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Two weeks later
We’re all gathered in our perfect dining room, in our perfect house, playing the part of the perfect family. Matthew will be eighteen tomorrow, and even though it looks like he’s made the choice to become a man and be out on his own, the truth of it is that Mr. and Mrs. Perfect are kicking him to the curb.
No more state check, no more family. We’re only here while we’re useful, and then we’re gone. It sounds harsh, but I can’t wait to be gone. Christi says that she can’t wait until Matthew is gone so that I can start pulling my weight. I’m afraid of what she means by that since I already do more chores than the rest of the kids. I push that thought to the back of my head and try to enjoy the party.
There’s a cake, but it’s so tiny we each only get a small bite. I have a serious sweet tooth, and sweets are strictly forbidden. So even though it came from the discount rack and is mostly stale, it’s the best thing I’ve tasted in months. I groan from pleasure as the sugary icing melts on my tongue. Matthew bumps my shoulder to get my attention, he’s looking down on me with that crooked smile of his. His dark blue eyes dancing with amusement.
“Good?” he asks quietly, trying not to draw attention to us. I smile back and nod, he knows my weakness. He reaches over and takes my empty fork and glances around the room to make sure everyone is occupied before handing me his fork. It holds the best bite of cake out of the lot. He got first dibs since he is the birthday boy. He took full advantage of the privilege and plunged his fork right down into the center and took the softest bite of cake managing to get the big rose too.
“Oh, no, I can’t take your bite,” I whisper. “It’s your birthday.”
“I’m out of here tomorrow, sweetheart. I’ll be able to eat whatever I want. You’re here until I can get you out, and the next birthday is two months away.” I push back the ache at knowing I’ll be stuck in this house with these people alone. Matthew has become my saving grace. We became fast friends after that first night… and more. Without him, I’d have lost myself to my grief. He drug me back, kicking and screaming all the way.
His next words take on a double meaning for me. “Savor it while you can,” he says. I know he means the cake, but I also savor this moment. I’m not an idiot. Despite Matthew’s best intentions, I know we are on the edge of good-bye. He’s moving out tomorrow. Moving on with his life. Matthew is the most honest and honorable person I’ve known in my life, but his idea to get me out of this place isn’t going to work.
I want to run away, but he said that we need to get me out of here the right way. I’ve been around the block enough to know that the social worker doesn’t give a crap about me. She placed me here all those months ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. As far as the system is concerned, Mr. and Mrs. Perfect are just that—perfect.
Matthew looks around the room again, making sure no one has picked up on our little conversation, since the coast is clear he nods for me to go ahead. Fearing that I will be caught, I shove the whole bite in my mouth and turn bright red when he starts to bust out laughing at my chipmunk cheeks. Playfully I elbow him.
Ever have one of those moments when you can see exactly what is going to happen two seconds before it does, but you can’t do a damn thing to stop it? This is one of those moments. Matthew is easily a foot and a half taller than my five-foot frame with broad shoulders. He isn’t ripped like some of the other boys, but he is very defined, whereas I am skin and bones weighing in at a grand total of ninety-three pounds. I’m what you would call a tomboy if you’re being nice, a late bloomer if you’re being rude. The very idea that a little shove from me would move Matthew is ridiculous, but being who he is, he always plays along like I’m Wonder Woman. He stumbles back a step knocking into Mrs. Perfect, who then bumps into a chair and drops the basket of dirty forks she was collecting from everyone. Jake saw me elbow Matthew and instantly tattled that I was the cause of Mrs. Perfect being bumped. In any normal household, this wouldn’t be a big deal. In fact, most people would probably just laugh it off and move on, but this isn’t a normal house. In this house, nothing is everything, and I just fucked up.
“Downstairs, Rose, now!” Mr. Perfect bellows. I know not to cry, but my eyes don’t seem to want to listen, I can feel the tears burning the backs of my irises. I look up at Matthew, he is white as a ghost, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. A slight jerk of my head tells him it’s okay, I can do this. I straighten my spine and walk to the basement without a word spoken. The door clicks shut, and a lock is engaged. The sound causes my body to tremble, it remembers what happens down here. “You’ve been a naughty girl Rose, now haven’t you?” Mr. Perfect sneers. “You know what happens to naughty children, don’t you, Rosie?”
I hate it when he calls me Rosie as if he has every right in the world. I’m thankful in this moment, though, because his use of the nickname fills me with the anger I’ll need to survive this.
I take a deep breath and bravely look Mr. Perfect square in the eyes as I respond. “Punishment.”
I swear his eyes glow with excitement at the word and his entire face lights with a smile that scares me more than any monster under the bed ever could.
Several hours later, I make my way up the stairs, quiet as a mouse. My tears dried up along with my screams. This is only the third time I’ve been to the punishment room. With Matthew’s help, I learned the rules quickly and have toed the line to avoid Mr. Perfect’s brand of punishment. I think that actually makes things worse because when he does get the chance to punish me, he shows no restraint.
My legs quiver as I slowly work my way upstairs. Pain radiates from my upper back all the way down to the backs of my thighs from where he strapped me. All the while threatening to strip me down and give me a “real” whipping. I can tell you what he did felt very freakin’ real.
Mr. Perfect went to bed a while ago, leaving me with orders to put away his “toys” and then clean the kitchen. “It better fucking sparkle when Mommy Marcia wakes up, or you’ll be down here again. Next time, I won’t go easy on you.” Were his parting words.
As soon as I shut my door, I put my desk chair under the door handle to prevent anyone from coming inside. Sometimes, Mr. Perfect claims to have a sleepwalking disorder and will end up in one of our rooms. I’ve been using the chair since my third night here. I strip out of my jeans and gingerly climb into bed. A big hand clamps down on my mouth before I can cry out. My brain automatically goes into panic mode, knowing that it’s Mr. Perfect, and my real punishment is about to start.
My fight or flight response kicks in, but instead of fighting or fleeing, my brain shuts down. I freeze, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the one abuse I’ve been saved from until this very moment. In seconds, I am hyperventilating, and my heart is beating out of my chest. As quick as the hand reached out, it’s gone, and Matthew’s soothing voice breaks through the haze of panic.
“Oh, baby girl, shh, I’m so sorry.” He gently pulls me to his chest and runs his fingers through my hair, soothing me. “Are you okay, love?”
I nod into his chest and ignore my body’s protests as I wrap myself around him like a monkey. “Take me with you tomorrow, please Matty, don’t leave me here,” I beg through my tears.
He takes my face in his hands and refuses to let me look away. I can just barely make out his handsome features in the dark. “Love, you know I can’t just take you. They will say I kidnapped you and send me to jail. We have to do this the right way. I swear to you, I will find a way to get you out of this place.”
I push my forehead to his, and he just holds me there. I have a feeling that this will be the last night we have together, and there is so much I should tell him. I know he’s older than me. I know this isn’t right, but I’ve been in love with him since the first time he pulled me out of a hidey-hole on my second day in this hellhole.
He sees me. He’s been my protector, my friend. My everything. Matthew is the only person who has cared about me besides my mom. And she didn’t even love me enough to stay clean. She died chasing a high that was more important than her daughter.
We lay snuggled against each other, silently soaking up the last hours we have. When the first light of dawn starts to creep through the window, I roll over so that my upper half is laying across his chest, my chin resting on my folded arms. “Matty, you know I’m in love with you, right?” I ask quietly.
Pushing his fingers through the mess of my hair, he roughly pushes his lips to my forehead, scratching my skin a bit with his morning stubble. “Yeah, baby girl, I know.” his voice is rough with emotion as he continues, “God damn me to Hell, but I love you too. Doesn’t change anything though, you know that. You are everything to me, but at the same time, we can be nothing more than this until you’re eighteen. You understand that, right?”
Smiling a sad smile, I nod my understanding then rest my head back down on his chest. “I’m going to miss you, Matty.”
“Me too, love. Me too.”
