Page 79 of The Housemaid
He left the bottle of pepper spray in the dresser drawer.Point it at your eyes and pull the trigger.
Also, keep your eyes open. Or it won’t count.
So I’ve done it. I sprayed myself with pepper spray just to get out of this goddamn room. Have you ever been pepper-sprayed? I don’t recommend it. It stings terribly, and right away, my eyes started to tear up like crazy. My face felt like it was burning. And then my nose started to run. A minute later, I felt it dripping into my mouth where it stung and tasted terrible. For several minutes, I sat on the bed, just struggling to breathe. I could barely open my eyes for nearly an hour.
It was definitely worse than a little air freshener.
But now it’s several hours later. I can open my eyes again. I still feel like I have a sunburn on my face and my eyes feel puffy, but I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore. I’m sure Andy will want to wait until I look more like my usual self before he lets me out of here.
Which means it could be one more night. But hopefully not.
The window isn’t boarded up, like he keeps it sometimes, so at least I have some natural light in the room. It’s the only thing keeping me from going completely crazy. I walk over to the window and peer out into the backyard, wishing I were out there instead of in here.
That’s when I realize the backyard isn’t empty.
Enzo is working out there. I start to back away, but he happens to look up at the window at the exact moment I’m standing there. He stares at me, and even from the third floor of the house, I can make out the darkening look on his face. He yanks off his gardening gloves and stalks out of the yard.
Oh no. This isn’t good.
I don’t know what Enzo is going to do. Will he call the police? I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or not. Andy has always managed to flip these things around on me. He’s always one step ahead. About a year ago, I started stashing some money in one of my boots in my closet, saving up in hopes of escaping him. Then one day, all the money disappeared, and the day after, he forced me up to the attic.
About a minute later, a fist pounds on the attic door. I step back, cowering against the wall. “Nina!” It’s Enzo’s voice. “Nina! I know you are in there!”
I clear my throat. “I’m fine!”
The doorknob jiggles. “If you are fine, open the door and show me you are fine.”
It hits me at that moment that Enzo is speaking pretty good English. I had been under the impression that he understood some English and spoke far less, but his English seems excellent right now. His Italian accent isn’t even that thick.
“I…I’m busy,” I say in an abnormally high voice. “But I’m fine! Just getting some work done.”
“You told me your husband tortures you and locks you in the attic.”
I suck in a breath. I only said that to him because I thought he didn’t understand. But now it’s clear he understood everything I said. I have to do damage control. I can’t do anything to anger Andy. “How did you get into the house anyway?”
Enzo lets out an exasperated sound. “You leave a key under the potted plant by the front door. Now, where is the key to this room? Tell me.”
“Enzo…”
“Tell me.”
I do know where the key to the attic door is. It doesn’t do me a lot of good when I’m in here, but I could direct him to it. If I wanted to. “I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t helping. Please—just stay out of it. He’ll let me out later today.”
There’s a long silence on the other side of the door. I hope he’s thinking about whether it’s worth it to get involved in a client’s personal life. And I don’t know what his immigration status is, but I know he wasn’t born here. I’m sure Andy and his family have enough money and power to get him deported if they want.
“Step back,” Enzo finally says. “I will break down the door.”
“No, you can’t!” Tears jump to my eyes. “Look, you don’t understand. If I don’t do what he says, he’ll hurt Cecelia. And he’ll have me locked up—he’s done it before.”
“No. This is just excuses.”
“No, they’re not!” A single tear rolls down my cheek. “You don’t understand the kind of money he has. You don’t understand what he could do to you. Do you want to get deported?”
Enzo is quiet again. “This is wrong. He is hurting you.”
“I’m fine. I swear to you.”
It’s mostly true. My face still feels like it’s burning, and my eyes still sting, but Enzo doesn’t need to know that. In another day, I’ll be completely fine. Like it never happened. And then I can go back to my normal, miserable life.
