Page 21 of In the Light of Day

My bedroom?

“I know I shouldn't say it but if your parents ever turn up here I'm going to swing my fry pan at them. No one treats my girl like that.”

My girl?

“Martha?” I question. I don't understand what she's saying.

“Oh gods, did Seth not tell you? I'm going to take my fry pan to him first, but you're staying with us now. I've decided I'm going to keep you, sweet girl. We’re going to get you back out into the world one day at a time, however long it takes. If you want to stay here that is. The choice is yours but you’re always welcome here.”

Her smile is one of a mother's. Soft eyes, relaxed face and she looks at me with only affection.

“I couldn't ... I don't even know who I am any more?” I whisper.

Gently, she raises her hands to my face. An effortless embrace giving me comfort, and with a soft smile, says, “Well, we will just have to find out together then won't we.”

We eat a delicious dinner of chicken noodle soup with fresh bread rolls. The butter melts so fast from how hot they are, that Martha had to put more in the oven because Ace ate three before he even took a sip of his soup. I've never tasted anything so delicious, other than the eclairs Ace brought me. Hot, fresh soup. I missed butter. I missed salt, but mostly I missed sitting around a table and enjoying a meal. I was only allowed to eat when he said I could and I was never allowed to touch the food in the cupboard without permission. But tonight, the conversation flowed over the dinner table, with no awkward moments or berating criticisms. Martha fussed over Ace while Seth sulked over not getting her attention. Everyone seemed to know that I just needed some time to take everything in. Reflect and compile the last 48 hours into some sort of sense. I still feel like this is all a dream and I'm suddenly going to wake up chained to the wall again, my usual reality shocking me back into darkness.

The fairy lights from the porch twinkle across the living room where Seth snoozes on his armchair. Martha crochets more jellyfish while Ace sits on the floor, propped against the couch so I can lay down and drape my arm over his shoulder, my hand hanging loosely by his chest. I tried sitting upright but I couldn't get comfortable until I could feel his warmth on me.

I could breathe when I touched him.

The show that's playing switches to an ad break and Ace stretches, holding my hand against him and patting it a few times in reassurance. For him or me, I don't know, but I like it.

“Martha? What's with the jellyfish? I saw you making them at the station and now you're making them here. I can't figure it out?” Ace questions and she smiles at him, grinning down at the jellyfish tentacle she’s almost finished.

“They might not look it but these little guys are a life force. I make them and send them out to children's hospitals all over the country. Some little baby is going to be fighting for their life and find comfort from one of these. They say it replicates the umbilical cord so when they grab onto it it feels familiar and stops them from pulling on any wires that are attached to them. But I like to think that I'm giving them a little cuddle, that they grab on to one of my jellyfish and they feel how much I want them to live and how much I love them. Every child deserves a decent start in life and if I can help in this small way then why wouldn't I.”

Tears rim her eyes as she explains why she makes them and if I'm honest with myself, I would expect nothing less from the beautiful soul Martha has proven to be.

“Well shit, now I feel like a jackass,” Ace mumbles.

Martha snorts in amusement at his comment, “I have met plenty of assholes in the world Ace and I assure you, you're not one of them. I wouldn't welcome one into my home now would I.”

“Shucks Martha, you're going to make me blush.”

“I heard that. Hands off my woman, hot shot.” Seth grumbles from his chair. Ace laughs from where he’s sitting and I can feel the vibration in his chest, my hand pressing firmly against him. Meanwhile, Martha has a cheeky grin on her face as she returns her crocheting and I realise, I feel at peace. That this is how it should have been all along. The mundaneness that is family life is one that I’ve never been able to experience but after this taste, is one I want.

We say our good nights and I shut the door to my bedroom, alone for the first time in what feels like forever ... and I hate it. I hate the coldness it brings despite the warmth of the room. I hate the stillness of the air, much like the stagnant feel of the bunker, and Ihatethat I still feel isolated.

With every fibre of my being, I hated being locked in that hole with my uncle. I felt so incredibly lonely as I shared my space with the devil. And now, as I stare at the beautifully made bed, with throw cushions and a teddy bear in the centre, I can’t think of anything worse than being alone in it. I feel like he's watching me still from the shadows and my chest gets tighter at the thought of turning off the light.

Creeping down the hallway I find Ace spread out on the couch, his limbs hanging over every side, but still, he looks comfortable somehow.

“You okay, darlin'?” he asks, his voice low but still clear.

“I can't ... I can’t ... Can you?” I don't know how to ask what I want, I'm not even sure if it will work or if I'm just going to make a fool of myself. I slept with Martha in the room at the station so surely I can sleep in the same house as them. It's only walls that separate us, right?

“I don't know?” I say finally. Hoping that he just understands what I'm asking. And what I'm starting to realise is that he does.

For some unknown reason, Ace just gets it. He sits up and gathers his pillow and blanket, following me as I walk down the hall back to my room.

“Floor or bed?” he asks, no hint of anger or frustration present.

“Bed,” I squeak.

He sets about unmaking the bed, constructing a pillow wall and ensuring we have separate blankets. No part of us will touch and I'm relieved and sad at the thought of it.

“Lights on or off?”

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