by Jo Cassidy
Rubbing my arms, I stood and went over to the window, peering up at the morning sun. The first time Daddy let me go outside after he first brought me to his house was magical. The warmth on my skin caused a smile to explode across my face. I never knew I could miss something so much until then. I'd forgotten how much I liked to be outside – running, playing, and chasing butterflies.
I'd taken it all for granted before then. If I earned Daddy's trust, then I could go outside more. So I did everything he asked of me. Those fleeting moments outside since then, I wrapped up and held close to my heart. Each one was poured out into a journal.
When Daddy let me move to a bedroom, he kept me locked in the room when he wasn't home or while I slept. A year or so ago, he started letting me stay out of my room on the weekends if he went to run short errands. He'd turn on the alarms so they would trigger if I tried to escape. Those were the times I got to cook. Those were the times I cherished.
But when I first made the move to the bedroom and I was locked up tight, I needed an outlet. I never had one when I was locked in the basement.
So I started snatching up pieces of papers that I found lying around the house. In the middle of the night, I'd draw my feelings using the moonlight to see the pages. If I sat in the perfect spot, I’d see my shadow aligned with the shadow of the bars from the window, trapping me in.
Every hiding spot I could find was used to stash the papers, but I knew eventually I'd run out of places to store my life. Every single piece of paper was a piece of my heart. They were the only things that were truly mine. Something I never wanted Daddy to find or be able to take away from me.
After a while, random pages weren't enough. I grew older and learned to write. It was easier to fill up a few pages every night. With drawings added to the end of each entry, I needed something else. So I learned how to steal.
Once a month, Daddy would let me go with him to get groceries. He always went to different stores to not draw attention to us. They were long trips since we got all our groceries for the whole month in that one outing, so I used the excuse of having to use the bathroom every time. My route was mapped out. Down the candy aisle to snatch a chocolate bar. Then over to the stationary to take a pen and journal. I stuffed them anywhere I could. My pants, shirt, and jacket. I became a master at camouflage and diverting Daddy's gaze to anywhere but me at the store. I didn’t relish the thought of stealing, but I needed to release my emotions. It was for the benefit of our family staying together.
With all the journals, I needed a better hiding place. On one trip to the store, I stole a utility knife. At night, when Daddy was sound asleep, I went into my closet and cut a journal size opening in the drywall. I'd been shoving them in there ever since. If someone were to tear down the wall in my room, dozens of journals would pour out. My life would be at their feet.
If I could become a master at stealing, I could become a master of espionage. All it took was practice and a lot of patience.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red piece of fabric stuffed behind one of the metal shelves against the wall. I went to it, pulling it out. A smile spread on my face.
"Sally."
My year of solitude in the basement had been lonely. So I’d created a friend. I had torn a piece of a shirt Daddy had given me and used it for the dress. A search of the basement had landed me some duct tape, an old rusted wrench, and some green and yellow electrical wiring. Using the duct tape, I stuck the red dress to the wrench. Then I’d created hair with the wiring and duct taped it on as well.
For being so old, Sally was still in decent condition. I stroked her yellow and green hair. I kept my voice low so Daddy wouldn’t hear me. "Hey, Sally.” I went back to my mattress and sat down. "So, I have a bit of a problem." I held her so she faced me. "Someone took one of my journals."
"Oh dear," Sally said, her voice hoarse from lack of use. I was grateful that, just like Noah, Daddy couldn’t hear her. But Sally did a better job of staying quiet when Daddy was around. He also didn’t know about her.
"Oh dear, indeed." I shivered from the chill in the basement, and my shirt that was still damp.
Sally's non-existent eyes stared at me. "Do you know who took it?"
Shaking my head, I continued to stroke her wire hair. "I'm trying to figure it out. There are a few options."
"You need to find the thief and the journal."
"I know. I've made a list of suspects."
"If your father finds out, one of two things will happen."
I tilted my head to the side. "What?"
Her metal body felt cold against my skin. "You'll become my permanent roommate down here, or he'll kill you."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "You don't really think he'd kill me, do you?" The thought had crossed my mind a few times over the years, but I didn’t think Daddy capable of going through with it. He loved me too much.
She chuckled, the sound almost strained. "Of course he would. He can't have the truth revealed. He'd need to hide all the evidence."
"Including me," I whispered.
"Including you."
Coldness surrounded me, causing my entire body to tremble. "I don't think I'm ready to die." Death had been a tempting option in the past, as a way out, but I’d come to love my life in a twisted way.
"Then fix your problem."
I frowned at her. "How? I'm stuck here in the basement. I can't even follow any of the suspects." Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the cement wall. "Even if I were out of the basement, I couldn't follow them. Daddy keeps me locked up."
"School."
"I'm not sure that will be enough." A single tear slid down my cheek and instead of wiping it away like I normally did, I left it. Daddy wasn't there to stop me.
"You need an ally. Someone who can look into it for you outside of school."
My eyes shot open. "Sally! Are you crazy? I can't tell anyone my secret. That's the whole point of getting the journal back; so no one ever finds out." The thought of confiding my abduction to another human being downright terrified me. They would turn me in. They would call the police. Daddy would go to jail. My safety would be unraveled, and I would be thrown out into the cold, cruel world. People left you out there. Abandoned you. Broke your heart into a million little pieces and scattered them through the air so everyone could blow them farther away.
Her tone held a hint of annoyance. "Cora, you don't have to tell them what's inside the journal, only that it means a lot to you and you need it back."
"They'll ask why I can't do it myself. I have no excuse. I can't tell them it's because Daddy locks me up when he's not home." How could she not understand that?
Sally began to hum while she thought. I hummed along with her. Who would I even ask? The only plausible answer was Jenna. She knew I kept a journal and knew how important it was to me. Jenna would want me to get it back – unless she had been the one who’d stolen it.
Sally broke the silence. "Tell them that you're afraid people won't open up to you. They might be more honest with someone else."
"That's good," I said, tapping my fingers along her side. "I can start with that."
The lock on the basement door grinded open. Taking Sally, I stuffed her under the horrid excuse of a mattress, glad that she wouldn’t be able to smell all the stale sweat and urine. "Sorry, Sally, nothing personal," I whispered.
She sighed. "I'm used to it."
Daddy's boots clomped down the basement stairs. He held a bowl and water bottle. Dark folds of skin were under his eyes. He hadn't slept. "Here's your meal for the day." Daddy set the bowl next to my feet. Oatmeal.
"There's no spoon," I whispered.
The thunderstorms began in his eyes. "You obviously don't know how to treat utensils. How could I trust you not to ruin it?" He threw the water bottle into my lap. "I hope you've had time to think about your grave mistake."
My hands gripped the bottle. "I have." A little fraction of me hoped he would reduce my sentence, but he'd never do
ne it before.
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Same time." Daddy remained in front of me. My eyes slowly raised from his old, brown workman boots. His breathing sped up, raspy and broken. His shaking, callused hands landed on his belt – his favorite weapon to use against me.
Setting the water bottle next to me, I stood, wanting to get the lashings over and done. I turned my back to him and rested my hands against the cement wall. The heat flaring inside me dulled the chill of the wall against my palms.
The belt flapped against his waist as he drew it out. My body tensed at the sound and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
I am strong. I am brave.
The sting of the first lashing against my back pushed bile up my throat. My fingernails dug into the cement, creating a small layer of dust on my fingers. I put my hands in the same spot every time. The wall had slowly broken over the years, creating little divots for me to hold onto. A very small comfort during the horrendous ordeal.
"You need to be obedient!" Daddy roared.
Each strike burned hotter on my back.
I am strong. I am brave.
A cry from the pain left my mouth after the fourth lashing. I'd held it in for as long as I could.
"Little girls need to show their parents respect!"
My tears gave way at the fifth. Daddy's labored breathing grew intense. His belt went into the air, ready for another strike.
I am strong. I am brave.
The strike never came. He lowered his arm and left me alone in the basement.
Dropping to my knees, I covered my face with my hands and held in my screams. Some tiny miracle stopped him after only five lashings. It was the smallest amount of gratitude I'd had in years.
Chapter 10
When Daddy finally released me, there was only one day of school left for the week. He hadn’t struck me again. Just the once for the punishment. My back stung a little, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t manage. I’d been through it before. Having my shirt between the belt and my skin helped. Besides, Daddy always ended up feeling bad and would rub cream on my back to soothe the pain.
I'd told everyone at school I'd caught a nasty bug and needed to stay quarantined at home. They immediately dropped the subject after that.
I paused in the doorway of my French class. Jenna was already in her seat, talking to the girl in front of her. Her color for the day was yellow, and I couldn’t help but smile. She even had a yellow ribbon intertwined with her fancy braid. The fact that she had skinny jeans and tennis shoes in every color imaginable blew my mind. Her parents probably had a hard time saying no to her and her contagious smile.
With a deep breath, I finally went into the classroom and took my seat.
"I thought you were going out of town?" Jenna asked. Her eyes held a decent amount of hurt, which contrasted with her vibrant yellow eye shadow.
"We leave after school." I hated to see her sad, so I quickly placed a present on her desk.
Her eyes lit up, all the sadness drifting away. "You didn't have to get me anything!" She placed her hand on the package. "Oh, who am I kidding? I love presents!" Her fingers trailed the wrapping. "This is so cool! You must have put so much work into it."
I didn't have access to wrapping paper at home. Daddy kept it hidden. Every year he gave me one gift for my birthday. Santa brought me one for Christmas. Daddy didn't know it, but I saved all the scraps I could. For Jenna's present, I taped all the pieces together, creating a patchwork of paper.
The huge smile on her face made one equally as big break out on mine. "It fit you. A bunch of little, beautiful moments put together to create a masterpiece."
Happy tears pooled in her eyes as she got up from her desk and hugged me. “You’re the best, Cora. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”
“I’m the lucky one.” I’d tried not to squirm under the pain from her hug. She was a tight hugger, squeezing the life out of people.
"A little over the top, don't you think?" Brendon suddenly appeared at my side. He had on a shirt with what looked to be a black bat inside a yellow oval. Did it belong with the gang he’d been talking about? Marvel or something?
Jenna waggled her finger at him, the oversized butterfly ring making it hard to take her seriously. She sat back down in her seat. "Don't ruin this for me." Her bold, brown eyes pleaded with me. "Can I open it now?"
"Of course." I sat up straight, not wanting to press my back against the seat. It still stung from my lashings.
Her freshly manicured yellow nails almost dug into the wrapping, but she stopped herself. "I just can't get myself to ruin this paper." She slid her finger under the tape and slowly lifted it, creating only a slight tear. "I used to be so much better at this. I knew where my parents hid the Christmas presents, so I would sneak in, open them, and seal them all back shut without them ever knowing."
Brendon laughed. "Doesn't that take all the fun out of it?" He sat on the edge of my desk, facing Jenna.
She pursed her lips. "That was more of a thrill than waiting for Christmas day to see what the presents were."
"Your parents give you presents in addition to what Santa brings you?" I asked. That hardly seemed fair.
Jenna's hands froze around her present, and her jaw dropped.
Brendon chuckled but stopped when he saw the confusion on my face. He stole a glance at Jenna before he spoke. "You're joking right?"
"Your parents give you stuff, too?" I asked him. Why didn’t Daddy get me a present for Christmas? Or more than one present?
"Don't yours?" Jenna asked, her hands still frozen in place.
I shook my head, trying to hide my disappointment. "Only Santa brings me a present."
The present I’d given Jenna, a cell phone holder, fell from her hands and onto the desk. "Hold up. You only get one present?"
At the same time, Brendon asked, "Do you still think Santa is real?"
Fire burned in my cheeks. I'd said something wrong. They were both looking at me like I was crazy. Fear overtook me to the point no thoughts or words would form so I could speak.
Santa wasn't real? Why would Daddy lie about that? I tried to stop a frown from forming on my lips.
Jenna's gaze landed on the cell phone holder I'd made for her. She turned it over in her hand, examining it. "This is so cool!" She slid it on her arm, and it fit perfectly.
"It's to hold your cell phone," I forced out. What had I said wrong? Why couldn't I be normal?
"Where did you get that?" Brendon asked. "I think I might want one for myself."
I stared at the band on Jenna's arm. "I made it." I'd used plastic bottles and pieces of fabric from old clothes in the basement. On the last trip to the grocery store, I'd stolen Velcro, and also some paint so I could decorate the band with butterflies. Jenna loved them.
They both turned their attention to me. Jenna smiled broadly. "That. Is. So. Cool!"
"Will you make me one?" Brendon asked, staring at the band around Jenna's arm.
Jenna slipped her cell phone into the holder. "You're going to be famous, and I'll get to tell everyone I was friends with you before you made it big."
My smile faltered. Being famous was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t need any added attention to my strange life and family.
"Back to Santa," Brendon said, tapping me on the arm. "You know he isn't real, right?"
I forced myself to roll my eyes. “Of course I know that. It’s just sometimes I forget how spoiled other kids are.”
Jenna fingered the yellow hoop dangling from her ear. “Hey, I’m not spoiled. Just well taken care of.”
The teacher broke up the moment and started class. I couldn’t focus. Daddy had lied to me about something. Granted, it wasn’t all that big, but it meant he was capable of lying. To me. Was Daddy lying about other things?
Someone flicked my arm, taking me from my trance.
“Earth to Cora,” Jenna said.
“What?” I asked.
She pulled off a yellow fuzzy stuck
to her nail. “Were you even listening? We have to do a project.”
My eyes skittered to the teacher. The past thirty minutes were a complete blur. What project?
“I’m joining your team.” Brendon knelt between me and Jenna. He pointed his thumb at me. “She’s fluent and I don’t want to flunk.”
“You’re fluent?” Jenna smacked her forehead with her palm causing all her bracelets to clink together. “It all makes sense now. You never miss anything. You speak like you were born in France.”
“I wasn’t born in France.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, falling all over each other.
Jenna scooted away from me. “Are you still sick? I don’t want to catch it. Your brain obviously hasn’t healed.”
Brendon reached up to touch my arm, but I snapped it away from him. He sighed and ran his hand over his fohawk. “We need you focused, Cora. What’s going on?”
My eyes darted between the two of them. I had only planned on telling Jenna about the journal. Brendon was still a suspect. Really, so was Jenna. But I needed help.
“Someone stole my journal,” I whispered.
Jenna gasped. “What? That’s awful! I can't believe someone would do that!"
“What’s the big deal?” Brendon asked. “I’m sure it’s just a bunch of squiggly hearts and lame poems about her crushes.” When I glared at him, he smiled. “Which obviously isn’t me.”
Jenna smacked him on the arm. “This is serious, Brendon. It’s her journal. Her deepest, most private, thoughts.”
Brendon’s red eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. What do you write about in your journal? Now I want to find it.”
By both of their reactions, it didn’t seem like either of them had taken it. I slid out a piece of paper from my notebook and handed it to Jenna. “That’s a list of the suspects.”
Jenna’s eyes scanned the page until they got wide. She pointed a finger into her chest. “You think I’m a suspect?”
“Everyone is,” I said.
“Sweet.” Brendon rubbed his hands together, showing off yet another new bandage from a pizza box cut. “I made the list.”