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With one last concerned look at Autumn, the woman rushed from the bathroom, leaving the door wide open.
Then he appeared in the doorway and the smell of something cooking followed him in.
“Got you some Powerade. Cherry. Need to drink this whole thing. Yeah?”
She stared at the bottle in his hand as he stood tall over her next to the tub. She lifted her eyes to his.
Brown.
Holding a different type of pain this time.
He cracked the lid on the bottle, removed it, and held it out to her. “Sorry. Don’t got a straw.”
She said nothing as she took it and put it to her lips. When she began to drink, she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t realized she’d been that thirsty. But she had no idea when was the last time she drank anything.
She tipped the bottle higher and some of the red liquid slid down her chin and discolored the already brown bathwater.
“Whoa,” he said, pulling it from her fingers. “Not sure if you should be drinkin’ it so fuckin’ quickly.”
“You kind of talk like them.”
Them. Maybe this was all a trap and he was one of them.
He frowned and set the bottle down on the floor next to the tub. “Yeah, but the difference is I ain’t a hillbilly, inbred, redneck, white trash motherfucker. Just a white trash motherfucker who rides a hog.” His lips thinned for a few seconds, his fingers curled against his thighs and he blew out a soft breath. “Forgot to add ex-con. Anyway, gonna be all right in here? Gotta check the stove. Suck at cookin’ but can make scrambled eggs and toast. Most stupid motherfuckers like me can.”
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and walked out.
She scrubbed the washcloth down her face, then over her chest and arms. But the water was so dirty, it was only getting off the worst of it.
She leaned over, turned on the faucet full blast and partially opened the drain. She rinsed the washcloth under the warm water and continued to work on her crusty skin as best as she could.
But she quickly tired. Her muscles were weak and her brain still fuzzy. The seed inside her had begun to sap most of her energy a long time ago.
Then she was back. That Stella.
Shampoo, conditioner, a razor, lotion and more in a bucket. She dumped the contents onto the floor, and tucked the bucket under the running water. “Lean your head back,” was all she said.
Autumn complied and a bucketful of warm water was poured over her mess of hair. It would be easier if the woman had brought along a pair of scissors and just cut it all off. She might need to dye it anyway when she escaped and went into hiding.
Everyone noticed her hair. The color was hard to miss.
But with a lot of patience, Stella wet her hair, shampooed it, rinsed and did it again. Four times it took to get it clean. And all the while the filthy water kept circling down the drain and clean water kept trying to keep up.
After massaging conditioner into her hair, Stella began to carefully undo the gnarls with her fingers and a wide-toothed comb.
Autumn closed her eyes again with how good that all felt. She hadn’t been to a salon since... She couldn’t remember when.
For a moment, she almost felt human again. Almost.
Until Stella asked, “How far along are you?”
The water in the tub was no longer high enough to hide the curve of her belly. “I don’t know.”
Stella shook her head and Autumn understood her confusion.
“I... I lost track of time.” She had a good guess, but she wasn’t sure. One day, one week, one month blurred into the next. She had been given no way to keep track of time, and, really, she hadn’t wanted to. It might have been worse to know.
“You need to see a doctor.”
She had no money. No way to pay a doctor.
“I have a great OB/GYN. Maybe—”
Autumn cut her off. “I just need to go...” Maybe this woman, this Stella, could help her escape.
Stella gently squeezed her bony shoulder. “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have family somewhere?”
“I used to.”
Stella’s dark eyebrows knitted together. “What does that mean?”
“I... I can’t go to them.” No. It was because of them she ended up in Pennsylvania.
In the woods. Up a mountain. In a cage.
“Anyone else?”
“No. Everyone I know is in Ohio. If I go back there, word will get back...” Word would get back up that mountain where she was. And if she went back to Ohio, she’d be forced to return. Once again, against her will.
“Back?” Stella prodded.
“Just back... I... can’t risk it. I just need to disappear. Will... Will you help me?”
“Do you have money somewhere? Clothes? A place to go?”
“No.”
“How will you survive? You have nothing.”
She knew that. She did. But hearing someone else say it made it so much more painfully clear. She had nothing.
