It took a while for the three of us to have any time alone to talk. Mostly we just shared frightened looks back and forth as the young girl learned her place in the house. In the prison we called home.
But eventually, one wonderful day, Mommy went to sleep. She fell into a deep, snoring slumber, and for the first time in ages, we were alone to talk amongst ourselves. For the first time in weeks, I felt just a little bit safe speaking out loud.
“What’s your name?” I asked the girl. “We can talk now. She’s asleep. Just keep your voice down.”
“I’m Sarah,” she answered. “Where are we? Why is the lady so mean? Is she crazy?”
“I’m Tom, and this is Jason,” my stepbrother responded. “I’ve only been here a little while, but he’s been here a lot longer. He knows what she’s like, and apparently right now she’s even worse than usual.”
She looked nervously over her shoulder at the sleeping woman in the bed who had kidnapped her.
“Where are we? When can we leave?” she asked, and I could tell she was trying to keep her emotions in check.
When she had cried for her parents over the last week, it had not gone well with Mother.
Mother did not like to be questioned over the reality of her delusions. And this girl, in her mind, had been her child since birth. She had carried her to term and named her ‘Mara.’
It was odd, since she hadn’t changed Tom’s name. But it made me wonder if I was really ‘Jason’ after all.
“We’re trying to figure that out,” Tom said. “I’m pretty sure we’re underground. Maybe in a bomb shelter or a bunker somewhere. Look, the less you know the better for now. The most important thing is - never eat the sweets. If she gives you a brownie or a cookie, try to take a bite and flush it down the toilet or hide it when she isn’t looking. Then, about thirty minutes later, pretend to get really, really sleepy. Pretend like you need to go to bed, and fake like you’re asleep.”
The little girl nodded, looking at us both nervously.
“They make you tired, don’t they? I thought I felt something the first time but I wasn’t sure. Why does she want us to go to sleep?”
“So she can leave,” I explained. “And when she does, that’s our chance to get out of here.”
Tom and I had quietly discussed the possibility of a violent mutiny one day when we had a few minutes of alone time, but it was ruled out as not a viable option.
It’s hard to explain how intimidating Mommy can be. Her size is a part of it - at least six and a half feet, I would guess. But she was also wide - her shoulders broad like a linebacker’s. And she had a strength that was surprising to say the least. “Country strong” as some people might say - that sort of power that only comes from hard labor day in and day out, going out in the fields and baling hay, rounding up animals, and doing everything for yourself.
If I had to guess one thing about her, it was that she had been raised on a farm. And her parents had been brutal, demanding, and obsessed with cleanliness. Unless one or all of those traits were entirely her own.
But I got the feeling she had gotten those things from her mother. We get a lot from our parents. The good and the bad.
“What if we knock her out?” the girl asked in a whisper. “Right now, while she’s asleep? We could just hit her in the head with something heavy, and then we could tie her up like they do in the movies. We could make her let us go.”
Tom and I looked at each other as if we were foolish for not having considered it sooner. After all, she was out for the first time in ages. We might not ever get another opportunity like this.
It occurred to me for the first time that Mother might be feeding us something not just to make us sleep, but to make us slow and to make us compliant. Maybe that was why these ideas seemed so impossible and hazy. And why everything was such a struggle to accomplish unless it was a direct order from her. It was like we were hypnotized.
Tom’s eyes suddenly went up to the top of the fridge, where the hammer was kept.
Then he looked back at me, as if for assurance.
“What if she wakes up,” I said nervously.
The three of us glanced over at Mother, snoring, her eyes flitting back and forth as she saw visions in REM sleep.
I couldn’t help but wonder what she was dreaming of. I hoped it was nightmares. Like the kind I had every night.
“Do it,” I told him. “We’re not gonna get another chance like this.”
He nodded and went over to the fridge, then began to climb up onto it. My heart was already pounding, knowing what would happen if she caught him.
The counter creaked beneath his weight as he got up on top of it, then grabbed the hammer, being careful not to make a sound.
Then he lowered himself down onto the floor and…
As his heel hit the tile he slipped on the polished linoleum, his sock skidding on the slick surface of it.
He managed to catch himself before falling down hard on the floor, but the hammer smacked hard off the fridge in the process, making a loud bang which startled us all.
Including Mother.
She blinked open her eyes and snorted as she looked around the room, waking up from her deep sleep.
Then her gaze focused on Tom, zeroing in on him as she saw the hammer in his hand.
“YOU!” she screeched, climbing out of bed. Her fingers were hooked into claws and she looked like she was ready to rip his eyes right out of his skull.
Sarah and I backed away, moving out of her space as she made a beeline for Tom. He backed into a corner, his eyes wide and terrified. He was swinging the hammer wildly in front of him as she got closer, but it looked like a heavy weight boxer approaching a child, as she towered over him. It seemed like she could just reach down at any second and grab the hammer from him.
I couldn’t just stand and watch it happen. I had a feeling she would kill him if she could get the hammer from him.
So I did the only thing I could think to do. I grabbed a chair from the dining room table, and I swung it over my head, bringing it down hard on her back as she lunged at him.
The chair broke in half like the cheap piece of shit that it was, pieces of wood flying everywhere.
But it did not stop Mother. It only made her madder.
She turned around and came at me, screaming obscenities as spittle flew from her lips.
“You ungrateful little shit! You worthless, disgusting, filthy little worm!”
A moment later she had me by the throat and I felt her fingers digging into my flesh, tightening, squeezing my windpipe until I could no longer breathe.
The world began to turn yellow, then red, then black around the edges, pinpoint spots of darkness filling my vision until it was occupied entirely by them.
A hollow, ringing sound, like steel striking steel, echoed through the room.
Mother’s smile turned slightly downwards at the corners, but then she grinned again, showing her teeth.
The hollow steel sound came again, and again.
Mother’s grip on my neck released its pressure slightly as she let out a growl like a wild animal, then tightened again.
“WHY WON’T YOU DIE!?” I heard Tom screaming as he brought the hammer down again, but this time the sound wasn’t of metal on metal, but of the hammer hitting something else with more yield. Something made of bone this time.
And then her grip eased, and released completely.
And Mother fainted, and lay breathing shallowly on the floorboards, blood pooling out from around her head.
I gasped in a raspy, painful breath.
For a minute I thought I was safe. That she was really out, and we could escape.
But the nightmare had just begun.