Ev
I listened to him laugh. I didn’t know what he found so funny. I was sure it had something to do with me and my predicament. I was in hell. I didn’t know what could be so funny about hell. My body was on fire. I had fire ants going through my veins. He kept laughing.
“Oh dear, Ev,” he whispered into my ear. “You truly amaze me. The fight in you is something I am so intrigued about.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “You’ve never had the will to fight?” I asked him hoarsely.
He looked at me strangely. “I’ve fought my whole life, Ev,” he told me. He brushed the hair out of my face. He held a glass of water to my lips. I drank and drank. “My father was a cruel man. He beat my mother and abused her horribly. I think she hated me because I reminded her of my father. My father hated me because I reminded him of my mother. I was not a loved child. I was revered though. In school, everyone wanted to be my friend because I came from money. No one knew about this darkness that lived in me. My father graciously passed that darkness to me. It consumes me, Ev. You consume me. I knew when I saw you running; I had to have you. That you were going to be mine. Even if it is piece by piece. Even if I have to store you piece by piece in a freezer. You will be mine. You can’t deny me.” He gently kissed my forehead. “Rest.”
I closed my eyes and tears leaked from my eyes. He was going kill me eventually. I had to get better, stronger and kill him. I had to get out of here. He put a new bag of antibiotics on the IV pole and hooked me up to it. I tried to breathe deep and relax. I had to keep my wits about me.
My hand started itching and I reached over to scratch it and noticed it was gone. It was truly gone. I was not dreaming earlier. He had chopped my hand off, like a movie madman. I looked at him and he smiled. The fucking maniac smiled! I wanted to kill him. “Where is my hand?” I asked trying not to sound frantic.
He sat beside me on the bed and took my stump in his hands. “It’s in the freezer,” he told me. “I will own you, even if it is piece by piece. I told you that." He lifted the stump up and kissed it. My skin wanted to crawl of my body. . “I will be back to check on you in an hour or so.” I shook my head yes to let him know I understood. He kissed my forehead, went up the stairs, and left me. I looked at my stump. Stump-a horrible little word. I wanted to mourn my hand. I wanted to cry for my right hand, my dominant hand. My writing hand. All my life I had written poetry. I couldn’t. I could not mourn right now. I could grieve when I got out of this hell hole. I had to get better.
I closed my eyes and drifted to a happier place. I was poolside and the nice man was there again. He was telling me that I had to fight. I had to be strong. Pull all of your strength and get out of here. Use all that courage and hope and fight him. You have too, he told me. I could smell the chlorine coming off the water. It smelled clean. I so desperately wanted to jump in and cleanse the infection from my body. Feel the burn on my skin as the pus seeped into the water. Clean the dirty things that man had done to me. I wanted the smell of him off me. I was so unclean. The dream man kept telling me: use that hope. Get out.