***
Eleanor invited my friends over again. They came, of course because they think she’s so much fun. She talks to them about grown up things and acts like a kid around them. They all think I’m crazy for not liking her. But they can’t see what I see.
She tells them that we should play a game, and they all agree. Then she whispers something to them, something I can’t hear. They giggle and stare at me nervously before shrugging their shoulders. And then they pounce. Hands on me everywhere. I kick and scream and panic as they pick me up and drag me down the hall.
The bathtub is full of water and I’m confused. Why are they doing this to me? I beg them to stop, but it just seems to encourage them. I’m wearing my brand new shoes, the shoes that I begged my father to have. The water is ice cold as they throw me inside, laughing as if it’s all so funny. My muscles seize up and my lungs burn for air. Eleanor is standing over them, watching in amusement as I struggle against their hands. Finally, they pull me from the water, exhausted and freezing.
The back door. They push me out onto the porch and lock it, leaving me there in the dead of winter. I can hear them laughing from inside, but it isn’t funny. The tears freeze on my cheeks as I pound on the door. They don’t come. I can vaguely hear Eleanore saying something about making them lunch. And then the laughter drifts down the hall, away from me.
Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. My eyelashes are frozen together. I’m a human icicle, and I can’t find it in me to cry anymore. I walk to my dad’s workshop and grab his hidden key. It freezes to my palm and I have to peel it from the skin as I put it inside the lock. I go to my room and shut myself in, sinking to the floor as I mourn the loss of my new shoes. Somehow I know Eleanor will tell him this is my fault.
Just as I suspect, Dad comes home angry. Eleanore told him I ruined the shoes and that I’m a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate anything. He doesn’t understand why I can’t just be good. What happened to me? What have I become, he asks. He shakes me for an answer. An answer I don’t have.
The shaking grows harder, and then a voice. An angel’s voice.
“Victoria, wake up!”
“Mom?”
I feel the heaviness lift off of me, and the cold is back. I wiggle my toes. Bed. I’m in bed. I open my eyes slowly, staring up at a frightened Alanna.
“Toto!” she crushes me in a tight hug. “Are you alright? I couldn’t get you to wake up! I had to take off the covers.”
I rub my eyes sleepily, taking in my surroundings.
“I’m sorry, Alanna. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Victoria, that’s the last thing I care about right now. I just want to know you’re okay. You haven’t had a nightmare in a long time. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I was happy when I drifted off to sleep, so I don’t know why I had it.”
“Does this have anything to do with Gabriel? Was he rough with you last night? Because I swear to God…”
“No Alanna,” I reassure her. “He wasn’t rough at all. I just had a bad dream, it has nothing to do with him I promise.”
***
The following morning I wake with a headache. When I roll over to check my phone, it’s already 8:30 am, and I’ve missed the morning deliveries. I grumble to myself as I walk to the kitchen to make some coffee.
Ten minutes later, Alanna bursts through the door excitedly. She’s carrying a large gold box in her hand.
“Good morning,” she sings out, doing a little spin around the room.
“Ugh,” I mutter. “You are way too energetic for this time of day.”
Alanna hands me the box as I plunk down on the couch. “This was sitting outside the door for you, sleepyhead. You’re lucky it didn’t get stolen in this neighborhood.”
I look over the box curiously before taking the note card from the top. Inside is more of Gabriel’s impeccable handwriting.
My place. 7:00 pm.
Paul will pick you up.
Wear this
Gabriel
Short and to the point. Just like I asked for. Still, I can’t hold back the grin on my face. I’m dying to know what’s inside, but there’s no way I’m opening it in front of Alanna. Somehow I just know she doesn’t need that visual.