by Sadie Rose
" Ava hears everything you say so watch what you say around her"
"Never invade Ava's privacy. Her quarters are strictly off-limits"
But I didn't listen and now I've seriously messed up. It's hours later when my Dad knocks on the door. He pokes his head in and I can tell he's angry. My dad is pretty easy going. Not much pisses him off but he's pissed right now. His mouth is pressed into a thin, flat line and his jaw is clenched tight.
"Why would you go up there, Erica? After all the conversations we had before moving here. Why would you disregard everything Kate and I said like that? And then to be so cruel! That's not you, what is going on? I know you miss home and your friends, but I told you how important it was to give Ava time to adjust to us." He stops and looks at me expectantly. I open my mouth to answer but no words come out. "Do you understand what you have potentially done? To Ava's health? To her accepting us being here?"
"Yes," I whisper quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it'd upset her so much." Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Dad sighs deeply and walks over to my bed. I feel the bed sink down as he sits beside me.
"I know you weren't trying to mean Erica, but this is very important. Ava is fragile, more fragile than I think either of us really realized." I look up at my dad and his face looks so sad and tired.
"What happened to her Dad?" I ask quietly. He doesn't answer for a long time, finally, he huffs out a breath and tells me
"All I really know is that she went missing as a little girl, Kate doesn't like to talk about it and so I've never really pressed the matter. She was gone a long time and when she came back, she was different, changed. I know she was in therapy for a long time, I guess she still is. I don't know baby. Kate says she is so much better than when she first came home, she says it has taken years of therapy and patience to get Ava to be able to function even at this level. We can't set her back Erica, ok?" I'm shocked, I had no idea she had gone through something like that. I think about how scared she must have been and imagined what it was like for Kate and Anson. I wonder where she was and how long she was gone.
"I'm sorry Dad. I really am." I mean it too. I'm sorry I ever went up there. I remember now her wide eyes filled with fear. Shame washes over me when I remember how I laughed at the soft colored room and the dolls and stuffed animals lined up on the shelves. My mind pictures the soft rugs and pillows, all the pale pink, purples, blues, and greens. It was a room any little girl would love but it had seemed strange to see a fourteen-year-old girl sitting in the middle of the room coloring in a freaking coloring book. "It won't happen again Dad, I swear" He sits there a few more minutes before he hugs me close and kisses my head. He's halfway across the room before I ask him the question that has been on my mind since I first met Ava.
"Does she ever speak at all? To anyone?"
"No, she hasn't spoken a word since she came home"
Chapter 4
Ava
I open my eyes, I'm in the white room. I look around. The canopy overhead is white and lacy. I can feel the ruffles and lace of the white comforter beneath me. White ruffled curtains cover the window. The window that I now know isn't actually there. There are fluffy white rugs strewn all over the floor. The room is tiny. The only color in the room at all is from the two teddy bears sitting on the white dresser and the few books on the nightstand. There is a closet on the other side of the room, it's tiny too. It has different dresses in there, but they are all white as well. I don't dare sit up, but I let my eyes flick around the room. I don't see her. I don't see anyone. I'm not usually left alone in this room. I hear the doorknob rattle and the door opens. My heart is racing, tears are burning my eyes. Quickly I shut them and pretend I'm asleep.
"Wake up, Angel. Naptime is over." I open my eyes and she is leaning over me, a soft smile on her face. Panic fills me and I want to run. Run back to the other room. Run far away from the hands that are reaching for me. "Mommy wants to play Angel. Let's play a game" I sit up and watch her get the bears off the dresser. She hands me one and keeps the other for herself. At first, it's ok, I hold the teddy bear and she sings softly beside me. Then she stops and whips her head around to glare at me.
"No! You're not doing it RIGHT! Do it RIGHT!" She shrieks at me. I clutch the bear closer and rock it back and forth the way I know she likes. But It's too late. "You don't want to play! Fine!" she hisses at me. Rage fills her face; her eyes look glazed and wild. She snatches the bear away and throws it across the room. I shrink back against the white padded headboard, but she grabs my braid and yanks me forward. "You are a bad girl! You deserve to be punished! I do everything for you! EVERYTHING! You ungrateful brat!" I start sobbing my head hurts, she's yanking my hair with one hand as she digs her nails into my arm with her other hand. I try not to cry but tears come anyway. She grabs the hairbrush off the nightstand, the same one she used just hours before to brush my long hair and carefully part it down the center. Then her hands had been soft and gentle as she hummed quietly. I knew even then it wouldn't last though. It never does. The hard brush strikes my leg then my arm. I raise my hands trying to cover my face as blows rain down on me. I shut my eyes and try to block out the sounds and the look in her eyes. I feel myself drifting away. Far away. "I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" she screams over and over. She's going to kill me I think as blackness comes and takes me away.
I wake up groggy and confused. My head hurts, my throat is dry and scratchy. I feel weighed down like heavy bags are covering me. The room is hot and stuffy. I feel like I'm suffocating. Slowly through my mind clears and I feel soft fur nuzzling my neck. The sound of purring buzzes by my ear. The vibrations make me smile. I feel disoriented but its clearing now. Baby wants her bottle. I turn over and open my eyes. I smile at Baby. She's still so little. So soft and sweet. I pick her up and carry her into the bathroom. She purrs in my hands. I found her in the stables a few months ago. Her mom had had her and left her all alone. She was wet and cold, her tiny umbilical cord still attached to her body and bloody. I picked her up and wrapped her in my shirt. I knew that May would know what to do.
After I wash her face, I make her a bottle. I love feeding her. Her tiny little paws grab at my hands while I hold her bottle. I love how soft and warm she is. She doesn't really need a bottle anymore but its fun giving her one and she seems to like it.
After I give the kitty her bottle, I decide to take a shower. I feel like I've been sleeping for a long time. I think I had the flu maybe. I felt like I was swimming through thick fog. Today is the first day that I've felt clear. I was starting to think the fog would never lift. I had drifted back and forth from sleep to half-consciousness. Mom and Anson came and went. I heard their voices, but their words seemed muffled and far away. Dr. Brinkley was here. I remember hearing his voice and his hands on my head, on my wrist, taking my pulse, I guess. But I feel better today. Clearer. Stronger.
After I get out of the shower, I wrap the big, warm towel around me and peer at my face in the mirror. Wide green eyes stare back at me and I lean closer to the mirror to look at them. I wonder what people see when they look at them. Do they look dazed? Crazy? They look normal to me. I'm fascinated by eyes. They tell so much about a person. But do they tell the truth? Or just another lie? I shake my head and go to my closet. I feel happier today and I want happy clothes. I find my favorite pair of pink lacy panties and matching bra and slip them on. I take a pink pleated skirt off the hanger and step into it. I know exactly what shirt I want to wear. It's a soft yellow and has a rainbow on the front. I flip through the hangers looking for it and just as I think it's not there my fingers brush against the soft yellow material. Sighing happily, I slip it over my bra. Yellow over the knee socks complete the ensemble and I walk over to my dressing table. I remember when my mom gave me this table. I was six years old. I was so excited! Hank had taken my old baby vanity away and carried this soft green one in. I loved the color most of all. It was the softest spring green. It had a big mirror connected that you could swing up and down. I had b
een so happy, jumping up and down and clapping my hands as my mom stood laughing. She had found it in an antique store we liked to visit on our shopping trips. I had fallen in love with it as soon as I saw it. That was yesterday and now it was HERE! I threw my arms around my mom.
"I LOVE it! I LOVE it! Thank you, Mommy!!" I kissed her face all over as she giggled and laughed.
"Ok! Ok, Princess. I'm glad you like it" she smiled at me. I knew I was spoiled but I didn't care. All my friends were too.
Sitting in front of the mirror now I smile at the memory and picked up the brush. I brush my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail finishing it off with a pink ribbon. When I walk into the sitting room, I see May setting breakfast out on a little table. Pancakes and fresh fruit and fried ham with tea to drink. My favorites! I smile happily at her as I walk to the table.
"I'm so glad you're up and feeling better Ava!" She exclaims happily. "We were so worried about you! Do you feel better?" I nod my head and smile at her. "Well dig in baby, when I saw you were up, I ran right down to the kitchen and told cranky old Gladys to make all of your favorites!" I laugh at her very accurate description of our cook Gladys. "Your mom and brother will be around later I'm sure. What are you going to do today? Did you take care of your kitty? It's a pretty day, you should walk outside. There are new puppies out in the stable!"
I love that May talks to me. Even if I don't talk back, she doesn't care she prattles on constantly. My smiles, frown, and nods seem enough for her. May keeps up a steady stream of conversation as I eat, flitting here and there, opening curtains and windows, fluffing up pillows and straightening throw blankets. May is a horrible gossip, filling me in on everything that's been going on these past few days.
"Oliver broke an antique lamp throwing a baseball in the house and the twins have driven everyone mad racing up and downstairs." I can tell by her soft smile and deep chuckle though that she doesn't really mind. I'd be willing to bet she already loves those two little boys and would tear into anyone who dared to hurt them.
After she takes my dishes away, I wander around my rooms. The first room off the hallway is my sitting room. It has a white table with four chairs around it. Each is a different color, pink, purple, blue and green. As a child, I'd have friends over and May would bring us tea and cakes and cookies, while we spent hours with our dolls on our laps having tea parties. In the corner, there is a plush baby blue couch with matching chairs facing a big TV in a white cabinet. I have PlayStations and Xboxes and even a vintage Nintendo complete with dozens of games. The cabinet takes up nearly a whole wall. There are stuffed animals tucked into the TV cabinet here and there. a couple of my dolls are resting in one of the chairs. The room is huge, chairs stuck here and there, pretty rugs cover the white carpet. My favorite one is the soft pink rug in front of the purple bookshelf that fills another wall. There are books and sketchpads, crayons, markers, and pencils filling the shelves. As a little girl, I'd spent hours sprawled there reading, drawing or coloring. It's still one of my favorite areas.
Off of the sitting room to one side is my playroom. The walls are soft yellow just like in the sitting room. But this room is literally filled with my dolls, their houses, and stuffed animals. My American Girl doll collection rivals that of many stores. They take up the longest wall in the room. My dad had a custom dollhouse built for them, it houses their furniture and clothes, they even have their own stables, horses, and cars. Dad had it built for my fourth birthday. I only vaguely remember that day. But I do remember him swinging me high in his arms and laughing and I squealed with pleasure. The other wall has built-in shelves from ceiling to floor for all the stuffed animals. Many are from Build-a-Bear from the many outings with my mom and daddy/daughter dates over the years. There's a big miniature dollhouse in the center of the room and a smaller Calico Critters one over in the corner. The last wall has my baby dolls, sitting on shelves, laying in bassinets, sitting in highchairs. Some are new and some are ones that my mom played with as a little girl. I love this room. I love sitting in here brushing the dolls soft hair or dressing them in their pretty clothes. It's still my favorite room in this house. I am happy in this room. I'm safe here.
I can go in my bedroom through the pink door in here or I can walk back into the sitting room and go that way. I open the door and walk into my bedroom. The bed is the first thing you see when you walk in. How could it not be? It's massive. As a very small girl, this bed seemed huge. It's king-sized and has a soft pink comforter. There is a canopy with sheers in all colors surrounding it. Pinks, yellows, blues, greens, and purples. They are pulled to the sides and tied with big, pink ribbons. One whole wall is covered in floor to ceiling windows with large French doors in between them. The windows are covered with white curtains with row upon row of ruffles. The ruffles cascade down and pool onto the floor. There's a little terrace outside the doors.
My much-loved dressing table is against one wall and even now I smile as I touch all the dainty little perfume bottles and lotions sitting on the silver trays. The little, green stool with its tufted pink cushion is pushed under the vanity, thanks to May, I'm sure. There are more throw rugs scattered all over the floors in a rainbow of colors. Dressers with pictures of me, Mom, Anson, and Dad are sprinkled around the room. Jewelry boxes, trinkets and snow globes fill the shelves and the tops of the dressers, tables, and nightstands. The walls are covered with pictures of mermaids, unicorns, fairies, and princesses. Another pink door leads into my bathroom. The bathroom has heated floors and a huge soaking tub. When I was little, I thought I had my very own swimming pool in the bathroom! I laugh now at the memory. There's a walk-in shower that's big enough for several people. One wall has baby blue cabinets with double sinks. There are mirrors with ornate frames, the same shade of blue, hanging on the walls above the cabinets. Large plush rugs cover the marble floors and warm fluffy towels are kept ready inside the towel warmer. Pictures of mermaids grace the walls and mermaid figurines are tucked in here and there. Several pink cabinets with glass doors hold bath salts, scented candles, and bubble bath, as well as more creams, lotions, shampoos, conditioners, and scented soaps. This is a bathroom that would make even the top spas of Switzerland envious. There are three other doors in here. One leading out to the sitting room, one goes into my closet, and one going into the private toilet area.
I love these rooms. All of them. I feel safe and warm and sometimes even happy here. Here I can almost forget. I shake off the bad thoughts and skip back into the bedroom. I scoop kitty up and carry her into the sitting room. We settle in our favorite spot with my sketchbooks and crayons. Today is going to be a good day I think happily as I open my book.
Chapter 5
Ava
It's afternoon before I hear a soft knock. It's Mom. I can always tell her knock. It's quiet and hesitant. She almost always knocks four times with a brief pause in between each one. Of course, she doesn't wait for me to tell her to enter but peeks her head in the door. Her face splits into a huge smile.
"Ava! you're up! Look how pretty you look too!" I sit up and smile at her. She comes over and sits beside me. She reaches out tentatively and strokes my hair. It doesn't bother me today. She smiles even wider when I don't flinch away. "Are you feeling better baby?" she asks quietly. And I smile and nod at her. I hate that I worried her. "What have you been doing today? Can I look?" she asks.
I hand over the sketchbook and she flips through the pages. The pictures today are mostly of my room. There's one of her beside the green dressing table. Her eyes are sparkling, and her head is slightly back, you can tell that she's laughing. I used soft colors on it to show the green vanity, yellow walls, and her honey gold hair. Next, there is a picture of my bed with her sitting beside me as a little girl. In her lap is my favorite book of fairy tales. Her eyes look soft and her smile is gentle. She continues flipping past pictures of tea parties and dolls until she gets to the picture I'm working on now. The picture of my dad. He's laughing as he holds a little girl high over his head.
"These are so lovely Ava. Your drawing has really improved." She smiles at me. "Are you enjoying your new teacher? Miss Jillian says you are a very talented girl." I nod my head and beam up at her. She sits next to me talking and occasionally stroking my hair or patting my leg.
"Do you feel like having dinner with us tonight?" She asks as she gets up. I shake my head no and look away. "That's ok baby." She laughs "I'm just glad you're feeling better. Maybe tomorrow or the next day alright?" Relief floods me and I look over at her to see if she really means it. She doesn't look disappointed or sad. She's still smiling broadly. I smile back at her. Sometimes she gets disappointed when I refuse to come down for dinner and then I feel bad that I let her down. But today she just seems happy.
In the beginning, I let her down a lot. It seemed she was always sad and disappointed but lately it's been better. I eat almost every meal with the family now. And I've even been coming out of my room more to sit by the pool or walk to the stables. Sometimes I sit in the kitchen and color or draw as she sips coffee or bakes. We have two cooks, but my mom has always loved to bake and cook so she spends a lot of time in our kitchen. When I was little, she used to let me help her. I loved the big, warm kitchen and the smell of fresh bread or cookies. I hadn't been in the kitchen for a long time. I think it was almost a year ago that I finally got up the courage to go back in there. I had been wanting to, but fear held me back. I don't really know what I was so scared of. I think I was afraid she wouldn't want me there. And maybe that it wouldn't feel the same? I had slipped quietly into the kitchen and stood half-hidden in the doorway. My mom looked up and the happiest smile broke across her face.
"Ava, come sit here and talk to me while I stir this cake" She had spoken so quietly and softly. I inched forward hesitantly. "Would you like some tea or juice?" she smiled at me. I nodded slowly. "Tea?" another nod. "Ok sit-down baby. I'm making a double chocolate cake with chocolate caramel icing for dinner tonight. Sound good?" Another slow nod. She set the tea in front of me along with the sugar and milk. I remember I had stayed in there with her all morning, she let me lick the beaters and the bowl just like I used to do. It felt like old times. Safe and comfortable.