by K Larsen
“We lost all the chickens, Lotte. There’s no meat, no eggs for the rest of winter because you forgot to latch the enclosure.”
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammer. Holden sets me down. His whole body vibrates with fury. I have never messed up this badly before.
“Don’t touch her!” Nora screams. The sound is desperate. Like Nora is on the cusp of something she won’t come back from. Holden and I both look at her.
“You are not the master of this house, Nora.” His green eyes blaze malice. Before I know what’s happening, I’m knocked to the floor with such force, my head snaps back, hitting the floorboards and everything goes black.
Nora
When I wake, I am alone in Holden’s bedroom. There is a moment of peace when I first open my eyes. A moment where reality hasn’t set in. I am free. I am Nora. Then, the moment is gone. I am Holden’s. I have not seen Lotte since he let me out. I have not heard her little voice either. Unsure what to do, I lay in the bed and stare at the ceiling.
“Time to get up, sleepyhead.” Holden’s voice startles me. I curl into a ball. “Nope. There are chores to do. Gotta get up.” He grabs my arm and pulls. I sit up sharply and yank my arm away. Holden seems offended by this. He stomps from the room and returns with a laundry basket of clothes. He drops the basket at my feet. “You’re on laundry duty.”
He leaves me and the laundry promptly. When I hear the cabin door slap shut, I stand. Something heavy pulls at my foot. There is a cuff around my ankle with a chain attached to it. Am I supposed to pretend it’s business as usual? Is this some sort of sick prank? Leaving the basket, I walk into the living room. The chain dragging behind me. I pick up the slack in my hand and yank. It’s attached somewhere in the bedroom. I walk outside. Holden is nowhere to be found. It reaches the well but that is as far as it goes. I look around. Everything looks the same. Beauty. Nature. Peace. But I can’t appreciate any of it. I go into my old room. Nothing is there. Frowning, I head back into the house and straight to Holden’s room. Next to the laundry basket on the floor, my books are stacked. I yank open a drawer in the dresser. My clothes are folded neatly inside.
I scream.
The tree Lotte sits in is covered by a rampant, bright green vine. I square my shoulders and tilt my chin in feigned strength of mind as I approach. I drop the laundry pile at the base of the wash bin. Using the washboard and a pre-allotted amount of detergent, I start scrubbing.
“I can help,” Lotte says. I ignore her. “Please, Nora. I’m sorry.” The chain at my ankle clanks and I flinch at the sound. I am tired. Holden makes me sleep in his bed each night. He does not touch me. But I cannot sleep knowing he is so close.
“You knew,” I spit. Lotte jumps down from her branch and kneels next to me.
Her voice is low and fast. “I knew. I am sorry. What could I do to stop it?”
I look to her, incredulous. “You could have told me before. Long before. I could have waited until a trip in town and run. I could have gone to the police.”
Lotte looks like she might laugh. “No. It wouldn’t have worked. I know. I’ve been here a long time.”
“Been here? Of course. He’s your brother. Where else would you have been?”
She schools her features and looks away. “I am sorry, Nora, but we can figure out how to get away. You and me.”
“You want to leave your family?”
She sighs. “Wouldn’t you?” she says into the wind.
The late summer sun comes up and goes back down. My sore feet protest as they carry me across the yard. The ropes from the buckets of water, rub my palms raw. I keep my eyes on the porch. The goal. Keep your eye on the prize, Aubry always said. When I reach it, water sloshes over the top of the buckets in a mini waterfall. The door squeaks open and small feet appear before me.
“Whatever he says, just do it.” Confusion is nothing new at this point but I don’t see how Lotte has survived here. I nod to her. She’s doing what she can. It’s written in her posture, her voice and her expression. The chain shackled to my ankle rubs the skin raw. It allows me from the cabin to the well and the wash basin. “My name is Nora,” I whisper to no one. My skirt sways against my slender calves. Lotte carries in one bucket of water, sets it on the woodstove and immediately clings to my skirt, like a toddler. I place a hand on the back of her neck, two fingers wrap to the spot where her pulse thumps. Her inhale is audible. Knowing she lives, knowing I am alive—it soothes her. She is not the enemy. She needs protection, too.
I am simply a maid. I do what Holden demands. My body aches. My vision blurs frequently. He doesn’t feed me enough. I am fatigued and weak most days.
For weeks, I am nothing but a slave. I do all the household chores. He dresses me each morning and undresses me each night. He does not touch me but some nights I can feel his erection pressed against my backside in bed. He prepares us for winter, he says, because it takes a lot to survive. I don’t know if I will. He says it will take all fall to get ready. I don’t think I will be here that long.
When I protest a chore, I am punished. Today, I refused to be his pawn. I refused his request and now Holden stands behind me, when I try and turn to see him, I feel the sharp bite of his belt against my buttocks. A plate dropped from my hand and broke in the sink. Holden was not pleased about it. The sting of the lash tells me just how angry he is with me. I feel his hand caressing my bare backside in tender strokes. Then the bite of the belt again. I flinch and grit my teeth with each lash. Tears stream down my face. First the sting, then the tender caress. It hurts. “Stop squirming or I won’t stop.”
“Why?” I sob.
“Pain is my pleasure, Nora.”
“This is sick! Twisted and vicious. Violent,” I yell. The belt cracks against my skin.
“You.” he whips me again. “Will.” And again. I squeal in pain. “Learn.” Again with the belt. No more caresses. “To need it.”
The last crack against my skin makes my vision blur and go white. Sounds distort, a ringing in my ears and I pass out. It’s not until a cool washcloth is pressed against my burning backside, that I realize what truly petrified me. I covet his attention—good or bad. It is strange to live with two people but not really interact. I am alone, despite people near. Holden keeps Charlotte and me separated often. I crave interaction. I crave Holden’s attention. He is the only other adult in this isolated homestead. It is wrong and I know it but it is necessary. Without interaction, I feel the beginnings of my mind slipping away.
Dr. Richardson
“So you did know what he was doing was wrong.” I state. I make a quick note on my pad. Exhibits normal coping behaviors in retelling. Cognizant of right and wrong. Was aware of altering mental state.
“Of course. I am not stupid.” Her eyes are cold. Her glare irritated, as she watches me.
“If you knew it was wrong, why are you protecting him?”
“It’s not a matter of right or wrong,” she says. “It’s a matter of brain versus heart.”
“Can you elaborate on that at all?”
Nora snaps her gaze to mine and I feel pinned to my seat. She is no pushover, yet she was a victim.
“What messes us up most in life is the image in our head of what love is supposed to look like.”
I cock an eyebrow and narrow my gaze. “So, you love him?”
Nora does not answer but her eyes give her away. She does, indeed, love Holden Douglas.
“At that moment, did you love him? When he treated you that way?” I ask.
She hesitates. A small frown turns the corners of her mouth down.
“No. It was strange. I was falling for him during the summer, and then he kept me and I hated him. But then . . .”
“Then what, Nora?” I push.
“Then I had to survive. I had to switch tactics. And in that shift, the tables turned.”
“I’d like to know more about you switching tactics.”
“Okay.”
“What tables turned?” I ask.
“I figured out how to gain some independence. We all have demons. I simply chose to feed mine in order to survive.”
Nora
I am reading to Lotte. I was good this week. Now I am allowed to read to her after dinner most nights. There isn’t much time after cooking, watching them eat, finally being allowed to eat myself and then cleaning up all the dinner dishes but I covet my time with her. The leaves have started to lose their vibrant green and soon will begin turning.
“I’m leaving, Lotte,” I whisper.
She grips my hand firmly. “Take me with you.”
I look her in the eyes. “I want to.”
“You can’t leave me here.”
There are boot clunks near her door. “And then the princess fell into a deep sleep . . .” Lotte squeezes my hand, when it is safe to speak again. “He said he’s going hunting tomorrow. I am going to run for help.” Lotte’s eyes well with tears and my heart breaks a little for her. “You can be brave for me, right?”
“Why can’t I go with you?” she asks.
“I have a better chance of making it alone, Lotte. The terrain is too rough for you to be safe.”
“Enough.” Holden’s voice cuts through the solid wood bedroom door.
“Coming,” I call back. “Goodnight,” I whisper to her. I kiss Lotte’s forehead and rush to Holden. In the living room, he motions for me to sit next to him. I do.
He looks me up and down. “How was your day?”
“Could have been better,” I say quietly.
“Is that attitude?” I shake my head no and clamp my mouth shut. “Nora, I want to give you everything.” His finger trails down my exposed arm. “Why can’t you let me?”
“Let you?” I seethe. “You kidnapped me.”
Holden’s eyes grow stormy, as if I have affronted him with my words. He treats me like a dog and he should know that hungry dogs are never loyal. All this time, I treated him like the cure, when he was the poison. How could I have been so stupid to fall for him before? I hate myself for thinking it feels naughty and forbidden, even to be sitting here with him alone. It is probably both. My breathing grows ragged under his glare.
“I think you are ungrateful.” I laugh. Because what else is there to do at his words? He backhands me quickly. Spittle flings from my mouth. When my gaze meets his, it is murderous. He stands and lifts me easily in his arms. He kisses me, hard and hungry. I hate him. I bite his tongue. He carries me outside and throws me in the box. Splinters lodge in my knees, as I skid on the floor. He slams the door shut. I pound on it but it does not give way.
“I’m sorry, Holden. Forgive me,” I scream. “I will do whatever you want.” His footfalls still. I can hear his labored breathing.
“Whatever I want?” he calls out. My eyes go wide. No, I think. But I say, “Yes.” The door swings open, one arm shoots in, grabs me and wrenches me into the cool night air. He leans his forehead against mine. I tremble. Holden isn’t affected at all by my fear. “I want to give you pleasure, Nora.” His words shoot icy daggers of fear down my arms. We have not been intimate since the night before he locked me away. A dampness forms between my legs, regardless of my brain screaming no, no, no at me. My body still remembers the way Holden made me feel before. He shakes me like a rag doll. My hair flies around my face. “Still willing to do anything?” he asks.
I swallow thickly, look him square in the eye and nod. He lays me down right there in the grass in front of the cabin. His hands and mouth jump across my skin, leaving a slimy feeling wherever they touch. I stare at the stars and try to transport myself anyplace but here as he finishes and collapses on top of me, like a load of bricks.
When I wake, it is a beautiful day. I do my morning chores and make sure Lotte is okay before I wander into the woods. Holden was out before the sunrise. Gone hunting. Normally, I would pause to enjoy the splendor surrounding me. But not today. My heart revs from steady to overdrive, forcing me to slow my breath and listen to the wind whispering in the trees. Tense seconds pass. I took a chance leaving the cabin. But there is no movement near me. Only silence. Standing, I look up the trail into the dense brush. Nothing.
Dusk is closing in; soon it will be dark. His boots crunch the earth. The sound echoes. I take another step. I do not know where I am. Somewhere behind me, Holden starts laughing. His voice makes the laughter sound like it’s coming from a monster. The primitive need to survive takes control of my muscles and before I am aware of what I’m doing, I am sprinting. The canopy shatters fast—dropping light into glittering shards. A chipmunk skitters close to my foot and ducks into a hole. My knees are buckling, but I grab branches and exposed roots to steady myself. I am the prey. Holden the hunter.
“It’s very easy to become disoriented in the forest. People forget, you don’t walk in a straight line. There are thickets and fallen trees to skirt around, ridges to cross, and you can’t count on the sun or moon, because they’re often too hard to see through the canopy or when it’s cloudy.” Holden’s voice is close. I try to keep as still as possible but I don’t feel like I’m getting enough oxygen. I need to breathe deeply. “Deep in the woods, like this, everything starts to look the same. You think you know where you are, but you’re probably wrong.”
While he talks, I try to move. Hoping he can’t hear me over the sound of his own voice. I trip on a lump of stone and shrub. Sunlight flashes between trees and blinds me. My ankle snaps. The pain fills every space in my body. I lay on the ground, breathing hard. I turn my head. The view is different from the forest floor. Holden steps into view. My hope snaps like a rubber band. Fear billows out in its place, making me woozy.
I realize I’m cornered by a hunter and have no way to escape. Something flashes in Holden’s eyes. Something harder, gruffer than normal. I recognize the look. I have crossed a line. Anger rolls off him in waves. He lifts me with ease and marches us to a clearing where his truck is parked. He throws me at the passenger door. His hands encircle my neck. Green eyes blaze into mine, and his fingers tighten. I fight for air. I cannot speak to tell him I can’t breathe. Panic seizes me. He squeezes tighter and my vision blurs, white spots moving over his face. His arms tighten and I am sure this is it.
Holden closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them, they are clear again. “You should not have tried to leave.” His voice makes tears prick my eyes. He releases me with a shove. I open the truck door and climb in. I will not cry, though. I will show no weakness. Holden drives like the devil is after us, and I cling to the door handle. He is breathing hard and grips the steering wheel, like he is strangling it. Like he wishes it were me.
He carries me in from the truck and throws me on the couch. The bounce makes my ankle throb. He lifts my leg and inspects my injury.
“Will it heal right?” I ask. My voice threatens to crack but I manage to keep it even.
“I’m not a doctor. I haven’t been to medical school; I haven’t even been to high school.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
“I need to splint it.” He gently sets my ankle down and kisses my knee cap. I recoil from his advance. I rub at my throat. The skin still tender from Holden’s hands. He brings over a box and sets it on the floor. After splinting my ankle, he pushes my chest until I am leaning against the back of the couch. He places his arms on either side of my shoulders and bends down. He kisses each tender fingerprint bruise along my neck. A necklace of kisses.
“When will you learn, Nora? I only want to pleasure you. You keep making me punish you. You will never earn free will this way,” he whispers in my ear.
Hope blooms in my chest at the word freedom. I can earn my freedom. My brain goes haywire with thoughts.
“Free will is like butterfly wings: once touched, they can never fly again. I don’t want that. I want to pull my own strings. You aren’t really giving me free will. I have choices but only within the confines of your rules.”
“How is free will different away from here? Are there not laws? Rules at home?”
“Is this a test?” I ask.
“Isn’t everything?” he says and stands.
I wrinkle my brow. “Are we negotiating?”
“Always. I want you to be compliant.”
I lift my chin and bolster what is left of my confidence. “Then I have wants.”
He grins at me in a way that makes my insides cold. “Tell me.”
“I want . . . to go home.”
“No.”
I bite my bottom lip before trying again. “I want to go to town with you.”
“No.” I scramble for another option. My brain is foggy with pain and exhaustion.
“I want it to be like it was before. I want freedom during the days like before. To wander, to play with Lotte, to swim and teach and learn. I want an hour alone in my room every evening.”
Holden grins wolfishly. “Okay.”
I wilt in relief but soon anger washes over me. My hands clench into fists. “You played me, it was a test.”
Holden does not answer. He smirks before pushing off the wall and striding away. I dig my nails into my palms. It’s a small victory—the independence he’s agreed to but it wasn’t really a victory, if he was going to allow it anyhow.
Lotte
I laugh, whirling myself around the room, twirling to the music. I shake my bottom and wave my arms around. Some days I don’t have any idea how I’ll get through it but every single day here I am. Pushing toward the next. And this room, it has a radio on the alarm clock. I turn it up as loud as it will go when Holden leaves. I can’t reach the doorknob and no one ever seems to hear me screaming or the music. But I dance anyway. I listen to the weather and the news and the songs and I hold on for just a little longer. I recite my times tables to stay sharp and I read the one magazine Holden brought home with him the other day. Soon, I will see Eve and soon, I will be free. And it makes my chest swell with hope. I don’t need to try to escape because Holden is going to set me free.