Page 43 of Haunt Me

“Not allowed those either,” she cuts me off. “They are too indulgent, and they…”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain any of it,” I say quickly, my heart beating fast.What the hell? She isn’t allowed so many things.“Not to me. Hot showers should help too.”

She nods. “I’ll try not to get caught,” she says.

“Not caught—having a hot shower?”

She just looks at me helplessly. “Wasteful,” she says. “It’s a sin.”

Ok, that’s it. I can’t let this one pass.

“It’s not a sin, Eden,” I say softly. “Taking care of yourself is the opposite of a sin.” But I see the look on her face turn stony, so I stop. I try to hide my shudder. I need to remind myself that that man has every right to raise his kid as he sees fit, and it’s none of my business to judge him. Only to want to shake him. “Well, what exactly are you allowed?”

“Books,” she says and we both laugh.

“Books are good,” I agree.

“Some movies, but only if we watch them together. Some clothes, some…”

“Wait. He controls what you wear?”

“He controls everything,” she shrugs as if it’s normal. It’s not.

A chill runs down my spine. Of course he controls her clothes as well. I mean, he controls the temperature of her showers, for heaven’s sake. Something is seriously wrong here. I look up—Eden looks ready to bolt. Ok, I need to tread carefully. I need to keep her trust, at all costs.

I can’t antagonize her dad openly. Obviously, she thinks his word is law. I bite my lip.

I won’t be able to help her ever again if I lose her now. She clearly adores her dad, and so I’d better start acting like his oppression is no big deal and stop acting as if I want to throw up a little—which I do. I’ll figure out what to do about it later.

“Ok, yeah, about the showers then,” I say tentatively, “try not to get caught, but take them.” She nods. “Wash anything with blood on it with cold water, it should go away.”

At the mention of blood, she turns away, her thick braid falling over her exposed throat.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s me.”

“Oh, we’re way past being embarrassed right now.”

But she’s still not looking at me.

“Mom said you are not going to die,” I add softly. “Six days is a lot, but perfectly normal. It will go away soon.”

Eden just cries more, but this time I think it’s in relief. I hold her until she stops crying.

I smuggle her out of my room shortly afterwards. This sneaking around is going to get really dangerous really soon, but I can’t help myself. It’s too necessary, and too delicious, if I’m being honest. I imagine how it could be if we did this regularly—stupid idea thought it is.

I imagine her snuggling in my bed when her dad is away, me on the floor playing a song on my guitar, or stroking her hair until shefalls asleep. I imagine her falling asleep to my music. Feeling safe. Not being alone, for once.

“Can I text you?” I ask her. “After you’re gone.”

“I might take a while to answer,” she says.

“I’ll wait.”

“And…” she hesitates.

“Tell me.”

“I’m worried my father will see the texts,” she is biting her lip. “Is it ok if I delete them afterwards?”

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