She welcomed him, and gave him lemonade and a rest from his weary day, and he repaid her by assaulting her later. What kind of monster is he?
The outrage that I know I feel is dulled by the drugs.
I know it is there, lurking in my heart, though.
My anger is a slumbering beast. It has always been there, hidden from the world. I masked it, but I couldn’t exorcise it.
It is a part of me.
I know that now.
I sit on the floor, and I grab a box.
I’m three boxes ahead of schedule, and my captors like that. In fact, they rewarded me today with the journal page. I’m sure they’ll continue.
The higher I get, the more pages they’ll give me.
The drugs dull the pain. It’s a win-win situation.
I shoot up, and the familiar burn tears into me, spreading through my arm like a raging fire. I drop my head back, and I sit in the window seat, and I stare out at the lake.
It makes me feel small. It is vast and wide, and it could suck me in and drown me.
In this moment, I almost wish it would.
It would suck away all of this.
There would be no more worry, no more fear.
I close my eyes. I know this is the heroin talking. But more and more, it’s getting harder to tell the difference.
* * *
When I wake, there is another journal page in my lap.
They’d been in here, and I hadn’t even woke.
I blink my eyes, then blink them harder, trying to focus.
I’m fucked up.
More fucked up than I’ve ever been.
It’s their point, I guess.
I look at the computer monitor.
Zuzu is sitting on her bed, and she’s crying. I have her golden curl in my pocket, and I grasp it. She must be lonely. She must be wondering where her mother and I are.
“I’m here,” I tell her, although I know she can’t hear. “I’m here.”
She still cries, and I’m still alone.
I slump into the seat. I read the paper.
Tomorrow is the day.
Everything is planned.