Isit on my bed, tightly strapped inside the straitjacket. I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been like this.
It just makes it easier for them. They don’t like it when I fight back. There’s nothing but silence. No TV, no music. They want me to go insane. Lose my mind. A woman doesn’t need an opinion or to have thoughts of her own. She just needs a functioning body.
The door opens, and my father enters, followed by a woman I’ve never seen before. You would think she’s here to help me. But I know that’s wishful thinking.
She looks at me and frowns. “How long has she been like this?”
“Keep your questions to yourself. You’re here because you owe me,” my father growls.
She turns to face him. And their size difference is almost comical. My father is six six, and she doesn’t even come to his shoulders. It’s interesting, though, because she’s dressed in a business suit and heels.
She must be important. Like the other bitch who comes and goes. The one who thinks something is wrong with me.
“This is not healthy,” the woman states.
“Are you telling me how to raise my kid?” He arches a brow.
I want to laugh at that. This has been my life, and even I know that this isn’t how you should treat your child.
“You asked me to help. This is me giving my help.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, staring her down.
She’s unfazed, which makes my curiosity pique. Who is she and why is she so important? What kind of help could she possibly give? “A woman is like a garden.”
He laughs at that, and I find it odd. I’ve never heard him laughbefore.
“I’m serious. You want to grow a garden; it takes time and care. It needs water and sunlight.”
“What are you suggesting?” he asks, but his tone suggests he doesn’t care. “Put her outside under a sprinkler?”
“Look at her.” She turns to me. “Hair thinning, cheeks sunken in, skin splotchy. She’s too young to look this…frail. She needs to be well fed and taking vitamins.” The woman turns back to him. “She’s young and fertile, but there are still factors you must take into consideration.”
I shove myself into the headboard at the mention of fertile and bring my legs to my chest. I struggle in the restraints, wishing I could wrap my arms around them, but I can’t. The straitjacket has them secured to my chest.
They both look at me when they hear movement.
“It’s okay.” She gives me a toothy smile. There’s nothing comforting about it. “I’m here to help you.”
I shake my head and glare at my father. “I will not?—”
“You’ll do whatever I fucking tell you to do,” he barks, stepping closer to my bed.
The woman reaches out, placing her hand on his upper arm, and he stops to look at her. She quickly scribbles something down on a piece of paper and holds it out to him. “A list of things she needs. You should get her started on them as soon as possible. It will help you get the results you want,” she assures him.
He reads over the list and nods his head a few times. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Fuck you,” I scream. I’m so tired of no one being on my side. No one caring about me. Tears sting my eyes, and I sink into the bed, trying to look smaller, wishing it would swallow me up.
“Watch your tone, or I’ll gag you,” my father growls.
“Leave me with her,” the woman suggests softly.
My father looks her up and down, and I know he’s fucking her. Not a doubt in my mind that he uses her. “She remains in her restraints.”
“Of course.” She nods. The thought of releasing me never even entered her mind.
Satisfied, he turns and walks out of my room, slamming the door behind him with the list in his hand.
