Consumed

Chapter 20: Meri

I can't take it anymore. The only thing I ever want anymore is death. Well, my dreams give a different story, actually. If I focus only on my dreams, the thing I want most is Milan. I want him to be here, comforting me and erasing the pain that Petre causes me.

Today is my birthday. I ought to be happy about that. Instead, I'm depressed and hurting. So I turn to my memories for solace.

"Hey, Meri! Want to help me make popcorn? It's family tradition to watch a movie and eat popcorn on Saturday nights..." Milan twists his shirt hem nervously, shifting from one foot to another.

"Sure," I say shyly. "What are we watching?"

"I don't know. You get to pick, okay? My parents usually take turns with me, but we just finished the cycle. Dad said you could pick too. But..." He bites his lip as we go into the kitchen together. "We always watch in the basement."

I shiver, but I twine my fingers with his reassuringly. "I'll be okay. It's just a basement, right?"

He looks at me for a long moment. "I know you don't like basements..."

"Yeah, I know that too. But it's your basement. I'll be fine." Truth be told, I didn't want to go into the basement. But I know I can trust Milan, and his basement isn't as scary as some of the ones I've been in. It doesn't strike the same terror into my heart as the one at my old house did.

"Well, if you're sure..."

Bang!

The door flies open, and Petre walks in with a big smile. "Your mom's out for the day. And guess what?"

I don't respond. Instead, I huddle as close to the bed's headrest, clutching my knees to my chest. I keep my eyes down, hoping that he'll just hurry up with whatever he wants to say and go. Today isn't a happy one at all. Not only is it depressing because I should be celebrating for the first time in eight years, but it heralds my legal coming of age. That should've meant freedom, but instead, it provides Petre with the ability to do what he wants with me.

The trepidation gnawing at my gut gets stronger as he comes closer.

"Well, guess what?" he asks again, impatience creeping into his tone.

"I don't know," I whisper. "What?"

Taking that as encouragement, Petre comes to sit on the bed at my feet. I pull them back, trying not to touch them, but he scoots closer, refusing to allow me to evade him like I have the last four days. He'd been allowing it, but apparently the safe period was over.

"It means you can come downstairs and see your surprise," he says.

I look away, tears in my eyes. "I don't want it..."

"Don't be like that, Meri. I put a lot of effort into this," he says, sighing.

Flinching when he touches my ankle, I shake my head. "No. I don't want it," I repeat quietly.

"Well, you're still going to get it," he answers, getting up.

I shy away when I realize that he's going to force me to leave the room. He ignores my body language per usual and scoops me up. As soon as his hand slides up my leg, I start struggling. Terror fuels my adrenaline as I try to get free. Lashing out, I rake my fingernails across his face.

Milan taught me basic defense moves after school when he realized that I didn't know any of them. After the attack at school, he wanted to be certain I could stop that kind of thing if the need arose. My throat tightens as I recall his patient instruction. I can't even bring any of it to bear on Petre. The most I can do is flail and scratch or hit. He sets me on my feet, but he doesn't let go of my waist.