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They are pleased with me.
They’ve had to replace the boxes.
I used all of the others, and left them in a pile on the bed.
The man smiles as he re-enters the room, his arms full of white cardboard.
“I have treats for you,” he says, and he pus them down. “This is the last of them. Here is this, too.”
He hands me another page of the journal.
I glance at it, but my drive is gone. I can’t feel. I’m empty. I’m a void.
“That’s the last of the boxes?” I ask woodenly. He nods. “What happens when they’re gone?”
He shrugs. “Let’s worry about that when you get to the last box, shall we?”
I rifle through them, hunting. He laughs.
“It’s not there. I’ll bring it in separately when the time comes.”
It won’t take me long to go through these. Maybe a day. Two days at the most. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.
“Send Zuzu home,” I tell him and my voice is dead. It lacks all emotion. “I’ve earned it.”
“You haven’t yet,” he says. “But you will.”
I look away. He leaves.
I read the journal page.
I’m sitting outside of the house.
The husband isn’t home yet, as I knew he wouldn’t be. He never is. I won’t even bother killing him. He’ll barely notice they’re gone. I saw them eating through the window. Macaroni and cheese and salad. I heard the boy say it’s his favorite. He’ll have to learn to like things like venison and rabbit after we leave. The next time I write in this journal, they will be with me. My life will be whole, and so will theirs.
I think back to that night.
I’d been in bed. I’d heard something in my mother’s room. I’d gotten out of bed, and padded down the hall, stepping over a toy on my way. A dump truck.
She was in there, and she was begging for my life.
Please don’t hurt him, she’d begged. She was crying and I’d never heard her cry before. Her nose was bleeding and it was spattered on her shirt. Leroy had a gun.
“Run, Pax,” she’d screamed at me, but Leroy grabbed me. He’d told me to make my mom behave. Can you help your mommy be a good girl?
I swallow now, and acidic bile is in my throat. It burns as it slides back down.
I’ll do anything. Please don’t hurt him!
Anything? He’d asked, and his teeth were yellow.
He unbuttoned his pants and they dropped to the floor. He had a coiled snake tattoo on his hip.
Don’t tread on me.
My mom hadn’t wanted me to see, so Leroy had shoved me into the closet, but I could still see through the slats.
He shoved her down in front of him, grabbing her by the hair.
