Branded

A few weeks later, he started climbing in next to her and tracing her body with his fingertips. She was crawling out of her own skin, never sleeping a wink. Not that I blame her. His aftershave and the stench of cigars on his breath constantly turned her stomach.

She went to her neighbor and told her what was happening. Of course they called her a lying whore—a dramatic young girl screaming for attention because she lost her real father. The neighbor must’ve told the stepfather because her life changed forever that night. He came home early from work, drugged her mother as he always did, and yelled for the girl to come at the top of his lungs. When she didn’t, he went searching for her and when he found her… he immediately tied her hands behind her back, tied her ankles tight together, and cut off all her clothing. He then picked her up and carried her to a room she never knew existed. It was the size of a small walk-in closet, enclosed by a cement floor, ceiling, and walls.

He dropped her body to the floor and peed on her face—leaving a small flashlight shining in the back right corner so she would see what was coming next. Three boxes sat in the corner and he cut the ties off the tops before sealing the door shut.

Now it was just her, a flashlight, urine-soaked hair, and three boxes. She screamed in horror as the first box exploded with a wave of tiny black spiders and the second with silver dollar-sized siders… The third box released spiders the size of her fist. The girl was deathly afraid of spiders and he knew it.

She had nowhere to go and no way to get them off as they covered her body like a blanket. She flung around as much has she possibly could, but they covered every inch of her flesh, entering every opening of her body. She felt them in her ear, in her nose, and if she screamed, they filled her mouth. She flailed herself around and slammed her head onto the concrete floor, praying she would crack open her skull. But nothing worked. When they went down her throat, she gagged and started vomiting profusely. When the light burnt out, all she could hear were the spiders scuttling in and out of her, all around her. When she worked up enough strength, somehow she managed to roll her body from one wall to the other. She kept going, despite the wet mush that seeped from their hairy flesh as she squashed them underneath her. Eventually they started eating each other, and she could manage the few left crawling on her.

She doesn’t remember coming and going from the room. She assumed he was drugging her as well, but not enough that she wouldn’t be aware of her next form of torture.

One time it was a dead cat. His intestines looked like blown-up sausages protruding from his mangled gut, only to be joined by hundreds of flies. He cranked up the heat and the stench of rotten flesh caused her to vomit over and over. All she could do was close her eyes even though she wanted to rip the flesh from her own body and die along with the cat. She was going insane; she was sure of it—hearing voices and seeing things she wasn’t sure were real. She was saturated in her own urine, feces, and vomit for weeks without anyone noticing she was gone.

Her stepfather told everyone he had sent her to boarding school, so of course nobody asked questions. She wished and prayed every day she’d die. But death never came…

The night before she was arrested, her stepfather forgot to drug her mother. She came into the girl’s room and found him lying there holding her. (He’d do this when he went from man number three back to man number two.) He’d take the girl out of the room, clean her up, and bring her back to good health.

Of course her mother was furious. The girl thought her mother would finally believe her. Instead, the mother slapped the girl across the face, screaming at the top of her lungs, “YOU’RE A SELFISH WHORE!” That’s when the girl knew she had lost her mother forever.

Her mother believed him, of course. He told her that the girl begged him into bed. All lies. He wrestled the mother out of the girl’s room and then it was quiet. The next night in a moment of freedom, she decided to hang herself. She was just about to take her life when she noticed the ring her father had given her. She hesitated when she read the inscription and then heard the guards coming for her.

She ran because he would’ve wanted her to try, but she knew they’d catch her eventually. However, nothing remained for her anymore. The only thing she cared about was getting away from him. So in her mind, she was running from him. The Hole had to be better than the hell she was already living in.

You know this girl, Cole. And she loves you.

My stepfather murdered the girl I once was, and he was so damn proud of it. All I wanted was to die and I was too pathetic and weak to even accomplish such an easy goal.

I hate the skin I live in. I cringe at my reflection and vomit at every sight and smell that reminds me of those days. (I hope that’s a good enough excuse for my puking issue.)

And now I’m here with you and all of a sudden my life makes sense again. The way you look at me makes me feel human—not a lifeless soul trapped in my own skin. So I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving me, reviving me, caring for me, but most of all, for being my friend. I’m a train wreck—I know this—but with you by my side, I’m starting to mend.

So please, don’t give up on me. I need you to remind me every day who I really am and what I can become. If you can find it in your heart to love me, then please don’t run away. Promise me you’ll stay. Even though we can’t ever be together, promise me you’ll stay.

I never knew what it felt like to be in love, and I never wanted to until I fell in love with you.

I love you,

Lexi