I couldn’t take my eyes off the plate.
It sat on the stairs, the smell reaching all the way over to my bed.
Where I was lying.
The dress was off and, “Good girl,” was being growled in my ear.
I didn’t listen to him.
I didn’t feel his presence.
I was a pit of emptiness.
Filled by him but solely focused on the plate.
All I could smell was the meat.
Hearty, rich, savory, like pot roast. Small wisps of steam rose into the air. Bland-colored carrots, softened but still erect, stood from the center.
My stomach grumbled.
The side of my face was shoved into the dewy-smelling mattress, blocking half my vision.
I still stared, not blinking.
The potential of a full belly was the only thing keeping me from breaking.
The warmth.
Comfort.
Suddenly, the pain halted.
There was a chugging of air.
Like a train putting on its brakes.
His weight was then gone.
He released the back of my head, my face lifting from the mattress like a suction cup.
The sound of metal, a loud cough, feet moving across the gritty cement, and then, “Do you think you’ve earned yourself a meal?”
I pulled my bare legs against my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
The clothes I had taken off to dress in white were close by, but I wasn’t allowed to put those on yet.
There were rules.
I dragged my eyes away from the plate, meeting his emotionless black pits.
He liked to play this game.
Make me question if I was deserving enough.
Make me fear if he was going to leave the food since there had been times when he took it with him.
I nodded.
“Use your voice, Kerry.”
My throat stung as my lips parted, sucking in air and pushing it through my chest—a pathway that had been clogged from not speaking for so long.
It had been at least a period and two nail-bitings since I’d uttered anything above a whisper.
“Yes.” My spit was thick, and I cleared my throat. “I’ve been the best.”
He laughed.
His glasses fell halfway down his nose, his gobbler wiggling as though it were saying hello.
“You’re so fucking greedy.” He rolled up his sleeves, showing dark hair that curled. “You’re nothing but a disappointment.”
My body began to shake as he grabbed the wide-strapped white dress off the floor and walked over to the stairs.
I held my breath as he went up the first five and stood over the plate.
He glared down at it.
Then at me.
“Should I spill it on the floor and make you eat it that way?”
I shook my head.
Silently begging.
“Do better, Kerry.”
How?
I didn’t fight.
I didn’t tell him no.
His lips stretched across his teeth. “Do fucking better.”
He glanced back at the plate.
The tears were building, my hands clenching.
He began to bend, like he was going to lift it, but stopped.
His eyes were on me now.
Reading my body language.
As he laughed again, the noise vibrated through each of my muscles, burrowing into my chest, where it echoed long after he stopped.
“You pathetic doll.”
He continued to climb, and at the top, the latch shut.
One, two, three locks clicked into place.
I didn’t put my clothes back on.
I hurried over to the stairs instead, climbing until the plate was in my hands, before carefully returning to the bed.
He hadn’t left me any utensils, so I used my fingers to scoop up the meat.
I moaned the quietest noise as it dropped onto my tongue.
The juices, the texture, the flavor—they were perfect.
I went slow, nibbling at a speed my stomach could handle.
When I was halfway done, I forced myself to take a break.
To set the rest aside, giving me something to look forward to in a little while.
I turned to Beverly, where she was resting on the other side of the room.
When I’d first heard the latch, that was where I’d placed her.
I didn’t want her too close.
I didn’t want her to watch.
She had been upset enough already.
I put on my clothes and went over to her.
I pushed my back against the wall and sat down, holding her in my arms.
Her face was against my chest.
Her hair was wild, so I tamed the yarn with my sticky fingers.
She was sad—I could feel it in her body.
She didn’t like when the monster came down into our cave.
She didn’t like when he played.
I needed to cheer her up. I needed to make her feel better.
It’s going to be all right, I told her. It’s over … he’s gone for now.
While I waited for her to respond, like the screaming and fighting words that had burst out of her not that long ago, I rested her face on my shoulder.
I began rocking my body, humming an almost-silent tune, tapping her back.
There was no specific beat, no words. Just a quiet, steady rhythm.
And when I needed to add some drums, I reached behind me with my other hand and knocked on the cement.
“Hmmm,” I sang to her. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.”
Knock.
Knock.
“Hmmm. Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.”
Knock.
Knock.
Just as I took a breath, I heard something.
A sound I hadn’t expected.
One that made me turn silent.
That made my whole body freeze.
This time, it hadn’t come from Beverly.
I was sure of that—she was in my arms, making it impossible.
It had to have come from someone else.
I waited to see if it happened again.
A few seconds later, it did.
Soft, subtle but definitely clear.
Someone was knocking back.