Jessica
Two weeks. That's how long I've been in Jordan's backyard shed with hardly anything to entertain myself. I've been worrying myself to death about Ethan and the kids, and I've wondered endlessly what Jordan did with my phone. I know for a fact that he took it.
I've obeyed all of his rules, knowing that if I didn't, there's a pretty good chance I'd have absolutely no hope of getting home to my husband and children, and that idea completely terrified me to the core. Here in the shed, I'm alone all day until Jordan presumably gets home from work, and he joins me for a dinner that I'm supposed to make for the both of us during the afternoon. Eating with him makes me so sick that I've actually thrown up a few times.
After dinner, I'm instructed to do the dishes with the rag, dish soap, and hot water that he's provided for me. I'm also told to do them with no pants on, and he'll sneak a slap on my ass in whenever he can. I've stopped being surprised by it. Once the dishes are all dried and put into the cabinet below the sink, Jordan likes to get me into the rickety old bed for what he calls 'dessert'. I cry every time after once he's left for his house for the night. Sometimes, I stare out the small window all day, watching the sun come up and go down.
I haven't had anyone to talk to other than him for days on end, but I do have tv, although, the channels are limited, and the quality isn't always the greatest.
Last Wednesday, I asked for a new outfit because I had been in the same one since that Saturday, and I was beginning to smell. He hasn't let me shower yet, but along with the outfit, I pleaded for deodorant and maybe some cheap perfume. I got a travel sized bottle of spray deodorant along with corduroy pants that looked to be from a Goodwill, and a tank top. When I wasn't looking, he stole my bra.
This Wednesday, I'm planning on asking for something to entertain myself with. I'm not sure what it's going to be, though. I've got a couple of books, one about the Virgin Mary, and the other one is The Great Gatsby. I've read them both over and over. I haven't eaten much since I've been here, either. I actually think I've lost some weight, and I find myself wondering what Ethan would think of it. I've got no idea. The thought of him makes me smile, though.
"Hey." Jordan's voice is gruff as he comes in the shed, and I'm sitting on the bed, The Great Gatsby open in my lap. Quickly, I scramble to my feet, having forgotten to start dinner.
"I'm sorry, Jordan, dinner completely slipped my mind I-" I was prepared for a beating. Or worse, he would fuck me until I couldn't move. The thought made me nauseous. I've never been the kind of person to have a sex drive like that, and I wasn't about to start anytime soon.
"Don't worry, Daisy. Everything's okay. Now, what would you like from town tomorrow?" His voice is soft and calm, and it scares me tremendously. He raises his hand slightly, and I step forward so he can put his palm to my cheek. I look him in the eyes, and all I see is red. I want to spit in his face, gouge his eyes out with the spoon he's let me use to eat cereal.
"I need more entertainment, Jordan. It's getting to be boring, watching the same shows and reading the same stories. How much longer do I have to be here?" His expression changes in a flash, and his touch is no longer soft. He slaps me across the face, but I don't cry out.
"What did I tell you about asking that question," I don't answer, and he grabs my wrist so hard I fear it might break.
"Huh, bitch?! What'd I say?"
"Never, ever to ask that question. I am so, so sorry. I promise it will never happen again." I'm whispering my voice and fingers trembling. He lets go of my wrist and pulls me into his arms. I want to puke, but if I do it in front of him, no doubt he'll beat me for sure. I swallow it back down, praying I can get it out later.
"No dinner tonight, I've got work to do. Eat whatever you can find. I'll see you tomorrow." He smells like wood and smoke. Cigarette smoke. The smell hurts my nose. Finally, Jordan lets go of me and leaves the shed without another word, and I'm left in the middle of floor, staring at the door, wanting to crawl in a hole and die.
