This time Mama laughs. “The first time I read Cinderella to you, you asked if I could call you Cinderella. Eyes.” I close them to let her wash my hair.
“I don’t remember,” I say when she finishes.
“Because you were a tiny girl.” She rubs my nose with hers.
I scrunch my nose like she does as she dries me off and walks me to the bed in the corner of the room. After she rubs cream on my body and dresses me in a tunic, Mama dries my hair with the towel. Then reaches for the brush from the tray. We’re not allowed to keep it. Every day, the man at the door brings us the tray with one toothbrush, paste, hairbrush, soap, and cream that smells nice. It makes me want to lick my hand when Mama rubs it into my skin.
I sit between Mama’s spread legs to let her brush my hair. It’s long, hangs to my waist, and is dark like hers. I wish she wouldn’t ever stop brushing because it feels so nice and makes me sleepy. I close my eyes and think of Cinderella and her prince, how they danced while everyone watched, and how she had to run before the clock struck twelve.
I jump up. “Dance with me, Mama, before Master comes.” I grab her hand. Laughing, she drops the brush and takes my hand. Together we go round and round, making up our dance. “What does music sound like?”
“I don’t know, baby, but it must be a pretty sound.”
“You didn’t hear music before?” I ask. She shook her head, our movements slowing down. “Where’s my daddy, Mama?” The first time I asked her that question, she told me it wasn’t the right time. “Would he come to save me?” She walks me back to the bed, starts brushing my hair again, then braids it down my back the way Master likes her hair.
“He won’t come,” she whispers.
Sad now, I look over my shoulder. “Why?”
Her eyes move to the man at the door, and instead of answering, she asks me, “would you like to wear my special ribbon?”
Excited, I clap my hands. “Can I?”
She nods, and I watch her take it from her hiding place inside the pillowcase. Mama called it satin and said a kind lady who taught her to read gave it to her as a goodbye present. After I was born, Master didn’t want the lady to come back, so Mama only wore it around her braid sometimes. And if Master came, she would hide it quickly. When I read my passages correctly, she lets me wear it around my head like Cinderella does. I wish I could see how it looks on me.
Just as she leans forward to tie it around my braid, the sound of the deadbolt on the door has us both looking up.
“Come.” Mama moves us to the floor to kneel.
I see her squash the ribbon between her hands before I close my eyes. Quickly, I forget about it as I hear more footsteps following Master’s, and I tremble.
Guests!
I feel Master crouch in front of me. “Open your eyes, kitten,” he says.
I do as I’m told and look straight into pupils so large and black they remind me of the evil stepmother’s eyes from the pictures in my Cinderella storybook.
“Stand up.”
I’m shaking so much, I fall a few times before I can stand up straight.
“Sweet little thing, isn’t she?” Another man moves closer. I look at him only because he crouches like Master does. “Those eyes, hmm. Kitten indeed. What do you think, boys?” he says.
Without meaning to disobey, my eyes dart to the two men still standing at the door. Their faces are covered in black masks. Scared, I look to my side. “Mama,” I call out, my voice shaky. She’s still kneeling with her eyes closed. “Mama,” I say again, louder.
“Forget your Mama, kitten. This party is for you.” Master is laughing now and not angry that I looked away.
The man beside him takes my wrist. I don’t recognize the sudden scream that fills the room. The man tugs my arm, jerking me forward. “Mama!” It’s me. It’s my voice. I’m the one screaming. “Mama, I don’t want to go!”
Before he can drag me away, Mama opens her eyes, lunges forward, and grabs my other hand. “Leave her alone,” she yells.
“Aww, Sixty, now what have you gone and done,” Master scolds. “Let her go!” His voice booms.
“No!” Mama screams, pulling me so hard the man holding my other hand lets go. I don’t care that it hurts and throw both arms around Mama’s neck, holding on tight as her arms come around me, promising not to let go.
“Let her go!” Master strikes Mama, we both fall over, her hands loosening from their hold on me. Master grabs me by the braid and yanks me up to my feet. “You stupid fucking bitch.” He kicks Mama in the stomach while still holding onto me.
Sobbing, Mama rolls back up onto her knees. “Please, Master, take me instead,” she begs him, her eyes darting from him to me and back. “Three men are too much for her. She’s just a baby,” she shouts.
