Breathless (4 page)

Even though my perception of time was distorted, my bladder and hunger pains told me that you not only neglected my appeals for you but you’d missed your regular visits to me. There was no longer a fire burning in the stove, and the room was so cold I could see a white puff of breath with every exhale. The wrappings on my foot were disheveled and darkening. You were winning and I was drowning in my own loss. The more I needed you, the less you appeared. Inside my head, I knew this was part of your plan but I no longer cared. You had already won, you just didn’t know it yet. I had needed you. Broken and battered, praying for salvation – I needed you. I’d barely put up a fight and yet you were already the victor.

Sadness and misery washed over every fiber of my being. Tears poured from my eyes, thinning the already threadbare pillowcase beneath me. The only attachment to life I had were the bumps that sprang up on my arms from the constant chill in the air. That reaction to the elements was the only thing still tying me to this earth. My body wracked with despair for myself and my fragility. If I died right there, without ever seeing your face again, I hoped I had at least made it a week before my weaknesses consumed me and I broke.

I wondered how long I’d been there? Where were my parents? Would they find me before it was too late? Was it already too late? Questions had been swirling, driven by soft static on a constant loop through my head. Would you ever release me? Would I ever see another human again?

My tears came faster at the thought of how easily you’d shattered me. How easily you’d imprisoned my mind, when in reality you hadn’t done anything but locked me in isolation. The white walls had mocked me, they celebrated my fall to insanity and your victory. They were, after all, on your side – a tool used in my destruction. The brightness in the room had started to blind me, blind my eyes to my own surroundings and blind my mind to logic.

I tried to sit, knowing I would only fall back to the bed that held me captive, but I didn’t know how much longer I could merely lie down, waiting for whatever was to come. The unknown had imprisoned me as much as you had. I fought and pulled against my restraints with every ounce of strength I could muster. My tears fell quicker, darkening the white bedding below with my emotions. My whole body shook with effort and the frigid air that penetrated the thin covers.

After loosening the rope with my struggle, I was able to force my knees to bend beneath me as I perched on the end of the bed, grasping the cold metal posts for support. My body had not been upright for days and it caused my head to swim with the rush of blood. Black dots swirling in my vision were a stark contrast to the pure white surrounding me. My balance was unsteady and my body swayed slightly to the left as I moved one leg to the floor. Hotness travelled up my limbs as the ropes tore at my flesh. My vision blurred as I watched red roll from under the rope and down the arch of my foot mixing with the dirt floor below. Shaking my head, I tried to clear the fog that was enclosing and threatening to overtake.

My other leg limply drug its way to the floor, catching as the rope clenched tighter. I stumbled in a weakened blur and my injured foot hit the hard floor with a thud. Searing pain shot upward and quickly overtook me. I fell to my knees and my hands lost their hold on the metal posts, crashing down next to me. This pain had been the exact reason I hadn’t tried to free myself yet, but I’d hoped my foot had healed enough to withstand my weight. But the agonizing pain told me I’d been wrong.

It was then that I thought I’d never leave this room. I was completely at your mercy, completely shattered beyond repair.

“Please, Cage. Please help me,” I said, my voice a mere whisper, much too soft for you to hear outside of this room.

My head dropped and my eyes closed, blocking out the sight of my battered body.

The door creaked as you opened it and your scent of honey burned into my nose. You were watching me, even when I didn’t know you were there – your eyes were always keeping track.

“Did you say something?” you asked, your tone soft yet knowing.

“Please. Please help me,” I cried, the tears streaming so quickly I couldn’t see beyond them, couldn’t see your menacing figure before me.

I had felt the air shift in front of me as you knelt down, your knees had been perfectly aligned with mine on the dirt floor. Your big hands wiped away the wetness from my cheeks and turned my face to look upon yours.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do was help you. You just had to know how much you needed me before I could.”

I found comfort in your words. I hated you for it, but I also relished in it. You had become my tormentor and my white knight.

The pull of the ropes on my legs disappeared as you cut them away. Your arms felt safe and warm as you picked me up and cradled me to your chest. My head filled with questions as you carried me from the room and up the dark stairwell. I tracked each doorway down the long hallway as we passed, one door … two doors … three doors. The floor was old, worn wood that was cracked and splintered from abuse. The hall opened into a huge room with a couch running along the wall. I had wanted to see more of that room, almost tasting my escape but you stopped in front of that third door, a dark wooden door that you kicked open with your foot.

The bright light within the room made me flinch and duck my head into your chest. The scent of honey filled my senses as it bled from your every pour. Your body had been so warm against my frozen skin, I wanted to curl inside of you and let your heat devour me. You stopped walking and we stood in silence for several heartbeats before I finally lifted my head and looked around. We were in a bathroom. The walls were wood paneling that had once been painted a bright white but were now peeling and flaking. The toilet was in the far corner with a clawfoot tub speckled with rust directly in front of us. You cleared your throat, trying to prompt me to speak but I didn’t. I had no words; I didn’t understand why I was there or what you wanted.

“Bathe?” you finally questioned. “Umm, I just assumed you’d want to.”

My mind had lost track of how long it had been since I had been submerged in water to cleanse myself. The smell emanating from me was noticeable, even to me. I was suddenly self-conscious, no longer the mistreated, starving captive. I was just a girl in complete disarray in front of an attractive man. I nodded my head and you nodded back.

You bent at the waist and laid my body into the clawfoot tub gently, the porcelain felt harsh and foreign against my skin. You didn’t even bother to remove the only white shirt you’d given me that was now dark and dingy from prolonged wear. I watched cautiously as your hands reached out to push my greasy hair from my face.

“Don’t be scared,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until the water started to rise against my legs that I noticed the slight tremor of my limbs as tiny ripples circled me. The sight of my terror reflected in the water only further heightened my fear. Nothing was known to me, all control was lost.

“What do you want from me?” I asked through chattering teeth.

My eyes focused on a single rust spot just below the knob for the hot water. I could see where hands had once rubbed against that single spot, slowly wearing down the porcelain until it no longer remained. For some reason that rust gave me comfort, told me this tub had been used longer than I’d been on this earth. This house had been occupied by people long before I came along which let my heart believe that it still would be once I was gone.

“I don’t want anything from you, Annabel. I want you to be happy, and right now I think a nice long bath will make you happy.” I didn’t look upon your face, but the pitch of your voice told me that you were smiling.

Your hands moved in to my vision, blocking my rust spot temporarily, as you handed me a bar of soap and a rag.

“I don’t have fancy shampoo or bath salts, but I think this soap will do just fine.”

There was a long pause where the only sound was the water sloshing into the tub and the sound of my heart racing inside my chest. My eyes never faltered from the comfort of my rust spot.

“I want to go home,” I finally said.

“You are home,” you immediately replied.

I shook my head and felt the steam washing over my aching nerves. “This is not my home. You took me from my home, from my everything.”

A loud bang assaulted my ears as your foot came down hard on the side of tub. “This is your home now and it will always be your home!”

My hands flew to my ears trying to block out your voice, your breathing, your presence. But I still heard you yell, “I love you, Annabel, and you will love me, too.”

I shook my head, feverishly trying to convey what my voice could not.

“You will. One year, in one year you will love me and never want to leave.”

Your hand circled my wrists, forcing them back into the water.

“What if I don’t?” I asked cautiously.

“You will!” you screamed before leaving and slamming the door.

On the wrinkles of water

My eyes focused on the door where your figure had just disappeared. Even though I could no longer see you, I could still feel your presence – ever watchful, always lingering. You had seemed so sure that I’d love you, almost like I didn’t have a choice. I would not love you. I might have been young and inexperienced, but I knew this was not how someone earned love. Trust came first, then love. I knew I would never trust you.

The only people in this whole world that I loved were my parents. I cared for my friends, but teenage friendships were wrought with suspicion and back stabbing, which was not the place where love was bred. My parents were not perfect, they both worked too much and ignored me when it suited their needs, but I never doubted their love. They shaped me as a person, made me who I was – there is no greater love. I didn’t understand the kind of love that you wanted from me – a love born from a forced dependency and not grown over time with trust and affection. No! I would never love you – the girl I was, the one that woke up every day to the sounds of her mother’s voice calling out to her could never love someone like you. But I had wondered how much longer I’d be that girl. How much longer could I hold on to myself?

The light filtering under the door cast a shadow as you paced back and forth impatiently. Your feet were soft and methodical, not making a single thud or creak on the floorboard, they were practiced in the art of sneaking. A talent I could only conclude you’d spent many years mastering. With every hint at the person I could see you shaping into, the less I understood you.

The water circling my body had been warm and inviting. Bright lights danced across its surface, casting dull rainbows against the side of the tub. I sank back into the water letting it rise to my chin, and the bottom of the white shirt I still wore floated up to the top of the water – the rainbows danced across its wrinkles. I just laid there staring at the ceiling, trying my best not to think about where I was or how I was going to get out. I had no idea what else to do besides live in the moment that I was currently stuck in. A tiny girl, that’s all I was. I wasn’t strong or formidable, what power did I have to control where my life had gone?

Bumps started to appear on my skin as the water turned cold with time. Small tremors in my stomach quickly spread throughout my body as the chill crept deep into my bones. It didn’t hurt, my body was as numb as my mind. Finally I let my head sink below the water line, I knew the water should have felt cold against my face, but all I felt was the lack of air choking my lungs, and it actually felt good. I’d been so overcome with myself and the emotions playing through my head that I was unable to control – this I had been able to control.

I blinked and watched the room slowly disappear and then return perfectly in focus. A room I didn’t want to see, a room that I had wished was merely a dream. I blinked a second time and let my eyes remain closed. My mother’s face moved across the backs of my eyelids. Her brown hair shimmering in the bright afternoon sun, my father appeared next to her with a smile stretched across his face. In perfectly synced movements, they both spread their arms out calling me into their embrace. I wanted to reach out to them, to feel them real and tangible. All of our petty problems born from teenage angst disappeared in the air surrounding us. No longer arguing because I wanted a later curfew, or because of that boy I said I liked whose arms bore several tattoos, not even the battle for independence that I later knew I wasn’t ready for seemed to stand between us – my sheltered life that I railed against had fluttered away to be replaced with a longing to have it back.

I moved toward them, pulled by an invisible string that tied us as one entity. I wanted everything to end right there, just like that, with my parents and an overwhelming sense of love and belonging – but it didn’t.

My body leapt and I watched as my parents slowly faded from my sight. I heard your voice desperately chanting in my ear.

“You’re okay. You’d never leave me. I left you alone too long, that’s it – the isolation. I’m sorry, all my fault … all my fault.”

Then everything had disappeared and I felt myself drifting, my mind flipping through memories searching for one to latch on to.

I was back at the mall, one of those first days that you showed up at the department store where I worked – always the same time, every day just before lunch. But one specific day stuck out to me. I hadn’t yet become comfortable with your presence, which came later when your face was melted into my brain and my nerve endings counted down the minutes until they felt your gaze.

But that day the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my eyes quickly searched for the source of this new sensation and they found you. You had been standing by the brightly colored summer shirts that I’d just finished setting up. It took me hours to perfectly fold each and every one of them. I watched as your hand moved over them, your fingertips softly caressing the cotton my hands had just finished touching.

Looking back, I can now see where that should have been a sign – a red flag – but at that time it wasn’t. It meant nothing to me. Your gaze was no longer on me but off in the distance, behind me as your eyes narrowed and deep creases appeared on your forehead. I felt a touch land on my shoulder.