Page 69 of The Vanishing Place
Adam held the door open and Anya ducked under his arm.
Effie gasped at the sight of the girl.
No.
They’d taken her hair.
“Breakfast,” said Adam.
Her beautiful long red hair.
Anya set a small bowl on the floor and backed away, quick and flustered, without looking at Effie.
“It’s okay,” said Adam. “She can’t reach you, sweetheart. She’s chained up.”
Anya’s hair wasn’t completely gone; they’d left her a pinkie’s length—uneven tufts that jutted out from her scalp. Effie imagined the child sitting frozen as Adam hacked at her hair, tearing away chunks with blunt scissors.
“It’s oats,” said Adam. “With water.”
Then father and daughter walked out, holding hands.
—
Anya wouldn’t talk to her. In the past two days, she’d spoken but a few words to Effie, and only when Peter or Adam was present.
But it was just the two of them now, just Effie and the girl.
Anya came in twice a day with food—in place of Tia—and left it near the door. There was a cross marked on the floor, just close enough that Effie could strain against the chain and almost reach it, but far enough away that Anya was kept safe—from her.
“Anya…” Effie inched forward, the chain and padlock clunking on the floor as she moved, and stretched a hand toward her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t—”
“Quiet,” Anya snapped. The child would barely even look at her. “We’re not to talk.”
“I’m sorry,” said Effie softly. “About your hair.”
“Quiet.”
“I’m sure it will grow back in—”
“I needed to be punished.” Anya looked straight at her. “To be cleaned.”
“Anya, that’s not—”
She glared at her, and Effie went quiet.
“Is your mum okay?”
“Stop talking,” said Anya.
She set down a bowl of lentils and a piece of bread.
“Please, Anya, I just need to know that my sister—”
“ Quiet! ” she yelled.
But Anya looked at her, her eyes wide, and mouthed a single word. Alive . Then she looked away, like it had never happened.
Effie pressed a hand to the thrum in her stomach and whispered back a quick thank you .
Anya set a cup on the ground by the bowl, then she lifted a blue jug and started to pour water into it.
“What can I do?” asked Effie. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
Anya stopped. She dipped her chin, whispering into her chest.
“Pray,” she murmured.
Effie sat still as the girl lifted the jug and tipped it over the cup again.
“Shit,” Anya cursed as the plastic jug slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground with a thud, spilling water across the floor. She crawled past the cross mark and stretched out, trying to catch the flow of water with her fingers.
Effie placed a hand on the girl’s arm. “Please, I just—”
Anya screamed, loud and guttural. “She’s got me! She’s got me!”
Effie jumped away from her.
“She tried to grab me,” Anya yelled. Her eyes were wild, honed on Effie. “She was trying to—”
The door slammed open and Adam appeared. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”
Anya threw herself at him, clinging to his arm.
Adam stroked the tufts of her red hair, then he peeled the girl from his body and pushed her behind him.
Effie tried to scramble farther away, but her back met with the wall and she winced.
Adam eyed her as he stepped across the room, his face expressionless, and Effie’s pulse raced.
Then slowly, he bent down and slapped her hard across the face.
“Never touch my daughter.”
He stood and walked back to the door, kicking over the bowl of lentils as he passed. He turned back at the last moment, his voice dark.
“You’ve earned yourself another twenty-four hours of alone time to reflect.”
Effie flinched as the key clicked in the door, her heart aching.