Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
And then instead of being me or anyone else, it’s like my head drops down through my feet. Then further down. Right through the asphalt underneath me.
You’re not here or there.
You’re in both places.
It’s both Moira beneath your father in the van here in front of you.
And it’s Domhn in your memory there. Donny.
Happening now. Always now. Over and over, now.
“Please,” Donny croaks, thin and small, struggling to get your much bigger father off him from where he’s got him pinned against the floor. Your father strangles Donny with the collar around his neck while he— While he—
“Get off!” Donny begs. “Please, Sir!”
“Take it like a good doggy. Be a good doggy for Daddy.”
Be a good girl for Daddy.
You’re staring because you’re not allowed to look away. Daddy will get mad if you do. Tonight he’s doing what he always does.
He gagged you, tied your arms behind your back, and shoved you in the footlocker across the room. He drilled holes in it so you can breathe. And so you can watch.
“Watch, Mati, or I’ll hurt him worse. Promise you’ll be a good girl and watch so I don’t hurt pretty Donny worse than I have to. I wouldn’t do this if you could just be a good girl, Mati. Tomorrow, try again to be Daddy’s good girl. You know if you could just be good, I’d stop hurting him.”
But you’re never good enough. And you never remember to grab Donny’s hand when you see him the next day so you can escape the monster together. There’s something I need to tell you, Donny!
You just wake up in your bed where everything is safe and normal, then go downstairs to find Daddy smiling, joking with you, and cooking breakfast.
Every time you’re back in the box, you scream at yourself to remember this time. Remember!
But there’s the pills Daddy forces you to swallow. He makes those strange hand gestures in front of your face and when he snaps, you fall asleep.
Then when you wake up the next day, groggy, sick feeling with the vague memory of bad, bad nightmares, Daddy looks at you as if he’s worried about you for having such disturbing dreams. Maybe you should see a therapist, he always says, but you never do.
He just gets more pills, and you swallow them with breakfast. That’s why he says you have trouble remembering sometimes. It’s a side effect. But isn’t your mood better now?
You don’t know. You don’t know anything.
You feel split in two.
At night you don’t remember the day and during the day you can’t remember what happens at night.
You can’t seem to tell what’s real from what’s not. Only one thing makes any sense in any of the hazy dream worlds you’re walking.
The boy with the crystal blue eyes.
Things around him get more clear. He makes you feel alive, and awake. But something’s wrong. You can feel it. Something’s wrong with Donny. Your bright boy has started to fade. There’s this itch at the back of your neck as you start to suspect there’s something wrong with your whole world.
You start to stash the pills your father gives you in the morning. You pretend to swallow them but instead spit them out when he’s not looking. During the daytime with Domhnall, you know something’s wrong even if you can’t put your finger on it.
Then, one night, after a day when the shadows under Domhnall’s eyes are deeper than ever, you experience the horrific evening tied up in the footlocker, managing to stay present for it. Not swapping to her, even though you can feel her there, watching from inside a deep box in your head. But you stay in charge, and witness what you witness.
You still think you can escape the monster. Donny looks like he has hope for the first time since you met him. Together, you’ll escape him and start over.
But when you go home to get your passport and the money, the monster’s waiting. Always one move ahead on the board.
“What do you think I’ll do to him now?” the monster growls. “I always warned you what would happen if you stopped being Daddy’s good girl.”
“No, don’t!” you scream, but he’s dragging you downstairs to his dungeon. He throws you on the floor while he grabs his cruelest whip and starts to put it in a bag. The cat-o’-nine-tails with rocks sewn into the tiny, beaded straps at the end. Then he picks up a giant neon green phallus. And a ball gag with a hole in it.
“Stop it,” you scream and run at him, leaping on his back and clawing at his eyes. He easily throws you to the floor.
His eyes are dark and evil as he stares down at you.
“Don’t,” you say, crab walking backwards to get away from him. “I didn’t mean to.”