Little Rooms

Chapter 22

Isolation tanks... aren't they used for sensory deprivation? I was sure I'd been dunked in one the week after my confession. Whereas my house was usually empty, both of my parents were now home and oblivious to my rights as an individual.

"I'm 18. It's mine... you can't take it," I said, watching my car keys dangling in front of me.

My father's hand was wrapped tight around the silver fob.

"I bought the car, and the car is mine. You can take it to school and home. It shouldn't be a problem, because you won't be going anywhere other than that."

"What do you mean?" I thought about grabbing his arm and twisting it so his hand would release the keys. I planned to shove them in my bra.

He put the keys in his pocket.

"For the rest of the school year, you will be here, at home, studying and making sure you're up to snuff to get into college. If that works out, we might consider our promise to pay for it. However, if you sneak out or break any of your promises, you'll have to find a way to pay for school yourself."

That meant community college. I hadn't worked my ass off to simply drive across town for an education.

After he disappeared with my keys, it was my mother's turn to revoke privileges. She held my Visa card.

"How'd you get that? Have you been going through my purse?"

"Yes, in fact I was. You live here, this is my house, and I have a right to know what's going on. Since you won't be out shopping or needing to pay for anything without asking first, I thought I'd take this." She pulled a pair of scissors from behind her back and sliced the card in half. The breath in my lungs stopped mid-inhale as I watched the plastic twist between the blades.

"Whoa, mama. That's mean." Cassie had been standing behind me in quiet observance. I could tell she was thinking about where she should hide her own car keys and credit card.

"I feel like you've cut my balls off," I said, a numb coating spreading over my body.

The feeling got even worse when the tree trimmers came to the house with their saws and wood chipper. The gang of three men swung around the tree outside my bedroom, sawing off chunks as they worked down the trunk. The main branch... Isaiah's bridge to my world for so many nights... was reduced to sawdust in the back of a yellow truck.

There was nothing I could do about what my parents had ripped from my hands. However, my cell phone was still tucked in my pocket. I vowed to sleep with it because the little smart phone held my lifeline — Isaiah's phone number.

Never did I need it more than now, and without a car or credit card, I at least had my legs. Walking down to the monument sign, I dialed Isaiah, holding the phone so close that it bent my ear cartilage.

"Nicole?"

"Hi." My throat cracked like a dry lake and I couldn't say anything else.

"Hi back. I've been thinking about you. A lot," he said.

A little snort came from my throat when I couldn't hold back my tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

I leaned against the back of the monument, sliding down to the dirt.

"They took it all away from me."

"Took what?"

"My car. Credit card. My parents took everything."

"But not your phone," he said with a small laugh.