Woody pondered for a second, until Ville’s temper collided with his line of thought.
“Are you actually fucking thinking about it?” The mask of kindness slipped from Ville’s face for a second. “Do this for Daddy. It’s okay. She’s your friend; she won’t mind.”
Woody blinked twice; anxiety etched on his face after climbing up his spine. He followed Ville’s request.
Sat by the door, his hand reaching in, over the pile of newspapers where I was told to do my business throughout the week. Where I'd buried it with my dignity, like I really was a damn dog.
Woody's nose twitched over the scent of yesterday's excretion, and before embarrassment killed me, I took his hand, praying one last time to my little wooden friend, Jesus, that Ville would go easy on me with Woody here.
“Please, don't leave me,” I begged him, clutching his fingers. He gave a gentle squeeze, but he looked confused by my fear.
“Right then, Son.”
Ville signaled to a plastic bucket on the folding table, filled with a steamless liquid.
“Put on these; she's been lying in filth.” Ville handed Woody a special-looking pair of gloves—something he'd neverworn while washing things he should never have touched. Woody let go of my hands, pulling the gloves on up to his wrists.
“Scoop the water up and start with her face. Wash away her sins.”
Ville stepped around us, and the shaking in my knees eased as he began cleaning the mess from my cage and shuffling it into a trash bag. I glanced at the stairs, but deep down, I knew I'd never make it out on these weak legs, and I knew I'd be punished for trying. . . so, I didn't.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, standing before Woody, hiding as much of my body behind my arms as I could, while waiting for him to wash me in the cold water.
He splashed my face, and for a moment, I felt nothing. A second later, pain erupted everywhere. I felt my skin blistering, burning, dying.
My hands left my body, the burn pulling them to my face, but the courage to examine the damage wasn't within me.
I didn't want to make it worse, and I couldn’t be sure I wouldn't.
My left eye glossed over, and Woody became blurry in front of it.
I blinked a few times to try and clear the fog that only I could see, each one a painful movement for my facial muscles.
Terrified by the repercussions of his actions, Woody's gloved hands reached for me, rubbing at the ulcers contrived through what I could only assume was an acid attack, directed by Ville. His touch brought more pain, the burning crippling me.
Tiny droplets sailed from Woody's gloves, landing on my left breast. The tiny splotches blistered, and I collapsed to the ground, screaming a deafening clamor. I wanted to die, and I felt like I was going to at any second.
I crumbled on the floor, pieces of my sanity chipping away. I needed my mind to drift away, but my suffering prisoned me to the here and now, in this cold basement, where I lay in agony.
I heard Woody tell me he was sorry. I heard his apology echo around the space, with him repeating it again and again and again.
And then, I blocked him out. Blocked out the world. Crouched on the floor, hiding away my face and the new scars that lived on me. I tried not to cry because my tears only angered myinjury. But I failed.
I stayed as quiet as I could, even as Ville stomped towards me, but the burning continued, challenging me each second I breathed. . . that was hurting now, too.
It hurt me to fucking breathe.
So, I silently pleaded to stop.
I prayed for it to end, for the pain to be over.
Jesus was listening from the cage. His gaze was on me as he lay on his side, propped up by the cross. My gaze was still on the floor, tears pooling there. I was grateful to not see his ignorance toward my situation. . . because the mercy of death wasn't granted. Instead, I was gifted another blast of pain as my skin cells fought for survival. And that pulled another scream from deep inside me.
Woody
I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn't mean to hurt her. Those thoughts swirled in my head, fighting with the pounding of my heart over which would ring loudest in my ears.
My senses paid little attention to my father, laughing like he'd seen the funniest thing in the world.
