Day Forty-Nine
She says her name is Marisa. I don’t know if I believe her. I think she stole Flecha.
She took my clothes away. She gave me a shift to wear, but it’s no good. It’s wet, and so are the sheets, and so is my hair. This is all Flecha’s fault.
Marisa hates me.
She put me back in the bed and the man with the beard came. He said the needle wouldn’t hurt, but he lied. He said he would make me well, but I’m not sick. I saw the needle, and then it was morning and Marisa wanted to give me clothes again, but this shift isn’t any better than the last one. It’s wet, too.
I hate Marisa. She keeps putting cold things on me, burning me. When she turns off the light I can see bruises on my arms—big, horrible bruises that go away when the lights come on. The lights are electric and hurt my eyes. Marisa won’t let me leave. She won’t send my letter to Robert. She won’t tell Auntie where I am. I think she wants to know where my baby is buried, but I won’t tell her.
Marisa is stupid.
She locked the window. I hate her. I tried to break the glass, but the bed hit me in the head, and Marisa came running and put me back in the bed and put quilts on me, even though the room was hot and the bed kept moving.
Why is Marisa so mean to me? And where is Robert?
I think Robert saw the necklace. He’s mad about Vince. But it’s Robert’s fault for not coming. I waited and waited. And after the party, we went out in the woods and got lost, and that’s where the men were. It was Robert’s fault, but I would’ve forgiven him if he hadn’t made me marry my brother. I would’ve forgiven him if he had told me what to do about the baby.
Why doesn’t Auntie come? I don’t like the things Marisa gives me to drink. I need to get to Kentucky, and she won’t give me back my clothes, which she says are muddy, but that’s a lie. How can anything be muddy when we never have any rain? When I ride the arroyos with Will, all we see are dry bones. We look and look, but there is no mud or water here. Only bones, dust, and rocks.
I’m going to die.
I asked Marisa for water, but the man with the needle came, and he brought no water. He’s mean to me, like the cat that sits and watches me. He’s waiting for me to fall asleep so he can kill me, and then I’ll go to Hell for marrying my brother and not being sorry the baby died.
Marisa says I’m not going to die, but she’s lying. She’ll send my body on the train and they’ll bury me in the garden, and I’ll go to Hell, and no one will bring me flowers, and no one will care.
I want to go home. Damn Marisa! I told her to send the letter to Robert, but she says she doesn’t know how. Stupid, stupid woman! I’ll have to go, myself. I don’t need Flecha. I’ll walk. I’ll break the window and walk to Kentucky. It’s just over the mountains. I can see it out the window, like in an atlas.
The man with the beard is back. I hear his voice. I know he has another needle and he’ll use it to poison me.
I need to get away from here before they kill me. I need to break the window and breathe the air. I need to get to Kentucky, because I don't want to die.
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She took my clothes away. She gave me a shift to wear, but it’s no good. It’s wet, and so are the sheets, and so is my hair. This is all Flecha’s fault.
Marisa hates me.
She put me back in the bed and the man with the beard came. He said the needle wouldn’t hurt, but he lied. He said he would make me well, but I’m not sick. I saw the needle, and then it was morning and Marisa wanted to give me clothes again, but this shift isn’t any better than the last one. It’s wet, too.
I hate Marisa. She keeps putting cold things on me, burning me. When she turns off the light I can see bruises on my arms—big, horrible bruises that go away when the lights come on. The lights are electric and hurt my eyes. Marisa won’t let me leave. She won’t send my letter to Robert. She won’t tell Auntie where I am. I think she wants to know where my baby is buried, but I won’t tell her.
Marisa is stupid.
She locked the window. I hate her. I tried to break the glass, but the bed hit me in the head, and Marisa came running and put me back in the bed and put quilts on me, even though the room was hot and the bed kept moving.
Why is Marisa so mean to me? And where is Robert?
I think Robert saw the necklace. He’s mad about Vince. But it’s Robert’s fault for not coming. I waited and waited. And after the party, we went out in the woods and got lost, and that’s where the men were. It was Robert’s fault, but I would’ve forgiven him if he hadn’t made me marry my brother. I would’ve forgiven him if he had told me what to do about the baby.
Why doesn’t Auntie come? I don’t like the things Marisa gives me to drink. I need to get to Kentucky, and she won’t give me back my clothes, which she says are muddy, but that’s a lie. How can anything be muddy when we never have any rain? When I ride the arroyos with Will, all we see are dry bones. We look and look, but there is no mud or water here. Only bones, dust, and rocks.
I’m going to die.
I asked Marisa for water, but the man with the needle came, and he brought no water. He’s mean to me, like the cat that sits and watches me. He’s waiting for me to fall asleep so he can kill me, and then I’ll go to Hell for marrying my brother and not being sorry the baby died.
Marisa says I’m not going to die, but she’s lying. She’ll send my body on the train and they’ll bury me in the garden, and I’ll go to Hell, and no one will bring me flowers, and no one will care.
I want to go home. Damn Marisa! I told her to send the letter to Robert, but she says she doesn’t know how. Stupid, stupid woman! I’ll have to go, myself. I don’t need Flecha. I’ll walk. I’ll break the window and walk to Kentucky. It’s just over the mountains. I can see it out the window, like in an atlas.
The man with the beard is back. I hear his voice. I know he has another needle and he’ll use it to poison me.
I need to get away from here before they kill me. I need to break the window and breathe the air. I need to get to Kentucky, because I don't want to die.
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written by Diana | 1:08 AM
1 Comments:
Oh boy, she is really out of it.
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