“Not too hard though, right? I don’t want you to damage your teeth.”
I shook my head. “Only enough to remove all the grime.”
She nodded in approval. “Good girl. How about your girl time? I’ve noticed you haven’t used any of your monthly supplies.”
I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. “It’s not here yet.”
Mother studied me critically for a moment. “Well, we know you’re not pregnant,” she finally chuckled, making another notation in my chart.
The way she laughed made me cringe. Of course I didn’t want to be pregnant, but knowing it was never going to be a possibility made me ache. As long as I was here, living in seclusion, I would never have the opportunity for anything. I would never meet a boy, let alone hold hands with one, or know what it felt like to be kissed by one. I recently found myself scouring all my books, searching for the passages where the characters shared any kind of romantic contact. I would underline the passages, imprinting them to my mind so I could hopefully dream about them at another time.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get it soon,” Mother reassured me, mistaking my silence for concern about my period.
I smiled meekly, wondering if the time would ever come when I could approach Mother about the possibility of a life for me outside the basement. I appreciated the sacrifices she had made in order to keep me safe from my sickness and care for all my needs, but she wouldn’t be around forever. Eventually, I would have to learn to live on my own. For now, I would continue to live vicariously through the characters in my books and hope for a better future.
Mother gave me a quick, unexpected hug. I burrowed into her, cherishing the warmth.
She pulled away as swiftly as she had reached out. I wasn’t surprised. Mother had never been the most affectionate person. “Time to weigh-in.”
I was never worried about my weight. I’d been under the curve on Mother’s charts for as long as I could remember. The glass scale was cold beneath my bare feet, but I didn’t flinch as I watched the digital scale scroll until my weight was computed. The numbers held little significance to me, but I couldn’t help noticing the frown on Mother’s face as she looked at the scale. She checked the chart and then the scale again. “Hop off and then back on again,” she said, making a note on my chart. The digital scale scrolled for a second before computing my weight again.
A feeling of unease began squirming in my belly. Mother frowned again, grabbing her measuring tape. I stood still with my arms raised as she measured my waist and hips and then my chest. Each number was carefully documented next to my previous results. I couldn’t resist peering over her shoulder as she recorded my arm measurements in the folder. Her displeasure was growing. The uneasy feeling in my stomach turned into a mass of squirming snakes as I saw the mistake I’d made on the paper.
I had ignorantly assumed that my nighttime exercise routine would go undetected. For a solid month and a half I put all my effort into my workouts. I would lovingly stroke my hand over my newly defined arms that no longer felt like cooked spaghetti, marvel at the tautness of my stomach that was no longer soft. My legs were my crowning achievement. They no longer shook from the slightest exertion. I had forced them to endure more resistance than I thought possible. I was so much stronger now. Every muscle in my body practically hummed with anticipation each night, eager to grow. It was so worth it.
That was before the same body I was so proud of was now betraying me. I’d been so naive. Mother was sure to notice the changes. Nothing ever escaped her watchful eye, and even if it did, the numbers would not lie.
The fraught expression on Mother’s face became more severe with each measurement. I wanted to cover myself, but there was no place to go. I couldn’t lie or feign innocence. Her measuring tape felt like the blade of an ax resting against the back of my neck. I could almost feel the cold, heavy steel against my skin and wished it would finish the job. Mother would never forgive me for this. She would know. All my secrets would be revealed. Today there would be no reward. She would call what I had done betrayal. She would be right. I was supposed to trust Mother. Not defy her.
Mother remained silent as she slammed my chart closed and stomped around my room. I began to brace myself for the punishment I knew was coming as she methodically searched every square inch of my living space. Every secret I’d been hiding for the past ten years was exposed. My heart shattered as she pulled Daisy from the couch cushions and discarded her in the trash like an old dirty rag. Hundreds of pictures of the sun that I had drawn and hidden among the springs of the couch were shredded and tossed.
Mother practically growled as she moved to my bookshelves. I waited with bated breath, hoping she would not discover my darkest secret of all. She rifled through every book and tossed them to the side when the pages revealed picture after picture of a sun I would never see again. Each discarded book left a gap on my shelf, bringing Mother closer to my secret. I wanted to call out to her. Distract her. Anything to keep her away from the shard of metal I had been hoarding for months. The metal that I’d painstakingly pried away from the cabinet under my sink. It took countless hours of rubbing it against the block wall behind my bed to form it to the right shape and size to fit where I needed it. Another book hit the floor and my heart thundered against the cavity in my chest.
It reminded me of a time long ago when I tried to escape. When I still believed my other mom and dad might want me back if I could only prove I could keep the sun from hurting me. I had crept silently up the stairs and waited for hours by the door that always remained locked. My plan was immature and ill-conceived. Somehow I naively believed that if I could just surprise Mother and race by her as she opened the door, I would somehow be able to find the front door of the house and make it outside. I was so scared. The plan almost worked. Mother wasn’t expecting me there when she opened the door, and her hands were full, so I did have the chance to slip around her.
Unfortunately, she cared less about what she was holding and more about snagging me. She was able to snatch me by my narrow wrist and jerk me backward. Her grip slipped though and I went tumbling down the stairs. When I woke my leg was encased in a white cast and Mother didn’t talk to me until the day she removed it. It was the longest six weeks of my life.
Book after book was tossed to the floor and Mother hesitated before grabbing another. I held my breath. Maybe she had been satisfied. She already found Daisy and the drawings. I could take that punishment. She would be mad, but in the end, she would forgive me. Before my hope could fully blossom though, she reached for another book. The one I was hoping she wouldn’t get to. My head dropped. Months and months of planning wasted. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the tool’s purpose. She walked over to the boarded-up window and lifted the tool to where it fit easily into the head of one of the screws. All the time. All the effort. None of it mattered anymore.
Mother’s face changed, morphing into the monster that lurked deep inside her. I could only watch and wait as she reached for the leather strap hanging on the wall. Her hand closed around it before she bore down on me.
My body, which I had been working to become stronger, was no match for the leather strap. It tore at my tender skin over and over again, swing after swing. A lump formed in my throat, blocking any whimper of pain. My legs shook like a leaf. I was weak. I deserved every lash of the belt. Weak. Weak. Weak.
The words repeated in my head in a steady stream, building momentum like a train on a track. I imagined boarding the train, letting it carry me away to the darkness that I knew would shelter me. The words kept repeating as the train moved forward. Weak. Weak. Weak. I wanted to go faster, but an unexpected obstacle brought my imaginary train to a s
creeching halt.
My body felt like it was on fire. Not from the leather strap lashing at my skin. That was a different kind of heat. The sensation was coming from inside my body, buried within my soul. It pushed me to stand, even as Mother continued to swing at me with the strap. I tried resisting. I wanted to retreat to my safe zone like I’d always done, but the mysterious sensation would not allow me to falter. I could feel it taking over whether I wanted it to or not. My mouth opened and a scream erupted from my throat like a volcano. At that moment I knew what had taken over.
Anger. The very emotion I had dismissed long ago as useless.
Anger like I had never felt before. Anger balked at consequences. It never cowered in fear. Anger reached out and grabbed the leather strap before it could strike again. The strap bit into my palm, but that did not stop me from holding on with all my might.
Mother shouted at me to stop, but all I could see was the monster. Fury burned in the monster’s eyes as it growled at me. It dropped the strap and launched at me, wrapping its hands around my throat before I could defend myself. My intake of air cut off as the monster’s fingers closed tightly around my windpipe. I clawed and bucked beneath its weight, but it was no use. Darkness teased at my senses, but I continued to fight as long as I could. For once, I didn’t welcome the darkness.
9
MIA