by E. K. Blair
With Bennett, I’ve become numb and vacant when we have sex. I used to be overcome with hatred when he’d find his way inside of me, but I shut that off quickly, and now the illusion that what we have isn’t just sex, but making love, is one that he has never questioned.
Yeah, I’m a good actress.
I watch as the snow collects on the windshield, and with the screech of a door, I turn to the trailer to see a pathetic-looking woman walking down the steps with her ratty, purple fur coat wrapped around her. She probably thinks she looks trendy, but she just looks like a skank.
When she gets into her rusted Buick, I turn to see Pike standing, arms braced on the sides of the door frame, pants unbuttoned, no shirt, and tattoos on full display. He smiles as he looks at me, and when I get out of the car, he asks, “Been here long?”
“Not too long.”
He steps aside as I walk in, and the door slams shut.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Bennett’s out of town. Will be for another week,” I explain and set my coat and purse down on the edge of the couch.
He lights a cigarette, and when he takes a drag, I step over and hug him. He folds me in his arms and I get a whiff of perfume. Pushing back from him, he questions, “What is it?”
“I can smell her cheap drug store perfume on you.”
He laughs at me and shakes his head. “What’s got you so pissy?”
Sighing, I turn to walk over to the couch, and as I sit, I release a heavy breath, saying, “I’m just tired.”
“I guess,” he mumbles when he joins me on the couch. “So, how’s it going with the guy?”
“Declan? Good. Really good.”
“Where are you at with him?” he asks.
“I’m working him,” I say. “He’s jealous of Bennett.”
“That’s it? Come on, Elizabeth, clue me in.”
“We’ve been spending time together. What do you want me to say? He likes me; it’s evident. We spent the day together yesterday.”
“What did you guys do?”
“He took me ice-skating,” I say with a slip of a smile, and his face contorts before he snaps, “What the fuck?”
“What?” My voice is pitchy with defense.
“You’re shitting me, right? You’re out ice-skating like a goddamn kid when you’re supposed to be seducing this ass wipe. And while you’re off screwing around, I’m living in this shitfest.”
His tone sparks my temper. Standing up, I turn to look down at him, and piss my words, saying, “Fuck you, Pike. You don’t know shit about what I’m doing, so just sit tight, fuck the trash that walks in here, and let me handle myself.”
“Handle yourself?” he sneers. “Tick tock, tick tock.”
“You wanna speed this shit up? You’re tired of waiting? Then hire one of your thuggish street friends to take care of it and spare me my own time,” I lash out.
“You’re taking too much of that time.”
Walking across the room, I clench my hands at my sides and take a deep breath before turning back to him. “Just remember that we both agreed to keep our hands clean in this. We hire someone, we have a direct link to our plan. The deal was that we would never speak the words, that we would simply goad a person into it. You think you could do a better job?”
He stubs his cigarette out in the tray on the coffee table and then stands, saying, “Not unless they prefer dick over pussy.”
“God, Pike,” I seethe as I fist my hair, and when I drop my hands to my sides, I tell him, “I’m so sick of fighting with you. It’s all we seem to do lately, and I’m done with it.”
“Perks of an older brother,” he says with a pompous smile.
Mumbling under my breath, “I guess,” I grip my hands on my hips and look over at him.
He stands there staring at me, and I can’t help but laugh at his demeanor, full of ego. “You really do drive me crazy,” I tell him.
“I know.”
With a shake of my head, I add, “And you need to stop doubting me. It pisses me off.”
“I know,” he repeats with surrender. “Come here.”
With a childish groan, I make my way over to him and stubbornly take his hug, and then tease, “Seriously, her cheap perfume is making my nose burn.”
“You’re so high and mighty now, huh? Don’t forget where you come from.”
“How could I?”
We stand there for a long while as I get the comfort from him that I’ve been missing since the last time I saw him before I finally speak again. “I have a good feeling about him, Pike.”
“Hmm.”
“He’s already falling. He doesn’t hide it well.”
“I worry about you,” he says, and I lean my head back to look at him, questioning, “Why?”
“Because I know how hard it is on you being with Bennett. I worry about how it’s going to affect you when you start adding this other guy in.”
I know that Pike is genuine in his feelings for me. We’re family, and I get that he worries. He always has. But I remind him, “Hard as steel, right?”
With a nod of his head, he keeps his arm around my shoulders as we walk back to his bedroom. It’s routine at this point—our sex. We do it every time I come and see him, reminding me of the one person I can trust in this world, the one person who has always taken care of me.
His pants are still unbuttoned, so with a tug, he drops them to his ankles and steps out. I lie back on the bed—the bed he just fucked another girl in, but I couldn’t care less. My body is entirely worthless, so I give it freely without much thought. Undoing my pants, I watch as he pumps his dick a couple times, and when he reaches to check if I’m ready, he feels how dry I am. I want the sex with him, but most of the time, I struggle to get wet. It didn’t seem to be a problem when Declan felt me up the other night, but more often than not, I need a little help.
Pike pushes my knees wider and spits his saliva on me, wetting me, and runs his fingers through my folds to spread it. When I give him a nod, he holds himself and pushes inside of me. Pinching my eyes shut, I grip my arms around him as he fucks me, clearing my head and wiping away the stains of Bennett, and now, Declan.
RETURNING HOME, CLARA is in the kitchen cooking. I unwrap the scarf from around my neck and walk over to the kitchen to greet her.
“Clara, hi,” I say as I look on the stove to see what she’s making.
“There you are. I feel like we keep missing each other.”
“Smells good,” I say, eyeing the skillet of beef stroganoff.
With a warm smile, she responds, “I figured you could use some comfort food with the nasty winter we’ve been having.”
I open the fridge to pull out ginger soda, saying, “It’s perfect. I haven’t eaten all day, actually.”
Turning to me, she spots my drink and asks, “Is your stomach upset?”
“A little.”
I always tend to feel a little queasy after my visits with Pike. The after sex blues followed by the upsetting goodbye. It tends to have this effect on my stomach when I leave, turning back into the emotionless machine I’ve been forced to become ever since I was a little kid.
“There’s a package from Mr. Vanderwal in the living room. It was delivered earlier today when you were out,” she says, and when I walk over, I see the large, white box wrapped in a gold satin ribbon.
My stomach churns, and I down another gulp of my ginger soda.
I pick up the lightweight box and untie the ribbon, letting it drop to the sides. Inside lies a masquerade mask. Black, laser-cut metal, which gives it an almost evil, seductive feel. The black, double-faced satin ties hang as I pick it up out of the box. It’s probably more perfect than anything I could have found on my own and that annoys me, the fact that he can be so good at nearly all he does. I look in the box for a note, but there isn’t one, so I turn and ask Clara, “Was there a note or anything with this?”
“No, dear,” she answers over her shoulder from the k
itchen and then my cell rings.
Cringing when I see who the caller is, I answer with charm, “Jacqueline, hello.”
“Where have you been?” She’s huffy in her question.
“What do you mean?”
“Neiman’s? Shopping? Yesterday?”
I completely let it slip from my mind that I was supposed to meet the girls yesterday. I was so distracted with spending the night at the hotel and then hanging out with Declan that it didn’t occur to me that instead of being with him, I should have been at Neiman’s.
“I’m so sorry; I must have forgotten. You’re not upset with me, are you?”
“I’m not, but Catherine was running her mouth about how you’ve been acting like a bitch towards her.”
And this is the shit I hate about these women. I have absolutely nothing in common with any one of them. They have way too much time on their hands that they seem to enjoy filling with petty drama. They’re all spoiled and entitled, yet I’m forced to grin and bear it, and so I respond, “I don’t even speak to Catherine outside of when we’re all together.”
“Exactly. She thinks that you think you’re better than her.”
I am. As sick as I may be, I’m still better than the shallow depths of them.
“Jacqueline, you know I don’t enjoy the gossip, so if there isn’t anything else, I should get going.”
“I was hoping we could get together soon. It’s been a while—the gathering at Lotus, I believe,” she says.
“Of course. I’ll check my calendar and call you,” I reply before we say our goodbyes.
Walking over to Clara, I smile as she moves around the kitchen. I wonder for a moment what my life would have been like if I’d had a mom. For one, I wouldn’t have ever gone into foster care after my father’s arrest. I never met my mom. I don’t know anything about what happened to her since the only one who could have explained it to me was my father, and I was so young when he went to prison.
I’ve seen a few pictures to know I got my red hair from her. She wore it in a short bob, where mine is long with just a hint of waves. She was pretty. I used to imagine her living with my dad and me when I was tied up in that closet. She’d smile and kiss my father while I cringed but secretly loved watching them like that. She would hold me at night, rocking me while my dad sang to me. He always sang to me at night. I’ll never forget the sound of his voice as I would fall asleep.
The top of my nose tingles at the thought of him, and I don’t even realize how tight I have my teeth clamped shut when Clara asks, “Are you okay?”
Unlocking my teeth to answer, an ache shoots through my gums at the release. “Will you stay for dinner?”
Her warm smile penetrates my mournful thoughts, and I smile back at her when she says, “I’d love to.” She turns to pull a couple plates down as she inquires, “Now tell me, what did that lovely husband of yours send you?”
“A very beautiful mask for the masquerade.”
“Have you gotten a dress yet?”
She fixes our plates as we begin to talk about all the details of the party I’ve been working on. We eat and talk and laugh, and for a moment, I pretend she’s my mom.
But only for a moment.
TOMORROW’S MY BIRTHDAY. You’d think I’d be excited about turning ten years old, but it’s just another reminder that life isn’t going to get any better. I used to go to bed at night thinking that tomorrow would be a new day, a hopeful wish on stars. But stars don’t grant wishes. I’ve lived in this house with Pike for almost two years, and I now know that tomorrow is nothing but a repeat of the day before and stars are nothing but burning rocks.
I wonder if I’ll even be let out of this closet for my birthday. Unlikely. This is where I have spent nearly every weekend since the day Carl first tied me up a year and a half ago. When I told Bobbi what had happened, her response was, “Well, what did you do to provoke him?” Yeah, turns out, she doesn’t give a shit about me or Pike. We’re nothing more than her paycheck. A means to get by, to pay her bills and put food on the table, food I rarely get to eat since I’m always locked up with my hands bound.
I feel like I live in the dark more than I do the light. Pike sneaks down every night to talk to me. There’s not been a single night that he hasn’t spent with me outside of this door. I quickly learned to train myself to sleep during the days so that I could be awake when Pike would visit me. I didn’t ever want to be alone and without him.
Carl likes to slap me around before tying me to the garment rod, and there is now a padlock on the outside of the door. I’d tell my caseworker, but I’m terrified of losing Pike. And there’s no guarantee that the next home would be any better; at least here, I have my brother. So when my crappy-ass caseworker does decide to show up, which is about once every few months, I keep my mouth shut.
Shifting up to my feet, I allow the blood to drain back down my arms. I pee as I wait on Pike. The filth of spending days peeing on myself doesn’t even faze me anymore. It used to embarrass me, but now, it’s second nature.
“Elizabeth,” I hear Pike whisper, and I’m relieved that I finally have him here with me—my distraction.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t even know why you still ask me that question,” I reply.
“Sorry,” he says. “Happy birthday. It’s after midnight, so it’s officially your birthday.”
“Wish me a happy birthday when I turn fourteen,” I tell him.
“Just four more years.”
“It feels more like four hundred,” I say in defeat. I’m starting to feel like I’m never going to escape this hell and see my dad. I don’t believe life can be that good.
“Well, it’s not four hundred, it’s only four,” Pike tells me.
I situate myself back onto the floor with my hands bound above my head, and ask, “Since it’s my birthday, can I pick the game tonight?”
“Go for it.”
“Umm . . . how about food, but it has to be junk food,” I say. Pike and I play alphabet games with each other. One of us will pick a theme and whatever letter our words ends with has to be the beginning letter to the word the other person has to come up with. If you can’t think of a word, you lose. It was Pike’s idea to start playing these games. I used to just sit and cry when he would come to me at night, so this was his way of keeping my mind occupied.
“Okay, junk food,” he starts. “AirHeads.”
“Swedish Fish.”
“Happy Meal.”
“That’s not a food, Pike. It’s a meal,” I laugh.
He tries defending his play, saying, “Yeah, and what is a meal made of? Food.”
“But it’s not an actual food because you can choose what you want in it.”
“Yeah, but no matter what you choose, it’s still junk.”
Pike is nothing but serious in his argument, which makes me laugh. Our connection with one another is strong. He’s everything a brother should be: protective, caring, annoying, and everything else I could have imagined a sibling would be.
“Uh uh. You can’t use that as a game play,” I tell him.
I can hear the irritation in his sigh before he says, “Fine. Ho Hos.”
“Those are so good.”
With a chuckle, he agrees, “I know.”
We continue with the game, and eventually, I win, making sure I rub it in since he’s beaten me the last two times we’ve played.
After a while, Pike has to go back to his room and I’m alone once more. Resting my head back against the wall, I shut my eyes and try to relax enough to at least drift a little, if not actually fall asleep.
I startle awake when light hits me. Opening my eyes, I quickly clamp them back shut from the pain of being in the dark for the past three days. Who knew light could be so painful? But it is. It always takes a couple hours for my eyes to adjust.
I can smell Carl along with the stench of my urine, and I’m shocked when he starts to unlatch the leather belt he
uses to bind me. He has holes poked all the way down so that he can fasten me tightly and not have to worry about me working my hands free. My arms are like noodles as they fall to my sides. Warmth slowly flows back into my hands, and the tingling begins to run through the length of my lifeless limbs.
“God, you smell like shit, kid,” he grumbles, and I crawl to my knees, squinting to find the bottle of bleach he keeps stored in the corner of the closet. It’s now routine, that as soon as I’m untied, I’m to clean the floor with bleach.
When I get upstairs, I head into the shower to wash myself. I didn’t think I’d be getting out until tomorrow, so I’m determined to stay quiet and invisible so that Carl doesn’t change his mind and toss me back into that black hole again.
After I’m cleaned up, I return to my bedroom to see Pike lying in my bed. He’s always here to comfort me when I get out of the closet. Walking over to him, I crawl into his arms and let him hold me.
“I have something for you,” he whispers, and when I lift my head from his chest, I ask, “What is it?”
“A birthday present.”
I let my head fall back down on him and sigh, “You shouldn’t have bothered.”
“Well, I did, so be polite and pretend you’re happy.”
Sitting up, I cross my legs as Pike quickly runs into his room and then returns with a plastic grocery sack. He hands it to me and sits back down on my bed. Inside is a doll with bright red hair made out of yarn. A smile finds its way to my lips, and he says, “Her hair reminded me of you.”
No doubt, Pike stole this from some store, but I don’t care. This will be the only gift I get this birthday, and I love him for giving it to me since there are very few things I can call my own.
“I love you, Pike,” I say, looking at him as he sits there with an almost worried expression when he asks, “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“No. It’s perfect, and I love it.”
He reaches out to hug me, and I cuddle into his embrace with the doll pressed between us as he says, “I just didn’t want you to be sad today.”