Cardboard Mountains

Maria- Lowered Eyes

Jake was not the first person to pit me against myself, but I hope he will be the last. He was also not the first to use those I love against me, but again I hope he will be the last.

Once upon a time, in the long ago year of 2012, when Obama was still President and I was blissfully unaware of politics, sexuality, or puberty, I was locked in a room with the windows bolted shut. How, you ask? My mother had decided that if I was going to kiss a boy at church, I needed to spend more time with my bible.

I will say a few things before I relay the rest of this tale. First, I didn't actually kiss that boy, I kissed his sister. Second, I have very little issue with religion and religious people provided they don't lock me in a room with a bible. Okay?

I was allowed out of this room once a day, sometimes twice if I was lucky. She gave me water almost every other day, and food once a week. For the first few days, I raged and screamed and clawed at the walls. I cursed her and every generation before her. I tried to bargain. I cried. And finally, I read the Bible she had left. Ever read the bible? For someone right out of 5th grade, it was not a pleasant read. At this point, I'm convinced that no one reads the bible for fun, not priests, not pastors, and not god itself.

It's worth noting that even after reading the bible, I still couldn't answer her stupid quizzes, which she gave at random on a random part of the bible. Supposedly, if I had gotten the questions right, she'd let me out sooner for good behavior.

One Sunday, after she had left for church, I tried to read Revelations and couldn't get through it. Finally, I just started sobbing and reciting the one bible verse I actually knew, clawing at the bolted windows. It was hotter than hell in The Room that day and I had stupidly drank all of my water. That's when I heard someone join me in my recitation.

I froze. There was no way in hell that someone had hidden in the room for three months and I hadn't noticed and it was unlikely they had slipped in during my last bathroom break. I turned from the window, slowly. There was a woman sitting on my bed, radiating concern. She looked like she was dressed for church, hair curled, clothes immaculate, and a face full of makeup. I immediately felt awful, given that my prison was filthy and smelled like piss and sweat. She didn't seem to notice, or at least she was polite enough to pretend she didn't mind.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, croaking from my previous screeching.

"I'm Eve," she smiled, teeth straight and white. "What do you call yourself, lamb?"

"M-Maria. My name's Maria," I stammered, convinced that I had finally lost it. "How did you get in here? You're going to get killed!" Her responding smile was prim but her eyes were playful.

"Well, Maria it's nice to meet you. Your mother will be gone for a few hours. Do you want a shower? " Her southern accent was soothing.

"Ha, nice try. There's no way out, I've tried. Locked from the outside," I spat, frustrated. Really, if I was going to have a break down, couldn't my hallucinations at least be interesting?

"You can do all things through Christ, lamb," she promised, walking towards the door. I snorted but followed in her wake. She tugged a bobby pin from her curls and crouched down in front of the lock. Within a minute, she had it open and fresh air poured in. "There you are. Be careful and remember, if you ever need me, I'm just a prayer away. You're not as alone as you feel, lamb." She kissed the top of my head and strode down the hall, heels not making a sound.

At first, I was frozen in the door way, wondering if this was one of Her traps. After no one jumped out to beat me, I scurried to the bathroom and gulped water down like I was dying. I partially refilled my water bucket and wet a few shirts to use as cooling cloths. I did scrub the essential body parts with a rag, making sure not to use any soap she could smell.