Page 17

Nova

I opened my eyes to the moonlight glaring through the window, casting an eerie glow over the room.

My breath caught in my throat as everything in me said that I’d been transported back to the small cramped space I’d been forced to live in for too many years.

My fingers clutched the soft blanket. Soft?

What had he done with the other? The thin, rough blanket that never kept me warm but was the only comfort I had.

The memories slammed into me, filling me with dread.

A moment of clarity came over me as I recognized the faint sound of leaves rustling on the trees outside.

Then, it happened again. The fear crept back in as the rustling sound morphed into scurrying.

Rats scurrying inside the thin walls. Running from one side to the other, teasing me night after night with their ability to move from one place to another.

Was it true? Was I back in the prison he’d held me in all those years? Was it all a dream? My freedom? Reuniting with my family?

As my heart raced, each thump caused my panic to rise.

Agony strangled me and made it hard to breathe.

I pressed my hands to my temples and tried to ground myself, but the thoughts were too powerful.

Nothing I did made me believe I was home.

I was back in that room, and my whole world deflated with that one thought.

The pain inside me was so unbearable that I knew the only way to end it would be to end my life. A thought that once terrified me now filled me with a wave of relief.

“Nova.” Mama’s voice rushed to my ears and caused the room that had closed in on me to expand.

Mama flipped on the light, and my eyes scanned the room, taking in every familiar object.

My dresser. My TV stand. My trophies and plaques.

A room that reminded me of the me I used to know.

A room that Mama refused to change, even after I got married and moved, because she said she always wanted it to feel like mine, just as she’d done with Leah’s.

I never loved Mama more than I did in that moment.

My heart continued its wild dance, a thunderous beat that eventually slowed as Mama walked farther into the room.

“I just peeped my head in to check on you before I turned in. Are you okay?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, Nova, you’re soaking wet.” She sat on the edge of the bed and used the back of her hand to feel my forehead like she used to do when I was younger.

“You’re not hot. Come on and get out of those clothes before you catch a cold.

” Mama reached for my hand, and I took it and let her lead me to the dresser, where she opened a drawer and pulled out another gown.

“You want me to help you?” She stared at my nightshirt, which was drenched in sweat.

I got the gown from Mama. “I got it.” I walked back to the bed and stood holding the gown.

Mama waited for a moment, her hand hesitating on the door handle. “Okay. If you’re sure,” she continued, standing as if she needed me to change my mind and let her help, but I couldn’t.

“I’m sure,” I said, before Mama turned and walked away.

The thought of anyone seeing me without clothes, even Mama, was unsettling.

I never wanted anyone else to look at me again.

My hands trembled at the memory of standing in the middle of the room for hours as Adam stared and instructed me on how to move and what he wanted me to do to myself.

The first time Adam tried to sleep with me was one of the worst moments of my life.

The only thing that saved me that night, and every night since, was that Adam’s thing didn’t work.

It didn’t stop him from trying, though. Then, he finally gave up and moved on to other ways to torture me.

Living inside a body where you were both the molester and victim was the most distorted feeling ever.

“Can I come back in?” Mama asked from the hallway.

I slid the gown over my body and threw the wet one in the corner of the room. “Come in.” I stood in the middle of the floor because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to go back to bed because more nightmares awaited me there.

As if reading my mind, Mama took my hand into hers.

“Why don’t you come lie with me?” Mama suggested, just as she’d done so many times when I was younger and woke from a nightmare in a screaming fit.

Of course, back then, the monsters were all make-believe.

My monster was no longer alive, but the effect he’d left on my life was, and I was afraid that that unsettling feeling would always be a part of me.

I followed Mama back to her room. I hesitated before I crawled into her bed.

My gaze fell on the empty side that was still made up and untouched—a heavy reminder of Daddy’s absence.

Running to the safety of my parents’ bed didn’t feel like it used to when I was cocooned between Mama and Daddy, snuggling safely between an extra layer of protection.

Mama walked around the bed where I was still standing, staring down at the empty space, and wrapped her arms around me.

She held me close to her. Mama pulled the covers back, and I slid underneath them.

I moved close to Mama and allowed her powdery scent to soothe me back to sleep.

The following day, I woke up alone. The brightly lit room was a relief.

I’d slept the rest of the night without another nightmare.

I’d faced Mama’s side of the bed and stared at the big red numbers on the clock.

I’d gone years without knowing the day, year, or time.

Every now and then, Adam would say he needed to be somewhere at a certain time.

Whenever I heard his old pickup truck groaning down the driveway, I knew it must’ve been close to that time.

Eventually, I didn’t even want to know. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go or anyone to see.

My focus slid away from the numbers and to the framed picture of Mama and Daddy. I leaned over, picked it up, then ran my finger over Daddy’s face. I attempted to clear the lump that had formed in my throat, but it was too big, just like my longing for Daddy.

As I stared at the picture, I could hear Daddy’s laugh as it echoed in my ear.

His deep hearty laugh that always lifted my spirits.

I looked into his eyes that were always full of warmth and love.

Even through the picture I felt him reassuring me that everything was going to be okay.

It would be a lot better if Daddy was here, though. He made life better.

Would I always miss him this much? Shouldn’t I be used to not seeing him? But this was different. I didn’t expect him to be in that room. I expected him to be here. He was supposed to be here. It didn’t feel fair that he wasn’t.

The last time I saw him was when Quinton and I dropped Skye off before we left for what should’ve been a weekend. I could still see Daddy standing in the doorway, holding Skye with one arm and hugging me with the other.

“She’s gonna be just fine. Now wipe those tears and go enjoy yourself.” He winked, and that was enough to calm my nerves and my spirit. I was leaving Skye in the best hands.

After a while, I put the picture back on the stand and made the bed.

Mama used to hate to see a bed unmade. I was the same way.

Even in that room, I made the bed every morning.

Not only because I wanted to do it but mainly because it gave me something to do.

At least for a short time, I had a purpose.

Other than that, Adam did everything. He cooked food and brought it up for us to sit and eat.

We only ate breakfast and dinner together.

Lunch was a sandwich or cereal and milk, sometimes tuna and crackers.

Adam was the worst cook. Most of the time, I didn’t recognize what I was eating.

It didn’t help that I’d always been a picky eater.

I was particular about my food, and I hated it when my food touched.

Adam mixed everything together and served it as one dish.

Meat, vegetables, condiments, whatever he could throw together and call edible.

Over time, I learned to tolerate it. It was either eat or die, and I chose to live.

Most days, I questioned if I’d made the right choice.

What was I living for? To spend another day in a room where, other than Adam, my only visitors were the critters that found their way through the cracks in the walls and floorboard.

“Hey, Sweet Pea,” Mama said when I joined her in the kitchen. She stood by the stove, one hand stirring food and the other resting on her round hip. Her hair was still tied in her pink headscarf, and her big blue rollers were underneath.

“Can I have a clock and a calendar?” I asked Mama.

“Sure. You can take the clock from my room.”

“Can I have this calendar?” I pointed to the wall where she’d pinned a calendar from some insurance company.

“Of course.” Her eyes narrowed as if she had a question but was unsure if she should ask.

“I want to put them in my room,” I told her.

She nodded. “I fixed us some bacon, eggs, and pancakes.” Mama waved her hand around the stove.

“This is a lot of food.” My stomach growled and churned at the same time.

I wasn’t used to so much food. I’d always had a big appetite.

Mama used to say I ate like a grown man.

I was also active, so as soon as I ate it, it wasn’t long before I burned it off.

Adam only cooked enough for a small plate of food, which was okay because it took everything in me to choke down the little he gave me.

I stared at the plate in front of me, and I wanted to dive in and never stop until every crumb was gone, but I couldn’t. The doctor said it would be a while before my body adjusted to things again. I’d hoped “a while” would have meant by the time I made it home, but it didn’t.