I’m in a dark, cold, concrete room. The hole?
This venture has taken all my energy, and I curl into a ball with my back to the wall and ease into sleep once more.
I wake and sleep, wake and sleep for I don’t know how long. My pounding head has dulled to a constant ache, and I’ve not seen nor heard anything to help me gain my bearings.
My mouth is dry, and my stomach is aching with hunger. I can only pray that the plan isn’t to leave me down here to starve to death or, more likely, die of dehydration.
How many days do I have without water? I don’t even know that. Three?
With nothing to do, I doze on and off as time passes so slowly. It feels like I’ve been in this hole for years.
I guess now I know what Shepherd meant about putting me in the hole, but why did he target me, to begin with? I never spoke ill of anyone. I never questioned anything, not really. I did ask Marie about the schooling. Did she turn me in? Maybe this was her way of removing the competition. I don’t know.
As time marches achingly on, the dark brings on a sense of aloneness that turns my thoughts to my mother. I only recently found out that my grandfather made my father disappear when he learned of my mother’s pregnancy.
Did she know?
There’s some small comfort in knowing that he hadn’t just left, and maybe if he hadn’t died, he would have stuck around and been the parent that I needed in my life—a protector, a provider, a human being who cared.
Would she have been a different person if he had? Would I?
With a sad smile, I fade into a light sleep only to wake later with thoughts of Cole and the last time we laid together.
He looked at me with reverence, his words sweet and his hands gentle. For the first time in my life, I felt loved.
Although he has a no-nonsense attitude, brusque manner, and he values his sense of duty and honor above all else, I love him. And I never told him, even when I had the chance, and now I never will.
Without light to gauge time, I’m adrift in a sea of nothingness. My stomach hurts painfully, and cramps come through in agonizing waves. With no moisture to wet it, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, which feels like a desert. And my head spins with dizziness as I drift in and out of consciousness.
My fifteenth birthday was two days ago, and it went by like any other day. I’ve never had a celebration, and I didn’t know people even celebrated birthdays until I was old enough to go to school.
Since it’s never been a big deal, the lack of one now no longer bothers me.
Mother is in one of her rare, good moods and declares that we are going to the beach.
I put on a “new to me” bathing suit that I shoplifted from the thrift store a while back and admire myself in the warped mirror of our tiny bathroom.
The bikini is yellow with white polka dots, and my breasts swell gently against the triangles of fabric while my ass juts over the lines of the bottoms.
Over the summer, I filled out, and now my legs are lean and long, and my baby fat is gone.
Mother eyes me with a strange expression as I shrug a shirt over my suit and pull shorts up my legs, but I ignore it. She turns to the mirror and fixes her once dark hair. It’s almost pathetic to see her preen because what was once a pretty face with bright hazel eyes and a wicked smile has transformed into a worn-looking woman with the weight of hard choices around her eyes.
When she’s satisfied, she grabs the bag with her drinks, towels, and a small radio, and I follow, staring with a frown at her wobbly walk as we go. She’s only thirty-something, her actual age unknown because she refuses to tell me, but the alcohol she drinks like water has seeped into her body and created extra years that line her middle.
We drive to the beach without speaking, and the music turned up high, blaring her favorite country music. Shania Twain croons about her man as I tap my toes against the dash and sing along quietly.
Once at the beach, we find a place to lay out the blanket and remove our outer clothing before getting comfortable under the blazing sun. These moments happen so infrequently anymore that I try to enjoy them and be in the moment as best I can. But my stomach is constantly roiling in anticipation of when the evil twisted side of her is going to emerge, and my mirage of safety will be ripped away once again.
After about an hour of laying out, Mother shifts and pulls herself up to a seated position, and I crack my eyes enough to see her glancing around. Families, kids, teenagers are congregated everywhere, sunbathing, swimming, barbecuing, or playing in the sand. She looks upon this tableau for a few moments before turning to me.
“I never wanted you, you know. You were a mistake from the beginning. At first, I thought you might be my escape, but you became my burden. Not even your daddy loved you enough to stay behind. So here I am, sacrificing everything for something less than nothing. And for what? What did I get out of this? Stretch marks, a mouth to feed for eighteen years, and a little whore that attracts all the men.”
I sit in silence because I know all too well that there is nothing I can say to make her stop. I tried that early on and earned a pop to the mouth for the effort. Now I just have to sit and listen and wonder what brought the monster out this time.
Thankfully, I’m numb to her viciousness now, but the constant need for vigilance has gotten old.
“Just remember, Lola, when the boys come sniffing. Remember they ruin your life. Like you ruined my life,” she says before grabbing her bag and walking away.