‘Do you think I should do it, Bozy?’
I always make up what Bozy says to me and say it back to myself in a silly voice, but this time I can’t think of what he would say. I’m scared. My hands are shaking. A bit like when Jim Hawkins is hiding in the boat in Treasure Island. That’s a book Dod bought me a few months ago. I’ve read it three times now. It’s really good. Probably my new favourite.
I stare up the steps. Maybe I shouldn’t do it. It could hurt. A lot. My breathing gets bigger. And quicker. Then I take one big, big breath in and hold it. I look at Bozy. Then I let the breath out.
‘Fuck it, Bozy. I’m going to do it.’
I walk up the steps. Slowly. Really, really slowly. I stop at the top, then look at Bozy again. But he still doesn’t know what to say to me. I give him a big squeeze and a kiss. ‘I love you, Bozy. You have been my best friend.’
Then I place him down on the top step and close my hand tight. I knock at the door. Sometimes I have to knock a few times. Sometimes Dod doesn’t answer at all. He might not answer now. He has been angry Dod for a long time. He’s always shouting. He hasn’t smiled for ages. Sometimes I wonder what makes him sad. Maybe he is sad for the same reason I get sad. Maybe he doesn’t have a mummy and a daddy either. Maybe they’re in heaven too.
No answer. Not yet. I close my hand. Knock again. Then I hear him. His footsteps getting close.
‘Need to do a poo.’ I say it from behind the door. I hear him make that breath sound that he makes when he is being angry Dod. This is probably the wrong time to do this. But I am doing it because he always seems to be angry Dod these days. He hasn’t let me out to wash in a long, long time. Hasn’t bought me any books in lots of weeks. Maybe months. He just comes into my room two times a day and leaves some food and water. Sometimes he doesn’t say anything. Then he leaves. The only other times I see him is when I need to do a pee or a poo.
He unlocks the door and doesn’t say anything. He just pulls it open and I put my hands up to my eyes stop the bright light from hurting them. I always do this. He sometimes says something like ‘hurry up’ or ‘don’t be long’ but he says nothing today. I walk down the wooden floor and then turn in to the toilet room and close the door behind me. The door has a small lock on it. Dod told me to never go near it. But I do. I slide it really slowly so that he can’t hear it. When I turn around a tear drops from my eye. I wipe it with my hand even though there is toilet paper in front of me. I sit up on top of the toilet with the lid shut. I remember what Dod said to me the very first time I was ever in this room. I keep hearing him saying it. Like I’m hearing it in my head.
If you make any noise up here at all, I won’t just hurt you. I will kill you.
I know what ‘kill you’ means. It means I will be dead.
I hold in another big breath and then I just do it. I scream. Really loud. Really, really loud. I don’t stop. I stand up on top of the toilet seat and just scream. I hear Dod at the door, banging away at it. But I don’t stop screaming.
‘Shut the fuck up. Betsy, I swear to you I’m gonna fuckin rip you to pieces when I get in there.’
I stop. Rip me to pieces? Probably he’s not going to kill me. I want to die. I want to go to heaven. I want to see Mummy and Daddy. Probably he’s just going to hurt me. I sit back down. My body begins to shake. My legs shake. My arms shake. I am so scared. The door is banging. Really loud. So is my chest. Dod isn’t saying anything. He is just banging on the door. I think it is with his foot. Then there’s a big hole in the door. Dod puts his face in the hole. I can see his eyes and his nose.
‘I’m gonna fuckin hurt you, Betsy.’
Then his arm comes through the hole and his hand goes to the lock and he slides it back.
When the door opens, he stands there. His face is all red. His hands are closed tight.
‘You little fuckin bitch. You better hope nobody heard all that.’
Then he grabs me.