Page 24 of Knot All Is Lost: Part 1

twelve

Withmybellyfull to the point of being a little painful for the first time in what seemed like forever, I unwrapped my feet. Spencer had come back with towels, a toothbrush, toothpaste, clean clothes, shampoo, conditioner, and a hairbrush for me to use. He bustled me into the bathroom and showed me how to turn on the shower before leaving.

“When I see you next you better be showered and in those clean clothes. Take your time, there is no rush. This is your bathroom no one else needs it. I’m going to make the bed so when you come out you can snuggle up and sleep,” he informed me. “Is there anything I missed that might help you feel more comfortable?”

I shook my head vigorously. “No, you all have done so much for me already. This is overwhelming and more than I ever expected.”

“Bodhi is in the rec room playing video games if you need anything. If he’s not there, then feel free to knock on any of our doors, and we’ll handle whatever it is,” Spencer assured me before backing out of the bathroom, shutting the door.

Quickly I locked it, needing the reassurance that no one would be able to sneak up on me while I was showering. Taking a shower or anything to do with removing my clothes made me feel so vulnerable. Even though Father never once touched me in that way I could feel his eyes linger when I changed or washed up. With all my attempts to run he refused to take his eyes off me if I wasn’t securely locked behind all those deadbolts. Sometimes I think he knew I hated it so he did it just to make me uncomfortable.

Looking at my feet I grimaced at how rough they looked but I was glad they did little more than ache. I removed the trench coat, the one item that had been able to hide my abuse. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringed. My eyes looked like sunken saucers in my face with cheekbones protruding out sharply. Blonde hair hung in a wild mess around my head, the wave in it having gotten out of control with them brushing it while dry. The bright canary yellow of the dress made all my bruises stand out in stark contrast. It was as if Father picked it to show them off, like he was proud of the beatings he gave me.

Refusing to shy away from the person I was staring at in the mirror, I pulled the dress over my head. My shabby underwear hung off my hips, and since I had no breasts to speak of there was no need for a bra. Scars where he’d beaten me with objects other than his fist littered my skin. It was as if my whole life story of abuse was forever etched into my skin never to leave or allow me to forget. I looked down at my wrist brushing a finger over the one and only self-inflicted scar.

At a low point after a beating so bad I didn’t think I was going to live, the pain was so bad I decided it was better to end my life on my terms. In an odd way it was good I didn’t know the best way to cut myself to do the most damage. The nail I’d tried to use wasn’t sharp enough to do much damage but it had been bad enough that Father was scared I’d get sick. It was the one and only time Father allowed another person to know of my existence and treat me while I was in the basement.

I’d gotten a reprieve from the beatings as I recovered and was given food on a somewhat more regular basis for a week or so. That all ended once he knew I was going to be fine and the first beating was just as bad as the one that caused me, for a moment, to give up hope. What I learned from that experience is, I didn’t want to die. I might not have known how I would survive, and that moment solidified that I wasn’t going to let my father win but I knew it wouldn’t be at the expense of my own life.

Tears welled up as the feelings of that time started to overwhelm me. Shaking my head I turned on the shower and tested the water to find the best temperature. It had been ages since I had a hot shower but I wasn’t sure my body was up for more than warm. I glanced at the claw foot soaking tub that sat on the other side of the bathroom. Part of me craved to submerge myself in clean water, but I knew the bucket I washed in this morning hardly removed all the grime from my skin. Maybe another day, but right now I just wanted to scrub away the two years of captivity.

Gingerly, I stepped into the shower my feet slightly more tender since I didn’t have them wrapped. The stone floor of the shower didn’t help but it was nothing I couldn’t manage. The feeling of the water coating my skin, weighing down my hair, and dribbling down my face was a sensation I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel again. I just stood there a moment fighting back tears once more as the reality that I wasn’t trapped sank deeper into my consciousness.

Once I had enough of soaking in the moment I grabbed the shampoo. It was labeled for men and smelled of mint but I liked it. Everything about it was fresh and invigorating, making my scalp tingle with a clean feeling as I scrubbed. I washed my hair twice feeling that once was just not going to cut it, then I worked in the conditioner and used the brush to battle the tangles that I’d tried to keep from getting worse. When the bristles ran smoothly through my locks I knew another piece of evidence I’d been locked away was gone.

Finally, I took the washcloth and scrubbed my skin harder than I should have but the need to be free of anything that could cling to me was too strong. The parts that weren’t bruised were bright pink from my abuse but that was a color I hadn’t seen in a long time. Shutting off the water I wrung out my hair as best I could knowing it would take forever for it to dry with how long and thick it had gotten.

The towel was soft and fluffy, gentle on my skin as I dried off. Wrapping it snuggly around me I looked over what they’d brought me to wear. There was a simple gray T-shirt that smelled like Rafael and sweatpants that carried Spencer’s scent. That made sense, he was the thinnest out of the bunch to even come close to something that would fit me. Soft white socks were also included in the pile. They didn’t carry a scent, almost as if they were new, which made me curious. Then I remembered they had collected things for me at the shelter. It would make sense people would donate items like socks for them to give out to those in need.

Dressed in my warm, wonderfully scented clothes I peeked out the door to see if anyone was in the room. It was empty but a few more things had been added to the room. A small lamp near the bed that was now made with several pillows piled at the head. The sheets were pulled back and a warm cream colored fluffy blanket was added for warmth.

A sigh passed my lips as my feet landed on the carpet, it was so perfectly soft. Placed on the end of the bed were two books, one was a classic fairy tale I’d read a long time ago, and the other was a book titled A Little Princess. I could tell it was old by the color of the pages and the leather of the cover. There was something about the smell of an old book that made it all the more special. When I opened the cover I saw a note had been tucked inside.

It was mentioned you liked to read so I thought I would share these with you. These stories were always a favorite of my sister’s. She made me read them to her all the time. I hope you find enjoyment in them. I think she would have liked for someone like you to have them.

Sweet Dreams, Marius

I clutched the book to my chest and this time I couldn’t stop the tears from leaking out. For him to give such a precious gift to me made no sense. Even from the little he’d told me of his sister I knew how important she was to him. Why would he give them to me?

Turning off the main light I padded over to the bed, curled up under the covers, nestled myself against the pillows, and opened to the first page of A Little Princess. Instantly I was captivated by Sara’s story of how her life was full of joy, love, and imagination only to be crushed at the hands of a person who only saw her as an object. I don’t know how long I read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer and drifted off to sleep dreaming of the little princess.

The bed shifted causing me to wake instantly, I froze as terror seized my body. My ears strained to pick up any noise, trying to determine just why my father was down here and why I didn’t hear him stumble down the steps. The blanket shifted and no longer was I frozen. The moment had come that I feared where Father decided he wasn’t going to wait to get his money from me. I scrambled off the mattress to get as far away from my father, or whoever was down here, as the chain would allow. When nothing stopped me I ran into a wall with a thud and crumbled into a ball.

“Please, please, don’t do this,” I begged.

Then a scent hit my nose and the terror abated slightly, allowing me enough of a clear mind to realize I knew that warm caramel and cinnamon scent. There crouching before me, sadness etched on his face, was Oscar. When he noticed I was truly seeing him he sat back on his heels and pulled out his phone. His nimble fingers flew over the object doing something he was incredibly intent on. Then he surprised me as he placed the phone on the carpet and slid it over. He gestured for me to pick it up, making sure not to move any closer.

Slowly I unwound myself and leaned forward to take the phone. There written on the screen was a note.

“I’m so incredibly sorry, Cambrie. I didn’t mean to scare you like that at all. I was checking the house before going to bed and noticed your light still on. When I peeked inside, I saw you asleep with your light on and your face sleeping on your book. I should have let you be, but I just wanted you to be comfortable. Please forgive me for not realizing this would upset you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for checking on me, it was incredibly sweet of you.”

Oscar frowned and shook his head, clearly not agreeing with me.

“It’s not your fault that I’m broken, Oscar,” I pointed out. “Sleeping is always scary, I never knew what time of the day it was, but I tried to sleep when he was at work. It wasn’t ever a deep sleep, that would be too risky, so I learned how to keep aware of my surroundings. This scared me because I was truly sleeping soundly. I didn’t hear you enter the room like I should have.”

An odd grunting sound came from Oscar as he motioned for me to hand him back the phone. Instead of sliding it across, I crawled over and sat next to him knowing he didn’t pose a threat. He took the phone, careful not to touch me, which I appreciated more than he knew. After coming out of panic attacks was the worst time for me to be touched. Although I was quickly noticing wasn’t the case with the Alphas of this pack.

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