Page 26 of Brave
She stared at the cell phone in her hands, its soft lit screen dimming in a prelude to winking back off into standby. She tapped back out of messages and looked at the internet symbol. Ethan’s control over her life had been so utter and so complete. Nothing had belonged to her while she’d been with him. Not her clothes, not her phone, not even the things she’d bought herself long before she became his property and his pet.
The day she moved into his house, he’d taken her phone and given her another. One that he could access on his computer. One that he monitored daily, checking it religiously to see where she was going and what she was doing. Access to social media had been a punishable offense in Ethen’s house. If she was not at work, her time was strictly occupied by his carefully policed routines that kept her attention on him, not Facebook. To her, phones were not a link to friends and family or a source of entertainment. Literally, it was a piece of the enemy that she kept forever attached to her body so that he could monitor her every minute of every day. Even now, having been free of him for over a year, she barely used it.
Hiding under the blankets in her bed so Pony wouldn’t see the light, for the first time, Puppy set up her phone so she could access her Yahoo mail account. Her heart racing, trying not to feel like she was doing something awful and wrong, she read what he had sent her. It was a list of rules.
#1 You will message me every morning first thing when you wake up and again at night right before you go to sleep. I want to know how you are feeling and that you are okay.
#2 You will take photos of what you are eating. Once before you start, and again after you are done so I can see how much you’re eating and that you are taking care of yourself.
#3 You will have a breakfast, a lunch, and a dinner, at minimum. You will not skip meals.
#4 You will meet me at Black Light at least once each week. If you cannot make it for whatever reason, you will let me know ahead of time so we can discuss it.
#5 When you get the negotiation contract, print it out and go over it thoroughly. Answer every question. Be honest.
#6 Today is a new day. Have a good one.
And that was it.
As she read and reread that list of instructions, she waited for that old familiar sense of dread that Ethen’s lists had always inspired, but it never came. This list was softer. It felt gentle, caring. For just a moment, it was like she was standing in the bathroom at Old Ebbitt Grill with Carlson’s arms folded around her. She could practically feel the softness of his shirt against her cheek as he tucked her head under his chin, stroked her hair and rubbed her back, until all she felt was safe.
A tiny pulse of heat came throbbing to life between her legs, and she was so tempted to reach down and touch. To hold that warm pulse inside her and savor this first exquisite thump of arousal that had absolutely nothing to do with Ethen.
“Are you awake?” Pony whispered.
Caught. Her heart stumbled.
Hiding her phone amongst her blankets, Puppy reluctantly uncovered her head. “Yes.”
“I think I’m bleeding.”
And so her day began.
Pony’s movements were slow and weak as she helped her out of bed and walked her into the bathroom. Apart from the dark circles around her eyes, she seemed even paler than usual. Puppy helped her out of her harness and because her legs wobbled when Pony stepped into the tub, she got in the shower with her.
The harness had rubbed her raw in the night. Old scabs on her ribs and around her breasts had fallen off. New ones had appeared over her shoulders, across the back of her neck and down her spine. Puppy washed and dressed them as best she could.
“Please don’t put the harness back on,” she begged, but Pony only broke down and cried.
“I miss him so much.”
And back on the corset went anyway.
Her mother made toaster waffles for breakfast, and the three women sat down to eat in strained, heavy silence. It was a strange feeling, being surrounded by people she didn’t want to notice while she fumbled with her phone’s camera to take a discrete picture.
She didn’t know how to use the camera any more than she knew how to use her phone. The flash she didn’t realize was on lit up the entire table.
“Did you just take a picture of your waffle?” her mother asked. “Is… is that for Facebook or… or Twitter? I didn’t realize you were posting again.”
Pony stared at her from across the table. She said nothing, but Puppy could feel the weight of her silent accusation boring into her.
“I’m supposed to keep a log of how much I’m eating.”
Surprised, her mother brightened. “Is this something your therapist suggested? I didn’t know you were still seeing him.”
She wasn’t, and she hadn’t for six months. But Pony was still staring at her, making her face burn and the snakes in her stomach coil and writhe. “He wants to make sure I’m eating enough.”
It wasn’t a complete lie and Pony wasn’t fooled, but the explanation satisfied her mother. “Whoever you’re seeing, keep them. He sounds good for you.”
