Chapter 14

Pain is not only a feeling, it is also an emotion. Pain is the only thing, the only form of body sensation that can be replicated into an emotion. You can feel happiness in your head or heart, but you can't feel it like you can feel silk running across your skin. Sadness does not feel like water running down your body. You can become so sad and depressed that you are in tears, sadness can illicit tears from a human being, but you cannot feel it like pain.

Pain is an emotion that will put the knot in your stomach and the heaviness in your heart, it is also the feeling when you are physically hurt. Pain is both physical and emotional, the only emotion that is also a feeling.

I feel both this morning as I wake up. I'm sore from Brea's punishment and I am hurting inside, but that is left to be undetermined.

I rise from my slumber and climb in the shower. Brea is already gone for the day, off to work. I go downstairs once my shower is done and find breakfast on the table, sausage links, eggs, and toast. I eat hastily, and then sit down and fumble with the Tv, trying to figure out how it works. There is nothing for me to do here, nothing until Brea gets home.

I wait and wait for hours upon end, and then when Brea finally comes home he greets me an begins dinner.

"Can I help?" I ask. I'm trying to make conversation, trying to get last night out of my mind, there is nothing I can do about it except behave and try not to make him angry. Maybe if I don't mention it, he won't get mad and do that to me again.

"I'm assuming you don't know how to cook?" he asks me. I shake my head, I have no idea how to cook. There never was the need to learn how.

"Okay, then why don't I teach you," he takes a knife and vegetables, and pulls a board out from under the sink. "We'll start small," he says handing me the knife. "Cut the vegetables into small bite sized pieces and put them into this bowl."

I do as I'm told, cutting tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce and onions. Once I'm done I set my knife down and wait for further instructions. Brea continues to fry meat, chicken. He doesn't see me for a few minutes, but then finally turns his head to see why the chopping noises have stopped.

"Oh, you're finished. Okay, next comes the spices," he says. He grabs several small tubes out of the cabinet and places them next to the bowl of chopped vegetables. "Here, salt, pepper, onion powder, garlic powder, and garlic salt. Sprinkle a little of each into the bowl.

I pick up the first tube, pepper, I think, and start giving it a shake. It comes out fast into the bowl, and Brea jumps. "Whoa not that much," he says, "here do it like this," he grabs my hand with the tube of pepper in it and slightly sways the tube from side to side until a small amount sprinkles out. He does this with the other bottles as well until a small amount of each spice is layered on top of the greens.

"Now for dressing," he says, getting out an oblong shaped bottle and a rubber lid to go with it. He sets out oil and vinegar, and sugar. He doesn't ask me to help with it he does it all by himself without measuring anything. When he's done pouring the three ingredients he takes the oblong shaped bottle and shakes it, then lets me pour the dressing over the salad.

It's times like this that aren't so bad. Him teaching me something, this is the best time I've had with him in a while, if ever. I could live in this moment, actually live in it. All things must come to an end, however, and when dinner is ready we eat and then retire to our separate rooms for comfort. I fall asleep to the unusual silence of my dreams. There is nothing my mind creates tonight, no fantasies of escaping, no horrors of children, nothing.

Completely silent.

The morning is cool and damp. It's raining outside. I turn on my side and look at the clock, 10:00. Brea is probably at work. I rise and take a shower, then make my way downstairs. Brea is in the kitchen waiting for me with a bowl of cereal and some pancakes. He offers them to me and I eat, waiting for him to tell me more about what he's doing home. I thought he had to work.

"I need you to finish breakfast, and then I need you to take this," he says handing me a stick. "They provided it for me when I picked you up, I'm supposed to have you take this every month before your period starts, which it's due this week."

"How do you know that and what is it?" I ask. I've never seen one of these things before, how in the world am I supposed to "take it." It's not a pill I swallow or a shot that is infected. What does it do anyway. Why is it needed?

"It's a pregnancy test. I need you to pee on it, did you go this morning before coming downstairs this morning?" I nod my head yes. "Okay, well that would have been the best time, as that's when the most of those hormones are released through urination, but that's okay. Here drink your juice." He pushes the glass in my direction and I take a sip. He eyeballs me as if he wants me to drink more, but doesn't say anything.

"So when am I gonna get my period, since you know all the answers," I ask him. I don't know what day it is, I didn't even know that it's been a month in this house. I don't keep track, I figured there isn't a specific amount of time that I'm to be here, so I don't know when I'll be going back, I don't want to go back.

It can be awful here, but there are good parts too. Brea is nice most of the time, and he is a good cook and feeds me well. He takes care of me, and keeps track of things I didn't even know I should be keeping track of.

"You're supposed to get it tomorrow. This test is accurate enough that it will tell you up to two weeks before you miss it, so I think whatever the result is today, it will be fairly accurate."

"Oh," is all I say. I drink the rest of my juice and he takes me to the bathroom downstairs and opens the door for me to go inside, then shuts it behind me for privacy. I take the stick and place it between my legs. Even though I really have to go it's hard to summon the feeling to actually urinate. It takes me what feels like a full minute before I am able to coax it, and then trying to aim for the stick proves to be a difficult task. When I'm finished, I skip washing my hands, I'm just going to give the stick to Brea anyway so he can tell me what it says.

I open the bathroom door and Brea takes the stick and sets it back on the bathroom counter, and tells me that it will take a few minutes for the test to show a result. "This is the hardest part," he says and gives me a weak smile. I suddenly have trouble holding back tears. I walk away from him, hoping to hide my sadness. What if I'm pregnant? Then I will have to leave and go back. I don't want to go back, but I also don't want to stay here, but here is better than there. It is definitely better than there.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Brea asks. He doesn't follow me, but he saw my face before I turned around. Shit.

"Nothing. I'm fine." I try to speak normally, but my voice comes out raspy and choked with emotion.

"No, you're not what is wrong honey."

"Don't call me that," I tell him. I'm not in the mood for pet names right now, if ever. I'm so sick of it, so sick of being called baby, honey, etc. It's so demeaning, then again so is everything I'm being put through, how did it ever come to this?

"I don't know your name, I don't know what else to call you. You are upset about something, are you afraid?"

"No," I lie.

"Yes you are, I can see it," he says. "I know, babies are scary, especially in this situation, but there is no guarantee that your pregnant, don't get carried away yet."

"How can I not? There is the threat of a child inside me. And a half chance that child is female. Do you realize what they would put her through? Do you realize how that child would grow up? I can't live with that!"

"You'd be surprised. This is your first child, you'll learn to forget about it."

"The hell I will. I can't stomach being forced to do this. I can't stomach being here and knowing that your only goal is to get me knocked up."

"You know maybe you're here because I want to make you feel good too," he says sympathetically. "They did inform me before I came and got you that you were...difficult. I was the only one that would take you. And if I didn't then you know what would happen? You'd be artificially inseminated, and that would have been an easy one time procedure. Give thanks that you didn't have to do that. And be thankful that at least you're here with me and that I was at least able to make you come once in your life."

I say nothing, drinking in the fact that he was the only one who would take me and the fact that if it weren't for him I would have been artificially inseminated with someone who I wouldn't know one thing about.

As I wait for the results I realize my life with Brea is not as bad as what I thought.