Stained (14 page)

The last time I thrust my bared cheek forward, I felt him hesitate, heard him draw in his breath as if it scared him. I hope it did.

Wheels crunch along gravel. A car door slams. His feet shake the steps, and then the door grates open. Cool air pushes at my face.

I have to remember not to fight back. He goes easier on me when I give in.

The door thuds shut. Footsteps come toward me. I stand still, my head held high, trying to keep from trembling.

“You're not going to rush me? I'm shocked,” Brian says.

I shrug. “It never works.”

“You got that right.”

The floorboards groan, and the sharp, piney scent of his cologne fills the room. “You're not even going to beg me to let you go? You're slipping.”

“I thought that's what you wanted. For me to accept my place.”

“True . . .”

But he doesn't sound happy. Maybe he enjoys the fight. Maybe that's what's keeping me alive, even though he says he wants me to comply. “You can't keep me here. They're going to find me!”

“You know that isn't true.” He strokes my cheek gently, and I let him. “Why do you keep lying to yourself?”

“Why do you?” I shoot back. “They're going to catch you. When I get out of here, everyone will know what you did. My dad will come after you. They all will.”

Brian makes a clucking sound with his tongue. “You're dreaming. But let's say, for argument's sake, that you did manage to escape. Then I would have to kill your parents. It would be your fault they died. Do you really want to make that happen? I've told you—they're better off without you. Without the burden you create for them.”

He's crazy, absolutely crazy
—
but I believe him. He will kill my parents if I escape. How can I ever try to leave now?

But I can't stay. I will die. There's got to be a way that I can escape and still warn them in time. Or maybe he's just bluffing.

“Ah. I can see by your expression that you've been trying to free yourself. I knew you were stronger than those other girls, even if your actions are misguided. Just remember: if you get out, your family dies.”

I turn my head away from his voice, trying to keep my face impassive. I can't let him see my fear. He's too insidious, twisting his logic to fit my reactions.

Brian's footsteps creak across the floor as he paces the room. I wait, praying he won't see my attempts to loosen the board.

He comes to stand in front of me again, his cologne so thick in the air, I cough.

“Whatever you've been doing, it's going to stop. You need to accept your fate. This is where you belong.”

I shake my head no.

“Yes.” Brian grips my cheeks between his fingers and thumb, squeezng hard, then lets me go. “Your parents gave up on you the day you were born. You don't have anyone in the world who loves you—except me.”

“My parents love me.” I say it quietly, but not quietly enough.

“Will you stop your nattering? I swear, I thought you were smarter than this. They feel guilty about your face. Guilt isn't love.”

Liar!
I pinch my lips together to hold in the words.

“If they really loved you, they'd be spending all their time looking for you, but they're not. They're just trying to save your dad's business. It's doing much better now that you're not around to worry them.”

“That doesn't even make sense. It wasn't in trouble until the day you took me.”
Was it?

“
You
made your dad's business fail when you asked for those laser treatments,” he says.

Something inside me shifts. “You're lying!” My voice shakes. “You're just trying to suck me into your crazy world!”

“Don't be silly. Think about it—why haven't they tried harder to find you? Because they could have if they really wanted to. It's all there in front of them.”

“They
are
looking for me,” I say, though I'm no longer sure if that's true.

“Sarah, Sarah.” Brian sighs heavily. “Why can't you make this easy on yourself? Learn what you have to learn. Stop resisting me. I can see I'll have to teach you another lesson. Your dad's business started failing the day he made the appointment for your laser treatments. He was distracted by you and your mother fighting, so he wasn't watching things closely. It was all too easy to take advantage of him.”

My heart clenches. “
You're
the one who stole from him!”

“Misappropriated his funds.” I can hear Brian smile. “And that was just the beginning. I can make their lives hell if you don't learn what you have to learn.”

His fingers dig into my arm. Anger rises like heat off his skin.

I never should have argued with him. I can't bear the thought of him hurting Dad and Mom even more.

He yanks at my jeans, jerking at the fabric.

I swallow. I know what he wants to hear. I hope he believes me. “I guess they have felt guilty about my face.”

“Of course they have.”

He thrusts me back against the wall, his hands rough on my skin.

I keep talking, my tongue thick. “I know it's hard on them. I've seen their pain when people are mean to me.”

“Exactly.” His hands are almost gentle now.

Brian's sharp cologne slices through my body odor, his bristly lips scratch my skin, and I feel myself slip away from my body to float up above it all. I watch from the ceiling as if I can astral travel like Raven, the Teen Titan. I wish I had her teleportation power instead, to vanish myself out of here.

“You're so beautiful,” Brian whispers.

I hear Mom's voice echoing Brian's, and I want to shut them out, but their voices go on and on, following the rhythm of my breath, until they drown out the sound of Brian moving against me.

Day 67, 2:00 A.M.

 

I WISH I COULD track Sarah down by her scent the way Wolverine could and bring her home safe. I scowl into the semidarkness of my bedroom, the glow from my laptop like a night-light. I know it's stupid to think like that. Life is not a comic book; not even close. If it were, Sarah would be home right now. Instead, she's still out there somewhere, scared and hurting.

I'm dog tired, but to sleep feels like I'm betraying her, leaving her all alone. So I haunt the website, create new comics, do anything to connect to her. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who still cares. Me and the Meadowses and Brian.

Brian dropped by again today, bringing muffins and coffee. Mrs. Meadows just picked at them.

“You don't have to keep doing this,” she said. “You've got a job as long as you want it, as long as we can afford it. Thomas said you're brilliant at what you do.”

Brian smiled, but he looked sad, somehow. “That's not why I'm here. I want to make things easier for you, Ellen. You seem to be in such pain all the time.”

“I just—I miss her,” Mrs. Meadows said, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. “I miss her, and I worry about her.”

“I know you do.” Brian patted her hand. Then he jerked his chin at me. “Buck up, Nick. Try to help Ellen, here.”

“Oh, he does!” Mrs. Meadows said quickly.

For a moment I wanted to hit him, but I know he was saying it only because I looked as down as Mrs. Meadows did.

But Charlene doesn't look down, not anymore. I saw her and Gemma in the Java Cup on my way home. Charlene was holding Gemma's hand across the table, staring into her eyes like she was love struck. It made me want to smash something. Why is it that Charlene gets happiness while Sarah and I don't?

But I know why. I never made my move. And there were so many times I could have. Like that time in the comic shop when Sarah had a rant. She flung down the comic she'd been reading like it disgusted her.

Geordie, the clerk, glared at her. “Lucky you already bought that copy.”

“Yeah, well, you can take it off my pull file. I can't stand it anymore,” Sarah said, her eyes all fiery.

“Stand what?” Geordie asked, clicking away at his computer.

“How . . .
weak
she is. ClawBright should be as strong as Superman or the Hulk—but no, she's got half the power and is so messed up she needs a male's hero guidance to figure anything out.”

I never thought of ClawBright like that before. But she was right.

“And why does she always have to be dressed like a hooker? And with such big . . . big . . .”

“Boobs?” Geordie said, scratching his belly. “I like them.”

“You would.”

I could see other customers listening. Some even stopped pulling comics to watch.

“I know what you mean,” I said shyly. “It's like her superpower is her looks. She's a pin-up for guys to drool over. Not a serious character like Batwoman.”

“Exactly!” Sarah said, turning to me gratefully. She looked surprised when she recognized me, and yet I thought I saw a brief flash of admiration or maybe just respect, and then it was gone.

“Hey—they're just catering to the clientele,” Geordie said. “Most of the buyers are middle-aged men. Without them, there'd be no comics.”

Sarah spluttered. “That's so
backwards!
”

She was so angry that she forgot to hide her cheek. She looked more beautiful—and strong—that way. “Men aren't the only ones with money.”

“Don't freak out on me,” Geordie said. “I didn't make the comic. I just sell it. And read it,” he said, leering.

Sarah ducked her head, making her hair fall over her cheek, and just like that, the fierce, brave Sarah that I loved was gone. She grabbed her comics and left.

I followed her out. I wanted to tell her that she was fabulous. I wanted to tell her that I agreed with what she said. I wanted to tell her that I'd illustrate any comic she wrote. Most of all, I wanted to ask her out. But Sarah was walking hard and fast, and I let her get ahead of me, and then out of sight, the words still curled on my tongue.

I push the sheets aside and get up, turn on my desk lamp, and rub my eyes.

I pick up my pencil, look at the roughs I did earlier, and start sketching in the details. Sarah and me, fighting crime. I've gotten better. I can see it in the way the lines flow, in the way the characters look more natural, their expressions stronger, the shadows and light enhancing each other. It's like all my fear and pain drive me, pouring onto the page to grab the reader. But I want it to be Sarah who reads these pages, who sees herself strong and fierce like the comics she wanted to buy.

I know my story line is clumsy and my dialogue awkward, but Sarah can fix those when she gets back. We'll be the perfect team.

I finish up the crosshatching, deepening the shadows around the building that Diamond and I leap from before we fly off into the night. Then I cap my pen and crawl back into bed, my fingers stiff, my body so tired that I fall asleep without trying.

I dream of Sarah.

SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE I've always been here. This shack, this prison, has become my reality. The same damned things every day, over and over again until I want to scream. I do scream. I have screamed many times. But I try not to, because when I do, I feel myself start to lose it. Like I'm falling through the darkness of my mind to a place I'll never crawl out of.

I know the seasons are passing. I don't need the thermal blanket anymore. Barely need my coat. I can smell mud and the beginnings of grass and leaves.

I talk to Dad and Mom, to Charlene and Nick, as if they're here beside me, and I imagine them answering me back. I make up entire conversations. I have to. And I live and relive my memories.

The first time I “met” Nick outside of school, we were both reaching for a misshelved copy of
Invincible.
Nick got it first, my fingers just brushing the comic.

“Hey!” I said, trying to grab it.

Nick whirled around—and then his face softened. “Here. You can have it,” he said, thrusting it into my hands.

“No. Take it.” I shoved it back.

“What? Why?” Nick blinked behind his thick glasses.

“I don't take pity gestures.”

“Pity?”

“My cheek,” I said, gesturing, though he'd have had to be blind to miss it.

“Oh.” Nick's face grew red. “No, I— Hey, I don't take pity gestures, either.”

“What?”

“You know, feeling sorry for the fat loser guy.”

I scowled and shoved the comic at his chest. “Just take it.”

“Okay,” Nick said slowly, reaching for it. “I've been waiting for this all week. They forgot to put it in my pull file, and I heard it already sold out.”

I'd heard that, too. “You won it, fair and square. You really did beat me to it.”

“Barely.” Nick shook his head.

“I'm Sarah,” I said.

“Yeah, I know.” Nick looked at me. “We're in the same school.”

“Oh.” My face burned. I ducked my head to hide behind my hair even more. I didn't look at the other kids a lot, especially not at their faces, not unless I had to. I did my best not to engage them. But now I'd probably made him feel like a loser.

I searched through my memory. “Nick, right?” I said hesitantly.

“Yeah. Nick. Anyway—I wasn't going to give this to you because I felt sorry for you. It's just nice to see a girl in here. It's usually only us fanboys.”

Nick was right—it usually was only guys, and I didn't always feel comfortable walking in. But I wasn't going to tell him that. “Okay.” I turned to leave.

“Hey, listen—you can borrow this if you want, after I read it. Say—tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at him for the first time. “I'd like that.”

I lean my head back, replaying the memory over and over again.

 

I wake to Brian leaning over me. I know his breath, his smell. I don't know how he got in without my waking up, but exhaustion makes me slower. Stupid.