“HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO SOMEONE? HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT? YOU’RE A COWARD, JEREMY! WE SHOULDN’T BE DOWN HERE, WE DON’T BELONG IN YOUR FUCKING BASEMENT!”
He put his hands over his ears. I don’t have to listen to this, he thought. I don’t have to take this.
But still he stood against that door, the pounding of her fists piercing his body like gunshots, listening to every miserable word she screamed.
13
Violet cursed herself over and over. She had gone too far. Everything she had been working for, put up with, all the smiles she had given him, trying to gain his stupid trust. Every step forward she had taken back.
Ben started to cry the instant Jeremy left. Violet couldn’t tell if it was fear or pride that kept his tears locked up until the door followed suit.
“I’m sorry, Ben,” she whispered to him. She rubbed his back. “I lost it. I didn’t mean to go that far. I’m so sorry.”
He curled up into a ball beside her and she wrapped her arms around him. What would happen next? Jeremy could take away all the little comforts he had given. She had to admit, it would be much less bearable with nothing to do or watch or read or write with. These objects were no freedom, but they were something to pass the time. Something to allow Violet to imagine her freedom was still out there somewhere, suspended only temporarily.
Time passed slowly that day. Violet and Ben didn’t say anything more to each other. Violet’s throat was raw. She felt as though if she coughed, it would bring up blood and the sting every time she swallowed was a constant reminder that she had lost control.
Jeremy brought in their lunch at noon. They didn’t say a word to him, just stared. Violet toyed momentarily with the idea of a hunger strike. Maybe she wouldn’t eat anything until he promised something would change.
The grilled cheese sandwich with a side of sliced cucumbers sat untouched for four minutes before she gave that idea up.
Ben ate his sandwich ravenously. He was starving, and able to pretend for a moment that life was normal. Violet felt ashamed at how much better Ben was coping than her. Until today, she had been calm. Maybe he had locked up his frustration as well. Maybe he needed a way to get it out.
“Ben… What do you think about all the things I said earlier to Jeremy?” she asked.
“Well, you said a lot of swears.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that, I lost control. But what do you think about what I was trying to tell him? Do you think I did the right thing?”
He put down his sandwich, a simple gesture that made him seem decades beyond his years.
“I don’t know, I think you just got mad.”
“Is there anything you wanted to say, too?”
“Not really,” he said. “I think he already knows it all. But thanks for the part about the leg cramps. I haven’t had one yet, but I bet I will.”
Violet smiled. “Maybe, baby,” she said, as their mother had so many times before. Ben cried again, but Violet wasn’t sorry. He should miss their mother. She fought through her feelings of frustration and found that she, too, missed Holly. She needed to try to forgive their mother for not finding them yet.
Violet’s head snapped up when she heard the door unlock again. So soon? Maybe it was time for their bathroom break, or perhaps he was checking to see if they’d been so enraged they were attempting escape. They wouldn’t though, not today. Today, Violet would walk submissively, head down, into the bathroom, squeeze out her urine as fast as she could so he wouldn’t have to wait for her. Should she be embarrassed at this complicity? There was only so much fight that could be held within one body, and she had drained hers dry for the day.
Jeremy entered the room with his head down, looking as submissive as the part Violet had meant to play. He shut the door and sat on the floor. He’d never sat with them before.
“I just wanted you to know,” he began, “I’ve been thinking about all the things you said. You’re right, I was a coward to leave when you were talking to me, and I’m sorry for that.”
He looked Violet right in the eyes, which she could tell was very difficult for him to do. He looked pained. She nodded her head slightly and waited for him to go on. She had already told him his apologies were no good without action.
“I know that things have to change around here. I know you were really upset this morning, but like I said, sometimes I don’t always know the things you need. I don’t… I don’t respond to things the same way most people do.” His hands were outstretched and clenched like claws.
Violet wondered if he meant it or was merely repeating it.
“I want you to come and live upstairs with me,” he said slowly, with trepidation.
Violet and Ben looked at each other, not knowing whether to feel excited or scared, or both.
“I have a lot of rooms up there, it’s a really beautiful home. I’m doing some renovations right now, so there’s lots you guys could help with.” He scanned their faces. Violet tried to keep her eyes blank, free of rage or fear, but had no idea how successful she was.
“I don’t understand,” Violet finally said. “We would be able to live upstairs, with you, and have our own rooms? And move around whenever we want?”
“For the most part, yes. You’ll still have those bracelets on,” he gestured to her wrist. “So I’ll always know where you are. And the electrical fences are still around the property so you wouldn’t be able to go any further than that. But otherwise, yes, you could move around as you wish.”
Ben chimed in next. “You mean I would be able to play outside?”
“Yes,” Jeremy said seriously.
“Are we going to have to be on a leash?” Ben asked.
“No,” Jeremy responded.
Not a physical one, Violet thought. But there was still something wrapped around her throat. She was bound by her hands. She wanted to go so much further than the boundaries, but her fear doubled as a restraint.
If nothing else, Violet thought, it was a start. Living upstairs with Jeremy would provide chances every day to convince him they would never run away. Until they could run away.
Violet wondered how Jeremy remained so deluded. Simply moving them upstairs wasn’t going to change the way they felt about him. Different walls, same prison. But, she admitted, it would feel damn good to be able to go for walks and into the kitchen whenever she wanted. To be able to open the fridge, look around inside of it, decide against it, and close it again. To be able to use a whole tray of ice cubes in her water if she chose. The everyday luxuries she hadn’t even known she missed.
“How do we know we can trust you?” Violet asked. She could see that this stung Jeremy.
“You don’t,” he said candidly. “You don’t trust me yet, and I guess there’s no way to prove that you can right now. But I do think it’ll make you more comfortable, because everyone deserves a little space of their own.”
“Okay,” she said, “We’ll do it.” She looked over at her brother. “Ben?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Upstairs sounds good. Jeremy?”
Jeremy just nodded.
“Do you think I could get a Frisbee? Or a basketball?”
Jeremy smiled for the first time all day.
“Yes,” he said. “I can get those for you.”
“Awesome,” Ben said. Violet supposed this was as close to awesome as they had gotten since arriving.
“When is this going to happen?” she asked.
“Today, right now. If you guys want.”
Brother and sister looked to each other with wide eyes. Violet surveyed the room; it wouldn’t take long to gather their new belongings.
“Do you mind helping us carry some of this stuff up?” she asked.
“Not at all. And also, grab a sheet and a comforter each. I took them off the beds upstairs, so you’ll need them.”
Violet chose a lavender one she had spent most of her time sleeping on. She couldn’t help but have a predisposition towards the shades of her n
ame. Ben grabbed something blue.
“What about pillows?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, you’ll need one of those too.” Jeremy said, another thing he hadn’t thought of.
They scooped and gathered and stacked their things until all three had heaping armfuls.
“Are we ready?” Jeremy asked, as if they were about to embark on a road trip or a roller coaster ride. Violet was glad to hear the enthusiasm dripping back into his voice slowly; it gave her hope that her emotional flood hadn’t ruined everything.
“Yes,” Violet and Ben said in harmony.
Jeremy opened the door. Violet shrunk as it creaked. She was so glad to be freed of the awful sound.
They ascended the stairs together; Jeremy first, Ben next, then Violet. Jeremy walked slowly and Violet wondered if he was catering to the disintegrating legs they had complained about.
The main floor was spacious with so many windows. Sunlight streamed in and trees surrounded the whole house. A large sitting room sprawled to their left, and on the right a staircase led upwards. Further ahead was the kitchen. From what they could see, it was buttercup yellow with light blue borders all around.
How can someone like Jeremy have a kitchen the colour of sunshine? Violet thought.
Jeremy led them up the next flight of stairs. At the top was a narrow hallway with three bedrooms to the left, two bedrooms and a bathroom on the right. Violet revelled in anticipation of going to the bathroom whenever she pleased, even if she didn’t have to go.
“There are four empty bedrooms,” Jeremy explained. “Mine is just over there,” he pointed to one next to the bathroom, “So you can pick whatever other one you would like.”
Violet noticed all the beds were stripped of their sheets, including Jeremy’s. “Do you sleep up here?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, without explanation. She wondered why he hadn’t brought up a set of sheets for himself, and if he had slept on a naked bed the whole time they’d been there, close to a month. Three weeks and two days had gone by while they’d been underground.
Violet pointed to the bedrooms furthest from Jeremy’s. “We’ll take two down there. Does that sound okay, Ben?”
Ben was already lumbering towards a door.
Violet hurried along behind him and claimed the room right next to his. She threw the sheets down on the bed, dropped her books and things on the floor, and collapsed onto the mattress. It felt so good to have something soft beneath her. Not just sheets, but something made for sleeping on.
The room itself was simple. There was a window above the double bed and on the right side, a bedside table with a lamp. A dresser lined the other wall next to a closet. No desk, nothing fancy.
She found Jeremy leaning tentatively on her newly chosen doorframe. “Do you think this will be okay?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s going to be so nice to sleep in an actual bed.”
She meant to sound gracious, but the blush that rose to Jeremy’s cheeks told her he was ashamed.
It’s great,” she added for his benefit. “I think I’ll like it a lot.”
Jeremy smiled.
“It’ll be like staying in a hotel,” she added then, to emphasize that it should be temporary. He just nodded, then walked to the room next door. She heard him ask the same of Ben, followed by a muffled reply, and then Jeremy spoke to both of them, saying he would give them some time to get used to their rooms. He would be downstairs.
Violet lay back on her new bed. She hadn’t thought of how difficult it might be to live so close to Jeremy. It was one thing to be locked into a tiny room with someone you loved. It was another to be locked in a larger space with someone you didn’t. She sensed he would probably be nervous by their presence and hoped he would keep his distance.
Violet’s hands crawled over her body. She wanted to search for all her parts to make sure they were still there. It had been so long since she’d been able to check. She ran her hands down her hips, rubbed her finger between herself and held her breath at the pleasure she had been denied. At least she could have the little things back, instead of monitoring her brother’s breathing in and out as he slept against her.
At least she could look at herself in the mirror and not forget who she was or what she looked like. She could talk to herself again, sing little songs, do the things people do in the privacy of their own rooms. She was thankful for these small pleasures.
Violet eased herself off the bed and went to visit Ben next door.
“Knock knock,” she said as she arrived in the doorway. She smiled down at her little brother who was lying on a real bed and not on the floor. That looks better, she thought to herself.
“Hey,” Ben said smiling. “I have a desk.”
She followed his eyes to two stacks of cinder blocks topped with a big slab of wood. Eloquently primitive. She wished she’d found this room.
“That’s nice,” she said. “You can do some writing and drawing there. Maybe you’ll even let me use it sometime.”
“Yeah, anytime,” he said casually, which was funny to her. If she’d said the same thing a month ago, he would have told her fat chance.
Violet wondered if tonight she’d have a hard time sleeping without the rhythms of his breathing to ease her into slumber. He always fell asleep before her. She could count on the next breath, and the next. The silence tonight in her new room would be deafening, but she hoped it would be enough that he was nearby and that she was lying between him and Jeremy.
She surveyed her brother’s room; evaluated the windows for their size and distance from the ground. The house was tall and skinny, and the earth looked so much further than a storey below. Her eyes skimmed the ceiling and found a little black box with a little red light. She instantly felt sick to her stomach. She should have known.
“Ben,” she said. “I’m not going to point at it, but there’s a camera in that corner over there by the window.”
“Oh,” he said, unconcerned.
“I just want you to know it’s there. There could be microphones too, we’ll have to look around. I’m just going to look in my room, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, but she was already gone.
There hers was, facing her bed. She was so angry. How dare he? Hot tears burned her eyes. She was furious. Bastard.
She fought the urge to jump up and snatch it, rip at the cords, throw it on the floor and stomp. She had never trampled an electronic device before, and had thought it to be a purely male desire. Now she knew better. She wanted to pretend that box was Jeremy and squish it like a cockroach.
Violet was alarmed. In everything she had felt towards Jeremy, the fear and anxiety and anger, she had never felt something so violent. A word only one letter way from her name.
Take hold of yourself, she counselled the devil within. Those thoughts won’t do any good. She would be sleeping in a bed, on a mattress tonight. She would get to eat dinner at a kitchen table and take a walk outside tomorrow. The bedroom was a blessing and she would be crazy to call him out. He needs to know we won’t run away, she told herself, fighting the sinking feeling of disbelief that she was excusing him for planting a camera to film her sleeping body. She consoled herself with the thought that it was a small price to pay for the step towards freedom they’d been given that day.
Her only relief was that she found it when she did. Jeremy had probably crept downstairs to the receiving end of the camera, was probably looking at it now, watching her watch him behind the black box.
Violet ran her hands over her comforter. She had never seen it in so much sunlight before. It looked clean enough; she had wondered about that. Leaning closer, she could see the tiny threads weaving in and out, the warp and the weft.
A long time ago, she had been a student at an arts and crafts camp with an eccentric old woman named Jesabelle who had tried to teach little girls how to weave. They set up their own looms, chose their own colours. It was November, and the theme was remembrance. Violet’s co
lours had been red and orange. Red for blood. Orange for firefight. Or the torch, thrown with failing hands. She had woven a fairly simple piece, but Jesabelle had breathed over and over about how amazing it was, marvelling that something so violent and simple could bring so much peace.
“It’s like infinity,” Jesabelle had said wispily. “The thread, if you look closely, it weaves over and under, back and forth. It’s like waves.” She explained how life was like a wave. Soundwaves, heatwaves, energy waves, ocean waves; we are surrounded by systems of ebbs and flows.
Violet wondered if she’d ever be able to look at that blanket and feel peace.
Jeremy hadn’t specified any boundaries for living upstairs. Could she just go and make herself some toast right now if she wished? Could she give herself a tour of the rest of the place if she felt like it? What about sitting on the front porch? Her survival instinct reared its primitive head, and she wondered if there was a way to collect sticks and bramble slowly and inconspicuously. She could say she wanted to have a fire; collect some kindling and stash some for herself. After a week or two, she could write a message on the ground with them. She’d need only enough to write out the most basic of letters, a simple SOS. That’s only three.
As for now, she wanted the pleasure and comfort of the kitchen. Just to stand in it, or sit on its floor. Most of her crises before then had been endured on the kitchen floor.
She used to like the bathtub. Something about being squished into that cold, ceramic cask made her feel the tub understood her misery. It was the best place to be during heartache.
When Violet’s first boyfriend broke up with her, she spent hours in that tub. She’d just had her wisdom teeth removed and her face was inflated. The painkillers made her vomit because they were too hard on her empty young tummy. She’d wanted her boyfriend to just sit next to her so she could lean on him and be still. Instead, he came over one day, looked her right in the tired, drugged eyes, and told her that he thought it was best if they took a break. That was code for, I’ve met someone else, but Violet didn’t know that. No one had deciphered it for her yet, so she nodded dumbly, gargled an agreement through her swollen, bloody mouth, and hugged him goodbye.
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