—J
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Four days pass without food. When Father Aaron said we wouldn't eat as punishment, I didn't think it would be like this. As if my insides are being shredded into tiny, brittle pieces. Gran is a lot of things, but she never deprived me of food. Starving me to a point where I'm ready to lose my mind.
Father Aaron hasn't come once, and while a part of me is glad he isn't around, the other begs for his return. It's what he wants, I guess. For us to learn without him we'll rot in this room and fade into nothing. We need him to survive.
The other being punished is sitting on the floor next to the bed. Arms resting on her bent knees, Lisa's head lies back against the wall. She isn't awake, having not woken since yesterday afternoon, and I'm getting worried. Her face is less swollen from the beating, but she's pale, and her breaths are shallow. While we haven't spoken in days, maybe I should try and wake her to make sure she's okay.
"Lisa?" I whisper, voice scratchy from lack of use. No reply. She doesn't flinch. I repeat her name, louder this time, and my heart leaps when she groans weakly. As I sit up, my body screams in protest for using energy I don't have. Shifting to the edge of the bed, I nearly collapse when I stand. The room spins, and I grab the bedpost to stop from falling. Squeezing my eyes shut, when it eventually eases, I move over to her.
"Please, God," I beg, hoping she isn't dying.
Dropping to my knees beside her, I reach out to feel her hand but hesitate, unsure whether to or not. What if she doesn't want me to touch her? But what if she's dying?
My fingers lightly touch hers. They're cold, and she doesn't wake. "Lisa?"
She mumbles something incoherent under her breath, and I'm not sure if she's lost in a deep sleep or begging for help. How am I supposed to get her help? Thump on the door until someone comes? What if no one does?
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I shuffle closer until her legs are on either side of me. Lifting my hand, I place my palm on the side of her face, surprised by how soft and warm her skin is. Thankfully not cold like her hands and no fever, which is a relief.
Her lips part, and overwhelming heat hits me in the face; only then do I realize how close I am to her. I haven't been this close to anybody since the day I was kissed in the rose garden, and I know I should back away, yet I find myself staring at her instead. She's different up close. I don't know how it's possible someone can look haunted and beautiful at the same time. She's a wasted beauty—one hidden away with locks and keys.
My eyes lower to her mouth. Her lips. It's wrong to look at lips with cuts, but I can't help it. As I touch the dried slice of skin on her lip, I wonder what it would be like to kiss her—
Her eyes suddenly open, and when she sees me, she jerks back. It knocks me off balance as she gets up from the floor, and I fall back, landing awkwardly on my wrist. I gasp when pain shoots up my arm. Snatching it from beneath me, I cradle it to my chest, warily glancing up at the girl losing grip with reality. Her breathing's erratic and her body sways, like any minute she might fall. Rubbing her eyes, she groans from the same dizziness I suffered.
"It's okay," I try and calm her, remembering her similar reaction the other night when she thought I was someone else. Shame burns deep as she drops her hands and finally looks at me. "Are you okay?" She nods, but I can tell she's not. Maybe she's wondering why I was so close to her. I don't know myself. I can't think straight. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"You didn't answer when I called. I was scared."
"Scared?"
My head lowers. "I thought you were dying."
She breathes out. "Why would it scare you if I died."
"Because I don't want you to." Tears pool in my eyes, and it seems to confuse her more. I'm confused. The way she said it was like her dying doesn't matter when it does. I don't want to be left in a room with her dead and alone.
"You shouldn't be," she says.
"How can you say that?"
She looks at me pointedly. "Because I'm nobody to you. Why'd you care?"
My eyebrows draw together into a frown. She's right, she isn't anybody to me, but that still doesn't mean I want to witness her dying.
Leaning off the wall, she makes her way into the bathroom. I want to laugh at the bitterness consuming me. Am I so repulsive that she can't bear to be in the same room as me? It sickens me that I care, making me feel like I have nobody when I never have.
"Wait." She stops in the doorway but doesn't turn around. I want to tell her not to walk away, but I don't. "How much longer?" I ask instead.
She walks into the bathroom and slams the door behind her. Even though she ignored me, he doesn't have to say anything. Her silence said it all.
..
Five days without food. The sun rises early, but the clouds roll in to hide it. It doesn't take long for the rain to appear, tapping loudly against the window and turning the air humid in the bedroom.
Shadows replace the light, and it's the shadows I'm lost in. Like the weather, I feel the change. When the sun streams through the curtains, I sometimes pretend I'm somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't here. Now that it's gone, I suffer in darkness. In bleak thoughts that refuse to believe the lies I tell myself when the sun shines. No more pretending. No more lies.
My teeth grit together when my body tenses from another hunger pain. It's getting unbearable and desperate as the hours go by. I haven't stopped shivering all day, even though I'm hot and sweat beads on my skin. It's torture, and maybe I'd rather be dead.
While I know it's wrong, I take a small amount of comfort that I'm not alone. It's the only thing keeping me from going utterly insane from hunger. Knowing Lisa is going through the same hell makes it easier to be burned. It's sick, really, knowing she's suffering worse because she ate less than me at our last meal. And when I really think about it, when did she eat last?
I'm half asleep when the door creaks open. I know it's Father Aaron without having to look. I sense him walk in, eyes searching the darkness for me. I keep still. The last thing I want is to show him my face. Reveal how much I suffered from his punishment. He would love that, I'm sure.
"Dinner will be at six."
Footsteps retreat, and the door closes. I wait for the key to turn in the lock before I open my eyes, pulling energy from relief that we're getting a meal today. Lisa rises from the floor, like she too has a surge of strength from the good news, wincing as she stretches her back. I imagine it's from sitting on the floor for so long.
"You can sit with me on the bed if you want." She shakes her head right away. "Why not?"
"Why would you want me to?"
Words die in my throat. Once again, she hits me with the obvious. I only offered because it's three hours until dinnertime and the bed's more comfortable than the floor or her chair. I was trying to be nice, but maybe I shouldn't be. And yet, there's a weird part of me that does want her near me, even though she's a stranger. Just wanting someone beside me. There. What's wrong with me?
"Please?" I find myself whispering when she's about to shut herself away in the bathroom again. The lines on her forehead soften, and her reluctance wavers.
She steps forward until she's on the other side of the bed, her movements wary as she lifts her legs onto the mattress and leans back against the headboard. I keep quiet as she lets out a careful, slow breath, but my heart already pounds. Maybe she hears it. Feels the vibrations of the wild thuds against my chest because she turns to me in that moment. "Are you afraid of me?"
I gaze into her eyes, which seem more blue than usual. "No."
She searches my face, and I don't think she believes me. Maybe she shouldn't. I'm terrified of her. Tearing my sight from hers, I force myself to relax beside her. Anyone could walk in and catch us, and God only knows what Father Aaron would do if he saw us together. Though, sitting beside Lisa makes the suffering slowly disappear. I'm suddenly calm and judging by her easing breaths, she is too. Or maybe I truly am just a liar and sinner.
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