“Every time he looks at me, I just feel so nervous. Like if he looks long enough, he’ll start to notice all my flaws, and then he’ll look at me differently. I don’t know.”
I watch my best friend Isabelle as she speaks about her new boyfriend and realize she is trembling as her voice wavers. I might not have seen it if I hadn't really looked at her hands. I'm not sure what to say. The more she talks about Luke, the further I feel from her. I know he’s crazy about her and she has nothing to worry about. I glance up at the garage as she and I come up to my house and see only my dad’s car is there, and I suddenly feel nauseous.
"Yeah," is all I say, and the words I really want to say are like hot, heavy lumps in my throat. I swallow and listen to her go on about Luke instead. She goes on talking about him, describing him like he possesses some kind of magic invisible to everyone else - certainly invisible to me. She keeps speaking and I feel like, even when she looks right at me, I am transparent. I am invisible. All she sees is the image of him in her mind.
Then her phone rings, and I can tell it’s her mom by the exasperation in her voice. I had suggested we take the long way to my house, hoping my mom would be home by the time we arrived. I looked past Isabelle down the street behind us. There were no cars coming.
"We should do something fun soon," she says as she hugs me goodbye.
"We really should!" I smile and give a small wave to her as she slings her backpack over her shoulder and walks away toward her house. The sky is quickly darkening now.
Uneasiness fills me as I open the front door and I do my best to be as close to silent as possible. Compared to the liveliness and volume at Isabelle's house or even at school, the silence is suffocating. I hear the floorboards creek from upstairs and my neck suddenly feels tense and my shoulders ache. I hear him clear his throat and it's like nails on chalkboard to my ears. I quickly climb the stairs and shut myself in my bedroom, the one place in the house I feel close to safe. It also feels like a kind of prison.
I dump my bag on the floor and kick off my shoes. I glance at my desk and anger shoots through me when I see my laptop isn't there.
Then the gentle knock on the door, sudden and deafening to my ears, makes me freeze. I look over my shoulder and see the knob slowly turning. I quickly turn around so I’m facing the door and then back away as it opens and he stands there, looking right at me with obvious disgust. I feel my hands clench into fists and I'm trying with all of my might to stand still.
"I need my laptop for school," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. He laughs and I clench my jaw.
"Well then, maybe you'll think twice before leaving a mess for me to clean up in the kitchen before leaving for school... and then waiting so long to come home..."
He crosses his arms and I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.
"I need it for school. I won't leave a mess again."
"That's right, you won't," he says, his voice as condescending as his glare. I wipe my sweaty hands on the sides of my jeans and stare at the floor until he finally closes my door. Suddenly I feel tears streaming down my cheeks - my entire body feels like it’s burning. My hands are trembling as I sink down to the floor, my back against the wall, and I hold myself. My arms wrapped tightly around my knees, I lower my head and do my best to breathe deeply until the sobs and shaking finally get out of my system. Then, I climb into bed and throw the comforter over my head. I can feel my heartbeat like it’s all through my body – pounding, ticking like a clock, until I fall into a deep sleep.
When I wake up, the only light in my room is the moon shining bright through my window. I stretch and reach over to flick on the lamp on my nightstand.
Slowly, I get off of my bed and kneel down on the floor facing my bed. I reach between the mattress and the box spring frame, pushing my arm further in between until my fingers touch the small, hard object, which I quickly pull out as I glance at my bedroom door.
I open the small phone and turn it on. To my disappointment, there are no missed calls or voicemails waiting for me. I sit there with my back against my bed for a few minutes, still feeling slightly nauseous. I clutch the phone so tightly it almost slips out of my sweaty grasp. Finally, I hear the heater turn on, which will help make any noise I make less audible to him. I quickly open the phone and dial Isabelle’s number.
It goes to her voicemail. I quickly dial the number again with trembling fingers, knowing that the heater will shut off in just a few minutes.
“Hello?” she answers this time.
“Hey,” I say as quietly as I can.
“Elsie? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you lost your phone?”
“I found it.”
“Oh. Sorry I didn’t pick up at first. I was texting Luke.”
“It’s okay,” I practically whisper.
“Why are you being so quiet?” I turn down the volume on the speaker as low as it can go, nervous that even her voice might be too loud.
“Elsie?”
I stare at the floor, biting my lip, feeling tears springing to my eyes.
“Elsie, is your mom home?”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
The other line is silent for what seems like an unbearably long time. I turn the volume back up a couple bars.
Finally I say, “Are you doing anything with Luke after school tomorrow?”
“Oh, no. He has work.”
“Oh,” I say, and another brief silence follows.
“Do you want to come over? I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah. Yeah I’ll come home with you after school.” I exhale deeply.
“Okay. We can have mac n’ cheese and watch movies. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, smiling a little.
Suddenly I hear the heat turn off and at the same time I hear a floorboard creek from right outside my door.
“Gotta go!” I whisper hurriedly, quickly holding down on the End button until the phone shuts off, and I shove it back deep under the mattress. With my heart pounding so hard in my chest it’s all I can hear, I sit as still as I possibly can and struggle to listen for any other sound of him outside my door.
The minutes seem to go by painfully slow, and I don’t hear a thing. My heartbeat slows down but my neck and shoulders are burning, aching with tension. Feeling uncomfortably warm, I take off my sweatshirt and put it down next to me on the floor.
The sickening silence is enough for me to take the risk of reaching under my mattress for my phone again. It takes me a minute to find it, and as I turn the power back on, I keep my eyes on the door.
The phone rings twice before she picks up.
“What happened?”
“Sorry. I thought my dad was coming in. I’m not actually supposed to have my phone…”
“He doesn’t know you have it?”
“I told him I lost it so he wouldn’t take it from me.”
“So you lied?”
“Yup,” I responded with slight defiance in my voice.
“Hm.”
I rest my head against the side of my bed, still sitting on the floor, exhausted – but still tense.
“Isabelle?”
“Yeah. I want to ask you something Elsie.”
I don’t say anything.
“Where did you get those bruises on your arms?”
“What bruises?” How could she possibly have seen?
“I saw them when you took off your sweater today,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know – I get bruises all the time and don’t know how I got them. Why are you asking me that?”
“They looked really bad.”
My jaw hurts from clenching it so tightly. My head, neck, and shoulders all hurt. I wish I could have a hot bath.
Then I hear his door open. I almost think I can hear the sound of his deep, heavy breathing from outside my door.
“Elsie,” Isabelle whispers. “Is he hurting you?”
The heaviness returns to my tongue and I feel like I can’t even open my mouth.
Before I can think of a response, my bedroom door flies open and the phone slips out of my grasp. I am rigid, paralyzed on the floor beside my bed, and I don’t make a sound as he steps toward me.
“Elsie?” Isabelle calls out, her voice coming out raised and anxious from my phone, lying on the floor close by my feet. I stare at my feet and in my peripheral vision see his gnarled fingers wrapping around the phone. He presses the power button as she yells my name.