Bella's POV
"Momma?" Her little voice woke me up out of a dead sleep… something was wrong and as I sprung up out of the make-shift bed, I reached over to turn on our one and only light, a small bulb attached to the concrete wall.
"What's wrong sweetie?" I pulled back her covers to see her curled up in her little bed that I had formed out of scraps of material and old clothes that we had outgrown. It was the best that I could do for her, though I wished I could do so much more… my innocent child had never asked to be brought into this hell.
"My tummy hurts." She moaned as she pulled her knees up tighter to her chest, her eyes squeezed shut tightly and her face flushed bright pink.
"Show me where it hurts, Sweetie." As I coaxed her to open up her arms and legs, she twisted suddenly, her stomach heaving as she retched in her makeshift bed, nothing but liquid bile coming out.
It was going to be a long day.
"Momma?" My little girl asked later on that morning. I had her sitting on the one chair that we were allowed to have, the last piece of bread in her hands as she slowly chewed on it, taking small sips of water between bites. I had rinsed the blankets all out in our sink and they were hanging everywhere, our tiny home reeking from the smell of the vomit.
"Is Mr. James ever going to bring us more food?" She asked quietly and I sighed. I hated this topic… this life we had been forced into. It had been more than a week since we'd seen him – something that had only happened once before, after I had made him particularly angry.
"I'm sure he will… he is probably just busy." I tried to assure her, not sure what I preferred more… him staying away and starving us, or bringing us food and having to lay there while he violated me, terrified for all that my daughter had witnessed in her short life. Terrified that one day his threats would come true and he would hurt her that way as well.
As it turned out, we would have to wait two more days before he would return, our food completely gone, surviving on only filthy brown tap water. Happy birthday Bella and Renesmee. I checked off the days on the calendar he gave me. He liked to play games and taunt me… but as much as it sucked to know just how long I had been here. I also found it oddly calming to keep track of our days.
"Get up!" He hollered as the door was thrown open and I jumped, startled. I had just laid down to sleep, Nessie already curled up in her own bed. Glancing towards her I saw her pull the blanket over her own head, exactly as I had taught her to do.
I didn't ask questions. I didn't make noise. I didn't do anything out of fear that he wouldn't bring us a refill of food to survive… knowing that if I made him angry, he would leave us empty-handed again.
Instead I stripped when he demanded it. I laid down on my back and allowed him to use my body, flipping me over roughly and slamming me face down on the hard concrete. It was even rougher than usual and I could smell the stench of the alcohol on his breath… even his eyes were clouded over. I wanted to close my eyes, but as I began to blink, I noticed movement from the other side of the room, saw the open door.
He never left the door open. He was careful. But tonight… tonight he was also drunk out of his mind. His words were slurred and his breath continued to make me want to vomit. It was disgusting… but the door open was good.
Nessie knew… she knew what to do if the door was ever left open.
Now, as he finished and collapsed on top of me, crushing me and pinning me under his weight… I prayed.