Broken Glass

by V. C. Andrews

  He made another one of his perfectly trimmed and cut-up sandwiches with ham and cheese and brought it and a glass of orange juice to me. I sat up and ate slowly, closing my eyes with pleasure as each bite dissolved with my slow chewing and swallowing. The juice was delicious. I could feel my strength returning.

  He stood back and watched me proudly, the smile widening on his face. “Beauty returns,” he said. “Just like in the fairy tale, after a kiss.”

  He leaned over to kiss me and stood back, beaming. In his mad mind, he actually does love me, I thought. When I finished my sandwich and juice, I lay back and closed my eyes. I felt him take away the tray and then fix my blanket. I kept my eyes closed but sensed him hovering closer and closer. He kissed me on the forehead and cheek, patted my hair, and walked away. I opened my eyes and watched him cleaning the dishes. I fell asleep and didn’t wake until I heard him moving around the basement apartment, picking up things and mumbling to himself. He was dressed only in his underwear. My eyelids fluttered, and he stopped. He seemed to hear them, as if he could hear the flutter of butterfly wings, and turned to me.

  “Figured you’d be awake by now,” he said, walking over to the bed. “I’ve got your warm bath ready. No shower tonight. You need to soak them sores and bruises some.”

  He pulled back my blanket, unlocked the ankle bracelet attached to the chain, and easily lifted me.

  “You’re a feather,” he said, carrying me comfortably in his arms. “A feather of beauty.”

  He started out with me. I glanced back and saw Mr. Moccasin leap off the bed to follow us up the stairs. When we reached the top, Anthony kicked the door to swing it open and then turned left and took me to the bathroom. An old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub was filled with water. He lowered me to the floor gently and took off the bathrobe.

  “Hey, I didn’t realize you washed this old rag. Good job.” He dropped it onto the floor beside me. Then he lifted me again and lowered me into the tub. The water was just a few degrees less than too hot. He stood back and looked at me. “You did lose some weight,” he said, shaking his head. “We’ll fix that. Good desserts every night, snacks in the middle of the day, and vitamins.”

  He reached for a bottle on the shelf to the right of the tub and opened it.

  “My mother’s bath oils. She had them made special for her by this lady who concocts miracle stuff, guaranteed to keep your skin young. Not that you hafta worry about that,” he said. “I just want you to feel good. This will do it.” He poured some in and then reached for the washcloth on the rack. “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll do it all.”

  I was probably as helpless as when I was first born. I couldn’t push him away. There was no point in screaming. The best thing to do was close my eyes and try to imagine that I was somewhere else.

  He began on my neck and back and then worked over my shoulders and down the sides of my torso, reaching around to wash over my breasts and my chest. I thought that was it, but he hooked me under my arms and lifted me until I was standing in the water. Holding me around my waist with his left arm, he began washing below my waist, around my legs, and between them. I started crying, or at least I think I did. I didn’t sob aloud. But he didn’t notice or care. He lowered me again into the water and started to wash my hair.

  Suddenly, he stopped and was silent. I held my breath. What was he planning now?

  “Just a minute,” he said, and walked out of the bathroom. When he returned, he had a good-size pair of scissors in his hands.

  This time, there was no question that there were tears streaking down my cheeks. I uttered a cry and held up my hands to keep him away.

  He went around and behind me. “Don’t get so upset,” he said. “Your hair is so bad that washing it won’t help. We’ve got to start over.”

  I gasped and struggled to get out of the tub, but he forced me back into a sitting position and began cutting away, close to my scalp, and dropping clumps onto the floor. Too weak to do much else, I gave up, closed my eyes, and waited until he was finished.

  “I’ll clean this up later,” he told me, as if I was worried about it.

  Or maybe he was telling someone else.

  He lifted me out of the tub and began to dry my body. I stood helplessly and waited. Then he lifted me in his arms and carried me out and down the stairs, placing me on the bed and covering me snugly.

  “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’m going to get you something nice to wear when you wake up.”

  When he had walked away, I felt around my head. He had cut my hair so unevenly that there were areas where I was almost bald, but there were also other areas where I had half the hair I’d had before. It was shocking but really not much more shocking than anything else he had done to me. I was far too tired and defeated to cry about it now.

  Mr. Moccasin crawled up beside me. I thought the cat looked sorry for me. He closed his eyes and opened them and then lowered his head to sleep. That was becoming the only solution either of us had to deal with unpleasantness and entrapment. For the first time since I had been brought here, when I closed my eyes, I wished that I would never open them again.

  15

  Haylee

  Twice during the week that followed, Ryan came over as soon as he got out of school. If it wasn’t for him, I would probably have gone as bonkers as Mother, or else I would have given in and returned to school earlier than I had intended. Each time he came, I sneaked him up to my room without Daddy, Mrs. Lofter, and especially Mother knowing he was there, and we made love. It was funny how guilty he was each time afterward.

  “Stop looking like you raped the farmer’s daughter or something,” I told him. “You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said. “We’re having fun and pleasure, while your sister . . . who knows what terrible things are happening to her? And your parents, your mother just a little ways down the hall, suffering. Practically every time my mother looks at my little sister, she starts to cry, thinking about your mother. So yeah, I think I’m taking advantage of you sometimes.”

  “You can’t think of it that way,” I said. “It’s just the opposite. You’re helping me. I’m suffering, too, you know. You can’t imagine how it is here for me until you come to see me. I practically hide from my mother. She is getting worse, and my father is simply overwhelmed. Kaylee would never believe it, but I made dinner three times this week. That nurse wanted to help, but I told her to concentrate on my mother. That was what we were paying her to do. I know that sounds mean, but I can’t help it. It’s hard to be pleasant. I’m not even pleasant to myself.”

  “It’s not mean. I understand. You’re so strong,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d be like if my little sister was abducted.”

  “I’m pretending to be strong, Ryan. It’s all an act I do for my parents’ sake. I’m not strong,” I said, and pressed my face against his chest. He hesitated and then embraced me again. I lifted my head slowly and looked into his eyes, mine soaked in tears that I was sure were so authentic-looking that it would take a chemist to determine if they were mine or a crocodile’s.

  “You’re strong to me,” he said.

  “It feels so good to have someone with your strength holding me, Ryan, especially now.”

  I brought my lips closer to his, and then he kissed me, and I surrendered myself again to him. At least I was sure that was how he saw it. I never really surrendered myself to any boy. The trick was always to let them believe you did, when you were actually in control, getting them to move the way you wanted when you wanted them to. Some boys I’d met in school were so easy to arouse that I called them the hair-triggers. Kaylee thought that was obscene, but the girls who clung to me and my words were always titillated.

  After we finished, I cried real tears, but they were tears of joy. I had hit a new record for orgasms. He couldn’t stop kissing my tears away and telling me that he would stand by me and do anything I needed. I luxuriated in his promises the way I might in a warm b
ubble bath, soaking up every word, every sentence followed by a kiss instead of a period.

  We lay side by side, my head on his chest, dozing under a blanket of warm contentment. And then, suddenly, both of us woke to the sound of my mother shouting in the hallway. I sat up when she tried to open my bedroom door, shaking the handle roughly. We could hear Mrs. Lofter beside her, urging her to return to her room.

  “Where are you girls?” Mother yelled, and she slapped the door so hard I was sure her palm would be beet-red. “There are people downstairs waiting to see you. They’re asking about you. I told them you would play something on the pianos.” She shook the door again.

  Ryan sat up, looking petrified.

  We heard Mrs. Lofter cajoling her. She lied and said that Kaylee and I were at a school event. I imagined it was the first thing that came to her mind. After a few more moments, we heard them walk away, Mother whining like a child. Neither of us spoke until it was deadly quiet again.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “My mother’s not right in her head.”

  “Play something on the pianos? Doesn’t she know Kaylee’s missing?” He looked so shocked I thought I might start laughing.

  “It’s something Mrs. Lofter calls preventive disbelief. It’s too painful for my mother to face what’s happened, so she refuses to believe Kaylee’s gone, or her brain refuses. Mrs. Lofter’s not just any nurse, Ryan, she a psychiatric nurse.”

  “But . . . Kaylee’s obviously not here. She can see she’s not here, right?”

  I shrugged. “It’s very complicated. I don’t understand it all myself. I hope, we hope, she returns to reality soon, as dreadful as that is, but for now, there’s not much more to do. She’s on some medication and has the special nurse. Anyway, you saw firsthand how horrible all this is for me. Not only is my sister gone, but it’s like my mother is gone, too.” I turned onto my stomach and pressed my face to the pillow.

  He was all over me, kissing me and swearing he would stay by my side. “I’ll be here as much as you want, and when you return to school, I’ll be right beside you every moment I can,” he said.

  I turned around again and reached up to stroke his handsome face. I wanted him here now, but if it was going to be this easy to get any boy I wanted anytime I wanted him, I wouldn’t want Ryan haunting me. “We’ll see,” I said. “You’re so sweet. We have to get up, and I’ll show you out. I’d rather you not have to face my mother just yet. She’ll just get more confused, and my father will blame me.”

  I could see that facing my mother was something he’d rather not do, either. We dressed and went downstairs quietly, moving as silently as possible, like two burglars. Daddy wasn’t home yet, so no one noticed Ryan. After he was gone, I made myself a snack and then called some of the girls who practically worshipped me. I soaked up their sympathy and promises like someone raising funds for a charity. I really called them because I wanted to see how many knew about Ryan Lockhart and me. As I’d expected, Rachel Benton had been moaning to everyone about my stealing her boyfriend. She was in a bind, because she looked bad for complaining about his helping me at such a horrible time for me and my family, and yet she couldn’t help feeling robbed. It was difficult for her to say any of the nasty things I knew she had believed about me even before Ryan had begun seeing me.

  Everyone I spoke with wanted to come over to be with me, but I didn’t want them to, for two reasons. I certainly didn’t want them here when Ryan was here, and frankly, Mother’s behavior was embarrassing. I knew I would grow tired and bored explaining it. However, I was sure Ryan would say something to someone now, and it would get out. Few would want to come here once they had heard about her. Eventually, when I was back in school, I was sure my mother’s condition would add to the feelings of sympathy my teachers and the other kids would direct my way. I realized, however, that there was just so much of that I could take. After a while, I would want to get back to fun. I wasn’t worried. Time would clear the way for me. After all, who wanted to keep saying things like “I’m sorry for you” or “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Help me get past it,” I planned to say. “Don’t talk about it anymore. Try to act like nothing’s different.”

  The sooner they did that, the sooner I could.

  When Daddy got home, he came directly to my room. I had just finished another phone call and was lying there trying to think of something enjoyable to do. I had no interest in completing the homework that had been sent to me over the Internet. I didn’t want to watch television or even put on earphones and listen to music. For the first few days after Kaylee’s disappearance, I had thought doing any of that would look insensitive. Sometimes, however, I couldn’t help it, and I did turn on the television but with the volume almost too low to hear. After a little while, that seemed boring; even my favorite soap opera held little interest. I used to copy the flirtatious techniques some of the actresses performed. Now it was like putting blanks in a gun or something. I was certainly not challenged by Ryan anymore.

  Still, it was painful avoiding everything. I had never been fond of silence, but now I was afraid of falling into thoughts about Kaylee. What I didn’t need to do was nudge my conscience and wake it up. I was comfortable telling myself that what had happened was mostly Kaylee’s fault anyway. Who had asked her to butt into my private life? She was more Mother’s daughter than I was in that way. She was practically convinced that neither she nor I could have a private life without the other being involved. Well, now she was involved. How did she like it? I had been doing just fine with Anthony by myself. It had been amusing to me, but she wouldn’t leave it alone, threatening to tell Mother or even Daddy. I was sure that if she could do it over again, she wouldn’t be so annoying.

  When Daddy knocked and came into my room, he saw me lying with my arms folded across my breasts and glaring angrily at the ceiling, frustrated. Sex was nice, but it was only a distraction. I was still locked up here. In a weird way, I was as trapped as Kaylee.

  I lowered my eyes and looked at him. It was clear he was feeling sorry for me.

  “What a mess,” he said.

  “Something new?”

  “No, nothing. So far, everything’s been a dead end, but I can see what this is doing to you, as well as to your mother and me.”

  “I’m just so angry about it, Daddy. If I could get my hands on that horrible man for just a few minutes . . .”

  He nodded. “You and me both. Look. Mrs. Lofter is bringing your mother’s dinner to her in her room tonight. I thought you and I should get out. We’ll go to a restaurant I know that’s about fifteen miles from here, so we won’t have to confront anyone we know. What do you say? I think it would be good for us.”

  “I don’t know. I won’t be the best company for you.”

  “Of course you will.”

  I hesitated. Don’t be too anxious to do it; don’t look too excited, I told myself. “I don’t know,” I said.

  “I do. Let’s do it.”

  I sighed deeply and nodded. “Okay. I’ll put something else on.”

  “Yeah, wear something you like. I want you to feel good about yourself. We can’t live in this depressing darkness day and night.”

  “But do you really think we should go? I mean . . . poor Mother.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with trying to take a breather, Haylee, so don’t feel guilty about it. She’ll be fine for the few hours we’re gone. Besides, I don’t want you getting yourself run down and so depressed you get sick.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” I said, as reluctantly as I could say something I really wanted to say. Make him feel like he’s dragging me out of here, I thought.

  As soon as he left, I practically leaped off the bed. With glee, I began to sift through my clothes, looking for something that would do just what he had suggested and help me feel good about myself. Since we were going to a restaurant where no one would know us, I didn’t have to worry about looking too sexy, either. A few months ago, after I had persuaded
Kaylee to show her she wanted it as much as I did, Mother had bought us identical dark-blue lace-detail dresses that clung to our bodies like another layer of skin. They were only twenty-one inches long from the waist, which Mother had thought was too short. I’d really wanted the dress, because I knew how sexy I would look when I wore it.

  “Don’t worry, Mother,” I had said. “We know how to bend to pick something up when we wear them.”

  Reluctantly, she had given in when Kaylee matched my enthusiasm. In her heart of hearts, I knew she had wanted it as much as I did. She was just a lot shier. We had worn the dresses out of the store, and despite Mother’s reluctance, she had basked in the looks of admiration we were getting from other women and girls, not to mention the lustful looks from men, even men old enough to be our grandfathers.

  “We’re making them regret their age,” I had told Kaylee. “They’re practically undressing us with their eyes.”

  She had looked back at them and then actually blushed and walked faster.

  Something was surely missing from her DNA that was in mine after all, I thought, but it wasn’t something Mother would ever let herself see.

  Mother had bought us matching shoes, too. Now I got them out of the closet and then played with some earrings until I found the right pair. I hadn’t done my makeup for so long I was afraid I might mess it up, but after I was finished, I had to admit I looked pretty good, actually more than pretty good.

  “I’ll break hearts,” I told my image, which was something I would say whenever I got dressed. I used to say, “We’ll break hearts.”

  It felt so good not having that We to start so many sentences.

  Daddy had changed and looked very handsome in his turquoise sweater. He had already informed Mrs. Lofter that we’d be gone. Of course, she had his cell number. I felt like I was getting off a sinking ship as we got into his car and drove away.