Page 37 of Come Alive
Because of me.
Eve didn’t speak again as she carefully led us over the broken mirror, towards the back of the warehouse. Just when I thought we might leave altogether, she led us to a hidden door, which opened to a long hallway of doors. Taking the first to the right, it opened to a spiral staircase that we climbed. At the top, shecontinued further back until opening a door into the pinkest room I had ever seen. A windowless bedroom fit for a child.
She helped me carefully to the bed. “He wanted me to make sure you would stay in this room. Can you promise not to run? At least not while I’m in here. I’m hoping he’ll—he’ll let me go…after.” Eve swallowed down a sob. “I will be in the room next door. He will come for us when he is ready.”
My hand moved to my stomach, cradling it. “Does he know that I’m—”
Eve covered my mouth with her palm, leaning as close to me as she could before whispering in my ear, “No.” The warning in the word was clear.
Shutting my mouth, I inclined my head and she released me.
“It will be okay. It has to be,” she stated firmly, her shackles clanking as she stood to leave. A reminder that she was a prisoner here. That she had been trapped with myfather. “Soon. He will be done with us soon.” And then she left, the lock clinking into place behind her.
My mind was reeling, the shock of seeing myfatherunearthing memories I had submerged as deep as I possibly could. But in this pink room that reminded me of my own as a child, with the knowledge he was nearby?
They bubbled their way up and out of me. Forcing me to recall the darkest and worst parts of my origin story.
The matches I stole. The toilet paper I wadded up. The fire that slowly crept up around me, waiting patiently for it to take me from that life.
Chapter 23
Yara
Six Years Old
“Mama? Look at this!” I exclaimed, showing her the rock I had found. It was shapedexactlylike a heart and had been buried in a small pile of mud.
We were on the front lawn of our house where mama and I went to spend time together. She wastoosick to go any further. At least that’s what she had always told me.
“What’s that sweetheart?” She leaned forward on the blanket she sat on. Holding out her hands for it, she tried to hide her pain, but I could see the wince that caused her whole body to flinch.
“Are you okay, Mama?” Dropping the rock, I shifted further up on the blanket.
“Yara, dear, please go clean your hands off for me, will you? Quickly.”
“Dolly! Where are you?!” My father’s harsh voice cut through our little bubble.
Immediately, even as a child, I knew to stop what I was doing. To freeze and try my best to be overlooked.
“Out here,” my mama called, but her soft tone pitched in anxiety. She dropped the rock. “Your hands. Put them behind your back.Now.”
My father barreled out of the house, shifting his gaze left and right, before settling on us. On my mama.
“You’re showing too much skin, Dolly. Your hair is a mess. What will the neighbors think? I didn’t marry aslob,”he advised calmly.
“Yes, sir.We will go back inside now. I apologize for my appearance.”
“We?”He stomped up until he stood on the blanket, his feet marking it in dirt and mud.
My mother shook, her face turned ashen.
My father didn’t often acknowledge me, but when he did? It was never good.
“Show me your hands,girl.”He didn’t turn his head, only his eyes flicking to my form.
My attention bounced to Mama, and I only listened when she inclined her head.
Placing my palms up, I didn’t expect the slap across my mama’s face that immediately followed. A sob escaped my lips as she fell back.
