Escaping Pink

Lima

The day that changed everything started like every other day. I keep my eyes closed, taking in the smell of apples with a faint undertone of mildew. I avoid tensing as I feel the man laying behind me, his front to my back. It takes practice to be able to pretend to be asleep as well as I can. Keep your body relaxed, your breathing even, and keep your eyes closed and immobile. And, if necessary, hold your pee. If he thinks I'm sleeping, he won't bother me when he gets up. Otherwise, he'll want things from me.

I wait for what feels like hours before Father shows the first signs of consciousness. As I said before, it's about breathing. He takes a huge breath, laying still. Then he yawns and rolls over, off the bed. I continue to listen as he gets dressed and stay still as I feel him near me. I shift as he kisses my forehead, to make him believe that I'm sleeping. He chuckles before moving away. Near silent footsteps on my carpet and up the stairs. Door opens, closes, locks. But I know better. I stay "asleep" until I hear the door again. Footsteps, the sound of a tray on my mahogany table. Some rattling. It takes him 127 seconds to set up my breakfast. Then he leaves.

I wait for a bit before sighing and rolling over, opening my eyes to see my intricately painted ceiling. The painted on vines spread up over the walls and stop at the edges of the ceiling, where flowers are shown. The rest of my ceiling is half day, half night. Two lights represent the sun and moon. I used to love it. 

Now, while the sight is welcome, it's just reminds me of things I may never see again.

I sit up and stretch, careful not to yawn loudly in case he is nearby. I take in my pale pink walls with it's vine decorations. My bean bags and throw pillows, all in various shades of pink. My white carpet with the pink polka dots. A fountain gurgles on the right side of room, surrounded by potted fake flowers, bookcases, and my over-sized couch. A dream prison, I think sarcastically.

I get up and walk as silently as possible to my breakfast. A silver tray holds stone China and dainty silverware. Plates and bowls filled with food. I pick up the fancy note he's left me for the day:

I hope you slept well. Remember, today is allowance day. Do your chores. I will see you tonight.

Love,
Father

I refold it, placing it back on the tray. I don't get frustrated, angry, or sad; as I did yesterday. I remain calm. Remaining calm means staying sane. 

Well, that's what works for me. 

I pour myself some tea and turn to face my bed. Above it is my list of things I want with my allowance. That's another thing that keeps me sane. All I have to do is keep my room clean. For every chore completed I get two dollars. Allowance day is when he gives the money. It can also be when I give him back some of my allowance to get things for me. Chocolates, toys, a new book, more perfume... something. Anything to make me feel normal.