The Girl Who Couldn't Feel

I’m in a box. It’s so small. So cold. That’s all I can think of, how cold it is. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I try once more. Still nothing. I’m scared. I scream and scream, but nothing's coming out. Warm tears burn my cheeks, as I hit the icy walls around me. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. It hurts, as I start coughing. The coughs get stronger, and I feel my throat stinging, the pain as if I were tearing it with my hands. And then, for a split second, I realize that I can speak, though I know it’s only for that second. I could scream and get help, I could be free! I could get out of this congested box. As I am about to scream, as I’m about to shout and beg, I can see a hazy picture in my mind of who put me in the box. It begins to clear up and I see the person’s face. The person who put me in the box. The one who is the reason that I’m in so much pain. The reason I’m so cold, and so lonely, as well. The picture finally clears up, and I see the person. I see their face, and that second in which I could have screamed is wasted on my gasp, as it comes back to me. The evil person was me.

“No!” I gasp, as I sit up in my bed. A bolt of pain goes through my body, originating from my ribs. I take in a deep breath, trying not to scream. It hurts so much. It’s probably the reason I had such an odd dream, which is what i would like to believe. Everything hurts. I lift up my top and look at my ribs. A few of them are definitely bruised, but I can tell none are broken. I lay back down, and looked at the ceiling of my room, which was technically supposed to just be attic space on the first floor. Mother and Father converted it into a sort of bedroom.

There were no windows, so it was completely dark, but I knew it was already morning. I looked around my room from on top of my bed. I was used to the dark, so I could easily see everything around me though there wasn’t much. It looked even emptier due to the fact that it was quite large. There was a shoddy desk and chair to the right, and to my left, there was a nightstand with a lamp. The door was also on the left side of my room. I continued staring at the door, a chill passing over me.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. I got up too quickly and ended up losing my balance and falling to the floor. “Such a klutz.” I heard someone mutter from outside the door. As quickly as I could, I went to the door and opened it up. It was Mother.

“Hurry and get up, the house needs cleaning.” She glared at me and then turned away. That is when I heard light taps on the stairs and turned to see Candy.

“Marie! Marie! Can Marie play with me?” she looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, and held my hand. The little angelic 6 year old girl waited for my response.

“No, little Bunny, I have some work to do.” I whispered as Mother grabbed my arm roughly, pressing a bruise that had only begun to heal, but I didn’t wince.

“Didn’t I tell you to get moving, you spoiled brat. Also, haven’t I told you not to not to touch her with your filthy hands.” She growled, swinging my hand in front of my face.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” I whispered softly.

“That’s what I thought! Now start working. Useless ingrate.” She muttered as she walked on to the kitchen.

“Marie! Marie! Why’s Mommy mad?” Candy looked up at me.

“Because I was bad.” I whispered. “Go now.”

I spent the day cleaning the house. I wasn’t allowed to cook because I am too clumsy, though I try not to be. I cleaned every corner of the house, and by the end of it, my ribs ached even more. I disliked weekends. I barely had time to do my homework. When I heard the front door open, I couldn’t help looking at Father as he entered the room. When he saw me staring, he glared at me, but it isn’t what it seems. They are not bad or evil.

“What are you doing? If you’ve finished cleaning the house, clean your room. Don’t stand their like an idiot, move. We will be having a guest over. Your room is large enough to fit another bed, so he can stay there.” He said, barely looking at me. “I will bring a bed tomorrow. He arrives Monday.” He was going to let someone stay in my only safe place? “Why are you still standing there?"

“I’m sorry.” I murmured, and went to my room so that I could clean it up.

At dinner, I sat quietly eating the peas on my plate, but not the chicken, as I listened to Mother and Father speak.

“He will arrive tomorrow around dinner.” As he spoke, Candy dropped her fork. Without a thought, I quickly put mine in her hand, before Mother and Father turned toward us. Candy looked at me with a small smile, which only made her look more like an angel than human.

“You brat! You dropped your fork again!” Father yelled, as he got up and came to me as I picked up the fork.

“I’m so-“ I began to whisper after I stood up but he slapped my face before I finished. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, still feeling the sting on my face.

“Excuse yourself and go to your room. And by the way, you will excuse yourself at the beginning of dinner tomorrow, as usual, since we have a guest over.” Mother said.

“Yes.” I whispered.

As I turned and went to my room, I heard Father muttering, “Her stone like face! Is she even human? That brat doesn’t feel! She doesn’t feel anything.” Once I was inside and in bed, I touched my cheek softly, since it still stung. It was going to leave a bruise. I could tell. As I closed my eyes, I felt myself pray that the guest couldn’t make it. That for some reason, God would let me keep this one safe place. The one place where all the objects understood my feelings, understood what my face didn’t say. I knew better than to pray for some sort of angel. Instead, just keeping this one thing I could call my own was enough. As I lay in bed, the only thought running through my head was, it hurts... Everything hurts.