Playette

My eyes become heavy, but I’m afraid to fall asleep. What will I find if I wake up, and that’s a big if I wake up. He could kill me in my sleep, and I would be none the wiser, I don’t think that’s Jasper’s way, though. From everything I’ve learned about him he’s not impulsive. He thinks hard about everything he does. Everything I’ve studied about him is that he’s a man of deliberate action. Dangerous. More so than his father. People speak of him as if he’s a warrior. He’s fearless and they’re too afraid to say his name. I should’ve listened to the whispers back then, but that wouldn’t have helped my cause, though. My heart starts pounding and my vision blurs, fear takes root in my core and I wonder how I will ever get out of this situation or if this will be my end.

Turning my head to the side, I check around the room. I’m on a four-poster bed. It’s large. The room smells like a storage unit, just like it should do seeing as obviously no one comes in here. Maybe that’s the way he likes it. The room’s empty and plain.

Right in front of me, where a television should sit is a large picture of a woman with light brown hair, tinges of sun-kissed blonde streaks through it. She’s in a short dress, it’s white, and in her arms is a small baby. I wonder if this is his mother in the photograph. She’s certainly perceived as a caring woman, looking down at her baby with a smile so bright it’s dazzling. I can see Jasper in her features, his high cheekbones definitely come from her. Turning my head away from the picture that’s full of lies, I see the room is painted in a light blue almost aqua with splashes or flecks of gold through it. It’s unlike the rest of the house which is a plain cream. This room, and the size of this room, it was designed for a king and his queen. From the top of the bedposts, which are gold, to the gold flicking on the walls.

To the left is a large open closet with clothes still hanging in there—men’s suits.

My eyes become heavy and I can’t keep them open for a second longer. Sex usually puts me to sleep, and it’s trying to do so right now.

Even with my sore wrists and tied ankles, I manage to close my eyes and dream of a life I once had—braided hair, sunlight kisses, and looks of pure devotion from parents who would do anything for me.

I dream of them.

And what was taken away from me.

“Momma,” I scream. She comes running out the shop, her eyes searching frantically. Her hair so long I wish mine would grow like that. I’m fourteen, and my boobs are only just starting to form.

“What’s wrong?” She checks around and I look down between my legs, her eyes go wide. “Oh, sweet girl, it’s okay.”

My head starts to shake back and forth. “It’s not. I’m bleeding and I have a date. My first one, ever,” I scream.

“It’s okay, Isadora. Trust me. It’s what happens when you become a woman.” Her fingers brush my messy hair back from my face, and she pulls me in for a hug and I smell her, she smells of cakes and pastries. It’s what she always smells like. She’s one of the best cooks and the prettiest.

“I’m already a woman,” I tell her pulling away.

“Of course, you are, my dear.” She reaches for my hand and pulls me to the back of the bakery.

My father smiles at me despite looking down and seeing blood all over my white trousers.

“Run upstairs and grab a washcloth, some new clothes and panties and come back down. I have some things I need to teach you.” I do as Momma says, running up the stairs and getting everything she asked for. I find my favorite dress, clutching it in my hands, I run back down the stairs.

Voices are the first thing I hear. They stop me on the second to last step. I’m frozen in position unable to move.

My mother’s voice is high-pitched and it’s got a tone to it I’m not really sure of, which stops me from going any further.

“Please. Please, I beg of you, just leave.” She’s pleading with someone.

My hands clutch the railing as my foot touches the last step.

“That can’t happen.”

I don’t know that voice, it’s strong, though. It’s not my father’s, whose voice follows. “You can’t. This is all wrong. You can’t do this.”

Upon hearing his voice, I step around the corner, and a hand touches my shoulder pulling me back as the first bang goes off. I watch in absolute horror as my mother drops to the floor—a man standing in front of her with a gun in his hand and a smile on his face.