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“Okay, Mama,” I answered, staring at the opulent room around me. Mama usually didn’t take me with her, but the next door neighbor that sometimes watched me had moved, and Mama had said this was too good of an opportunity to pass up—whatever that meant.
She closed the door behind me with one more warning, and I sat in front of the large television that Mama had turned on. It was a show I’d never seen before, and I sat there for hours, completely caught up with Minnie Mouse.
But a lot of hours passed, and my stomach was hurting. Mama had said she would bring me something to eat; we hadn’t had any food since the day before, but she hadn’t been back, not even once. And I was really, really hungry.
Maybe I could quietly sneak out and grab a snack in the kitchen before anyone saw me. That should be okay. This place was so fancy, they wouldn’t even really miss it.
I slowly opened the door, peeking out into the muted light of the hallway. It wasn’t as loud as it was before. But there was slower music playing, the kind that made me sort of sleepy.
I crept carefully down the hall until I got to the entry way that led to another hallway, where the music was louder. I made it halfway down before I came to an open door, and when I peeked inside…
There were women everywhere, their eyes funny and glazed looking, like after Mama took her medicine. They were all gathered around a few men dressed in suits. The men were lounging in fancy leather seats, but the women were kneeling on the floor around them. They were stroking the men’s legs, their chests, pressing kisses to their necks. Some of the girls were even kissing each other. And the whole time the men ignored them, like they weren’t even there, cigars in their hands as they chatted to each other like nothing was happening.
And then I saw Mama. She was leaning over one of the men, her head moving up and down over his lap, her hair covering her face. I was scared, a funny feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with my hunger. I wanted to call out for her, beg her to take me home. But something told me I couldn’t do that. And so I crept back to the room where she’d left me and cried until I fell asleep.
Mama didn’t come to get me until the next day.
A woman’s loud laughter stirs me from my dark trip down memory lane.
Disgust suddenly clawed at my insides. I was walking down the same path as my mother. I’d end up exactly like her. A pawn for a man who’d throw me away.
I moved to leave, and then a firm hand grabbed hold of my arm.
“Get off me,” I snapped, panic threaded through my voice as I tried to pull away.
“Monroe, hey, it’s just me,” said Lincoln, and I froze and glanced at his drawn features, concern thick in his gaze. His tone was low and gentle over the pounding bass, like he could read that I was on the cusp of running. “Are you okay, baby? Did someone do something?”
I shook my head, fighting the urge to cry. Something was wrong with me. This hurt inside me, this fear, it felt like too much. My skin felt stretched too tight. The room spun, the music and chatter turning into a deafening roar. My heart raced in my chest, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. I felt like I was drowning, suffocating in the sea of people around me.
I stumbled backward, as far as his grip would let me go, my head churning as I struggled to keep my balance. My legs felt like jelly, and my body trembled with fear and anxiety.
"Come on, sweetheart," Lincoln soothed, his voice gentle and reassuring as he scooped me into his arms.
I couldn’t talk. My mouth felt dry, my throat thick and broken. I tried to take a deep breath, but it was like I was choking on air.
He led me away from the crowd, out onto a balcony, the cool night air washing over me like a balm.
"It's okay," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "Focus on your breaths. In and out, in and out."
I closed my eyes and tried to do what he’d said, but the panic refused to subside.
He started singing a song softly then, but it took me a few seconds to recognize the tune. It was "Creep" by Radiohead, a different choice of song for the moment to be sure.
At first, I was surprised, but as he continued to sing, I felt the panic that had been gripping me slowly dissipate. His voice was deep and soothing, and it seemed to wrap around me like a warm blanket.
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
He sang the lyrics softly, with feeling, a slight catch to his words like the song meant something to him that extended far beyond this moment. I felt a lump forming in my throat.
