Chapter 2
Spring
A Stupid Girl
Mischa, Age-TenTwo Years Later
I’d been here before, where I had done the wrong thing and would now suffer for it. I didn’t mean to break the rules, really. But sometimes it felt like my brain had a mind of its own. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. These types of moments kept happening.
Why couldn’t I be good? Why couldn’t I learn my lessons?
The two-way mirrored room was damp and full of memories of torture, pain, and unspeakable things. The air grew heavier with each second that passed. I’d seen too much horror here. Each memory was a painful reminder of the awful life I lived.
There weren’t any windows down here, and the dim lighting created shadows around the room that scared me. I’d only ever been on the other side of the room. I didn’t belong in here, and the fact that I was only made my terror grow stronger.
The dampness seeped into my bones, chilling me to the core. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to ward off what was coming. It was no use. This room held no solace.
Memories of my old life flashed before my eyes. Then, like a switch, more recent ones came back to haunt me. The sound of my own cries echoed off the walls, and the despair I’d come to know trapped me as if I were chained to the wall instead of standing in the middle of the room.
He’d told me not to move, which meant he was coming back. His words were simple, but they carried a warning. This wasn’t going to end well for me. My heart raced as I was forced to wait like a mouse trapped in a cage.
It seemed like forever ago when the man had introduced himself to us as the Mask, which made sense since he never showed his face. Out of either of the two men, he scared me the most. And any second now, he was going to be back, and pain and suffering would follow.
How long had it been? An hour? Two? My legs ached from standing for such a long time. I wanted to sit so badly, but I knew better. So I stood, my body swaying with fatigue as I fought to stay upright. The cold, hard floor beneath my ballet slippers offered little comfort.
The girls were watching on the other side of the mirror, and my guilt ate at me once again. He always made them watch, and I knew they hated it. Their eyes would be filled with fear and pity. It was a sight I had grown accustomed to. I failed again, and I should have been smarter by now. Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision as I glanced at the mirror.
Knowing there would be an empty space between Winter and Summer where I normally stood, I tried to convey with my eyes how sorry I was. It was such a simple rule, but I had let it slip from my memory like it never existed.
How could I be so stupid?
I knew better than to utter that name. With a painful sob, I tore my gaze away from the mirror, unable to bear the weight of my foolishness. It was going to cost me my life.
Tears flowed down my cheeks, tasting salty and making tracks over my dirt-streaked face. I wanted my mama and papa, and the empty ache in my chest grew. Their faces haunted my dreams, their voices distant echoes from my past.
But I knew better than to cry for them. They couldn’t save me. They were dead—something else that was my fault. Like a dagger to my heart, plunging in over and over, the pain sliced through me.
Looking down, I noticed my ballet slippers were untied. The laces trailed across the grimy floor. If I were in any other room, I would have fastened them, but here, in the place of nightmares, it seemed fitting for them to be ruined.
What did it matter, anyway? The once-pink leotard was torn from where the Mask dragged me down here. It hung limply from my shoulders. My tutu, once a symbol of my dreams and aspirations, was nothing more than a dirty rag stained with dirt from the floor.
At the sudden sound of his footsteps approaching the room, my head snapped up and my stomach turned. My heart beat faster as the fear took over. What was he planning this time? I fought back dry heaves.
Throwing up wasn’t an option. If I did, he would be even more furious with me than he already was. The door swung open, banging against the wall, and the distinct sound of his nasal breathing broke through his mask.
I froze, breathing as shallowly as I could while darting my eyes to the floor as I’d been trained to do. I repeated the rules inside my head: don’t look up or speak without approval. Despite how hard I tried to be a good girl, he was angry with me all the time.
Finally, he screamed, “Such a stupid girl.”
He slapped my face, cutting my lip and sending me to the floor.
Concrete scraped at my palms as I scrambled back up and presented myself again, head down. Over and over, he hit me, knocking me to the ground. He pulled my hair, ripping some away from my scalp. I pleaded with him through my eyes, hoping that somehow, he would see how much he was hurting me. But he didn’t care.
The Mask's sneer deepened as spit landed on my face. His hand clamped around my arm, dragging me upright with a brutal yank. Before I could catch my balance, he wretched me around, twisting my body to face the other way. I saw what was in his hands out of the corner of my eye, and a whole new level of terror consumed me.
My throat was dry and tight as every one of my instincts screamed to run and hide. But escaping wasn’t an option. Only death would free me. Yanking my hair once more, he forced my mouth open and shoved in the ball gag. With quick movements, he fastened it against the back of my head.
I needed to be calm, but the churning in my stomach only increased. If I threw up, he wouldn’t help. With our history and the way he felt, he’d stand there and watch me choke and die. I’d seen it before, and the aftermath was horrific. It was my greatest fear.
Then the reality of the position I was in, gagged and on this side of the mirror, hit me. Sweat beaded on my hairline. If he did to me what he’d done to X that one day, I wasn’t going to survive. The nausea rose once more. Maybe choking and dying wouldn’t be so bad after all.