Levi
Levi, 5 years old
The water drips into the bathtub, the tapping sound almost unbearable while I hide under the sink, my teeth chattering against each other as endless tremors rush through me.
The rusty, cold tile under me chills my blood, my washed-out blue pajamas doing very little to warm me, and my sock-covered feet curl into the small rug in front of me, stained in red and brown.
Mama forbids me from sitting on it. She says it reeks of whiskey and bad memories.
The screams echo in the night, the monster rages in the room after coming here earlier and forcing me to be locked away in the bathroom.
I’m not even allowed to look at him because the last time I did, he punched me right in the eye. Mama had to press ice on my face for so long that it melted against my cheek, while silently crying.
Mama has beautiful blue eyes, so seeing them filled with tears hurts my heart and breaks it into pieces. I had to act all brave and say it wasn’t that bad.
But I was in so much pain and couldn’t touch my cheek for a long time.
“That’s how you thank me for my generosity?” he bellows, and I jerk when something hard tumbles to the floor, followed by the snapping of leather that results in more agonizing screams.
It means he took out his belt with the thick metallic buckle that leaves so many scars on Mama’s perfect porcelain skin. He calls them his brands on her, and they stay imprinted on her no matter what she does. She often scrubs herself in the bathroom until she turns super red, trying to get rid of them, but it doesn’t help.
The prominent J letter mars her back in all the different places, the first letter of his name that he never mentions out loud.
“You begged me to look at the Christmas lights. Please, you said. So I set up a tree for you.”Hit. Hit. Hit.“You wanted to run away from me! You’re a liar!”
This is about Mama telling me to sit still while she went with the monster upstairs? For the first time in my life, I’ve seen her so happy, so I just nodded and patiently waited. He even bought her new clothes.
She usually wears a dirty, washed-out long flannel dress, but this time, he brought pants and a super thick jacket. I’ve never seen such clothes before.
Despite being very afraid to stay alone without Mama, I sat on the bed. I imagined the different magical beings she tells me about coming here to help us, hoping she got what she wanted because she almost jumped with excitement.
Instead, he dragged her back here shortly after, gripping her hair and making her stumble inside until she fell on the table and hit her chin, groaning in pain.
Still, she gave me a specific signal, and I quickly ran to the bathroom. She made me promise I would always listen to her and do as she asked whenever the monster was around.
He rarely pays attention to me, only if it keeps her away from him.
“You’re mine!”
“I’m not yours. You kidnapped me!” she shouts back at him. “I hate you!”
I freeze at this and come close to the door as it rattles when he probably pushes her against it, wrapping his hand around her throat. That’s his favorite punishment, choking Mama because her neck is always red and her voice is sore on most days. He brings her honey, forcing her to mix it in water and drink it.
And sweet cake.
He always apologizes to her with cake, and we both hate it. I can’t stand the sight of it.
Because sweet treats mean my mama is in pain.
Not that it ever stops her from fighting back. Usually, the cake ends up on the floor, and he then forces her to eat it anyway.
“You’re mine.”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
“Repeat that all you want. I’m your prisoner, nothing else! I will find a way out of here!”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
