Page 13 of Atonement

“He’s nothing without me,” Conrad hissed. He loosened his grip on my hand as he focused hard on what my mother had to say. “If I hadn’t raised him the way I did, he would be a sniveling mess working a minimum wage job. As it is, he’s barely been holding his shit together ever since your daughter showed up.”

“You mean since you took her.”

“Let’s not get bogged down in the details.”

I jerked again and Conrad shifted off me, but kept his knee in the small of my back as he tightened the hand on my head once more. My mother was speaking, I could hear that, but the words were unintelligible. I twisted my head enough to see Conrad out of the corner of my eye. He held the phone to his ear now, no longer trusting speaker phone.

“I called you, Eva, so that you can understand exactly how fucked your daughter is. Literally and figuratively.”

My blood chilled but I forced myself to keep moving, giving Conrad hell no matter how bad my back ached beneath his weight.

“Expect to hear from me soon. From both of us. And I suggest you take a good listen whenever I deign to put your daughter on the phone, because whatever you hear from her might be the last words she ever utters.”

She yelled loudly but I couldn’t make out any words, the noise cut off quickly as Conrad ended the call and finally climbed off me completely to remove the battery and SIM card, the latter of which he dropped to the floor and ground beneath the heel of his boot.

“You’re barbaric,” I spat, wiping away the tears and snot that ran unashamedly down my face. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened in your childhood to make you like this?”

He grabbed my cheeks in his hands and brought his face so close to mine I could feel his breath. “This isn’t about me, you piece of shit whore. Don’t you get that? This is about punishing your mother.” He threw me backward only to slap me across the face, catching me off guard and sending me falling to the side. But as soon as I hit the mattress, he grabbed my neck and yanked me back up. The persistent headache that had never quite left ever since the previous evening surged forth. My vision went black temporarily, then white stars burst forth in the black. Conrad was yelling at me, but I couldn’t hear his words through the cotton in my ears.

He’s too angry.Something had happened, something wrong.

“Do you hear me?”

“What?” I tried to pop my ears as if that could clear the congestion blocking his voice.

“I said, if you challenge me again, I will make you forget every good thing that ever happened to you.” He released my shoulders to hit me across the face, and this time, when my head hit the mattress, he let me lie. “Let’s see if you learn any faster than your mother.” He spit, saliva landing on my face as I laid there struggling to breathe. I didn’t even hear the door shut, I knew subconsciously he had gone. The only sound I heard was my thumping heart, echoing in the room where I now found myself alone. As the feeling returned to my lower body and the aching in my head eased from excruciating to bearable, the tears I’d been holding behind my eyes fell forward, and the barely contained panic that had simmered below the surface finally erupted. I stuffed the baby blanket into my mouth as I screamed.

*

There was nothing for days. I was a live wire, a tightly bound ball of yarn that only grew more knotted the longer I was left alone with no one to talk to, nothing to do. I wasn’t beaten any further. There were no threats. Not even promises. I sat on the bed with the baby blanket, clutching it to my chest like a talisman, and waited to die.

Joshua brought me food three times a day. Each time I ignored it, no matter how loudly my stomach protested. It was only oatmeal, nothing like the bacon and eggs he used to make me each morning at Meyer’s house, but after the first day it smelled just as good. I refused to even drink water in front of him, filling my belly from the tap in the bathroom after he left. I was so desperate for something to chase away the hunger, even bringing myself to vomiting a few times. Eventually I learned to sip more cautiously, to not overwhelm my system with volume when what it really wanted was calories.

Meyer wasn’t coming. That much was clear. By the time the sun set on the third day—or so I assumed—I had completely given up. Staring at the wall listlessly was my new way to pass time. The depression I’d felt in the first few days with Meyer was nothing compared to the absolute desolation I felt now. The complete and utter lack of hope that I would ever see the outside of this room unless it meant I’d be experiencing excruciating pain. For the first time I thought I understood what drove Meyer to hurt himself, the desire to feel something that would bring me out of the unchecked … nothingness. I didn’t have any blades, of course, not that I wanted to see my own blood anyway. But my fingernails did the trick. Thin, purple, half-moon bruises dotting the pale skin on the underside of my arm. It was the only thing I could do to distract myself from the aching loneliness and fear when staring at the wall became too much to bear.

Falling asleep wasn’t a conscious decision, but I started awake as the door opened, blinking at Joshua as he stepped into the small room. Bright sunlight poured through the door behind him, alerting me that I had fallen asleep at some point. It was morning. Day four, by my calculations. I pushed myself up to sitting and slid along the bed as far from him as I could get, even as he approached me with a tray. He sat it on the bed next to me, yet another bowl of plain oatmeal.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to,” he said with a hint of apology in his voice. “But you need to eat.” I looked at him.

“Get me out of here, Joshua.” It sounded a little too breathy. I cleared my throat and swallowed before speaking again. “We could make it somewhere safe.”

He shook his head and gestured to the bowl again. I started at it apprehensively, unwilling to give in, but so hungry after starving myself for days.

“We tried that once.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

Again, he pointed at my food. I extended one finger, than another, until they hooked on the edge of the tray and I could tug it toward me. Gripping the spoon, I raised it to my mouth and took a bite, chewing the gluey oats and forcing myself to swallow them. My taste buds groaned. My stomach rejoiced.

“That was the letter. He wanted me to take you somewhere Conrad couldn’t get to you.”

He only watched me as I waited for him to continue. Still staring, I took another bite.

“I gave him the idea, actually. After he tried to kill himself the night you came here. I caught him a lot earlier in the process of downing the pills, and I only had to make him throw them up. Then I yelled at him, saying he might as well make it a murder suicide, because whatever Conrad had planned for you would be worse than death.”

My mouth was dry from trying to eat the oats. No orange juice with this breakfast. Still, I forced myself to continue to eat as he spoke. I craved conversation with someone who was holding on to his sanity with barely a thread.

“So he decided it would be easier to play along. That’s what he’s done his whole life, after all. Stick to the plan.”

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