“Elizabeth?” he whispers.
“Pike?” I whimper.
“Shh. Carl is sleeping.”
Trying to choke back my cries to stay quiet, I strain my words, “Please, Pike. Get me out.”
“I can’t,” he says. “The lock on this door works from the inside.”
“What?”
“Without the key, it can only be unlocked from inside,” he tells me.
“He’s got my hands tied. I can’t move, and I can’t see anything,” I say, beginning to panic, and he hears it.
“Don’t cry, okay? I’m here,” he tries assuring me.
My body begins to twitch as I clamp my legs tighter. “Pike?”
“Yeah?”
“I have to pee,” I tell him. “Really bad.”
“Fuck,” I hear in a muffled voice.
It’s then the pain and urgency take over, and I feel the warmth seep out, spreading through the fabric of my pants and trickling down my leg. Mortified. Embarrassed. I slip to the floor and begin weeping as quietly as I can.
“Are you okay?” he asks, but I don’t answer, I just continue to cry.
PIKE STAYED WITH me on the other side of the door for hours last night, talking to me, trying to keep me company. I must have fallen asleep again because I don’t remember him leaving. The TV is now on, so I know Carl is awake. My stomach has been growling, but I’m too scared to call out to him.
The time passes slowly, and I try to keep myself distracted by daydreaming, pretending I’m anywhere but here. I imagine I’m with my father, and we’re riding together on his white steed he used to tell me he had when we would play make-believe. We ride through the countryside and find ourselves in that magical forest. Carnegie is there, and we go hunting for berries. Some berries give us special powers, and some are just delicious to eat. When rain falls, we hunt for mushroom tops to hide under until the storm passes, and we meet fairy butterflies that fill the air with glitter as they fly.
My thoughts get interrupted often with the pain that surges through my hands and arms. I’m so tired but can’t find a way to get any real sleep, and now with my stomach knotting up from hunger, I find myself constantly shifting from sitting to standing.
“ELIZABETH?”
Pike’s voice brings me out of a light sleep, and I try to bend and flex my wrists as the leather cuts into my skin. “What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s Saturday night. Almost midnight,” he tells me.
“I’m hungry.”
“Hold on.”
I move to my feet to soothe my arms. I feel so gross with my pants soaked in my own pee. It stinks, and I know Carl is going to be pissed whenever he decides to let me out, which hopefully will be tomorrow since I have school on Monday. Plus, Bobbi should be coming home soon. At least I hope she is.
I hear Pike sliding something under the door. I lower to my knees, but didn’t think this through, because my hands are bound.
“Pike, I can’t get whatever you slipped under the door.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” he whispers. “Is there any way you can lean your head down to get it with your mouth?”
“No. The bar is too high.”
“Use your foot and try to push it back out,” he instructs. “I don’t want Carl to know I was trying to sneak you food.”
I shuffle my foot around, but can’t feel anything, so I just start sliding it against the floor and towards the door, hoping by chance I get it out. After a second, I hear, “Got it.”
“What was it?”
“Just a tortilla,” he says. “I heard Carl talking to Bobbi. She’s gonna be home tomorrow afternoon.”
“I feel sick.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m just so tired and hungry,” I tell him. “My arms hurt really bad. He’s got his belt pulled so tight around my wrists.”
“He’s a sick f**k.”
“Pike?”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have.” The tears return, and I let them come without fighting it. I feel so hopeless.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re my sister. We’re not blood, but you’re my sister.” His words hit my heart, knowing he’s all the family I have. “Did I ever tell you about the time I fell off the roof at my last foster home?”
“No.”
I sit back down and listen as Pike tells me story after story. He even tells me about his mom, that she was a drug addict and that’s how he wound up in foster care when he was only two years old. Hours pass and he never stops talking to me, keeping me company until I drift off into a fit of restless sleep.
WHEN I HEAR someone messing with the door handle, I swiftly move to my feet, wedging against the wall. Light pierces my eyes, and I immediately close them.
“What the f**k is that smell?” Carl snarls as I slowly try to open my eyes against the stabbing light.
His hands start undoing the belt around my wrists. You’d think I’d be happy to be getting out of this closet, but I’m so tired that all I feel is numb.
“Did you piss yourself?” he asks with anger, and when I nod my head, he yells, “You better clean this shit up.”
The belt is finally off, and my hands are free. I grip my one wrist in my hand and stand there, scared to move, until he tells me to get out. Before I can go upstairs, he makes me clean the floor where I had been going to the bathroom. I finally look at my wrists to see they’re covered in blood from the broken skin where the leather was cutting into me.