by L. L. Akers
“It is what it is. I’m sorry,” he said, looking straight ahead, not willing to meet her eyes. “Happy birthday. Now get out, Gabby.”
“You fucking pig!” Gabby screamed at him.
She got out of the truck, brokenhearted, angry, and very confused. She slammed the door as hard as she could and threw in a kick to the side of his truck for good measure. She hobbled up the steps toward the apartment, her toes throbbing from the kick and starting to feel the strain of muscles she didn’t even know she had in her legs.
On top of the pain, her panties were an uncomfortable, cold-wet mess. She stood stiffly outside with her head leaned against the door, wallowing in her embarrassment and misery, the unfairness—slapped with the cold reality of the emptiness of her life all in one night and on her birthday.
Gabby took a deep breath and blew it out, resigned to having to face the devil. She threw open the door, stomping through and slamming it behind her.
“Hi, Gabby. How was your date with Gabe?” Mark smirked.
“Fuck you, Mark,” Gabby responded with as much hatred as she could put in those three words as she stomped past him to her room. She’d be damned if she’d pass along Gabe’s message, at least not until she figured out what the hell it was all about.
The Girl in the Box
She didn’t remember him returning, but he had to have been there. Her arms were freed again. Still lying in the thick blackness of her prison, she is surprised to finally feel warm wet tears sliding down the sides of her face. She swipes the tears and sticks her finger in her mouth, craving the salt as badly as the water. She takes a deep breath and begins to explore the space again. This time she reaches over her head and feels around the other side of the space.
Oh my God! Water bottles! She feels like a freaking idiot. All she had to do was keep searching. Her fingers find something cold and squishy—has to be water—but in a thick plastic bag? She grabs it and tries to bring it back around to her face, but she can’t. It is stuck. It bounces right back to whatever it is attached to and will not separate. She thinks about getting her mouth to the water instead and tries to twist around, but finds she’s in such a difficult position, she can’t do that either. She wants the water so badly. She pulls again and again at the flexible bag-like object, but it will not come loose. She can’t do it. She can’t get the water!
Somebody, help! Somebody help me, please! She prays over and over again, not having enough energy to even try to scream or even talk anymore.
She could have to live days in this cold, dark hole—someone had put her there. But if he wanted her alive, he must not have planned the water right, because she can’t get to it. She feels she is dying of thirst, and she also feels drugged, not in full control of herself. Finally finding her voice, she screams until her throat feels hot and raw, and slowly allows herself to fade back into oblivion.
CHAPTER 8
I could care less if that son of a bitch ever calls me again. He’s a user, Gabby thought to herself as she walked home from work. Four weeks had passed and Gabe still hadn’t called to apologize or explain what the hell happened on her birthday, and she refused to call him first.
She never did give Mark his message. She was afraid of what Mark would say. Would he already know Gabe took her virginity? The two of them probably planned the whole thing, laughing about it over beers at Mark’s bar. I don’t care. I hope they both rot in hell. Mark probably thought he was giving me a helluva birthday present.
Since Mark had wiggled his way into their home, things were getting progressively worse. Even Emma had seemed out of sorts for the past week or so. Lately, when Gabby got home from work, she’d frequently found Emma just lying on her bed, quietly holding her stuffie instead of running around the apartment or outside playing with her two friends. Gabby wondered if Emma was just going through a growth spurt that was wearing her out. She was still a growing girl, and Gabby could remember her and Olivia having terrible growing pains when they were younger, even taking turns rubbing each other’s legs. Maybe that’s all it was, Gabby hoped.
Mark and Mom seem to be doing fine—too good actually. Instead of Gabby preparing something to eat for Mom when she came home from her late shift, it was usually Mark now who got her food ready. Always trying to impress Mom with a covered plate of home-cooked food, like he was Paula-friggin-Deen or something.
At least Emma was eating good food now too, instead of the frozen dinners or mac-n-cheese Gabby usually cooked in a rush. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook; it was just cheaper and faster to cook a frozen dinner than to cook a whole meal, and so until Mark came along, they usually went that route. He didn’t have anything to do all day anyway, except pick up Emma and help with her homework, so she let him do it. Whatever. She’d go back to cooking for Mom and Emma herself, and this time she’d find a way to cook real food. I’ll be glad to—if he’d just leave, Gabby thought.
Gabby walked up the steps to their apartment door and turned the knob. It was locked. That was strange at 4:30 in the afternoon. She dug through her purse and found her key. Just as she swung open the door, she saw Mark making tracks down the hall toward Mom’s room, hustling along with his long gait. Good, Gabby thought. Maybe he’ll stay in there.
She tossed her bag on the couch and was headed into the kitchen to get something to drink when she saw her—Emma, under the table, looking like a frightened kitten. She had on a T-shirt and was squatted in the middle of all six chairs with the shirt stretched down over her knees, barely covering her ankles, her arms wrapped around her legs. She was just staring straight ahead with her big eyes—almost frozen in place without blinking—seeming oblivious to Gabby or anything else.
“Emma, what’re you doing under there, silly?” Gabby asked her.
She didn’t answer; she just kept gazing straight ahead like she didn’t even see Gabby.
“Emma, I’m talking to you, munchkin. What are you doing under the table? Are you and Mark playing hide-n-seek?”
Emma finally, ever so slowly, like some kind of scary freakin’ doll in a movie, turned her head and looked toward Gabby. “No. We’re playing hide-the-panties, Gabby,” she said in a whisper.
Oh my God, Gabby thought. She jerked one of the heavy chairs away and crawled under the table with Emma and gently lifted up her shirt. Yep, no panties. Emma just sat there, offering no resistance to the invasion of her nakedness. She looked traumatized. Gabby couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. She’d watched enough sappy Lifetime movies to know the signs. That’s why Emma had been so weird lately: quiet, subdued, and not playing with her friends.
“Emma, come here, sweetie,” Gabby whispered to her. Her throat was already tightening and she forced back the hot tears. Emma needed someone strong.
Gabby backed out from their old claw-foot table that had stood protectively over Emma and held out her arms. Emma crawled out and wrapped herself around Gabby, burying her face in her big sister’s shoulder, but not crying. It was as if she were numb, no emotion showing at all. The poor thing, she hasn’t let me hold her like this since she was about three years old, when me and Olivia still liked to play house and take turns pretending Emma was our own baby.
“Emma, did Mark hurt you?” Gabby hesitantly asked. She was afraid to hear the answer.
“No,” Emma said in her little girl voice, sounding like she was three years old again. “But he won’t let me have my snack or play with my friends after school unless I play the game with him first, and I don’t want to play that anymore.”
“Come on, we’re getting out of here right now,” Gabby said, the anger building, as she stood up and grabbed her purse. She headed for the door, holding one hand behind her, expecting Emma to grab onto it. When she didn’t feel a hand grab her own, Gabby turned around to find Emma just standing there, pulling down on the T-shirt, trying to cover herself. Shit. I forgot she doesn’t have on any panties or pants! Well, they couldn’t stay there; Mark was bound to come out of the bedroom any time. A
nd they couldn’t go get her any clothes. Their bedroom door was directly across from Mom’s room, where Mark was. Gabby had an idea.
“Emma, do you know where your panties are hidden?” Gabby whispered.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
“Then why didn’t you just go get them?”
“Because they’re under the couch. Right in the middle. But every time I find them, Mark is always standing behind me, watching. He takes them away again and puts them somewhere else, where I can see him, and makes me get them again—over and over,” she whispered.
That bastard is purposely putting them where she’ll have to bend over to get them, so he can have his own mini-peep show with his sick game. Gabby walked over to the couch and reached under and there they were, right where Emma said they would be. Gabby gave them to Emma and she put them on and they marched out the door. Gabby thought about knocking on the door straight across from theirs. They’d watched a cop move in just last week and their doors were literally three feet apart, but then Gabby considered Mom may want to handle it herself, especially since they hadn’t yet met their new neighbor. So Gabby led Emma to the next building over, where Gabby’s friend Angie lived. They weren’t going back home until Mom got there sometime after midnight.
When Mom did get home, Gabby planned to tell her everything. Now she could finally explain to Mom the reason she didn’t like Mark. He was a sick, perverted psycho. Gabby felt justified that her feelings about him were right on target. Something had just always seemed off about Mark. Now that she had proof, Mom was going to rip him apart. She’d probably—hopefully—have him arrested and put away, and he deserved it.
“If you got a problem with him, you can get the fuck out of my house. How dare you accuse Mark of something so sick! I ought to beat your ass!” Mom screamed at Gabby at the top of her lungs, while Emma slowly backed up behind her big sister. They were still standing outside on the sidewalk in front of their apartment building, for the whole world to hear, including their new neighbor, the cop. Gabby hoped and prayed he was asleep. If he heard, he’d think they were just white trash before ever meeting them, with the way Mom screamed at her kids in the middle of the night out on the sidewalk.
Gabby could feel Emma start to crumble, hearing her quick intake of breath followed by a whimper. It had never occurred to either of them Mom wouldn’t believe what happened. Gabby tried to keep her voice quiet and said, “Mom, I’m not making it up. I swear that’s exactly what happened. Emma was under the table with her panties off and she looked scared to death. At Angie’s she told me he didn’t touch her—yet. But if he’s playing that sick game, how can you trust him with Emma?” Gabby argued.
“You’re just jealous. You can’t stand that I have a boyfriend and you don’t, Gabby. You couldn’t keep yours happy so he dumped you. Now you want mine gone too! You haven’t liked Mark since the day you met him—and for no good reason. I’ve spent the best years of my life raising you kids, and it’s my turn now. If you don’t like him, you can find someplace else to live,” she said and walked up the stairs, letting herself into the apartment.
“Mom! What about Emma?” Gabby yelled up in disbelief, not knowing what to do. Mark was in there, and he’d probably been standing above them on the balcony hearing their accusation, with that stupid sneer stretching ear to ear as Mom defended him.
Mom stepped back out the door, looking down the stairs at them. She looked defeated, the anger having fallen from her face.
“Gabby, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. And Emma, I’ll talk to you tomorrow and find out what the hell you’re talking nonsense about. I love you girls, but I love Mark too. I can’t deal with any more drama tonight. I’m so tired,” she said while trying to peek around Gabby to see Emma. Giving up, she turned around and walked back into the apartment.
Gabby couldn’t believe it. Mom was going to just walk away to snuggle up next to that monster and pretend this didn’t happen so she wouldn’t lose her precious boyfriend.
Gabby didn’t think she’d really kick her out; she had nowhere to go. Mom would never throw out one of her own kids. She talked a tough game, but she was soft inside when it came to her girls. Plus, Dad had moved out of state almost right after the separation, and no one had heard from him since, so that wasn’t an option. Gabby and Billy didn’t get along at all, and Olivia’s place was too small anyway. Anyway, Gabby knew she couldn’t leave Emma behind with that freak still there. She wished Olivia was here to help her figure things out.
Gabby grabbed Emma’s hand.
“Come on, Emma. We’ll go in and walk straight to bed. If he’s still up, just don’t look at him or speak to him, no matter what he says to us, okay?” Gabby whispered. Emma slowly nodded her agreement, looking scared to death. They quietly went up the stairs, pausing at the top step just before the open door to listen for him. When Gabby didn’t hear anything, they went in and tiptoed to their bedroom.
“Gabby, can I sleep up there with you?” Emma whispered.
“Of course you can, munchkin. Come on.”
Gabby helped Emma up to the top bunk, where she immediately curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees and facing the wall. Gabby wrapped her arms around her sister and nuzzled the top of her head.
“It’s going to be okay, Emma. You’ll see. Mom is just too tired to understand what I was telling her. She’ll take care of it in the morning. You just go to sleep and don’t worry about it,” Gabby whispered in her ear.
Snuggled up to Emma, Gabby stroked her hair until her breaths came fewer and further in between, and Gabby knew she was finally asleep.
Gabby lay thinking back over the night. It seemed surreal. She had truly thought Mom would immediately throw the stinking pedophile out and put everything back the way it was—but obviously not. They say love is blind, but damn! Mom’s not stupid. She knows we wouldn’t make up something like that. It must be that she’s tired and overwhelmed and needs to think about how she’ll handle it. It couldn’t be she was scared of Mark. Hell, Mom’s tough as nails. She held her own with Dad for years and now works a job mostly held by men, Gabby thought. Mom had always seemed ten foot tall and bulletproof. That’s got to be it, Gabby thought. She just needs to sleep on it, get her strength back, and tomorrow she’ll put her boot in his ass.
The smell of bacon and eggs drifted around Gabby’s head. She sniffed, and then sneezed as she pulled her nose out of Emma’s hair. Shit. Mark was up and cooking breakfast—Mom never cooked anymore. Gabby wondered if she’d told him yet that they’d tattled on him last night, or if he’d heard for himself. Gabby didn’t want to face him and definitely didn’t want Emma to have to. She crawled out of the bunk quietly, trying not to wake Emma, and peeked out the door to see if Mom was up. She couldn’t see around to the kitchen and didn’t hear anybody talking. She quietly shut the door and sat on the bottom bunk, thinking. We’ll just wait in here. When Mom gets up, she’ll come looking for them after she throws his ass out, Gabby thought. Meanwhile, Gabby’s stomach was rumbling and grumbling at the smell of bacon frying. She loved the smell of bacon, and lately her appetite had been monstrous.
“Girls,” Mom yelled. She was up. Gabby heard steps coming down the hall toward their room. Mom poked her head in—smiling. “Come on, we got breakfast!”
We? As in me, her, and Emma have breakfast? Or “we” as in her and Mark have made us breakfast? Gabby thought but wasn’t brave enough to ask, after Mom freaked out last night.
“Mom, what about Emma?”
“What about her? Get her up. She needs to eat breakfast too.” Mom turned around and walked back toward the kitchen.
What the hell? Gabby thought. Mom’s voice sounded completely normal. She didn’t seem sad or mad. What was going on? Maybe Mom had already thrown him out and had gotten up and cooked for them to make up for last night. That thought got Gabby moving faster.
Gabby stood up and pulled the covers off Emma, and tickled under her kneecaps, her most ticklish spot.
“Come on, Emma, we got to go eat.”
Emma’s body went rigid as her eyes popped open. “Don’t Gabby! Don’t do that!” She yanked the covers over her legs, glaring at Gabby, her hair all mussed up and lips pouting. This was the same tickle spot Gabby and Olivia had attacked all Emma’s life since the day she was brought home from the hospital. Usually she loved it and would scream for mercy, then beg for more. Mom is definitely going to freak out when she hears Emma’s tickle spot is off limits for the first time—ever. That’s a dead giveaway that something’s been going on, Gabby thought.
“It’s okay, Emma. You know I would never hurt you. I’ve always tickled you there. But if you don’t want to be tickled, I won’t tickle you anymore. Okay?” Gabby said very softly. “But we got to get up and going or Mama’s gonna come back in here mad that breakfast is getting cold.”
Emma crawled out of the blankets and Gabby helped her down off the bed. She stood sleepily rubbing her eyes, so Gabby pulled a pair of sweatpants over her legs, grabbing her hand to get her going. They walked toward the kitchen, Emma trailing behind.
When Gabby laid eyes on the table, she couldn’t believe it. Mark sat at the head of their table like he was king of the castle—as if!—with the table covered with plates of cheesy eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, jelly, and a vase of fake flowers—obviously that the cheap ass had picked up from the gas station—sitting right in the middle of the table. He was smiling like a mule eating briars. Gabby wanted to slap that smile off of his face. She stood there staring into his evil eyes with Emma behind her.
Mom broke the spell by walking by and thumping Gabby upside the head—hard.
“Where’s your manners, Gabby? Can’t you see the trouble Mark went to for us to have a nice breakfast? Sit your ass down and appreciate it.”
Gabby walked around the table so Emma wouldn’t have to, and Emma slowly slid into the chair Gabby had been standing in front of. She wouldn’t look at Mark—or Mom. She wouldn’t even look at Gabby.