Silver Lining

18. First nights

The first day

I stood in the corner of his living room, shaking with fear. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly. I cried in the car on the way here, and he hit me.

He came around the corner. "Trust me, Mad. You're going to love it here. We'll have so much fun!" He told me. I had never hated anyone as much as I hated Michael Woods at that moment.

Michael sat on the light grey sofa covered in stains I didn't even want to know about. He looked at me. "Well don't just stand in the corner, darling. Come sit next to me." I stood there, not moving, trying to ignore him. I know it wasn't the best plan, but it was all I had. "I said come sit next to me, Goddammit!" He yelled at me.

I quitely sat down on the stained sofa, as far away from Michael as possible. He patted the sofa next to him. "You can come closer. I don't bite, you know," he said with a laugh. I moved a tiny fraction closer to him, which got him angry. "Shit! I wait this long to be with you, and you won't even sit next to me!" He was really angry, so I moved closer just so he wouldn't do anything crazy. I had left a fraction of space between us, but he wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close. "Just like the old days, babe," Michael said to me, taking a sip of beer. The whole house reeked of stale beer and vomit. The 'old days' were back in year eleven, three years ago. Michael was in year twelve then, and I was in year eleven, and he'd asked me out. I was young and stupid, and was excited about being asked out by a older guy so I said yes. I broke up with him a week later after I went to his house for dinner because actually spending time with him made me realize how creepy he was.

The show on the tv ended- I dont know what it was, I wasn't paying attention- and Michael stood. "Come on, Mad, I have something to show you." He grabbed my small hand in his large, rough one, and pulled me down the hall.

I hated how he called me Mad. Theo was the only one who called me Mad, and only in a bad situation or when he was worried or concerned about something.

Thinking about Theo hurt. It really, bloody hurt.

We arrived at a shut door. "It's in here," Michael said. When I made no move, he got annoyed. "Well, go in!"

Well, welcome to mood swing central.

I pushed the door open, and stepped into the room. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart skipped a beat or two.

It was a room full of... well, me.

In the center of the wall opposite of us, was a picture of me, blown up huge and framed. It was the photo that Laurel had taken of me at a lake somewhere in upper Victoria last year. My hair was blowing across my face because it was so windy that day. My mouth was open, laughing, and my cheeks are slighty red from the wind. I looked happy.

Surrounding that photo, were other photos of me that he found on the internet. On another wall, were a bunch of square polaroid style photos I recognized as all my instagram posts.

A shiver ran up my spine, and I turned away.

***

That night, Micheal insisted on us watching the notebook all cuddled up on the couch together. "You girls love that soppy shit, don't you?" He asked. It was true, I did love the notebook. But it was probably forever ruined now, because it would only make me remember.
If I ever got the chance to see it again.

I couldn't concentrate on the movie. My mind kept on conjuring up ways to escape, get out. None of them would of worked.
Even if I had wanted to, I wouldn't of been able to concentrate on the movie. It was a pirated copy, filmed at the cinemas by a phone. There were heads in the way from the people sitting in front, and the person holding the phone had a really shaky hand. It was the perfect excuse to have a cry, though. I just told Michael it was the movie that was making me cry, and he believed me.

After the movie, Michael led me to his bedroom. "I can't afford a bed for you, but we can share mine. So that worked out well, actually," he told me with a sick smile on his face. I didn't say or do anything, just stood completely still. I still hadn't decided if I should ignore him as much as possible and not say anything, or be a sasspot. I could be pretty sassy when I was pissed at someone. And I was plenty pissed at Michael.

"I bought you pair of nice new pyjamas." He handed me a grey plastic bag. "There's a bathroom through there," he told me, pointing through a doorway. I didn't do anything. "You can get changed here, if you'd rather."

"Yea, well that's unlikely," I told him, snatching the plastic bag and going into the bathroom, slamming the door. I tipped the plastic bag upside down, and out fell a pair of lingerie. I rolled my eyes. I considered refusing to put them on, but I'd probably get slapped. So I put on the underwear and bra, and stood in front of the dirty mirror. The bra was red and lacy, and too small, causing a lot of side boob. The underwear matched, although they fiited alright. I decided to wear my shirt over the top, and pulled it over my head. Thank God I decided to wear an oversized shirt this morning.

Woah. Was it only this morning that I was at home? It feels like forever ago.

I walked out of the bathroom, with my arms crossed over my chest. "Come on, sweetheart, take that shirt off. I want too see that nice new bra." I raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't say a lot, do you?" He muttered. "You talk a lot in your videos."

"Well, in my videos I'm not being held captive, am I?" I asked.

"NO! This isn't captivity! You aren't hancuffed! Are you?" I shook my head, just to calm him down. He clearly needed to look up captivity in the dictionary.
If I ever get out of here, maybe I'll send him a dictionary for Christmas. Mm, maybe not on second thought.

I was forced to share the bed with him, although as soon as he started snoring, I gently lifted his huge arm off the top of me and climbed out of the bed. I quietly left the room, and sneaked around the house, trying all the doors and windows. It was useless, they were all locked with various chains and padlocks. Softly crying, I went back into his room, and lay down on the hard dusty floor, my hot tears rolling down the sides of my face and into my ears.
Still better than sharing a bed with him, though.