Killing Tink

Ch. 10

Tink woke up alone in the dark. Without the beeps and the restraints she felt herself panic and fought against opening her eyes. What if it were all a dream?  A vivid dream of being away from Stash and in a place she could raise her baby away from things like hunger and darkness and pain.

When she couldn't wait any longer she peered from heavy half lids and she could see light on the sides of the small square window. She waited for relief that didn't come. Looking around the room she couldn't help knowing that this was just another cage. She wasn't free to run or roam or flee to make a place for her and the baby. She was still being watched, and tied and fed what someone else thought was good for her.

She wanted to open the blinds. Just to reassure her that the outside world was there but she couldn't force herself to move. What if it was against the rules?  She moved her arms and legs freely. They hurt less than they used to, she picked up the sheet and looked underneath, her bones still jutted and poked, but the bruises and burns from the ropes were faded.

The room was small, with the door closed it was dark and so quiet. There was a television on the wall but she didn't dare touch the remote.  She stared at the wooden door unable to make herself stop. What or who would she find if she could get herself there and open it?

It was the same scenario she was used to. Waiting to see if anyone would come through with food or water or a need for her to perform.  Tink wished she were brave or angry. The kind of girl in movies who saved herself and made people pay for wrongdoings. But she'd never been that girl. Had she?

She thought about the first night she was Tink. The day she climbed on that bike with Stash to get away from Dixon. He took her to a diner where she ate turkey and mashed potatoes. They laughed at how hungry she was, and he was angry at Dixon for treating her badly. Stash wanted to go back and confront him but Tink just wanted to move past it. They'd both been wrong.

He'd offered to take her home. No deals, no strings. He held out a stack of money and placed it on the table for the bus fare. She remembered picking it up, feeling the heaviness of it. Knowing it meant facing her parents. Knowing her face would always wear the look of what she'd done to them, to herself.

Her fingers flittered under the sheet. What would she do now if she could live that movement over?  She wanted to say she would take the money and run anywhere, but maybe it was never a choice at all. Maybe her life was supposed to be this.

The door opened and she felt herself stiffen. It was a relief to have someone come in, but it made her afraid now. With Stash she knew rules and boundaries and consequences, here it was all terrifying. She didn't know what to expect or from who and it was just so much her head throbbed.

"Good morning Hope. You're up early today. I know this is earlier than I usually come but we need to have a talk."

John sat on the chair beside the window and immediately she looked towards it. He had opened it yesterday, he could do it again if he wanted.

"Would you like the blinds open again?  I can put a note up. Saying it needs to stay up. Would that be better?  They close them at night so people can sleep. But if it helps, we can leave it open."

She closed her eyes as the light rushed in, it was early and the rays of daylight made a bright spot down by the end of the bed. She breathed deeply. She wasn't sure why light made it so much easier to take a breath. Maybe because she knew how secrets and pain liked to hide in darkness.

"Hope, my boss wants me to start searching for your family. He wants your face on tv and in the newspapers so they can find you. I agree that your family is probably worried, and has a right to know that you're alive. But I want to know how you feel about that. I could call them instead, and not put your face out into the world as someone found on the side of the road."

Tink knew this game. He wanted something from her. He had left the door open so it wasn't sex. What was it?  She eyed him suspiciously waiting for him to say it. Her mind thought of nothing. What else could she give him?  She had nothing, she was no one. She felt herself tremble and pinched herself in the leg so hard she knew it would bruise. She would be still and wait.

"It's not a trap Hope. I'm not trying to trap or trick you. I only want to help you."

You and me Tink. You aren't the kind of girl who ends up on milk cartons.

She could think of one person who would come and get her if he saw her in the paper. One person who believed she belonged to him and no one else. And now, with her alive, and with a baby on the way, it would be easy for him to come and pick her up.

But what could her parents possibly do now that the little girl they raised and put hopes and dreams into was dead. If they had looked for her at all, they never found her, and never would. She would never be that girl again.

"What do you want me to do?"

She didn't whisper it or worry about speaking. It came from a desperate place she knew well. It was a single sentence that gave him all the power he could want; and she knew it. She was right, the view was different but she was still very much in the cage.

"Talk Hope. I want you to talk."

She looked toward the door again wishing it were closed. Wishing she could get down on her knees to make him happy, close her eyes, and leave her secrets down where they were buried.

She thought of her face on a television screen, and the eyes of Stash, and her parents, people who would look her at her only to search for a girl that's gone. She balled her fists until she felt the pain of it and answered.

"I'm not the kind of girl who ends up on a milk carton."