The City That Never Sleeps

hand on her knee. “I have to make some calls first.”

  What calls? She felt sick. She hated how the ball tasted, and some of her hair was caught in the buckle and hurt when she moved her head. She wanted to bathe. She couldn’t speak now – she couldn’t do anything. She stared up at him, hoping the things she was pining for would register. He couldn’t leave her like this again, all day like this.

  “I told you,” he said as he headed to the stairs. “Looks like that won’t get you anything.”

  Then what would? She hung her head and tried to relax, she tried to get her mind to tell her body to relax instead of protesting by sending waves of pain down her back and shoulders. There’s nothing you can do so just stop, stop hurting.

  18

  For a few minutes he was quiet. Then she could hear him moving around upstairs. At first she only heard light footsteps but then she heard quite a few thuds. It sounded like maybe he’d fallen down. Then it sounded like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. After that, silence elapsed for an hour.

  He came down at last. It had felt like an entire day had gone by even though that wasn’t the case. He came skipping down the stairs, experiencing another burst of energy. He stood in front of her, calmly observing her with his hand against his cheek.

  “I think you’re small enough for…what I need to do,” he decided.

  Of course she wanted to know what he meant by that, her body rocked with fear and anxiety. He stared at her for a moment before coming over to her and picking up the gun. Her body tensed as he pressed it to her temple and dragged it along her face to her neck. She would fit in the trunk. He just had to take his records out.

  “Don’t be scared of the darkness…” he said. “Before I…” he paused, looking down at his gun. “Do this…I want to tell you a story. Something that happened to me when I was little that called for bravery – I was brave,” he clearly stated. “I was in the dark for a long time and sometimes…when you’re in the dark for that long, the darkness becomes…something else.”

  He stood up and backed away. He kept staring at his gun. Then he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

  He got behind her and unfastened the ball gag. She was so glad when it dropped from her mouth and rolled across the floor. She moved her jaw around, stretched her mouth around and tried to make it feel normal again. Drool hung in strings from her lips. She couldn’t wipe it away. He untied her arms and legs and pulled her up.

  “We’re going to go try something upstairs,” he let her know. “You are very small,” he said in an afterthought, looking down at her.

  “May I please take a bath?” she asked in the sweetest voice she could muster.

  “All you do is want things,” he said, tiredly. “I was out all day…trying to come up with a plan for you and now you want something else. You were the one fucking creeping around outside and saw what you did! You think I wanted this, huh? To contend with?”

  “I think you do,” she said, breathlessly because she was scared of the consequence of her words and yet was unable to stop them from spurting out of her mouth. “I don’t think you want to be alone just like me – or you would have already killed me.”

  “I haven’t killed you yet because I’ve been trying to come up with a plan,” he let her know, his tone was very cold that time.

  “Have you?” she asked, endearingly.

  “I have…a few ideas. That is why we’re going upstairs, but now you want to bathe.”

  “It is my last request – please. Whatever you decide to do after that I will coincide with. Please, I just feel so dirty…so tired.”

  “I also feel tired,” he said. Not that anyone cares, or has ever cared.” He stood there, very still.

  “I like the way a gun feels,” he said. “It feels so impermeable…so…” he pressed the side of the gun against her neck.

  “See what I mean?” Madness flashed in his eyes. It was as noticeable as a traffic light at night.

  “Yes…”

  “You will get your bath and then…whatever you get after that is up to me. How tall are you?”

  “Five…three?”

  “Okay. That will work. Now…” he pushed her along so she neared the stairs. “Your amount of time this time is half an hour – that means exactly thirty minutes, understand? Not thirty-five and not forty.”

  “Yes sir,” she abided. She thought it was finalized. She started up the stairs when he pulled her back down. He made her feel so small, the way he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall.

  “Hey,” he said, his elbow was against the wall, the gun in his hand. His other hand was pulling at her hair so she was cornered and couldn’t escape.

  “I want you to listen to what I’m about to say, little girl. I…don’t…need…a…living…soul. People lie and they hurt others. That’s what they do. You were just going to get older and turn into an asshole too. I know you’re thinking, no, no I would not turn into an asshole but its almost…like you can’t help it. Something bad would have happened to you,” he assured. “Some boy would have broken your heart, found a nice, sweet piece of you and would have rotted it.” He softened his voice and stopped toying with her hair.

  “It just…is how it all…evolves, we start off as tiny little innocent babies and then we die and our flesh leaves out bones. It’s the same…for everyone.” he finished. Then he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the stairs.

  19

  She took off her dirty clothes and let them fall to the floor wherever they may please.

  There was a full length mirror in his bathroom. She stared at her underdeveloped body. She had so much left, so much growing to do, so many days to fill. She didn’t even know who she was yet. She ran her hand over her delicate skin before looking over her shoulder at the door. He was standing on the other side with the gun, making sure she didn’t go anywhere. To him, all that mattered was that she was here, that she stayed put. And he stayed put. How could such a disturbing situation feel so venerating?

  She turned back around and looked into the mirror. Sometimes what you want will never be understood.

  “Hey?” he called out. “What are you doing in there? You’re supposed to be taking a bath.”

  “I am!” she reached out for the knob and turned the water on, afraid he’d come in here. He’d advised her to not lock the door and checked only by opening it a crack. She didn’t want him to see her naked, he’d laugh at her boyish figure.

  She looked at the picture tucked into the corner of the mirror. It looked a few years old. It was taken on the beach. He had her arms around his wife. They both looked happy. In that picture, one could never hurt the other. Their skin was reddened by the sun. Were they happy or just drunk? Were they happy or just capable, on that day, of pushing their troubles aside? Time is constant but in pictures…

  She took the picture down and looked at the back. Written up in the corner was Florida, 2009. She put the picture back where it was.

  She sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the door as she surfed her hand through the warm water. She looked around the bathroom. She wondered how much stuff was his and how much belonged to his wife. Had the towels been cleaned since she used them?

  A NO PLACE LIKE HOME sign hung next to the bathroom mirror. What was in the medicine cabinet, she wondered. She opened it – expensive bubble bath, nice lotions, floss, and a toothbrush that had never been opened, perhaps for a guest. She took it out and brushed her teeth madly for about five minutes. She knew she’d already spent at least ten minutes of her permitted time. When she was done brushing her teeth she looked up at the container of shimmer and sparkle cinnamon scented bath soak. That sounded so nice, so relaxing. She imagined filling her warm bath with it. She’d probably feel hit with a horse tranquilizer. But he didn’t want her smelling like his wife so she respectfully closed the medicine cabinet and turned herself over to the bath. It was still incredibly comforting e
ven without the bath soak.

  She sank down underneath the water, plugging her nose as her hair grew heavy with water. She came back up, feeling amazingly replenished already, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that deliciously smelling bath soak. Just a little scoop wouldn’t hurt, he wouldn’t even be able to smell it on her.

  She got out and stepped on the towel and opened the medicine cabinet. She took just a dab with her finger. It was waxy but dissolved quickly in the tub and smelled yummy.

  “You have ten minutes,” Phillipe informed from the hallway.

  “Okay,” she said. She dipped her head under the water one more time so the shampoo washed out. She could stay in here for the rest of the day, let the sun slip under a cloud and take the rest of the world with it. She didn’t like taking baths at home because everything was always dirty, everything always felt chaotic. Her mother never cleaned. Her dad certainly didn’t. Phillipe did – everything in his house was spotless.

  “Hey,” he started knocking, his patience thinning.

  “Getting out!” she called out. “Drying off.” She quickly stood up and put her foot on the floor, missing the towel. Her heel slipped and her legs went flying out until her toe slammed into the toilet and her head banged hard against the edge of the tub. For a minute she was so stunned by her fall that she was numb to any injury inflicted. Then her head started to throb and an unbelievable pain