CHAPTER 1: Nova

September 2018

 

     “Something wrong?” His baritone voice overpowered the small space and pulled me back to the hell he’d created for me.

     A space that can only be described as cluttered chaos. Adam tried to turn the bedroom into a living space but failed. The small card table, which we used as a dining table, was barely enough for one person, but night after night, we both sat and ate. Just like we were now. Against the wall, directly across from the table, was the bed.

     “Nothing’s wrong.” I leaned back, causing the chair leg to rock, and crossed my arms over my chest. I stared over his shoulder at the faded pink and yellow flowers on the torn wallpaper. Those flowers were once bright and colorful. 

Like I used to be.

     “Ain’t you gon’ eat?” Adam pointed to the macaroni and cheese and smoked sausage that sat untouched on my paper plate.

     “I’m not hungry.”

     I’d been burdened with a heaviness since that morning. It happened every year around this time when I looked out the window from the upper floor of this house and saw the leaves on the trees in the field across the street had sprinkles of red, orange, and yellow—the same as when he’d brought me here. Seeing them reminded me that another year had come and gone, and I was still trapped in this room.

     A room I would never call mine, no matter how long I was forced to be here. It was hard to tell how high up I’d been imprisoned. It was high enough to give me a good view of the trees, but I couldn’t jump without breaking something or worse. Not that I could’ve anyway, since the window was bolted shut.

     A loud crash snapped me to attention. I straightened in my chair as a thousand horses raced through my chest. Adam’s jar of lemonade shattered all over the wooden floor.

When he didn’t order me to get up and clean that mess, I looked over at him. “What’s the matter with you?” I asked, seeing the beads of sweat on his forehead. He’d lost weight, and his narrow eyes held a hint of yellowish tint. 

He wasn’t well. Hadn’t been for weeks.

     Adam fanned himself with his hands. There wasn’t an air conditioner in the room, but it wasn’t that hot. He stood. Without saying a word, he inched his way to the door.

     I stood, too, the chain around my ankles clanking—a souvenir from my last escape mission. It had been a long time since he put them on me. It probably would’ve been longer had I not had that dream—the one where my parents died. I knew I had to try to escape. I came close. I would've made it out if that old door hadn’t creaked. I looked back at Adam, who had been in bed sleeping. When he heard the door, he jumped up. His clenched jaw showed the fury I later felt. That was over a week ago, and parts of me still ached from the aftermath of his rage.

     “Maybe you should stay here so I can take care of you.” I coated my words with an extra dose of sweetness. His chest rose and fell hard, his eyes stretched wide, and his breathing was the only sound in the room. What if something happened to him while I was locked in?

     Adam’s shaky hand fought to insert the key into the lock. Opening the door, he leaned against the door frame. I could’ve overpowered him and run, but my chains were hooked to the bedpost. They were long enough for me to get to the bathroom and the small table, but they weren’t long enough to reach across the room to the door. 

     The silence was louder and heavier than ever. I gasped for air that refused to fill my lungs. 

     Adam mustered the energy to push himself out. 

     The lock clicked so loudly that it was like the room vibrated. 

     Lifting my hand to my face, I realized it wasn’t the lock. It was me. I was trembling. The knowledge I could die alone in this room, amongst the outdated furniture and stained carpet, had always been a reality, but it had never felt as real as it had at that moment.

     “Adam!” I shouted. Then stretched my hand towards the door, hoping with everything inside of me that it would open again. “You can’t leave me locked in here! You’re sick! I could die!” I banged my foot against the floor as hard as I could, ignoring the pain of the chain as it scrubbed against my raw skin. Maybe the noise would make him angry enough to come running back. I knew my actions would come with repercussions, but every sting from his hand would be worth it if it meant him possibly dying in this room. His death and those keys were all I needed to take back the freedom he'd stolen so long ago. “Adam!” My voice echoed off the walls. I called for him until my words seared my throat and attempted to steal my voice, but as I had learned to do so many times before, I pushed past the pain and kept calling out for him. I called until my thunderous pleas became desperate cries. I fell to the floor, my body convulsed with sobs as I curled into a ball.