Chapter 52
Lou
A shudder courses through my body, and a cold sensation impinging my body shakes off my sleep. All of a sudden, my senses become alert. It is so cold. I curl my body and pull the thick blankets closer to my body. It must be freezing outside if I feel this chilly in here. I rub my hands under the blankets, trying to warm them, and I toss and turn, wanting to find a more comfortable position. If I don't manage to get warmed up, it's gonna be a very long night. Not that it would make a difference to me as I have all the time of the world to doze off or simply exist. In fact, I wish I could fall into a deep sleep from which I could never wake.
As I lie here trembling, I wonder if I should put on my pants and jacket. Their material has thinned, and I doubt they will bring much more comfort to my cold bones, but that should be better than nothing. As I consider this, I seem to hear a very soft squeak. I'm familiar with all the sounds that surround me both during the day and night, but I can't identify what I've heard just now. What on earth was that? I perk up my ears, but there's only silence. Maybe I imagined it. It wouldn't come as a surprise if I were losing my mind and started hearing imaginary sounds and having strange visions. My father is clearly crazy. No sane person would do what he's done to me. Madness must also run in my blood, and my current situation doesn't help matters much. Anybody in my shoes would already have become totally nuts.
Unable to hear a thing, I turn my attention to my present dilemma. I'm still feeling cold and trembling, so I better find my clothes. The room, if I can call it a room, is bare of any furniture. Apart from the bed, there's nothing, not even a chair, only a chamber pot. Pa brings a basin of water every day for me to wash, but he always takes it away. I guess he's afraid I might harm myself, or maybe he fears I can hurt him with anything I can get hold of just trying to escape from this hole. Maybe he's right to fear that. I'm sometimes so desperate that I'm often tempted by the idea of killing him.
Anyway, when I get into bed out of tiredness, boredom, or apathy, I usually leave my shoes, shirt, and pants on the floor nearby. I unbury one of my hands from under the blankets and stretch my hand out. My fingers feel their way onto the floor, trying to locate my clothes. "Where on earth are they?" I exclaim frustrated when I can't find them. I sit up and roll on my side, and use both my hands all along the stretch before the bed. When my blind search fails, I slide out of bed and kneel on the floor. It is then that I hear the squeak again, and this time I'm sure I haven't imagined it. Is it a small animal? A mouse, maybe? And how on earth did it get in here? It probably snuck through the door when my father brought me lunch last.
A prison mate. I have a mate now. Poor creature! I shake my head, and still trembling, I creep on all fours on the floor, feeling the cold rugged surface on my knees and hands. My fingers finally touch the familiar material of my pants. Eureka! Finally!
"Ahhh!" I let out a loud scream when something bites me. An animal is definitely here, and it must have been hiding among my clothes. Yet, I'm sure it ain't a mouse, but something bigger and fiercer. The bite was no little matter, and in those brief seconds I felt the sharp teeth digging into my skin and its rough fur, I knew it was something much bigger than a mouse. Overcome by trepidation, I jump to my feet and dash back to bed, covering myself.
My wrist, where I've been bitten, is painful, and when I touch the sore spot, I notice a viscous dampness running down my arm. I'm bleeding. What kind of animal did this to me? It can't be too big, or else, my father or I would have seen it before. Maybe… maybe it's a rat. A big, disgusting rat. The mere thought makes me shiver. I ain't afraid of animals, but I've always had a thing about rats. No animal disgusts me more. When I helped Pa with the traps back home and a rat accidentally fell in one of our snares, it was a real ordeal for me to free its dead body and toss it aside. Rats were useless to us, and just touching the horrid animal made me sick to my stomach. Thinking that a rat might have bitten me is just too horrid. Oh God! A dirty rat burying its filthy teeth into me. Please no! Let it be anything else but that!
I ain't sure when I finally fell asleep. The cold permeating my body and the fear of knowing there was a rat a few feet from me kept me awake and restless. At some point I imagine sleep took hold of me, and now this morning I wake up to the sound of the door slamming open.
"Why are you still in bed?" my father says in a very unfriendly tone, leaving my breakfast next to me.
The question is definitely preposterous. As if I had a real life I had to wake to. What matters if I want to stay in bed all day? Naturally, I won't fall for the temptation to voice my thoughts and set him right. I gave up talking and trying to reason with him a long time ago. There's no use. I'm drained of all energy. I think my father has broken me emotionally, and now I expect one day I'll break physically as well.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes. As I slide my legs out of bed, I have the sensation that something ain't right with me. I still feel a strange cold all through my body, and my head is sort of woozy.
"What's that blood?"
I look down to see splotches of dry blood staining the sheet, and as last night's events come back to me, I irrationally curl my legs and remove my bare feet from the floor. "Something bit me last night," I say, and as I roll up my sleep, I can see congealed blood smearing my wrist and lower arm, and a crust is forming where I can make out the mark of the animal's teeth. "I think it was a rat."
"A rat here? What nonsense!" he exclaims and grabs my arm to look at my injury. "I hope this ain't another trick of yours." I don't bother to answer. He'll only believe whatever he wants to. His eyes keep studying my wrist, and after a long while, he lets go of me and says, "I'll bring something to clean all that blood and that bite."
Naturally, even if he's only gone to the house for a minute, he won't leave the door open and the lock unlocked. So I hear the burdensome business of closing and opening, locking and unlocking twice. When he reappears, he's carrying the tin box where he's always kept what he thinks are miraculous remedies for our health.
In the basin of water he's also brought he dips a cloth, wipes the dry blood and washes the wound. His motions are soft and delicate, and suddenly, I'm transported back to sweeter times. As a child, whenever I fell and grazed my knees or arms, Pa was always there to soothe me. He softly cleaned my sore legs or arms, and spoke to me tenderly, trying to appease my very upset young self. He was like my hero back then, and I remember hugging him and never wanting to let go. Where did my father, my lovely father go? I loved him so much, and I was so proud of him. When did he turn into this heartless man? I know that even back then when I was a child, his mind must have been unhinged. Nothing else would explain the fact that he raised me as if I were a boy. But even so, he was good to me somehow, but now… he's nothing but a crazy monster.
After rubbing some ointment on my skin, he wraps a cloth around my wrist. "A rat did this, did you say?" he asks, and rising to his feet, he examines every inch of this naked basement. As I see him move around the room, my eyes feel heavy and I start shivering. "Whatever bit you found a way out," he mutters, looking at me thoughtfully. Even if I ain't feeling too well now, I can guess what he's thinking. If a rat managed to get out of here, I might also flit one day, which is something so absurd, but logic ain't among my father's qualities.
"I don't feel fine," I mumble tiredly.
My father looks at me, and something on my face must be quite revealing because he crosses the room towards me in a few strides. "You ain't sick, are you?" he says, placing a hand on my forehead. "You're slightly hot. It must be a chill, so you better have a sip of my medicine."
He fishes a bottle of tonic out of his tin box, and I take a swig. Then he forces me to eat the horrible vegetable cream that I daily have for breakfast even though I feel like throwing up. As I spoon the liquid, I see him stoop and kneel before the bed. His arm reaches underneath, and a smile lights his feature as he announces, "Oh here it is." And as he straightens up, he holds a big, dead rat from its tail and flaunts it before my eyes. "You were right, and the sod stupidly must have stifled to death down there."
I close my eyes, willing me not to throw up. I feel totally disgusted apart from the dizziness and shudders I've been assailed by since waking up. I just want him to go and leave me alone.
"I'll be back later and see how you're feeling," he mutters as he climbs up the steps to the outside world, and I realize that thankfully he ain't leaving the dead rat behind.
When he eventually leaves and darkness engulfs me, I lie back in bed and try to sleep. My stomach now starts to hurt, and my body is on fire. Sweat covers my skin while shivers run though every inch of my body. I've never felt so sick before. With every passing minute, the stomach cramps and pain increase, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. Even feeling dazed, I wonder whether this sickness is because of the rat's bite. I once heard stories about people falling sick and even dying after being bitter by rabid animals. Is that what's happening to me?
"Oh God!" I cry in my lonely, dark prison as I retch once again. Did I fall asleep after I first vomited? I can't remember. Pain racks my weak body, and I keep wondering if this is the end. Maybe I'm finally getting what I've been longing for. My eyelids stoop and close, and when I open them, I'm startled to realize that instead of the usual darkness, I'm surrounded by dazzling light. I squint up against the light, and gradually my sight becomes clear and I can see a figure hovering over me. When I recognize who's there with me, I smile. "Am I dying? Am I finally dying, Kid?" He smiles, but doesn't say anything. My lips stretch again into a wide smile, and my eyes try to look into his blue ones, and I itch to touch him. I can't feel any pain now as my arm lifts to him, but just when my fingers are about to feel his, I'm sent back to my darkness again as in that very instant all my senses leave me.
