by Paige Dearth
“You rotten, ungrateful, little bitch. What did I tell you about stealing food?” Aron yelled. The woman pulled back her leg and kicked. The pointy toe of her shoe landed on Joon’s thigh.
Joon let out a muffled yelp and scurried from the corner like a spider being chased by a broom. She scuttled under the kitchen table, hoping to find shelter beneath the pressed wood.
“I’m sorry. I’m hungry, Aron,” Joon cried weakly.
“You don’t know what hungry is, girl.” Aron crouched, clamped her hand around Joon’s ankle, and pulled the child out from under the table with one forceful yank.
Exposed in the middle of the kitchen floor, Joon curled up, knees and elbows pressed together, hands clasped behind her head, trying to protect herself from the fury brewing in Aron.
Aron opened the door to the dark, dank basement. “Get. Down. There.”
Joon, willing to accept isolation in the darkness over another beating, quickly rose to her feet and stepped through the opened door. As she moved toward the first step, reaching for the railing, Aron elbowed her in the back. Joon tumbled down the wooden stairs and hit the bottom with a thud.
“You can stay down there and think about what you did. Ain’t nobody gonna steal from me. I told you before—you get to eat when I say you can eat.”
As the basement door banged closed, the cold blackness rushed in on Joon. She had sharp pain in her back. On her hands and knees, she dragged her aching body to the closest wall. She closed her eyes against the pain and the fear of being alone in the basement. Things moved around in the dark down there. There were rats and bugs. After moving in, she’d learned swiftly that Aron enjoyed punishing her. It made her foster mother feel important, powerful. Joon had also learned there would always be another punishment, no matter how much she tried to please Aron.
During the long hours of the night, Joon focused on her breathing to calm her frazzled nerves.
She must have eventually drifted off, because the sound of a toilet flushing above her brought Joon back into the moment. Tears dribbled from her chin at the fading memory of her parents. She sat in silence, hoping that someone would come and take her away from the hell she called home.
Chapter Two - Three Years Later
In the early hours of the morning, the pain of Joon’s cracked rib and sprained ankle gave way to a numbing disillusionment. Aron had pushed her down the basement steps again the night before. Joon was injured, but she no longer feared the dark space, the wet dirt floor of the basement, where the bugs and rodents crawled around her. In fact, the creepy-crawlies reminded her she was still alive. They made her feel like she wasn’t alone.
Joon had slipped in and out of sleep all night. When the basement door was flung open later that morning, the light from the kitchen startled her. She squinted up at the shadow at the top of the steps until her eyes adjusted. Her thirteen-year-old foster brother Deen was staring down at her with a sickening smile. Deen was almost as mean as Aron—the boy thrived on the power his mother gave him over Joon.
“Mom said you gotta get up here now, maggot,” Deen said, taunting her.
Joon got to her hands and knees, and used the old, wooden railing to hoist herself up. She limped up the stairs slowly.
Deen sneered as he watched her painful climb to the top. As Joon walked past, he whacked her on the side of the head with his open hand. “Mom said to get this kitchen cleaned up. She said it better be spotless.”
Joon remained silent. She only spoke when given permission, a rule Aron established in the first few days after her arrival. The only time Joon broke this rule was when her hunger overpowered her fear.
With her body aching, Joon hurried to clear the dirty breakfast dishes from the kitchen table and put them on the counter next to the sink, then filled the sink with water and soap.
“The water needs to be hotter, scumbag,” Deen growled. “Are you trying to get us sick?”
Joon turned the hot water higher and Deen shut off the cold water. The kitchen faucet spewed steamy water into the basin. When it was half-filled, Deen turned the water off.
“Get washin’,” he demanded.
Joon studied the steam coming from the sink. She knew there was only one thing to do. The girl shoved her hands into the scalding water and washed the dishes. Her feet danced in place; her hands felt like they were on fire. Satisfied that Joon was being tortured properly, Deen spit on her and left the kitchen.
As soon as he was gone, Joon turned on the cold water and let it run over her hands, instantly relieving the throbbing burn. She hurried to finish cleaning the kitchen before Aron came in to inspect her work. Joon had just put the last dish away when Aron waltzed into the room followed by Deen and her twelve-year-old son, Dobi.
“Well, lookie here, boys. Pathetic, scruffy Joon looks a little hungry this morning,” Aron said. “Should we give this animal something to eat?”
Joon’s eyes grew bigger. The very thought of food, any food, made her hopes soar.
“Nah,” Deen said. “I think she needs at least another day before she can eat.”
Aron turned to her younger son. “How about you, Dobi? What do you think?”
Dobi squirmed. He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I think she looks real hungry, Ma. We should give her something now.”
“Okay, Dobi, we’ll do that then,” Aron said, opening the cabinet under the sink.
She pulled out a bag of dry dog food and poured it into a bowl. Then she opened another cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Tabasco sauce. She drizzled it over the food before pulling the refrigerator open and grabbing a bottle of fish sauce she used to make seafood soup. The amber contents splashed onto the dog food. The smell made Deen and Dobi take a few steps back from the concoction. Aron mixed the three ingredients together and placed it on the kitchen table.
“You’re hungry?” Aron sang, leaning into Joon. “Now you got food. I’m giving you two minutes to eat, starting now.”
Joon stood over the bowl and looked at Aron.
Aron gave her a grave look, and Joon stared back, her eyes pleading for mercy. “Stop eyeballing me. You’re hungry, and you wanted to eat, so eat. Who knows the next time you’ll get food. Sooo, you better get to eating.”
Joon looked down at the bowl, pinched her nose closed with her left hand, and grabbed a glob of the food with her fingers. She shoved it into her mouth and chewed. The Tabasco pierced her tongue and gums with fiery heat. She flung her mouth open and fanned at the garbage splayed over her tongue and lodged between her teeth.
“You got another minute left. You better hurry and eat up,” Aron said, laughing.
Joon’s eyes were watering. The heat was unbearable. The smell and taste of the fish sauce was strumming her gag reflex. Joon stepped away from the bowl and fell to the floor.
“Please,” Joon pleaded, “I need water.”
Aron put her hands on her hips and stared right through the child. She took a few steps and, with her foot, pushed the dog’s water bowl over to the girl.
Joon cupped her hands and slurped the water. She was in too much pain to care about the food particles and thick, stringy saliva left by the dog that were floating in the bowl.
Aron stooped, so she could put her face close to Joon’s. “You’re a disgusting pig. Those mother fucking people that sent you here to live with me should be paying me way more money to keep you.” She straightened up and turned to her two sons. “This here is what you call white trash. You remember what it looks like because you better never bring a little slut like this home as your girlfriend.”
Deen snickered, grabbed a scoop of the rotten mixture from the bowl, and threw it onto the side of Joon’s face. Most of it was in her hair, but a bit landed on her eyelid, and when Joon pushed it off her face, a small piece lodged in her eye. The Tabasco sauce scorched her eye, and as she rubbed it, the heat spread. Joon rolled around on the floor crying from the blazing agony.
Aron turned and left the kitchen. �
��Let’s go, boys. Leave this piece of shit here for now. I’ll deal with her later.”
Joon flailed around, rubbing her face, but when Deen and Dobi obediently followed their mother, Joon got to her feet, grabbed a dish towel, soaked it with cold water, and pressed it against her eye. She dropped to her knees and trembled on the floor. Her heart felt like a lump of useless clay inside her chest, like it would continue to get heavier and heavier and, eventually, just stop beating.
Chapter Three
Joon rarely found relief from Aron’s daily humiliations. It was almost the end of summer though, and she hoped that middle school would be better than her years in elementary school had been. Aron had stopped hitting Joon in the face weeks before school started, to avoid the bruises that had become as normal to Joon as her nose.
After the incident with the Tabasco sauce, Joon never felt hope again when being offered food by Aron. When Aron did feed her, it was only discarded scraps from the family’s plates, and while it wasn’t ever enough to satisfy her hunger, Joon at least knew the food was safe to eat.
Joon’s bedroom was on the main floor of the house, the room that Aron had showed to Jamie before they placed Joon with her and when the social worker returned for visits, which was rare. But the small girl rarely slept in the bed. Most nights, she was sent into the basement and, on rare occasions, the family dog, Kensey, went into the darkness with her. When this happened, Joon and Kensey slept together, the dog providing her warmth through the night.
On the first day of middle school, Aron opened the basement door before the sun was up. “Get your ass up here,” she demanded.
Joon ran up the steps and stood before Aron. Her head hung and her long, blond hair was matted and covered her face.
“Look at you. You’re a disgrace. Today is your first day at a new school. There’s a couple things you better not forget. Keep your fucking mouth shut. I don’t want nobody knowing my business. The other thing is if anyone asks you how you like living here, the answer is that you love it. Understand?”
Joon raised her head to look at Aron and nodded.
“Then say it!” Aron yelled.
“I love living here,” Joon repeated in a small voice.
Aron shook her head. “Let’s go. You need to take a bath so you look human. It ain’t gonna be easy for you in school given that you’re so ugly.”
Joon was so exhausted from the beating she’d taken from Aron the night prior, without thinking, she said, “My mom and dad thought I was pretty.”
Aron spun on her. “Your mother was either a lying bitch, or as stupid as you. Besides, where’s your precious mother now? I’ll tell you where she is—she’s dead, lying in the ground, rotting next to your loser father. Look around you. Do you see your wonderful parents here? Taking care of you? Making sure you’re raised right?”
For a split second, Joon thought of protesting but knew it would only ignite Aron’s fury further.
“No,” Joon mumbled.
“That’s right. Besides, they were too dumb to teach you how to act like a nice girl instead of a dirty pig. But I know how to raise you right. You ain’t an easy one to help because you’re the most stupid child I’ve ever known.” Aron shook her head. “Get moving. I want you cleaned up before the bus comes.”
Joon followed Aron into the bathroom and watched as her foster mom ran water into the tub. Her body tingled as she thought about cleaning off the grime caked on her skin. The buildup made her flesh feel too tight for her body.
Aron turned from the tub. She put her hands on her hips and scowled at Joon. “What are you waiting for? Get those filthy clothes off.”
Joon undressed, and Aron’s judging eyes bore through her, making the child feel self-conscious.
“Hurry up!” Aron screamed.
Joon removed the remainder of her dirty, worn clothing quickly and climbed into the tub. She hadn’t taken a real bath in close to seven weeks. The warm water felt heavenly against her crusted flesh. Aron handed her a small bar of soap and placed shampoo next to the tub. Then she reached into the bathroom closet and tossed a washcloth into the water. “Make sure you wash up real good. Get that stink off of you.” Aron put down the toilet lid and placed a thin bath towel on top. “That’s for you to dry off with. Now get a move on. You ain’t got a lot of time.”
As soon as Aron left and closed the door behind her, Joon put her whole head under the water. She used the soap and washcloth to scrub her skin. Then she picked up the shampoo and washed her long, blond hair quickly and dunked her head under the water again. Joon felt released from the filth that had held her skin hostage. Being clean was a luxury that she yearned for in the long time between each bath. She leaned her head back against the tub and smiled, as she often did when she was allowed to bathe, and let herself get lost in the glorious moment. Then she heard footsteps coming toward the bathroom.
“Let’s go,” Aron yelled through the door. “Your time is up.”
Joon hurried out of the tub and grabbed the thin towel, her sense of peace snuffed out by the crude sound of Aron’s shrill voice. She dried herself and opened the bathroom door. Aron was waiting, staring down at her. Joon followed her foster mother into the bedroom. On the bed were a pair of secondhand jeans and a purple T-shirt.
“Get dressed, then get your ass into the kitchen. Breakfast needs to be cleaned up before you go to school,” Aron barked. She glared at the child as Joon combed her tangled hair with her fingers. The older woman opened the top drawer and took out the brush that Joon’s mother had gently ran through her hair. Aron stomped over to Joon and grabbed the top of her head. She raked through Joon’s hair in long, hard strokes. Joon could feel the hair being pulled from her scalp. She squeezed her eyes closed, enduring the sting as her head jerked back and forth until Aron finished.
“There,” Aron said, looking satisfied. “Now, hurry the hell up.”
Joon finished dressing and paused in front of the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Her reflection was jarring. She had grown taller over the past seven weeks. Her jeans were two inches too short and her T-shirt was baggy. She was much thinner with dark circles under her eyes. Her once vibrant blue eyes were now faded to a dull gray. She no longer recognized the girl in the mirror—the person looking back was stripped of all humanity, a shell of the girl she once was. She only had access to a full-length mirror when she was in her supposed bedroom, and she was always curious to see what she looked like and hated to find the monster looking back at her. She pushed the wet strands of hair behind her ears, just like her mother had done for her when she was alive.
When Joon walked into the kitchen, Deen and Dobi were almost finished eating. Aron took a bite of her toast and motioned for Joon to sit in the empty chair at the table.
“You’re ugly even when you’re clean,” Deen remarked.
Aron smirked and nodded.
Egged on by his mother’s reaction, Deen continued. “All the kids are gonna pick on you. I already told my friends that you’re a mutant, that there’s something wrong with you. Everybody already hates you. Welcome to middle school.”
Aron shoved the last of the toast into her mouth. “Okay. Finish your breakfast, boys.”
Deen and Dobi finished eating while Joon was made to sit and watch. The smell of toast was glorious, and her mouth watered and her stomach gurgled thinking about taking a buttery bite or just one spoonful of the colorful, sugary cereal Deen and Dobi were eating. When the three were finished, Aron told the boys to get ready for school.
“You get this kitchen cleaned up. I want to see this place sparkle before you leave.”
Alone in the kitchen, Joon cleared the dishes from the table. She thought for sure that Aron would have let her eat breakfast before going to school, as she had in the few years prior, even if it was just a banana or half a slice of dry toast. Joon considered drinking the milk left in the cereal bowls but knew if she was caught, the consequences would be severe.
A little later,
at the bus stop, Joon stood far away from the other kids. The boys threw pebbles at her that stung, and the girls giggled and pointed at her clothes. Joon crossed her arms over her chest as the bus pulled up. Until now, school had been a short escape from her foster home, but nothing more. As the bus doors opened, she tried to be optimistic about her new school, hopeful that something would change for the better.
Chapter Four
Joon’s classmates rejected her from the start. She wasn’t outgoing like many of the other girls in her class. But the real problem was that Joon’s appearance made her a target of ridicule. Her unstylish, shabby clothes and unkempt, mangled hair gave the other girls all the ammunition they needed to be mean. While it hurt Joon’s feelings, compared to the three months of isolation without her basic needs being met, just being around people was a step in the right direction. She remained quiet though, trying her best not to be noticed.
At lunchtime, Joon stood outside the cafeteria as the kid’s voices melted into a buzz of noise. She waited off to the side of the doors, not wanting to enter. One of the volunteer moms bent down in front of Joon and looked into her face.
“You’re new here, huh?”
Joon gave her a small smile. “Yeah, today’s my first day.”
The lunch mom studied her. “You have beautiful eyes,” she commented.
Joon blushed; her parents had always told her that looking into her eyes was like staring into the soul of an angel.
“Thank you,” Joon whispered.
“Well, are you going to eat lunch?” the mom asked.
Joon shrugged. “I didn’t bring my lunch. I…I forgot it.”
The lunch mom gave her a warm smile. “Well, that’s not a problem. I’m pretty sure you have a lunch ticket, just like your foster brothers.”