The sensation of pins and needles shooting through my toes made me put off trying to stand for a little while longer.
That big nigga probably fractured one of your damn spinal disks or some shit if that shit even happened.
My suspicions were confirmed when my brain finally decided to join the rest of me in the “what the hell happened” drama of the day as all my nerves came alive at once. The pain was unmistakable. It wasn’t like when a guy’s gung-ho and he wrong holes it in the heat of the moment. No, someone could have told me my bum hole had grown arms and tried to take down an entire bucket of suicide hot Buffalo wings while they were still in the bucket. I hurt so bad I’d have believed it, just to not have to acknowledge what had actually happened. Tears fell down my face and I cried every tear that I couldn’t cry the night before due to whatever they’d drugged me with. Nausea hit me unexpectedly and I dry heaved until I thought I’d burst a blood vessel and my stomach cramped. There was nothing in there for it to expel.
Lying back on the bed, the most I could do was shakily curl myself into a tight ball. With my forehead pressed against my knees, I tried to pray but couldn’t find the words. I tried to recite something to calm myself down but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember a single word of anything I’d ever read. What did they think they could do, offer me a place to stay only to use me every single night? I’ll eventually have to leave to meet my parole officer and find work. The food was drugged but nothing oral can paralyze a person like that. First they drug you to make you sleep. Then they inject you with something to make sure you can’t move and don’t wake up; we’ll get their asses. This isn’t supposed to happen to people like me and not from people like them.
The sun had gone from the brightness of morning to the dull orange glow of late afternoon before I’d decided to move again. I showered and looked for my cell but couldn’t find it from the day before.
Who’s the thief now? They up there stealing ass and actual property.
Dressing myself in an oversized pair of blue sweats with a matching shirt I let my legs carry me toward the gate into hell outside of hell, far from prison hell.
To my surprise the doorknob surprisingly twisted and the door opened. I cautiously crept into the foyer, praying they’d forgotten to lock the door. The house was silent as I silently crept toward the front door. The welcoming aroma of what had to have been pot roast, biscuits, and sweet potato pie called me toward the kitchen. It tantalized my nose, making my stomach beg me to follow it like the sound of the ocean calling to a fisherman. As hungry as I was I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from my only way of escaping.
The brass doorknob was ice cold in the palm of my hand. I turned the lock underneath the keyhole toward the word UNLOCK on the handle and twisted. My entire body was tighter than a rubber band. My nerves were taut and ready to snap at the slightest sound. My heart thudded like hummingbird’s wings in my chest and nervous sweat began to bead on my upper lip. The door didn’t budge and I quietly slipped the lock in the other direction, praying it would open, puzzled at the setback. This wasn’t frickin’ rocket science; did prison make you forget how to unlock doors? I’d had childproof on cabinets more complicated than a simple lock and—
“Aw look who’s awake. That door is a little tricky, baby; you want to go out for some fresh air you can step out onto the patio through the kitchen. Actually some kind of stinging bug made a home out there. Best you wait until Kev has the exterminator look into that.” Mirna’s voice was sickening sweet as she spoke from behind me.
Turning slowly I composed myself, holding back the tears and nausea at having to deal with her. I was in no way psychologically prepared to face one half of the two-headed monster I’d unknowingly surrendered myself to.
Her usual smile was planted on her face.
Look at this fake-ass smile.
Her hands were busy drying a wine glass on the fold of her apron.
That’s probably the glass she’s going to use to drug your ass. Grab the vase off the table beside the wall and smack that corrupt bitch in the face.
“Hi, Mirna, I didn’t hear you walk up. Yes, I’ve been feeling queasy all morning; some air is all I want right now,” I responded, doing my best to conceal the venom in my voice with as much sugary sweetness as possible.
“Well come along. The bishop was in a mighty fine mood this morning. He’s bringing home champagne after he leaves his office. We are going to officially celebrate your freedom, sweetheart.”
Mirna turned and went into the kitchen, humming a song I couldn’t quite make out. The socks on my feet made my footsteps soundless as I treaded across the white tile floor behind her. Gold veins glittered and glimmered in the lighting of the house and it came to my attention how decadent their tastes in decorating were. The living room I’d passed when I’d arrived was adorned with expensive-looking chairs with mahogany arms and those legs with the claws on the bottom.
Those are not Versace cushions on that chair. How the hell they even know what Versace is?
Golden Egyptian statues of cats and scarab beetles were placed in random settings along the way. From the expansive chandelier to the marble and the cars, all of the things they had were lavish and rich. Yet not a single cross, scripture, or biblical reference could be seen anywhere in their house. This was just a modern vampire lair full of treasures, trinkets, and ill-gotten goods.
My stomach growled loudly as I entered the kitchen and potatoes, celery, and brown onion gravy filled my senses. I could almost taste the food in my mouth, see the biscuit soaking up the gravy.
“I know you’ve got to be hungry. Supper is ready if you want to sit down and eat with me. Kevin won’t be home until later so I’ll just keep his food warm.”
As tempting as her offer sounded I was frightened that she’d drug me again.
The roast is still in the oven. If you stay the fuck with her and help her you can watch what she does. Might even see an opportunity to grab a knife and . . .
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” I smiled politely and did my best to hide my discomfort as I lowered myself into one of the chairs at the table.
My eyes were on her like a barn owl hunting a mouse. I watched every move she made including where she got the silverware from and whether it mattered if I took the first bite. After she said grace I made a game out of organizing my food with my fork; she began to methodically cut into the roast on her plate.
“My sister called this morning. No one in the church knows I have a sister, two younger sisters actually. Reena and Mona aren’t uh, let’s just say there’s a reason why lunatics and fools are always the loudest.” She paused like it was some kind of joke I’d know the end of. Waving her hand never mind she went on.
“It’s so you know to turn around and go on in the opposite direction. Mona got checked into an institution.” She sighed long. “Well, won’t tell Bishop about that; men get enough crud to be right about as is.” She chuckled.
I awarded her with one of my legendary fake smiles, pretending to be fascinated with the scenery through the glass panels of the back door while I waited for her to chew and swallow.
Everything tasted like it had been made with ingredients straight from heaven’s garden. My eyes closed in bliss and I savored every bite, amazed at how tender the roast was. I caught Mirna staring at me when I reopened them, but her expression was a little unreadable. She quickly resumed eating and I began to wonder whether I’d imagined the brief look in her eye that reminded me of...
“Where are my two favorite ladies?” Bishop’s voice rumbled through the quiet house and my appetite was instantly gone. He appeared in the kitchen carrying a bottle of champagne and beaming a wide smile in our direction at the kitchen table.
“Champagne or cham-pleasure? Who says church folk can’t drink? You just aren’t supposed to drink to get drunk. Ha-ha,” Bishop shouted out.
“I thought you were working late; we’d have waited for you before we started eating
.” Mirna’s tone was somewhat disapproving.
It was hard to determine if she was upset because he came home early or because he didn’t let her know he was coming home early. His back was turned to us as he got glasses and placed the bottle in the wine chiller on the counter setting the timer. My unease grew when I couldn’t see the glasses or where he’d gotten them from.
Soup, tea, champagne. Whatever it is they probably hide it in a liquid for your ass to drink. That tea was bitter; soup was cold but the aftertaste was bitter. Don’t drink a damn thing they give you. Switch your glasses around, dump it out, do whatever you have to do.
The timer dinged on the champagne chiller and I jumped when Bishop shot the cork out of the bottle with a resounding pop. He danced and blew a kiss in Mirna’s direction, giving her a wink and a look that I instantly registered as sexual, promising, and absolutely dirty. The dread and trepidation that filled me at having to experience another night like last night made me sick to my stomach.
“If you would excuse me, I’m not feeling too good. Mirna, I think it’s gonna take some time for my stomach to adjust to the food. I’m sorry.”
Before either of them could reply I pushed away from the table and fled toward the basement, intent on getting as far away from them as possible. I spun in an exasperated circle as I noted every single window in the basement was nearly six feet up from the floor and nowhere near wide enough for me to fit through. I felt like a trapped lab rat and the thought made me run immediately into the bathroom to pretend like I was actually taking a shit. There were probably cameras all down here watching me even now.
I racked my brain trying to think of a way out. The front door was obviously not an option but they didn’t use it anyway. And I was certain from what I could see at dinner there was no way to get off the fenced-in patio if the door was locked. So far I only knew of the bishop to come in through the garage into the kitchen. If I could get to that door and into the garage I could press the opener and just run. It now made sense why out of everything they provided the only thing I wasn’t given were shoes.
Routine, get a routine and stick to it. They won’t know what you know or what you plan if you do the same things and act the same. Take your shower and be mindful of something to use as a weapon. Those fucks didn’t give you anything so tonight should be a quiet one. Find something, anything to get us the fuck out of here.
For the first time ever I nodded in agreement with that angry, malicious little voice. Starting the shower I contemplated any alternatives to escape without taking a life or causing anyone harm. They would have to deal with their sins when they answered to God. Or I could make sure they didn’t have the chance to do this type of shit to anyone else and take care of them when the opportunity arrived. Get out of the house, get Dontay’s thieving ass; I was slowly building a mental hit list.
Steam filled the bathroom and I undressed, preparing to get in the shower, when I noticed a bruise on my ribs. Facing the mirror over the sink I stared at what looked like a long oval on my side and four similar markings on my back. I stood there squinting at myself until it dawned on me. They were fingerprints. Outraged I looked for something, anything to smash. A small figurine beside the towel rack seemed like the perfect target and I stomped toward it.
The ground came flying up to smack me in the back of the head. I’d stepped on one of the rugs on the floor and it slid forward, catching me off guard and off balance. My eyes were closed tight as I waited for the pain to hit me. My head cracked against the floor so hard I was sure I’d fractured my damn skull. Waves of pain crashed from the back of my skull into the space behind my eyes and I groaned in agony.
I waited until the waves of pain slowed down into a steady constant pain that spanned across my entire head. My eyes opened and rolled as the ceiling spun above me. They focused and it was in that instant that I found the tiny camera sitting in the ceiling over the vanity no wider than an ink pen top. Its lens didn’t fog up like the mirror and from my angle on the floor I could see how it refracted the light from the bulbs underneath it. I quickly looked away, and raised my hand to stare at my fingertips as if my eyes were still not focused.
“Eva. I brought you some tea for your stomach. Are you doing all right, baby?” Mirna’s called out to me through the bathroom door.
I bet she did want to give me some more of that damn tea. She was obviously only checking on me because they were probably watching me.
“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed,” I called out from the floor, the sound of my voice making me feel miserable.
“All right, baby. Do you want me to leave the tea for you?”
I struggled to sit up and responded, “No, thank you, Mirna. I don’t really care for peppermint that much.”
The clinking of the tray as she turned and left was reassuring. I climbed into the shower, sighing as the hot water washed over my skin. Glancing at the ceiling I couldn’t make out any lenses or shapes that looked like one over the vanity and it didn’t seem like it was aimed to see into the shower. Relaxing as I realized showers were the only chance that I’d get some privacy, I lathered myself up, reveling in the fragrance of the shower gel. The smell of the ginger and peach seemed to calm my headache down, but I only made it worst when the desperation of my situation hit me. I was being held captive and used as some kind of personal sex slave. It sounded like the plot to some kind of suspense, drama movie and yet I was actually living it. From what I could figure, everyone who knew me or of me thought I was either locked up or dead.
Everyone except Brother Hall and Aeron.
Chapter 38
Eva Misogynistic Missionary
“Teach me how the hell to do it then, since you think you’re an expert.”
“This is the first crash-test dummy that I actually like, so pay close attention because this won’t happen often.” Two voices bantered back and forth somewhere nearby.
I tried opening my eyes and it felt as if my eyelids were attached to one hundred pound weights. They were so heavy that lifting them seemed to drain me of all my energy. There was no way this shit could possibly be happening again. I exhaled an indignant breath beyond furious at the fun the two of them were having at my expense. None of it made sense. I ate the same things Mirna ate. I didn’t touch the champagne or drink anything and still my ass was stuck going through this bullshit again.
As their conversation registered in my head I realized why the fingerprints on my side and back were so odd looking. They weren’t the bishop’s; they were Mirna’s.
“Flip her on her stomach; it’s my turn to get this shit going.”
The bishop’s strained grunting and the sound of sheets sliding were the only indicators that I was being repositioned. Breathing now seemed harder, and even though I’d tried to suffocate myself the night before, the thought now had me in a panic.
“Baby, gimme that candle,” the bishop’s voice was directly beside my ear and I screamed, cried, and cursed him in my mind, praying for a chance to at least bite him.
Strawberry-scented wax filled the air and as it scorched my back all the way down to the crack of my ass. Searing pain ran along its path and scorching every single one of my nerves. The skin on my back was on fire and I began grinding my teeth together to block out the pain. I could feel everything and the familiar tingling in my toes was evidence that I’d be able to move if I wanted to.
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time.
I waited until he pulled all the way out, leaving my ass feeling equally raw and just as sore as my back. The sound of the Bishop and Mirna kissing passionately beside me riled my temper. I knew I’d only have seconds. Edging my hand up under my hips I slid my fingers in between my legs as deep as I could from the angle I was lying in.
In one swift movement I pulled the wadded up toilet paper from inside myself where I’d hidden it. Yes, right up in the baby maker like a damn drug mule. My fingers quickly unraveled the paper that had turne
d into a semi-hardened shell. Turning my head in their direction I could see Mirna on top of the bishop. I dove at them, slicing wildly in every direction, a small razor in each hand. I was hell-bent on revenge and nothing was safe as I lashed out, shredding sheets and pillows.
One, two, three . . .
It was as if they were momentarily stunned at my sudden mobility. There was no fight or flight; the bishop and Mirna were both stupefied. He was sputtering, his eyes bulging out of his head in shock, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying over the sounds of my angry breaths and slashes. I’d somehow tapped into a deep and hateful place. It had me growling a low predatory sound with every slice. Controlling my hands was frustrating and I still couldn’t fully sit up because the drugs were still wearing off.
Five, six, seven . . .
I counted in my head the number of times I slung the blades in their direction.
An angry red gash opened across Mirna’s lower back and she wailed, rolling onto the floor in agony, momentarily escaping my reach. I leaned over, grabbing the candle from the side of the bed, smashing it against the fat pig’s forehead. The glass shattered and piping hot wax covered Bishop’s face and eyes. He squealed and flounced around on the bed before going into convulsions.
“Oh Jesus Lord no, he’s having a seizure. Please help him.” Mirna sobbed.
Pathetic muthafucka having a seizure, he wasn’t supposed to go that easily.
Well, looks like we’ve already got one down, I answered my evil inner twin as I pulled myself down off the bed and stalked Mirna as she crawled pitifully toward the bedroom door.
When I’d taken my shower I had no real intention on doing what they’d made me do. I’d broken one of the razors, removing the twin blades and burying them in the center of a wad of toilet paper. In prison I’d seen Aeron do it with razors when she wanted to hide them in plain sight on the wall. She’d wet and then smooth the toilet paper out until it was almost see-through, and it would harden like papier-mâché or plaster. I had no clue if it would even work with a ball of moist toilet paper but what the hell did I have to lose?
Church Girl Gone Wild Page 25