Page 1 of Envy

The voices never stop.

The whispers. The lies.

Conversations float around the room as I sit here like I’m nothing. Because to them, I am nothing. I’m something you buy. To use. To discard.

I was bought and paid for because no one wanted me. They still don’t. They never will. Especially the one who owns me.

John.

He doesn’t see me as human. To him, I’m his sick fetish in the flesh––the kind of men like him try to hide, but always fail. Because secrets always come to light.

“She needs to go, John,” David, his lawyer says, pacing the room.

“You can’t have her go anywhere else,” Mary says. Her ice-blue gaze burning into me like acid.

Mary.

If there is one person in this world who would love to see me gone or dead, it would be her. When she married John, she learned the truth. That her husband’s interest in her was never real. That she was nothing but a public mask to cover his depravity.

And that I exist.

At first, I thought she would help me. Free me.

But instead, she hates me. More than anything.

She never lets me forget how much. Sometimes, I wish she would end it and be done with me. It would be better than what John does behind closed doors. It would be better than the pain.

I tried before.

Cutting. Hanging. Even stepping out of a moving car.

Each attempt––stolen from me.

John made sure I didn’t succeed. And each time I fail, he makes sure he makes me pay in ways no human should inflict on another.

After a while, hope seems like something I should have abandoned a long time ago.

Suicide was the only answer plaguing my mind ever since John appeared in my life: How could I end it? What would be the quickest way I could die so it could all go away? For the voices to stop.

The desire to kill oneself is not as hard as some people think—not when you don’t have a choice. It’s not what I really want, but it’s the only thing I can think about when I want the pain to stop. Wanting to die is a choice for some because there isn’t a better option when living is too painful. For others, it’s an imbalance in their brain for which they don’t have a cure. But not for me. For me, it’s freedom from this invisible cage.

“I know,” John says, exhaling through his nose. “She will also get the care she needs there, but…”

“You don’t want her running off with someone or getting any ideas if she goes to Ohio State, do you?” Mary tilts her head, voice dripping with concern like she gives a shit.

John presses his lips together.

“If she doesn’t go,” Mary continues, “people will start asking questions. The board members are not asking. The media isn’t helping.” She sighs. “We gave a statement. We said we adopted her internationally. It’s what they wanted to hear.”

I remain still.

Mary keeps rattling off excuses and lies. I’m trying to understand what they want to do with me. Where will they hide me next?

“Kenyan University will not accept homeschooled students,” Mary says, “because she doesn’t have any record of academic achievements. She doesn’t qualify for a scholarship anywhere else. She doesn’t have the test scores or the grades.”

“But she won’t be like the others,” John retorts, leaning back on his wooden office desk and staring straight at me.

I can still taste the tang from the maple syrup on my tongue from this morning, making me want to vomit all over his designer shoes.

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