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America

“How did we lose two days?” I’m trying not to freak out, but I can see Runa has no idea either.

Moving a seven-foot plant that weighs as much as three golden retrievers is no easy feat, both of us are wheezing on the truck bed, Runa in one sharp motion swings a dusty blanket over the plant to conceal it.

I’m so confused about it all, suddenly so much more disoriented than before, the powder’s effects seeming far headier than either of us realized.

“It makes no sense.” Her voice drops to a grave tone.

There’s a knock so loud at the door of the shop it can be heard all the way from the back parking lot, where we sit.

“No!” Runa’s voice is filled with worry, the look in her face is pure desperation.

“It’s too soon!”

The knocking morphs into aggressive banging, incessant and impossible to ignore.

There’s no reality in which my father actually sees Chewbacca and just …

leaves her be.

He’ll figure out a way to exploit the situation and turn it into something he can profit from, something he can use to grow more powerful.

“What do we do?” I ask her, “You’re a witch, can’t you do something … magical?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” She shakes her head.

“Chewie, be a good girl, and be quiet .” She urges the plant, a firmness in her tone that makes me clench my thighs together again and remind myself the instructions are not for me.

“If you make noise, you won’t get to see me again, or America, understand?”

Chewie replicates the throaty Wookie sound, her volume soft though, like she can somehow comprehend that she’s being hidden.

“Listen,” I want to warn her but there’s only so much I can do, “My father is a lot so I just want to say–” I don’t get a chance to preemptively say my apologies on his behalf.

We are barely three feet inside the shop again, the backdoor closed and locked when my father’s assistant bursts into Runa’s shop.

Bursts is a word giving the action far too much power than it deserves.

Williams’ uses a rock to break the glass panel, sliding his dainty little wrists in through the opening to unlock the door from the inside.

“The Portal is closed today.” Runa’s tone is stern, borderline unrecognizable in contrast to how tender she is when dealing with Chewbacca or…

me.

“Oh.” Williams plays dumb, walking in anyway and gesturing to my father inside the metaphysical store.

“Then why was the door unlocked?”

“Young lady,” my father’s voice makes me wince as I brace for the worst, “I could charge you with kidnapping the daughter of a politician!”

Runa stands there, mouth left open from shock at the accusation, but it takes me even longer to register what he’s trying to say.

“Daddy I wasn’t–”

He raises his hand to silence me, the motion so familiar that my lips seal on command.

I can feel the heat of Runa’s stare.

Is it judgment that makes it so uncomfortable?

“I employed your daughter, I didn’t kidnap her.” Runa says confidently, not shrinking in my father’s presence.

There’s something about the way she stands up to him that gives me faith that there might just be someone out there who isn’t afraid of him.

That maybe he won’t control my life until his or my last breath.

“She didn’t answer her phone.” Williams puffs up his chest, like intimidating a woman half his size is some sort of accomplishment.

Runa refuses to give him any sort of reaction, her response lacking inflection, “We fell asleep.”

My father’s scowl takes over his face, his outrage only growing as her explanation goes on.

He sputters out some nonsensical noises, spittle flying through the room, landing on Williams.

He’s a lanky one, all legs and arms with bright orange hair, his glasses are round with gold rims and he keeps a matching gold silk handkerchief in his suit pocket.

I hate every inch of him.

My father’s mindless drone with a hunger only for climbing the power ladder.

“For two days?” Williams inserts himself into my business, peering through the shelves and tables in Runa’s store.

I clench my jaw, peeling my upper lip up to bare my teeth at him, but he holds his ground, his gaze full of malicious intent, his smirk so sinister.

“Well?” My father asks, looking between the two of us, “Were you working or were you sleeping?”

“Uh-um,” I stutter incoherently, my nerves getting the best of me.

Williams takes the opportunity to leave through the front door, seeing that he’s done the task of disarming me enough for my father to trample over, as usual.

“Both,” Runa’s voice drips in annoyance, “We worked, got tired, and slept. I’m not a monster, I let my employees rest. Can you say the same?” Her stare drifts to the door Williams left from.

“Only further proving my point. This is not somewhere I’ll allow you to work, not during my campaign. I can see the tabloids now, ‘Christian Senator’s daughter, working at pagan Satan shop.’” He grabs me by the wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise, “I’ve already made arrangements with Williams for the wedding, we will plan a date for March.”

The words hit like the gong of a bell, disorientingly painful: I feel them vibrate throughout my entire being.

I collapse on the ground, his hold on my arm only adding to my discomfort, my shoulder joint pulling at the socket when he doesn’t let go.

“No! Dadd–”

“Sir,” Runa’s hand is on my father’s arm, the look on her face terrifyingly calm.

“Please don’t touch her.”

My father’s eyebrows furrow, his hold on me only releasing to free his arm.

He throws his entire weight into the slap, tossing Runa against the wall.

A few framed items fall, glass cracking and breaking over her.

“Daddy!” I cry again, scattering away from him as fast as possible.

I crawl to Runa, but she’s barely conscious, in and out, eyes half shut as she mumbles sleepily.

My father’s shadow looms over us, ready to strike, to cull away the seeds that we’d just planted before they’d even had a chance to grow.

“Sir–” Williams bursts through the shop door again, his eyes wide, his breath ragged as he wheezes, hands clutching his knees for support.

“There’s something out here.”

No.

“Okay!” I jump up, “I’ll go with you,” defeat is better when it’s on your own terms, at least this way I can pretend like I’m the one in control here.

“I’ll get married to whoever you want, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Let’s just go now, please, before she wakes up.” The tears come down heavy and fast, I can’t stop them nor do I want to.

There’s a deep throbbing in my chest, one I can’t find the words for.

It’s grief, it’s heartbreak, it’s every type of sorrow you can imagine but for something I can’t name.

Something that was missed.

Something that never got to be.

Williams buckles me into the backseat with a look to him that says he’s won this one, my father’s dog, who always fetches and sits on command.

His hand strokes my hair without gentleness, the sneer on his face showing his contempt for my hair color still being pink.

I look back at The Portal for one final look.

There’s a glowing light from a still-lit candle shining through the windows when my father puts the car in drive to head toward the north side of the city.

An immense heat burns through me before we make it a block away, I bite my cheeks to contain the screaming, the scorching pain thrumming through my veins the further we get from the shop.

From the plant.

From Runa.

From everything I know that is supposed to be mine.

I clutch my stomach, making myself as small as possible, quietly grunting and whimpering until the feeling dulls.

It doesn’t go away, but with every second I suffer, I somehow become a little more used to it.

The sensation becomes almost familiar, like second nature, like breathing.

The pain becomes a part of me.

By the time I arrive home, I’m nothing but a shell, a cried out version of the girl I was just a few days ago.

A phoenix is supposed to rise from the ashes, but from the burning fire all I am is smoke.

I hope for the wind to take me away, to carry me back to Runa and Chewie, but I know soon it will be these fancy walls that trap me.

And just like smoke, I’ll stain them with what remains of me.