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I’ve heard so many stories since I arrived here. So many stories of heartbreak, turmoil, and women getting hurt by the one man that was supposed to love them more than anyone else in this world.
A love story that starts with hidden bruises never ends well.
As I prepare food for the dinner that we’re about to have in the cafeteria, my mind wanders back to Xavier. What is he doing? Does he still have my dogs, or has he gotten rid of the pups that shaped so much of our lives together? I choose to believe that he kept them. Xavier will train them to become the bloodhounds they were born to be.
I slice up the onions and add them to the sauce I’m making for the quesadillas we’re having tonight. Next, I saute some vegetables. The corn tortillas are already prepared, handmade by one girl here.
I’ve been trying to make friends. But I think I go unnoticed because I keep to myself. And even though I’m happy to chat to the women here about their problems, I have revealed little about myself. I’m fully aware that letting these people in on my secrets means they’ll be in danger of getting hurt, too. And I don’t have it in me to expose any of the innocent women here to Xavier and his murderous intentions.
Still, Xavier is never far from my mind. I always wonder about him, what he’s doing, if he’s thinking about me, if he started seeing a new woman to get over me. That’s my worst fear, that he’s replaced me. And yet I can stop myself from feeling guilty about wanting him.
This was all meant to be a part of me growing up. My experience as an adult began when I plunged a blade into Xavier’s body. And even before I poisoned him, I knew what was going to happen. With the dose I gave him, there was no way Xavier was going to survive my assault. I’m still wondering whether he’s alive. But something deep inside me tells me he has to be. I’m convinced that if he really was dead, I would somehow know it. That I would feel it in my bones. Maybe it’s just foolishness, trying to prevent myself from admitting I’m a murderer. And yet, every day, every second, I keep hoping Xavier is still alive, even though it means he’s going to set a trap for me, like a hunter for his prey. Once I’m returned to him, and if he’s alive, I know what’s going to happen.
He’s going to punish me hard for everything I’ve done to him. So it’s important to me to stay as anonymous as I can and avoid any human contact. It’s not safe for me out here. And as soon as I make friends, that’ll ensure that it’s not safe for them, either.
“Lola, we don’t need you anymore,” Dorothea tells me with a wide grin as I finish up the cooking. “We’ve got it from here. Why don’t you take some time off? You’ve been working all day. I’m sure you’re tired.”
I’m grateful she’s noticed my hard work. I’ve been feeling guilty because I have brought no money to pay for my stay. But Dorothea assured me that everyone here is this way. And they all get to working together to make the house look better, because they don’t count on money coming from the women that are kept inside its walls.
On my way to the room I’m sharing with one girl, I pass one of the few solitary rooms in this house. Inside I see that girl Ivy, the ghost-like one. She’s writing on a notebook piece of paper. This is the most animated I’ve ever seen her. Her pen is dashing across the pages, filling it with scrawly, looped handwriting. She looks so engaged in whatever she’s doing.
Despite my best efforts, I have gotten nothing out of Ivy. She seems to be determined not to speak. And it makes me wonder what’s keeping her mouth shut. It’s clear Ivy has a sound mind, and I want to understand her secrets. I don’t know why I’m getting so obsessed with her. But there’s something about the ghost-like figure that intrigues me. Maybe she could be my friend. She could never let go of my secrets if I shared any with her. She doesn’t speak, which means we’re both safe.
I still have to figure out whether she’s not speaking of her own volition or if something happened to her that prevents her from shaping the words I’m sure are running through her mind. I look at her as she scribbles the letter. Once she finishes it with a flourish, she carefully packs it in an envelope which she addresses. She doesn’t add a stamp, but pushes the envelope into a suitcase. My eyes follow her actions. The suitcase on the floor is made of leather, and it’s overstuffed with so many letters, I can’t even count them all. Just as she’s putting her latest creation inside the tattered leather, Ivy looks over her shoulder and notices me. She smiles.
This is the most I get out of her, a stray smile here and there. She seems to show no interest in ever talking to me, or anybody else.
I spend the rest of the day in my room. I don’t come out for dinner because I end up falling asleep when it’s time for it, and Dorothea later tells me she didn’t have the heart to wake me up when I was clearly so tired from doing chores around the house all day. It’s not until late night that I emerge from my room, sleepy and thirsty.
I pour a glass of ice cold water in the kitchen, which is when I notice Ivy sitting at one table alone. There’s a wad of striped paper in front of her, but she’s not writing this time. It seems like she’s waiting for me.
I take over my glass of water and sit down at the table she’s sitting at. I want to talk to her, but I’m always afraid of upsetting her. Dorothea has told me there have been some violent incidents involving Ivy in the past. Even so, she never spoke, not even when the other girls provoked her. Not even one everyone tried to get up in her business and have her admit where she came from, who she was hiding from. But it seems like Dorothea has some idea of who or what Ivy is hiding from.
As I sit down and slowly start sipping on my water, Ivy glances over at me. She writes again, her pretty handwriting looping off the page and her long nails clicking. Soon I realize she’s writing me a note. When she passes it over, Ivy presses a finger against her lips, telling me not to speak.
I look at the note. Her handwriting is hard to read, but it’s beautiful. It looks like a work of art. I read what she wrote. It’s just one word with a question mark at the end.
Name?
I don’t know if I should trust this woman. I don’t know if she’s worthy of being let in on my secrets. I don’t think it’s a good idea to give her any information about myself. Nevertheless, I can’t resist. It’s like a siren call that’s appealing to my lonely side, the one that ran away from Xavier even though I had feelings for him. Perhaps this is my only chance to make a friend. And now is the time for me to make a move.
I take her pen from her and write my name, my real name, on the sheet of paper before passing it back over to her. Her eyes brighten up and she stares at me as if she knows something she shouldn’t. Instantly, I’m afraid that she’s going to give up my location and Xavier is going to come here and find me.
I pick myself up to get away. But she places her palm on my hand and stops me from leaving. My eyes go to hers and I stare at her in a panic, convinced that my hiding spot has been found out and Xavier will come storming through these doors any second now to bring me work back where I truly belong.
Suddenly her lips open and a word rips itself out of them.
Her voice is hoarse, but beautiful. She only says one word and I think it’s her name.
"Ivette."
“How long has it been since you last spoke?” I ask her.
I’m so mesmerized by this strange figure I can’t bring myself to walk out of the room. Even though I’m afraid of being exposed, Yvette seems like she’s going to help me. There’s something between us - a camaraderie of sorts, a friendship that could bloom into something beautiful. Something tells me she’s gone through something similar as I have, that she knows just what it’s like to have a dangerous monster of a man on your trail.
She takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen, but not before crumpling up the piece of paper where I wrote my name. She tears it into a million pieces and then sets fire to them. Together, we watch them burn in silent intensity. Once it’s done, she sweeps the ashes of the table and walks me outside into the backyard area. We go away from the view of the security cameras which are set up all over the perimeter of this building. We have to be safe. There are so many women here, whose men are after them to hurt them, to bring them to justice they’ve deemed is an appropriate punishment for them for whatever they did.
Ivette leads me to a small corner of the backyard and points above us. But there is nothing I see above us.
