Chapter 2
Brody kicked open the door and grabbed me like I was just a little bird.
I took a deep breath, finally getting the air I'd been craving, and I shot Ciara a daring look.
Her chest was heaving, her forehead veins popping, and she glared at me with hatred.
But Brody just made me wait outside with my grandma, Enid.
From inside, I could hear the sharp sound of slaps, fabric tearing, and Ciara's desperate screams and pleas.
Enid smiled and rolled me some maltose on a toothpick, even patting my head, which was a first.
"Annie, you did great. You're going to have a little brother soon," she said.
I licked the maltose in my hand, thinking that Ciara was such a good person.
Whenever she was around, I could get maltose.
I wish she could stay here forever and be my mom.
The noise inside died down quickly, and Brody kicked the door open again.
"Damn it. She's on her period," he complained.
Enid rushed after him. "You didn't touch her, did you? What bad luck."
They walked off, grumbling and cursing.
*****
The door was slightly open, so I slipped in quietly through the gap.
Ciara was just sitting there, completely silent. Her eyes were empty. Her clothes were all messed up, and her ankles were chained, so she couldn't move.
She didn't even look up when I walked in. She just stared straight ahead, lost in thought.
"Ms. Gagnon, you're just like my mom," I said, leaning against her, my voice full of longing.
Since my mom passed away, all the kids in town called me a bastard.
Everyone could push me around.
One time, Harold threw a rock at me on purpose, so I bit him hard.
That afternoon, Harold's mom stormed into the classroom and slapped me across the face.
It was so painful that I still remember the taste of blood and the sound of my tooth hitting the floor.
When she hit me, it wasn't the pain that got to me. All I could think was that I wished I had a mom.
"Where's your mom now?" Ciara asked. Her hoarse voice snapped me back to reality.
I tilted my head, thought for a moment, and said, "I don't know."
But I figured she was probably on the back hill. One crazy woman in town was always screaming about it, saying all the dead women ended up there.
"So how did your mom end up here?" Ciara asked.
I knew the answer.
I said, "Dad told me that when he was working, my mom was a college student. She gave him a piece of bread, and that's when he fell for her.
"Then Dad brought her home and took her in. Then they had me."
My voice was full of pride. I thought Brody was the best dad in the world.
Brody really was the best. He gave my mom a home when she had nowhere else to go. He was such a good guy.
"My mom just didn't have any luck. She couldn't give Dad a son, and she didn't treat me or him very well," I added.
Ciara looked at me, her eyes full of deep, tired weariness.
For a long time, the spark in her eyes seemed to fade away again. She lay back on the bed, staring at the blank stone wall.
*****
Brody didn't let Ciara eat or drink anything for seven days.
That was just how the men around here treat their women.
Ciara was already small, but after seven days without food, her cheeks were sunken.
By the seventh day, Ciara couldn't take it anymore. When I walked in, she grabbed my arm.
"Tell your dad to give me something to eat. I'll stay and give him the son he wants," she said.
That night, Brody went into Ciara's room, looking excited.
The wooden bed creaked for more than ten minutes, mixed with muffled grunts and desperate cries.
I curled up in the corner of Enid's bed, watching her bow in front of the family altar over and over.
"Please, let this one be a boy," she prayed.
Later, the door creaked open, and I peeked through the gap. Brody was sitting there with his arm around Ciara, smoking a homemade cigarette.
Through the smoky haze, I saw Ciara coiling around Brody like a snake, moving so smoothly that it almost looked like she was about to flick out her tongue and show her fangs.
Brody didn't notice a thing, his hand wandering under the blanket.
*****
The next day, Ciara was finally allowed out.
She went to school to teach her class.
Unlike the other women in town who got locked up in pigsties or basements if they stepped out of line, Ciara had it better. She was a teacher.
But she was only allowed to stay in the classroom.
The shackles on her ankles stayed on.
All of us sitting in the classroom were basically her guards, watching her every move.
There were only two teachers at our school: Ciara and Grace.
There used to be a third, my mom. But she died before she could give me a little brother.
I couldn't stand Grace. She always made sure to stick me in the back of the class, and during lessons, it was like I didn't even exist.
She'd mutter under her breath, calling me a little beast or a bastard every time she saw me in private.
I thought Grace was so ungrateful.
After all, I was the one who helped her find a husband.
Fred Willard, who ran the corner store by the town entrance, was only fifteen years older than her, and his family had more money than anyone else around here.
How could Grace not even know how to be grateful?
Ciara didn't talk to anyone else. She only ever spoke to Grace, and it was just a few words.