Page 45 of Sloth
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ERIN
“Erin.” Luke pulls up outside Koben’s house and grabs my shoulders, turning my body and forcing me to look at him. “This time, I mean what I say. Stay in the truck.” He says the words slowly to ensure I hear them. “I know she’s your friend and you love her. I promise if she’s in any danger, I’ll get her out of it, but if you follow me inside, my priority is gonna have to change.
“Okay,” I promise, my mind racing with conclusions to what might have happened. Liza wasn’t exactly happy about being pregnant, but I know she wouldn’t have done anything to put her baby at risk.
Luke knocks on Koben's door and shrugs his shoulders at me when he doesn’t get an answer. I know he’s here, his truck’s parked outside, and
Luke knows too well that a knock on the door won’t be good enough, so he heads around the back while I watch the footage on his phone again.
“You're such a dumb fuckin’ bitch!” I hear yelling coming from inside the house. “A dumb, stupid, fuckin’ bitch. You could have ruined it all.” Despite the promise I made to Luke, I toss his phone on the driver's seat and open the door. I spent a wholeyear of my life doing exactly as I was told. I let someone talk down to me the way Koben is talking to my best friend now. That fire inside me that sat idle for so long just got fueled.
I rush for the front door and swing it open, charging up the stairs to where the shouting is coming from. When I see Koben standing over my friend, screaming in her face, I head straight for him.
“Erin, no!” Liza screams at me as I slam him to the wall, and when I start launching my attack, I have no idea why she’s pulling at my shoulders and trying to drag me off him.
“Erin, stop! You don’t understand.” I hear her screaming in my ear, but my fists keep slamming against his chest.
“Erin. You're gonna hurt yourself.” I wonder why Koben is standing so still. His hands in the air, surrendering as if I’m the fucking threat here.
“Erin, Jesus Christ, will you just listen for one minute?” Liza yanks me back, and when I step back a few more spaces, I take a step too far and lose my footing on the top of the stairs and topple backwards. I reach for whatever I can grab as I feel myself falling. I hear Liza scream. I feel my body bump and crash to the floor, and the last thing I see before I spiral into that tunnel of darkness is Luke, with a look on his face like he’s about to commit murder.
Three Months Ago
I wait until I’m sure everyone's left before I race to the bedroom and reach for the loose floorboard at the back of the wardrobe. I feel around the empty space until my fingers touch the test I’ve been hiding, and when I pull it out, one of my father's letterscomes along with it. They started coming, just after me and Matthew moved here. One, every single month, without fail: a reminder to me that he knows how to find me. Empty words that speak of redemption; a promise of reform, but I know they’re just another game. A sick, twisted game that I don’t want to play. I push the letter from my father back under the floorboard and take the test with me to the bathroom. I can’t lock the door. Matthew took the lock off, so I have no sanctuary, but him not being here means I at least get the privilege of closing the door when I use the toilet.
I take the test out of the box and read the instructions three times to ensure I don’t get it wrong. I only have one shot at this. I don’t know when I’d get the chance to pick up another one; my hands shake clumsily as I hold the stick between my legs and keep it in place while praying that my worst fear isn’t coming true.
I put the cap back on when I’m done, placing the test on the bath, and sitting with my back against its panel while I count down the minutes.
I try to convince myself that God wouldn’t be cruel enough to do this to a child. I’ve done everything I possibly can to ensure that this didn’t happen, but when I think back to a few weeks ago, I remember his fingers pressing down my throat, forcing me to throw up the contents of my stomach, and I have to face up to the fact that there's a chance. The instructions for the contraceptive pill I take say very clearly that extra precautions should be taken after vomiting. But I don’t have extra precautions. All I have is hope… and fucking prayers.
And now, all this could be happening because Matthew didn’t believe that I didn’t eat that last remaining flapjack from the batch his mom had sent him home with.
I turn around and cling to the side of the bath, keeping my eyes shut tight, too scared to look at the result. After anothersixty seconds pass by, I force myself to open them, and when I see a line where I don’t want it to be, everything inside me crumbles.
I used to daydream about this moment when I was younger. I've always wanted to be a mom, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I take the test and put it in the trash, pulling tissues from the dispenser to cover it while I think about my options.
Matthew is out gathering up the herd with his dad and brother. Issac and Jake are with them too, and they shouldn’t be expected back for a good few hours.
I could pack myself a bag and run. But I’m certain that he’d find me. I know he has a tracker on my car, and I wouldn’t get far on foot. Everyone knows everyone in Fork River. Someone would see me..
I hear my cell ringing and quickly get on my feet to answer it. If it’s Matthew, I know I only have four rings. Four rings or I’ll feel the buckle of his belt again, and I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
“Hel—Hello,” I answer, trying to keep it together when I see that it is him.“Erin. Erin, listen to me.” I can tell it’s important from the sound of his voice. “A steer got away from the herd, and I chased it down to the river on the Murdochs’ ranch. Do you know where that is?” He sounds so normal on the phone, talking like any other husband would to his wife.
“I know where it is.”
“The steer got himself tangled up in some barbed wire down here; ripped himself open trying to get free. I need you to bring my rifle so I can put him out of his misery,” he explains.
“Sure,” I whisper, my hands still shaking.
“Hurry up, he’s in a lot of pain,” he tells me, before hanging up, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror, making sure to wipe my face dry before I head for his cabinet.
I take out the rifle and pick up the box of cartridges, rushing for the car and resting it on the passenger seat beside me. I know already that, for every minute that steer suffers, Matthew will punish me for its pain.
I see irony in the fact he wants to stop one of his precious herd from suffering, yet he thrives on watching mine. I take the dirt road that leads off our ranch and on to the Murdochs, and park the car as close to the woodland that surrounds the river as I can get. Picking up the rifle, I tip out the box of cartridges onto the seat and pick up two before I get out and start walking to where Matthew and the steer are waiting.
