises.
Much like my dad. Whenever his voice came out like a bang it was always too late for me to get away.
He’d grab me by my hair and drag me to my room or strike a hand across my face.
I was always doing something to make him mad.
I was out too late. I chewed too loudly. It didn’t matter what I did.
I tried and tried to make him happy and it kept backfiring on me.
Sometimes the harder I tried, the worse it was.
Maybe it’s because it didn’t come naturally to me like he wanted it to.
He didn’t have to try to be everything he was proud of.
My sister didn’t have to try for him to love her, and neither did my mom.
Only I did. Over and over with no good ever coming of it.
Not here. All I have to do is obey the rules and I get praised for it. I’m complimented and encouraged to keep up the good work. My efforts don’t go unnoticed by my captor and it doesn’t take much out of me either. I forget I’m doing what he asked me to do sometimes. It’s more work not to.
The barn doors creek and I squeeze the water bottle between my fingers, lifting myself slowly onto my knees. It shakes and someone curses on the other side of it, and I look around me as the back of my neck prickles. He has a key. He wouldn’t need to tug on the doors or lock. It’s someone else.
I should yell for help, and I start to before my throat clogs up at the first sounds exiting my mouth.
“The asshole locked it,” someone shouts from outside. “Why would he lock something I fucking paid for? What right does he have?” The doors rattle some more and my stomach tightens as the guy screams from the other side.
He’s so angry, and I bury myself deeper under the covers, flattening myself against the mattress when his fists pound at the wood. Fear creeps into me. I could call for help, but would he help me or would he be worse?
Everything goes quiet around me and I think he’s gone, breathing easier until there’s a hard object hitting one of the covered windows. Why does he want in here so badly?
I roll into a ball, covering my ears, and my hands shake as flashback pops into my head.
My dad’s kicking at my car door. It was years ago when I was in high school and hanging out in the back seat with one of my friends.
I couldn’t get the car to start because it was out of gas, and he broke one of the windows, dragging me out by my neck.
It took weeks for the marks he left behind to fade.
My mom asked me to do dishes, and I kept telling her I’d do them later.
My dad’s screams turn into someone else’s and I’m back in the barn, hoping whoever’s outside gives up soon.
Please, please go away. I thought they would be the person to get me out of here, but what if I’m wrong?
What if they use their fists against me the way they are on the barn walls and doors?
I peek my head out of the blanket when the banging stops.
Minutes pass and an engine roars. Tires screech on the dirt as the car drives away.
He’s leaving. The purring grows more distant, and when I can no longer hear it, I sag in relief. All that panicking and my thoughts wore me out. I stretch my body out, folding an arm under my head, and I yawn. He’s gone. My chest lightens but grows tight again as a dark feeling comes over me.
He’s gone and I’m still stuck here.
The what-ifs are back. They circle in my head, causing me to toss and turn until I’m too tired to so much as blink my eyes.