No One Will Know

7. New Tactics

I feel as if something has changed now. As if putting a name to his face instead of calling him the kidnapper guy has somehow made it more real. It happened, I’m here.  Possibly facing some bodily injury as I stare into the face of Michael.  And suddenly I just know that if I ever get out of here and one day have a baby, then I will never name him Michael. Never.

 I’m occupied by those thoughts, probably too occupied because I don’t notice that I am being pushed to the ground until I have already landed, hard. I feel that the wind has been knocked out of me, and for the longest minute, I cannot breathe. And he’s coming after me, and I know it, know it well before his fist makes contact with my face and stars dance before my vision.

“Daddy, please don’t hurt mommy. I was a bad girl, I know, I won’t play with Molly anymore.” The small childish voice is filled with fear, causing me to sit up and look at the small child, despite the dizziness that has filled me and the man who half stands, half sits beside me.

She’s so small, and her voice filled with such sadness…it reminds me of myself at a young age. Afraid of my own father, my own caregiver, but feeling as if I deserved all the punishments I was receiving. I look between Michael and her, wanting to take the focus back on myself but unable to break the momentary silence.

He does. He lunges forward and grasps her wrist, “Damn right you’re a bad girl. Isn’t that right, Ana?” He actually glances towards me like he asks me to respond. Meanwhile I’m attempting to stand up, but feeling unbelievably dizzy as I do.

“N-“ I don’t even get to say no before he is talking over me and dragging her out the door, literally slamming it in my face. It takes me a moment to recover from that before I’m out the door, because he didn’t bother to lock it.

“Mia is such a bad girl, which is why she gets the belt.” Michael says, pulling off his belt that he was wearing. She sitting on the coach he has placed her on, whimpering. I bite my lip, afraid for the small child, but equally afraid of Michael. But I can’t let him do this to her.

“Michael, stop.” I say, walking closer, “Why don’t we just put her in time out for ten minutes?” I try to speak as if I am the other parent, trying to give him some sense of family and another option on what to do. Afterall, I don’t really have any other solutions, because the rest all involve me getting beaten to death, and then she would probably still get a beating anyway.

He looks at me, confused, as if he never considered that time out was a form of punishment. That there was anything other than beating a small child senseless. I take that as a sign that maybe he is considering it. “Mia, I want you to go over to that corner over there and sit okay? You can’t go out of the corner until we say it’s alright.  You need to go there and think about why you are having a time out, okay?”

The little girl stares up at me, as if she doesn’t quite understand also. And that fills me up with a deep sense of pain and regret, because I don’t want to think about the fact that the only punishment she seems to have had is a painful one. And I can now, now that I’m looking see the traces of it. Bruises, cuts and scars on every inch of skin that is not covered by fabric. I’m frightened by the thought that there are probably more hidden ones.

Even though she seems confused by my request, she nods and gets off the coach, running to the corner as if she can sense that this may be her only chance to get out of getting physically punished. I watch as she sits, just as I watch Michaels face, one that seems deeply unsure. I have no clue how he is going to react. Is he going to lash out at me, attack? I’m afraid.

But instead, what he does next, disgusts me.

He kisses me. On the mouth.

He kisses me, as if I really am his wife and we really are an actual family. And I know the next moment I get the chance to go to the bathroom, I’m probably going to puke. Because now, not only am I afraid of being abused, I am now also afraid of getting taken advantage of.