Anna

by Sammy H. K. Smith

  “Are you two still playing games?” Kat stood in the doorway walking to sit on the bed, bottle of wine in her hand and face immaculate.

  “Anna likes to play them too, not like you.”

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” I mumbled, staggering out of the room and into the hallway. I knocked into someone, apologising and looking up. Ella.

  “You all right?” Her hands were on my arms.

  “I’m fine.” I looked past her to the bathroom. I just wanted to be alone. Somewhere quiet, somewhere calm. Somewhere I could gather my senses.

  “I saw you look back last night.” She didn’t move. I looked behind me and Ben glanced my way then cast his eyes down quickly.

  “I need to be alone.” I tried to go past but she held out her arms and stopped me.

  “Wait.” She looked around as she pulled out two bobby pins from her pocket and grabbed my hand, forcing them into it. “It’s the best I can do. I’m on the outside patrol tonight. If there is any way you can get out – go behind the block of garages and through the trees. Do you understand?”

  No, no I didn’t understand. She was helping me? Why? If caught she risked everything, risked becoming like me. The pins were heavy in my hand. How would I hide these? When would I get a chance to try and pick a lock? I was never alone at night. Did she not know that?

  “I can’t.” I tried to hand them back but she stepped away. “I can’t. I’m never alone, he’ll find these.” I kept my voice low. “Please, take them back. I can’t.”

  “But…”

  “I can’t. He’ll hurt me if he finds them, take them. Take them.” I grabbed her hand, warm and soft, and forced the pins back into it.

  He had found the Monopoly boot and frowned while gripping my wrist. That deceptive and soft voice demanding to know who had given me the gift, and my meek and rushed response as I spilled the story of the game to him. He had been satisfied with my earnest pleas and the promises that I hadn’t spoken to the men, yet he still kept the boot.

  “I just want to help you.”

  “Help Ben, get him out of here.”

  “I tried.”

  Looking up at her mousey face, there was pain there: a different pain to mine, and so very different to Ben’s and Kat’s, but it was there. She couldn’t save me. I was damned. But I wanted to save her, to save the compassion within her. That was the rarity of the Unlands. I had been wrong. Good health, immaculate clothing, those things meant nothing. Ella needed Ben. He deserved her.

  “You can’t touch me or speak to me. You don’t know what he’s like.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, Ben shouldn’t, Kat shouldn’t.” She looked into the room again and then to me. “It’s not right.”

  Oh she didn’t need to tell me what was right and wrong. I didn’t answer and stared at the carpet. She finally sidestepped and I rushed into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  My legs trembled, my hands shook. Too close, what if someone had seen? What if Ben said something? I put my head between my knees and breathed deeply. Why couldn’t she be on the patrol duty this morning? Why couldn’t she have told me about the pins last night? I would have had a chance: hindsight is a wonderful thing. That’s what they say, how true that was, but they only say it afterwards.

  I removed my tampon and realised, with cold horror, that my tampon box was missing. Shit. Where had I left it? I cleaned up, hoping it had fallen out and was in the bedroom.

  Eventually I opened the door. She was gone. Did I really expect her to stay? Idiot. As I walked back into the room I forced a smile. Kat knew. Her face said it all and she was unhappy. I panicked again, would she tell Olly? Would Olly hurt Ella? Or worse, would she tell Will? The dead boy and his companion haunted me again and my fear rose. Please no, please no.

  “The girl’s an idiot.” Kat scowled at me and then at Ben, who quietly packed the game away. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know how much she had heard. “It’s her fault Ben’s face looks like shit. She tried to help him.” She emphasised the last two words sarcastically. “Now look at him, he’s a mess.”

  Kat was cruel; and wrong, for Ella was no idiot. I looked at Ben again. His face went scarlet and he struggled to keep his face impassive.

  “At least he tried.”

  “What?”

  “I said, at least he tried. Ben is stronger than both you and me.” I sat on the bed and held Kat’s glare. The hostility in her was clear, but I needed to hold my own, show her that she was wrong.

  “You think I’m not strong? I put up with more shit than either of you two. You think that because I don’t try and run that I’m weak?” Leaning forward, she sneered. “Tell me, Anna, just how many men have you had fuck you? How many times have you been used as a reward, a prize and a way to give thanks?” She spat the last few words out and I recoiled. I was wrong to start this conversation, I was wrong about Kat. I started to speak but she laughed bitterly. “Because Ben is so strong,” she said mockingly, “I have twice the amount of shit to deal with. And you think I’m weak?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I was backtracking, I had built up an image of an uncaring, unemotional drunk: but I was wrong. And now I was ashamed. “Kat, I’m sorry. I was wrong, I didn’t know.”

  “No, you don’t know, you don’t know what it’s like, so don’t you dare tell me that Ben is stronger, how dare you!” She stood up and returned to her room, slamming the door behind her. I winced as it reverberated through the house. I looked at Ben who shook his head at me.

  “Don’t worry, Anna, she’s always like that.”

  “But she’s right, what do I know?” I wanted to apologise, find some way to repair the damage. I looked at Kat’s door, if I went to speak to her, would she shout? Would the men come running? Demand to know what had happened? But then… if I did nothing, would she tell Olly about my conversation with Ella? My desperation to say sorry wasn’t completely altruistic. I had to make sure she wouldn’t say anything.

  I knocked on her door and opened it without waiting. She sat at a dressing table, delicately applying her make-up. It looked odd without a mirror.

  “What do you want?” She was cool and detached, so different from a few minutes earlier.

  “You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like.” I stood in the doorway as she deliberately slowed down and took her time with her make-up. I understood and waited. Eventually she turned to me.

  “You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell him. I know that’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “I didn’t come just for that, I was wrong, it was out of order–”

  “It’s not easy Anna.” She interrupted me and I closed my mouth. “I was married, with a toddler. I had money, status.” Her voice was softer now. I closed the door and leaned against it. “After they died, I drank and drank. I was nothing more than a lush. I used to live a few miles from here and Olly’s boys found me. I was so drunk I couldn’t walk. They carried me here and I’ve never left.” She slowly packed her cosmetics away. “If I’d had more strength at the start, resisted the drink, I would never have been caught. I could have been like Ella.” I glanced at the wine bottle and she stroked it fondly. “Now all I have is the one thing that trapped me. Well, there is Ben I suppose, and now you.”

  She walked towards me. The smells of wine and old sex mingled with her perfume, creating a nauseating mix. I shrank back, unable to stand up straight. She grabbed a tendril of hair in her fingers and let the strands fall around my face. Her breasts pushed against mine and her breath laced with cheap, sweet wine. “Now piss off, go back to playing games. I won’t say anything, don’t worry, but don’t think that this means we’re friends.”

  Chapter Nine

  As I walked down the stairs he waited with his arms outstretched, that disingenuous smile covering his face. Welcome home, darling. Good day at work?

  I didn’t eat that evening. Every time I lifted the fork to my lips my stomach cramped. I hadn’t suffered from this sort of anxiet
y for a long, long while. It was such a waste of good food.

  “Not hungry?” Will leaned in close and murmured into my ear, his lips close to my skin. I fought the urge to pull away and instead shook my head.

  I neither spoke nor looked at any of them for the rest of the night, even when he shackled me and took me away.

  Not until we were back in the cell and Will had locked the door did I even think properly. That dread covered me again and I started to shiver.

  “You’re fine now, aren’t you?” He removed the cuffs and placed them on the side. I rubbed my wrist. Damn, shit, fuck. How could I lie? He would know. Stupid, stupid, idiot: the look of horror must have been clear. He frowned, and the false kindness disappeared instantly. “Did you think you could hide it from me? Hide the fact you’d finished your period?”

  I shook my head and backed further into the room until I was pressed against the cold brick wall. He trapped me and I had no choice but to maintain his gaze. I feared what he might do if I looked away.

  “I thought you were playing games. I hoped you weren’t. I hoped that you were starting to understand that I want to look after you, make you happy. Instead you took me for the fool.”

  I had underestimated him again. Crossing my arms in an attempt to stop shaking, I wanted to show him I wasn’t scared.

  “No.”

  “No?” His voice hardened.

  “No, I didn’t need them today, it was the last day. It’s not so bad on the last day. I didn’t think I needed to tell you every little detail.” I almost regretted the last comment until his gaze softened.

  “Oh, Anna.” Will grabbed my arms and held me. It was awkward and uncomfortable. I didn’t uncross my arms. I liked the barrier between us. He didn’t say a word, didn’t force me to embrace him, didn’t hurt me or shout. For some reason, it made me feel worse as he then let me go and said: “Get undressed, Anna.”

  The blood roared, my legs buckled and I grabbed the radiator. This wasn’t fair, I had another day, another day with Ben, with Kat, with Ella. Another day before he did this. I shook my head, this couldn’t be right. This was the final punishment wasn’t it? The sentence for my crime.

  “Anna.” He walked to the door, leaning against it, crossing his arms and frowning. “Do it.”

  “No.” My voice cracked, disappearing into nothing and all I could do was shake my head again: legs like jelly, such a stupid saying, so true. My bones had dissolved to mush.

  A stalemate. Why now? Why now? But it didn’t matter; I had no more time to wallow in self-pity. He walked over and grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to the bed.

  “I won’t ask again, Anna.” He turned his grip, releasing me and I cried out as my already sore shoulder cracked in pain. I curled up on the bed, facing the wall, tracing the roads and paths on the petals. I needed to escape, which path could I take? I blocked out his voice, he was talking to me and I didn’t know what he said. I followed the paths and twisted along the flowers. I reached out and traced the petals, his voice grew louder and angrier, I ignored him and instead travelled away from this, from him. I tried to think of Stephen, but he had no place in this cruel world.

  Then he tore me from my sanctuary, grabbing my wrists and forcing me onto my back. The truth-telling tears didn’t disappoint. They streamed silently down my face. I wouldn’t make a noise. I would be silent, gracious and docile; I would be unliving, like a puppet. He had straddled me again, just like my capture. My arms were pinned above my head, aggravating my shoulder. A tug at my jeans. I stared at the ceiling. I can’t. No. I kicked, over and over again, it did nothing. The cold air covered my legs and instinctively I curled them together, twisting and rotating my hips. The skin of my thighs rubbed and caught against his jeans.

  He grunted in anger and shifted his weight. It gave me a small amount of freedom and I folded my body up as tightly as I could, arms still outstretched and pulled taut.

  “Fucking stop.”

  I almost did. I hadn’t heard him swear with such venom before. But this was really it, this was the one time that fighting really mattered, chip, chip, chip, my resistance was nearly all gone. I only had the tiniest amount of strength left to fight. It was futile; it was pointless, but I had to.

  I wouldn’t win.

  I struggled and thrashed against his grasp – screw Anna! I refused to look at his face, staring instead at the ceiling. He undid his trousers and my struggling increased. Then came the first blow, the cracking sting of a slap to my right thigh. I almost bit through my lip muffling my scream.

  “Don’t make me do this, Anna.” He was panting now, struggling to contain me and I knotted my body even tighter. His breath was acrid. The stench of dinner, of him, of everything I ever hated from now and before assaulted me. I couldn’t block it out. I thought of coconut, but the sweet smell curdled to sourness and then to him. My thigh blazed as though it was on fire, he slapped it again and I jumped. He forced his knee between my legs, pinching and bruising the delicate skin. He pushed his weight on to me, crushing my ribcage and I was choking on the smell of him, the closeness. I was suffocating. Just die, at that moment that was all I wanted, I wanted to die. He kissed my face, covering me in wet kisses, spreading my tears, I heard the wail escape, and I shook my head from side to side furiously: don’t kiss me, don’t try and make this right. He stopped, and instead fumbled between us, removing the last barrier. He liked this. A grunt of pleasure escaped and my sobs intensified. No matter how hard I tried; I couldn’t block it out.

  It was over, my fight was over and my defences destroyed. Every movement from then on heightened. Wet. I could feel it, smell it. Coppery. Blood. He wasn’t gentle. There was no kindness. He drove me into the mattress with strength and force. It was agonising, fiery and seemed eternal. The pain wasn’t confined to my shoulder now, my stomach, my thighs, my chest, it consumed every part of me. My tears didn’t stop, but with each one a small part of me left. The ceiling was an empty expanse of white. I closed my eyes, I looked for Stephen but he was gone, why would he stay? Stephen had seen my punishment, his revenge was complete. I couldn’t escape. There was no place to hide. Every smell, every drop of sweat that fell from him to me, every creak of the springs, every small noise he made burned into my mind.

  Begging for it, she was! She likes it that way!

  It finally ended. I still burnt, still ached, but he collapsed on me and lay there. I didn’t bother moving, it was over, and I was still alive, regretfully.

  Eventually he moved, releasing my hands slowly as though he expected me to fight. I didn’t. He propped himself on his elbows and I closed my eyes: how could I look at his disgusting face? As he moved off my stomach the pain intensified and even though I tried not to, I grimaced. The waves of affliction crashed on me until the barbed stabbing pain started to numb. I was disgustingly grateful. I had to force myself not to touch; not to wipe away the trace of him and feel the blood and semen between my legs. Humiliation, anger, loathing and horror, a raft of feelings choked me into silence. But inside I sobbed and wailed. I was curled around my consciousness and unable to move.

  “Anna, I told you not to fight.” Loving again, quiet and gentle. He kissed my lips softly and slowly. “It doesn’t have to hurt.”

  I nodded and he hoisted me over, pulling me onto him. Everywhere ached and I could feel the bruises start to form. A handprint covered the top of my thigh. He cuddled me, stroked me, kissed me and whispered his affections in my ear. I didn’t hear any of it, I just stared at the wall. This was my life now, I was Will’s, I was Anna and he had won.

  Chapter Ten

  I didn’t bother to count the days that followed. There was no point. Time has no meaning when you’re in hell; I’d passed through purgatory and now I was finally where I was meant to be. He owned me completely: body and soul, that was the saying. He had my body, but I had no soul to give.

  The morning after my breaking he showed his dominance again and I submitted. He enacted tend
erness and kindness, but my tears angered him. I didn’t fight, unless my tears were a show of defiance? He hit me anyway until even my tears dried up. There was no point in resisting, each time I tensed, shook my head or whispered no, he still won.

  I didn’t leave my cell. I watched in dull fascination as the colours of my bruises changed over time until there was no sign of my fight left.

  Cleaning became a daily occurrence; he would wash me daily, like a ritual to wash away the evidence of his crimes, forcing me to lean back against him as he dried every inch of my skin. He never used the coconut shampoo, instead I smelt of strawberries, a false sickly sweet smell. I was glad it wasn’t the coconut.

  I didn’t bother to count the number of times that he showed me just how much he cared. It didn’t matter, there was nothing I could do, but when my bruises had faded he started to demand more – how could he want more? I never looked him in the eyes. Instead I held him the way he demanded and stared at the ceiling; the animals were all gone and I was alone. It didn’t last as long if I didn’t fight. Stephen was gone, I couldn’t see him anymore when I closed my eyes. Had he truly left me? I’d begged for his forgiveness, we’d talked through our problems, we had been moving on, why had he left? I truly must have deserved this.

  One day when I knew it would be some time before he was back to clean me, I curled on the bed and stared at the familiar wall. I could smell him everywhere, on everything, all over me and the bed. Stripping the sheets and linen I lay on the bare mattress and covered myself with the duvet. He was still there; but less. I struggled to count how many days it had been and realised there was no way to tell. It could have been a handful, or even weeks. My brand was healed now, and I still hadn’t looked at it. I stared at the wall until my eyes glazed and I heard the door lock click. Turning away, I faced the opposite wall. I didn’t want to see him. He entered, and locked the door behind him; of course. I smelt the food and my stomach churned and heaved. I didn’t want to eat today, but he had other plans.