by Charity B.
“Yes, Logan,” I answer.
“Yes, Logan,” Toben echoes.
I’m both surprised and grateful for Toben’s obedience. I thought for sure he would have slipped up by now.
“Very good. Now, wipe down whatever surface that you’re using, with disinfectant, and then wash your hands.” Following his own directions, he vanishes into the bathroom. Upon returning, he pulls out the spoon and looks at me. “Do you know why we bend the handle of the spoon?”
I nod and I’m so glad I know the answer. “Yes, Logan. It’s so it doesn’t spill.”
He smirks at me and I don’t understand him. He does horrible things even worse than Daddy, then he acts like he wants to be nice.
“That’s right, Lotus.” After he sprinkles the powder he opens a clear package and pulls out a syringe. “This is a new needle. Always use a new needle. Every single time, no exceptions. This is the most important rule. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Logan,” we quickly answer.
I feel so bad for Toben, he looks like he’s suffering terribly and his arms are trembling. It’s not fair that I get to lie on the bed while he’s down there like that.
“I want you to use bottled water only; I don’t trust tap.” He pours the water in the lid and continues preparing the fix. “When it’s time to add the cotton and fill the syringe, make sure to not touch the needle to the spoon and make sure to get all the air out.” He jerks his head toward Toben. “Get the tourniquet from the bag. When I tell you to, tie it around her arm.” He tears open a packet and removes a sanitary wipe. “Always make sure that you clean the injection site. You have to be smart about it because there’s the possibility of getting sick if you don’t.” It’s wet and cold when he wipes the inside of my arm. “Alright, tie her off.”
The tourniquet is tight and it pinches. When Logan taps my veins, my heart starts thrumming and my body suddenly feels so hot! I don’t want to be like Mommy or Daddy. When he tells him to untie me and pushes down on the plunger, I look up at Toben before I fly away from him…
I can taste joy…
BURST….No more pain.
BURST….No more fear.
BURST…No more suffering.
Everything is just…empty…
How is this my life? He orders me to resume kneeling by her bed so I can see the terrible things he does to her drugged-up body. While he takes a break to smoke a cigarette, he makes me hit her with a whip. He says it’s called a cat o’ nine tails and he shows me how to use it. She reminds me of our rag dolls the way her limbs are hanging limp.
The air is sticky with the smell of sweat and when he finally finishes, he locks me back up so he can take a shower. Thinking about how her skin busted apart when I hit her, sends chills up my spine. I actually inflicted damage on her, she has a bloodied back because of my actions. Her scarlet, still, little body is lying on her sheets. We’re going to have to wash them tonight.
Logan emerges from the bathroom, wearing his suit once again, and walks straight to my cage to let me out. Relief floods me. He isn’t going to keep me in here this week.
“You did extremely well today, Toben.” He hands me a little clear bag with bright colored chewy candies inside. “I would never have thought of having a boy, if your father wouldn’t have offered you up as an option, but this is going to be fun.”
I want to shove this bag down his throat and laugh as he chokes. I wish I could take that five core and rape him with it, see how he likes it.
“When she awakes, I want you to salt her wounds. She will cry and it will hurt. No matter, the salt will clean the cuts and help them heal.” He raises his eyebrow at me. “I will know if you do not obey, do you understand?”
FUCK YOU!
“Yes, Logan.”
He gives me a nod and hands me another bag of the candies. “Give these to Lotus when she becomes lucid. Although, my suggestion would be to wait until after you have salted her, then you can use it as a reward for her cooperation…if you so choose.”
I hate the sound of his voice and the way he talks. I hate his hazel eyes and how they almost glow. I hate the way he acts so superior. I hate the way he smells.
Like cinnamon and cigarettes.
I’ve never felt so much loathing for a person, not even my dad, and I can’t wait till I’m big enough to stop him. When that day comes, he will pay, and he will do it with his blood.
“Next time, we’ll all go together, tonight though, I have an unavoidable engagement.” He lays out everything I’ll need to inject myself. “You can get yourself off now, or you can wait until Tavin wakes and she can give it to you.”
I don’t understand any of this. What’s the point of giving us drugs?
It may be risky to ask, but I do it anyway. “Why the heroin, Logan?”
Holding out his hand, he gestures to the table. “Once you try it, my plaything, you will know.”
He hoists the bag over his shoulder, ascends the stairs, and leaves us to our next week of confinement. At least I’m free of the cage.
I’ve heard at the D.A.R.E. rallies at school how bad heroin is. It’s supposed to be the worst one out there, and yet, my dad doesn’t look like the strung-out junkies they show you, and Logan definitely doesn’t. I’ve never heard my dad talk about loving anything, besides my mother and heroin. He brings whores home and I know for a fact he’s been fucking Tavin’s mom. He just doesn’t give a shit about any of them. Heroin though, that he cares about. He said it makes all his pain and suffering disappear into a cloud. I never asked Tavin what it was like. Now I wish I would have so I know what to expect. Still, having all my pain and suffering disappear into anything sounds pretty good to me. I don’t want to ask her to do it for me, and she’s already messed up, so we might as well be high together.
After spraying down the table and washing my hands, I prepare the rig like he showed us. I’m not sure how much to use, he didn’t give me a lot though and I doubt he would run the risk of me overdosing, so I pour it all in the spoon. After a little mixing, a flick of the lighter, a tied tourniquet, and a full needle, I’m about to shoot up for the first time.
I sit down on Tavin’s bed, next to her. Once the needle pierces my skin and enters my vein, I untie myself, take a deep breath and push down.
POW!
I’m gonna be sick…
WHOOSH!
Relief…
BOOM!
Beautiful…
I am free…
LAST NIGHT WAS THE MOST intense, incredible thing I have ever felt. I don’t know if I’ve ever known peace like that. I was truly safe and indestructible. Tavin and I lay there, for I have no idea how long, and ran our fingers along each other’s skin while smiling at each other. It felt so amazing. In those hours, we were genuinely happy:
“Mmmm, Toben, your fingers feel like butterfly wings.”
Her skin is softer than clouds. “You are so beautiful.”
“So are you. If I fell into your eyes I would never find the way out.”
“I love you, Tavin.”
“I love you, too.”
This morning I feel fine, besides my back. I expected a headache, a hangover, or something. The worst is the pain from the five-core, and I have a week out of the cage to heal from that. I wonder if he plans to get us high every week. It would be great to have something to look forward to from his hellish visits.
I never salted her last night, so I know I have to today. I finish my shower, and when I walk out of the bathroom, she’s lying on her bed, tapping her foot to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
I sit down next to her as I towel dry my hair. “Logan said I need to clean your cuts.”
“I showered this morning, they’re clean.”
I shake my head. “No, we need to put salt on them. Come on, let’s get it over with.” Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom. I give her a towel to cover up with and take off her shirt to get full access to her back. Mixing the s
alt and water to make a paste, I apply it to a small cut with my clean fingers.
Within seconds, her back bows. “Take it off! It hurts, Toben! Please!”
She tries to stretch her arms behind her to reach it. I need her to calm down. We have a lot of marks to go and it’s going to take forever at this rate. “I’m sorry, I have to.”
I reach for her and she pushes me away. “No!”
He said he will be able to tell if I don’t salt her and it will be even worse if we disobey.
“Tavin! Stop! I don’t want to do this either, but he said we have to.”
“No, please, it burns! Don’t make me.”
Her violet eyes are shiny and wet as she pleads. I can’t risk his wrath. I would much rather her be salted by me than be punished by him for disobeying. I don’t want to get angry with her, it’s just sometimes the only way to get things through her head.
“Goddamn it, Tavin. He will do way worse than this if you don’t let me. Now, lie down on your stomach!” She narrows her eyes, while still doing what I tell her. She lies across the bathroom rug and looks up at me with tears. “Tuck your arms under your body so you don’t try to touch it.”
Sliding her arms beneath her, she takes a deep breath as I continue with the next gash. I decide to start with the bigger and deeper ones to get them over with first. When the mixture soaks into the rips in her flesh, she howls out and tries to lift off the floor. I have to keep her down so I push my hand between her shoulder blades, keeping her against the linoleum, and pin her legs with my knee.
“He’s not even here, Toben!”
As fast as I am able, I rub as much salt on as many cuts as I can before I just can’t do it anymore. I finish most of them, though.
She pushes off the floor and lunges at me, hitting my arm with the hand not holding up the towel. It isn’t hard, but she’s never hit me before.
“Do I get to put that stuff on your cuts now?!”
I will absolutely let her if it makes her feel better. Lifting my shirt over my head, I turn around. “I don’t want to do any of this, Tavin. I’m just trying to protect you.”
I hear her sigh. “I know, Tobe, I’m just…” Confused, scared, hurt… I turn back around to look at her and she looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I hug her. “Believe me, I get it, you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”
I give her the candies and we eat them in the window well, while we pretend we can feel the sun.
Logan’s next visit is just as horrifying as the others. He makes good on his promise to teach her to be quiet. He uses something he calls a scold’s bridle. It’s a metal helmet that encases her entire head. It has a flat bar attached with metal spikes, that fits into her mouth. As long as she doesn’t move her tongue, she’s okay, until he beats and rapes her, then her screams cause the spikes to pierce it.
She can’t talk for days and she doesn’t need to, for me to know that she’s pissed. I slipped up and called him a ‘demented chomo’ which got me back inside the cage. I made her even madder when I laughed after reading the note she wrote me.
What’s a cho mow?
I told her it meant child molester, but she didn’t know what a molester was. I just assured her that Logan was one.
He had been saying the most disgusting, terrible things to her and I couldn’t listen to it anymore. I’m surprised that he still let me get high with them, first. I didn’t get any candy, though. That night, the nightmares started. She screamed my name, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it besides try to wake her by calling for her.
We settle into a routine of sorts and even though I try not to, I often think about Christopher and where he thinks I went. I wish I could have at least said goodbye. I miss school sometimes and I definitely miss him, but most of the time I just try to stay out of the cage. As long as I’m able to sleep next to Tavin, she doesn’t have bad dreams.
Every visit he makes her wear the scold’s bridle for at least a small period of time, though her screams and wails are definitely decreasing with each visit.
While I still have to salt her wounds, I only do the large ones. She doesn’t fight him much anymore. We just try to get through till the end of the playdate.
Once a week, candy and heroin bring color and joy to our dark, twisted, melancholy lives. I hate and despise Logan, but when he arrives, he brings with him an escape. An escape where Tavin and I can be…free.
Six months later—September, 2002
His arms are around my waist and his shallow breathing is one of my favorite sounds. He looks so much happier when he’s sleeping, kind of like when he’s high. I run my fingers through his hair, and I can’t believe how long it’s gotten. According to our calendar, we’ve been Logan’s toys for six months. The needle temporarily hides the fear and it feels like we’re a family in those moments, existing together in another world. He doesn’t ever play with me after he shoots up. Everything is perfect as soon as it hits our veins.
I’m able to slip out of bed without waking Toben, to go to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I stick out my tongue and it’s lined with little holes. Even though he barely makes me wear the mask anymore, all it takes is one time to make the holes. I’m able to stay quiet most of the time, sometimes though, the pain is too much and I just can’t contain my screams.
He never hits my face. He says that and between my legs are the only things about me that aren’t completely repulsive, so he wants to keep them nice. The lotus is almost completely healed now and is light pink. Cuts, bruises, gashes, and welts are all over my body.
Disgusting, dirty body.
Toben opens the bathroom door and rubs his eyes. When he looks up, we make eye contact in the mirror and smile at each other. He brushes his teeth and takes a shower while I eat breakfast. He has me read the letter from his mom. I don’t tell him that I’m not even reading it anymore, I memorized it.
We dance together. He was hesitant at first, but now he always dances with me. We listen to each other’s music and I am starting to see why he likes the screaming. Sometimes I want to scream, too.
A few months ago, he wrote me a lullaby and now, as his voice gives life to the melody, his eyes droop as he sings himself to sleep. I lie there with him for a long time. I’m not tired, so I get up to sit in the window well and try to hear the birds or the cars. When I’m alone like this, I think about Logan. He scares and confuses me and I hate the way he makes me feel. I am cleaner than I have ever been in my entire life, and I still can’t scrub away the grimy feeling. I take a lot of showers as hot as I can stand them, and it’s still there.
I didn’t know I was so ugly before. Daddy always said that I was stupid and ugly, but he was always mean. If Logan says it though, it must be true.
Ugly, repulsive cunt.
It seems so horrible when it’s happening and I hate him. Then I think about not having to feel hungry or scared when he’s not here. At least I have Toben, though. Logan can be so nice, but then he’ll say things that I don’t always understand, and what I do understand makes my stomach hurt.
“Tavin! Oh my God, what are you doing?!”
I jump at Toben’s surprise appearance as he materializes by the window. I follow his gaze down to my fingers. They are all bloody and scraped up. Had I done that?
“I-I didn’t mean to.”
He wraps one of his hands around mine. “Come on. Let’s go clean it.” Helping me out of the window, he takes me to the bathroom. The water stings. It’s also familiar and kind of feels good. When he’s done, he pats it dry.
“There, how is that?”
I nod and smile as he kisses each finger.
He says that I know how to read pretty well, so I now need to know math.
I hate math! Reading is much more fun and easy. I know how to count and I can add okay I guess, but division is hard. Toben always plays make believe with me if I try though, so I work hard to understand.
He always wants to talk about things and I really don’t. I’m there, I know what happens. I don’t need to talk about it. I can tell it makes him feel better though, so I let him.
“I don’t know, Tav, I just don’t think this is the first time he’s done something like this. That stuff he always says about you being his ‘favorite toy’ or when he told me that he never would have considered me because I’m a boy.”
For some reason, that makes me think of what Kyle had said.
“Kyle told me on Acclimation Day, if I was his he would have de-fleshed my fingers. Do you think he has playthings too?”
Scrunching his eyebrows, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I don’t know, I never thought about it.” I swing my feet off and spring from our bed. “Get up, I want to draw.”
He does what I ask, still, I can tell his mind is working something around. He says the same thing he’s said a gazillion times before. “We have to get out of here.”
I respond the same way I have a gazillion times before. “Where would we go? Even if we are able to find food, a place to sleep, and no bad people get us, what about the police? What if they found us?”
I honestly don’t know if I would rather be cold, hungry, and dirty or have Logan do the things he does. At least with Logan, it’s only once a week and if I obey I get treats. I like the heroin and I’m happy that it doesn’t make me like Mommy or Daddy. They must have just been mean on their own whether they were using or not, because it sure does make me feel happy.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just don’t think I can handle many more times of watching him say and do those things to you… Does it still hurt?”
I nod even though I don’t want to talk about this! He must pick up on that, because after I move our bed out of the way, he lies back down and writes in his lyric book.