Page 25 of Twice as Twisted

I shake my head no.

A fat tear rolls down Jane’s cheek, but she doesn’t move, not even to wipe it away. Baron stirs his spoon slowly around the bowl. “This is Jane’s favorite kind,” he says. “Chicken and wild rice. Isn’t it, little bird?”

“Yes, Master.”

Her shoulders shake slightly, and tears drip onto her lap, but she doesn’t lift her head.

“It’s not bad,” Baron says to me. “You sure you don’t want some?”

“I’m sure,” I say, trying not to snap at him, or lunge across the table for the food. I don’t know how Jane controls herself. If I were her, I would have bitten his hand when he reached for it. But then, it’s probably not worth having another tooth pulled out with pliers.

I shudder. I know better than to think humans are good at heart, but you don’t really know what someone is capable of behind closed doors, when no one is watching. When there’s no rules, no consequences, no accountability. Maybe I’d do the same thing. Dig deep enough, and we’re all monsters.

I watch Jane watch Baron slowly make his way through the first quarter of her food, then the next, then the next.

“You gotta leave her something,” I say at last, sure he’s going to make her watch him eat the entire bowl and leave her nothing. I don’t know how she can stay still, crying her silenttears. I already ate, and I can’t help myself. “She’s going to fall over dead when she tries to get up from the table.”

“You’d be surprised,” Baron says, taking a few more bites. At last, he pushes it across to her with less than an inch of brothy stuff left in the bottom.

She pounces, snatching it up and lifting it to her mouth, tipping it back with both hands and sucking it down so fast it’s gone in an instant.

“And that’s why you can’t eat with us,” Baron says with disgust. “Animal.”

She nods, chewing frantically.

“Spit it out,” he commands. “On the table.”

She stops chewing and stares at him, a drop of broth clinging to her lip, and something about her strikes me as familiar suddenly, though I don’t know why. Obviously I’ve never met her, but the deer-in-the-headlights expression is one I’ve seen before. It must have been in a movie.

Baron taps the table, and slowly, she leans forward and lets a stream of soup run from her mouth onto the table. He laughs. “Good little birdie. Now suck it up.”

She starts hoovering it up with her lips like it’s no different from a spoon.

“See, she’s an animal,” he says to me. “A pig more than a bird, but she had colored hair when I picked her up, and she wouldn’t tell me her name, so I gave her a nickname. I cut all the dye off though, so now she’s just my little birdie. Isn’t that right, Jane?”

He reaches over and tousles her buzzed hair, and she freezes, like she’s waiting for another command. Instead, he grabs her head and pushes it down, rubbing her face in what’s left of the soup on the table. When he releases her, she sits up, blinking broth off her eyelashes.

Baron pushes his chair back. “I’m going to fuck her one more time and put her to bed. Want to join now that she’s cleaned up? Her pussy’s a little fucked up—I gave her an episiotomy when she tried take me by surprise and knock me out one time, and I tore her open a couple other times when I stuck stuff in there, but I always sew her back up afterwards. If you don’t look at it, it still feels the same.”

“I’m good,” I say. “I’ll wait for Mabel.”

He shrugs. “Your loss. If you’re horny, it’ll get the job done. Mabel won’t know the difference.”

He pulls Jane onto his lap, and I put the bowls in the sink. I don’t even try to wash them after the cooking fiasco. I’d probably burn the house down.

While Baron’s busy, I take the keys and make a beer run. When I get back, the kitchen is clean, and there’s no sign of Jane. I was hoping to sneak her a can of soup, but Baron’s working on his laptop at the table. I’ll bring her some later. For now, I set down my twelve pack and crack my first beer of the night, opening my throat and letting the familiar bite of hops wash down the bitter taste of the evening in one long rush. When I finish, I open the next bottle.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Baron says, the light from his screen reflected in his glasses as he leans over the computer. He looks so normal, sounds so normal, I can almost believe I imagined Jane. Maybe, if I went down in the basement right now, it would be clean and bright, with stainless steel trays of shimmering pearls drying under fluorescent lights.

“What if Mabel won’t come back with us right away?” I ask. “How long before you have to get back to feed your… Bird?”

Baron leans back and gives a rueful smile. “It must look bad to you.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

“Do you think I went too far?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I could never find the limit.”

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