Little Lies(3)

“You stay here and stay quiet, Cali, or you’re never gonna see your momma again,” he growls.

The door closes and clicks.

I want to tell the man my name isn’t Cali, but I’m afraid if I say anything, I really won’t see my mommy again. It’s dark like a cloudy, starless night at the cottage and smells like the stuff my daddy puts in the boat to make it run. I slip my hand in the pocket again and feel for the candies there. There are only two left.

I wish I hadn’t tried to be brave.

I wish I were anywhere but here.

I start to cry, and it’s hard to keep the noises from coming out. I clamp my mouth shut and dig my nails into my palms. They bite into the skin, little silent screams.

I tuck my face inside Kodiak’s hoodie and try to breathe in the scent of detergent and his watermelon candies.

I’m afraid to move, because if I make noise, the man is going to come back.

I feel around on the floor. It’s hard and cold, and my teeth are starting to chatter. My bottom is wet from falling down, and the smells in here make my tummy feel bad.

I reach out, brushing my fingers over the things close to me. I don’t know what any of the stuff in here is.

I find something soft beside me. It feels like a stuffed animal. I hug it to my chest and stand. My legs are wobbly, like they’re made of Jell-O. I shuffle forward and hold a hand out in front of me until my fingers touch something cold. I can hear the sounds of the carnival, but just barely. There’s a loud fan in here that makes everything outside seem far away.

I feel along the cold surface until I find a bump. I think it’s the door. I don’t understand why that man left me in here. I turn the knob and try to push, but it doesn’t budge.

I want to be home.

I want my mommy and daddy.

I want River to know I’m okay.

I want to be able to give Kodiak his hoodie back.

I hope he isn’t cold like me.

I try the door again, but it’s still stuck, and I’m still here, all alone.

I don’t know how long I’m in the dark, but after a while, I think I hear someone calling my name. I hear it again, more than once this time, and it sounds closer. I press my ear to the cool metal.

I think I hear Kodiak and my daddy.

Someone bangs on the door, and I stumble back, falling to the floor.

“Lavender?” There’s banging and banging, and then suddenly the door folds in and Daddy and Kodiak are right there.

I don’t know where Mommy is, and all my words are trapped in my throat because the fear is holding on to them.

“Oh my God. Thank God. What happened, baby?” Daddy scoops me up, and Kodiak’s eyes are so, so wide. He’s holding the candies I dropped on the ground and my glasses. “I have her! I found her!” Daddy’s running, and it makes my tummy jump and twirl. Kodiak runs after us, and we burst out from the darkness, back into the noise and lights of the carnival.

“Oh thank God!” Mommy wraps her arms around me in a hug so tight, I feel like a jelly donut that’s being squeezed too much. “What happened, baby? Where did you go?”

Daddy tells her where he found me, and finally my words start to work. But all I can get out is “a man” before I get all choked up again.

“A man took you?” Mommy’s voice is a siren.

I nod, and then there are more questions and my head is so full. I’m still scared he’s coming back. I cry and cry.

Daddy finds security, and they call the police.

Kodiak’s daddy comes and takes him and my brothers away.

There’s a policewoman in the room with me, and her eyes are soft and kind and sad. Mommy has to explain that I’m shy and have a hard time talking around people I don’t know. I just want to go home, but they ask me questions about the man, and I try to answer them.

They give me a blanket, but it’s scratchy on my legs.

I have an apple juice box and a sugar donut and an apple. I don’t like apple juice, because it tastes like metal, but I’m thirsty, so I drink it anyway.

The policewoman asks me questions that make my tummy hurt.

I throw up the donut, and that makes me cry even more.

Mommy tells me it’s going to be okay, but I don’t feel like it is.

Finally they stop asking questions. I’m glad because I don’t like them. Then someone takes pictures of all of my bruises. I don’t really know how I got them all. Daddy is angry, and Mommy tries to hide how sad she is.

I’m glad when they finally say we can go home.

Daddy carries me out to the car, and Mommy sits in the back seat with me. I snuggle into her hair, breathing in her shampoo, trying not to let the memories or the smells come back. I want to put on my favorite pajamas and hug my stuffed beaver and never leave my house again.

I want to feel safe.

Daddy carries me upstairs, and Mommy starts a bath for me. Daddy sets me on the stool beside the bathtub and kneels in front of me. I only have one shoe on. I don’t know what happened to the other one.

My dress is filthy, covered in smudges of dirt. Kodiak’s hoodie has a tear on one side, and there’s crusty brown stuff all over the sleeves. I start to cry again, because everything is too much. I dig my nails into my palms, so I don’t make any noise.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mommy pries my hands open. My palms are crusted in dried blood, and fresh blood wells in the cuts I’ve opened up. “Lavender, honey, who did this?”