Chapter 13
Except for the yellow splashes from the candle in Ashley’s hands, the hall bathroom was dark.
She chose this bathroom because she was too afraid to use the one in her bedroom, which was more isolated.
Besides providing illumination, the mango scented candle cast shadows, dancing and lashing about. Her imagination made them appear as a crowd of black demons.
She steadied herself through this frightful sight because the girl named Tina had been taken in the dark, alone, into the unknown. Ashley would find Tina. She would risk the danger.
From behind the closed door, Mom yelled, “Ash! What’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly and set the candle on the floor in front of her.
“I can see under the door. It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Estas loca,” she said under her breath. Then louder, she asked, “You’re not cutting yourself again, are you?”
“I told you, I would tell you if I feel like that.”
Only silence responded, making Ashley uncomfortable.
She could almost believe her mother had left, had gone back to the living room couch, watching the latest Spanish soap opera, but there had been no sound of footsteps leading away. She actually felt her mother’s tension through the door. It seemed to still the air.
“Dinner is cold,” Mom complained.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Ash. You need to eat. Do I have to tell Jeff you’re anorexic, too?”
“Just leave me alone.”
“You never listen. What am I supposed to do? I’m your mother, dammit!”
“Try to understand, Mom, I have to use the bathroom.”
“Why don’t you turn on the lights? You have them on all the time in your room, wasting electricity.”
Ashley didn’t answer.
“This doesn’t make up for all the nights you leave your lights on in your room. You don’t care about the money I work hard for.” She sighed heavily. “You know, we’re not rich, Ash. Stop acting spoiled.”
She didn’t say anything. She did understand that her mother worked hard taking the bus and walking from one house to another, cleaning other people’s messy homes. But Ashley would never be understood by her mother. Mom would think Ashley was crazy for believing that a girl was lost in the dark. Mom would complain to Jeff, and then Jeff would diagnose Ashley as psychotic and prescribe drugs. Drugs would mess with her head.
She didn’t need drugs. She wasn’t crazy. She just needed to be alone.
“I’m going to call your stepfather and tell him to break down this door if you’re not eating in five minutes.”
“He’s not my father,” Ashley protested. She hated Carlos for the innocence he stole from her over three years ago.
“He can be here in ten minutes.”
She was silent, trying to shut out memories she didn’t want to return.
“I won’t have you cut yourself again. It drips everywhere and stains the carpet. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of me. Think what it does to your mother!”
Ashley waited for her to leave.
“Is that what you want? You want to punish me?”
Finally, she heard Mom’s footsteps slapping away.
Tears rolled down her face. Even after nine years, it still hurt that her real father had abandoned her. People losing people wasn’t right. Someone probably missed Tina very much. If Ashley could, she would remedy that.
Six years after her father left, Mom’s replacement—Carlos—began coming into Ashley’s bedroom at night and touching her. She had only been eleven years old. What had that man been thinking? It didn’t make sense no matter how many times she tried to make sense out of it. She had so desperately wanted her father back on those nights. She missed her father most then. She wanted him there to hold her, the right way, and protect her from Carlos. Instead, deep emptiness and abandonment ate through her, matched only by the sick feelings of violation.
Just thinking about those times changed the shadows in the bathroom tonight. They seemed to take the shapes of men now, hungering, laughing, and jeering. It gave her the creeps. Her shoulders felt touched, and she shivered and moved the candle closer to her crossed legs on the hard tile floor, feeling the flame’s warmth lapping against her shins.
Mom had adored Carlos, spending all her money and time with him. She came home late after partying with him on weekend nights, drunk and without a care in the world. She didn’t save her money for stuff Ashley needed. Ashley was left with holey shirts with hanging threads from her blouse sleeves. Her pants and skirts had permanent stains and worn patches.
Mom never protected her daughter. What did she think Carlos was doing in Ashley’s bedroom every other night? Reading bedtime stories for an eleven-year-old? Didn’t she see how unhappy her daughter was? Why didn’t she ask why? Why couldn’t she figure it out?
Remembering all this, Ashley cried harder and faster, having difficulty breathing.
Even after Carlos left them, she felt dirty and used. Mom went out with other men who leered at Ashley in uncomfortable ways. She often found pairs of her underwear missing and sometimes had none to wear to school. And Mom still didn’t save money. Only twelve years old, Ashley had to find jobs babysitting around the neighborhood to purchase more clothing, utensils for school, shampoo, razors, deodorant, toothpaste, and other personal items.
Lately, to Ashley’s horror, Mom had been visiting Carlos again. Though she hadn’t brought him home with her.
Something groaned like an old man dying. It came from across the bathroom, around the corner behind the toilet, in the darkest patch of shadow.
She scooted back against the door.
A slithering-sucking moved against the tile.
Pixie howled just behind the door. He scratched underneath the wood, and she could see his little paws trying to reach her. Sweet Pixie was safe out there though. She had wanted to make sure the precious kitten wouldn’t be in danger.
The groan broke into tortured cries.
This couldn’t be good. Would she be able to bring Tina back if she lost herself as well? Where did this thing come from, the very pit of Hell itself?
She reached for the candle to bring it in her lap. As it moved, shadows deepened across the bathroom. Multiple keens blended together as though four zombies crawled closer. The slithering-sucking grew louder.
She was no match for this thing. She needed weapons and other people. Tina needed more help than just Ashley.
She put the candle down and reached for the doorknob and one of the voices rose to a screech.
Yanking open the door, all shadows retreated from the light of the hall.
Protecting his new mother—Ashley—Pixie leapt over her legs into the bathroom, claws extended, hissing like a tea kettle, back arching, hair spiking, white teeth glaring. But the tiny kitten looked cute, not threatening. She plucked him up in one hand, blew out the candle, and left.