"When I see you, I don't see a woman, I see a field filled with freshly bloomed flowers, and their petals glowing within the morning sun's light."
Those itsy-bitsy words did little to fantasize me, for what am I? A schoolgirl in search of love from a boy who can't even spell my name? Like the lave in Mauna Loa, I began to shake violently as anger boiled within the very blood in the veins that snaked around my body.
As if they were daggers, my eyes sliced upwards to meet Aaron's head on. However, he seemed unfazed by both his poetic words and my wrathful anger. Gritting my teeth, I shoved his hands away from the fresh bandages and scrambled to my feet.
"Would you all just stop it! God! I put myself in that lake to drown! Not to be saved by a criminal and be forced to now drown in this sick and twisted love! Your words aren't lovely and sweet! They're cringy, sick, and disgusting!"
I nearly wanted to scratch my own ears off just to escape their words. Between Malachi and Aaron, I feel like I'm a new toy for them. One they control, whatever they want, they force me to do.
Aaron furrowed his eye borrows, and a tight frown laced through his lips, "I have no intention of courting you, Chaya."
Hell must've frozen over for the very anger within my veins froze while my eyes dared to slice through him once more for my lips are as dirty as the murky waters of the Amazon. They have yet to speak the truth about my name, and yet here this ill statured of a man has just bluntly called me by my God-given name.
"It's Candy." I growled out in a challenge.
Shaking his head, he smirked slightly, "You mumbled your name in your sleep."
His words were filled with the truth, yet they burned like acid for what else does he know about me? Knowledge is power, so what power does he now hold over me?
Sensing my thoughts, his lips parted as if to speak but before any words could flow out the door to the shed flung open and an out of breath Malachi marched in appearing higher than high spirts upon seeing me.
Groaning, I slowly and painfully sat down on the bed, "What am I, a disco ball that everyone flocks to?"
Biting the inside of my cheek, I struggled to breathe for the bandages wrapped tightly around my ribs; it felt as if the bandages were a snake, and I, the prey it's slowly suffocating.
Aaron sighs, "Take it easy, Candy."
As he turned and stumbled out of the shed, I could not control the glare that was shadowing my eyes. All my life, I've prided myself in the knowledge that not many people know who the real Chaya Spring is, yet here this ill man has stolen a singular piece of information from me.
It displeases me to my very core.
As the door gently closed, Malachi happily approached the bed, before clumsily taking a muffin wrapped in a white cloth from his pocket, "I know what Pa said about you having no food, but you are already so small I cannot allow you to starve yourself."
As if a ghost had spoken the words, they were as soft as velvet and brushed upon my skin as the air swirled them around my body. My face remained emotionless, for truly, I didn't know how to feel. Part of me is angry that he cares for he has no right, too, and then the other part of me respects him for stealing food for me. The street rat within me sees it as a sign of honor and respect for stealing food for another is a love language to us.
However, I made no attempt to take the muffin from his outstretched hand for all I know it's drugged.
Reading my mind, Malachi shakes his head while gently placing the muffin on the bed only inches away from me, "Candy, if you want to survive, you'll going to have to learn to trust me."
"You ask of such trust as if it was no more than taking candy from a child."
The words were carried by a scoff, and I could not contain my irritation. This man is stranger than sand, and yet I felt a pull towards him that I distained deeply.
Murmuring, his head shook once more as words rolled from his tongue, "Pa demands that you work out back in the garden today with Ma." There was great anger shown through his masculine features as if he objected to the order deeply, but like a servant to a king, he had no say in the matter.
I shrugged my shoulders, "Fine." If that fly of a man who stormed in here and tried to abuse me, thinks I will break under manual labor then truly in that head of his, the wheels are spinning but the hamster's dead.
My eyes fluttered over the bed and laid neatly in a pile was a white woolen chemise and light purple knitted sweater. Aaron must've left them there before he left. Following my eyes, Malachi beamed with joy, "Do you like them? I washed them myself for you."
Leaning forward, I picked up the sweater and rubbed the soft yet scratchy material between my fingers. It was thick and would keep me warm from the harsh wind. The color was a soft purple and would pair nicely with my brown locks. I could find no kind words to express, so I answered with a simple shrug of my shoulders.
Sighing, I used my arms and gingerly arose from the bed with uneven breaths, for there was not an ounce of my being that was not set ablaze with pain. If I was alone, surely, I would grant myself mercy enough to cry, but I refused to cry in front of the man who hurt me.
The man who caused me this pain...
As I slowly turned my back on Malachi, I could not contain my words, "So what did you do? After your fists grew tired, did you use a baseball bat?"
Gritting my teeth, I slowly tucked my arms behind my back and unclasped my bra.
"Why would you say that?" His breath was harsh as he grew in anger, "Have I not been kind to you? Have I not just stolen food for you? I would never harm you, Candy, and that's a promise."
My heart stilled for who was this man? I have known him for only a few days, and yet he is ready to just throw himself to the demons to protect me. However, the memory of him allowing his father to abuse me floats into my mind like a piece of wood caught in rapids.
"You have broken that promise before it was even made."
As the bra dirtied with blood and dirt began to slip down my arms, I spared a glance over my shoulder to see if he dared to look upon my bare body. But to my shock, he had also turned his back towards me as if to show that he respected me more than my body. I frowned for truly even Ryder wasn't a saint when it came to looking away from my naked body when it was set on display.
Who is this man? What kind of man turns away from a woman's body when it is offered to his eyes? What kind of man kidnaps a woman, and instead of acting out unspeakable acts upon her body, he nurses her back to life and tries to keep her alive within his bewildered family?
Truly, if I believed in love, which I don't, but if I did, this would be one heck of a beginning of a love story. Part of me that still longs to pick up a pen and write is screaming at me to add this to a book one day. But I simply silence that voice for how can I romanticize my enemy?
Love.
"I cannot control what Pa does, and I apologize for that, but you must understand that there are some things on this farm that you will never understand."
His words left me confused, for I desired to know everything about my prisoner, for to escape, I must find the weaknesses.
While the bra fell to the floor, I painfully slipped the chemise over my head and watched as it fell just above my ankles. It was sleeveless and left my arms bare. Gritting my teeth to try and distract myself from the overwhelming bodily pain, I lift and lower the sweater over my head and arms.
As the fabric brushed against my nose, I was engulfed with the scents of lavender and fresh roses. Truly captivated by the scents, as the sweater covered my upper body, I brought it back to my nose and inhaled the scents once more, for I have never smelt anything more enchanting; if this was a candle, it would be a best seller.
As light as a feather upon the skin, a finger traced my nape, and my breath stilled as his large form loomed over my own.
"I tried to match the scent to your own, but I believe I have failed for you smell better."
My body tenses beneath his touch, and my teeth gritted, for I feel like an animal trapped in a petting zoo. These men are acting like children who have never felt the wool of a sheep. However, even though my mind distains his touch like a mouse distains poison, my body was ravishing in it.
And I hate my body for the betrayal...
Siding stepping his monstrous body, I turned, and however, may it hurt, I straightened to stare him down.
"You said I have work, yes? So then why are you standing here gawking at me instead of showing me to the garden?"
Even though I was not thrilled about this newfound work, I would much rather spend my time with my hands in the earth, then stand here and be gawked at as if I were a portrait in an art gallery.
Tsking his tongue, his head shook in disbelief, "I apologize for the actions of my eyes, but when they are in the presence of pure beauty, they cannot look away."
I nearly wanted to snort, for I have not bathed in days, and my hair is dirtier than the manure in the fields. Therefore, I know dang well that my hair looks like a cat's been chewing on it without at least half-a-bottle of hair spray.
I'm not a hot mess, I'm a lukewarm mess...
Without any further words spoken between us, he tenderly snaked his immense and rough hand around my boney arm. Truly, it felt as if I were a mere doll next to him. If it was his desire, he could break every one of my bones with a snap of his fingers.
This realization should scare me to my bones or perhaps frighten me into submission. But like a bull standing before a red flag, I do not see my looming death, for all I see is an enemy and if he wants my life, he'll bloody have to fight for it. Death may be my single goal in life, but I wish to achieve this goal with my own two hands.
Shoving the old door open, Malachi dragged me from the shed. The early morning light felt like fire burning through my iris, and I could not contain the cat like hiss that passed from my lips. The shed offered little to no light, and therefore, my eyes had not been exposed to light since my failed escape.
With autumn shadowing the earth, the grass beneath my feet was slowly dying from the harsh weather. It felt strange underneath the bare soles of my feet, and it reflected on how I walked for Malachi caught sight of my stumbling form.
"The farmer's market is next week; I'll buy you some shoes then."
Those words were the last ones he spoke to me as he continued to drag me towards the cabin in the distance. But his words left me puzzled for truly where did he get these clothes? He mentioned having a mother, perhaps they are hers? However, I doubted that thought for these clothes were small and so child-like that it was nearly impossible to imagine an older woman wearing them.
My cheeks filled with air as I breathe out a deep breath for, I want to die so badly and yet everything around me is so determined to keep me alive that I feel as if I'm suffocating. Some will say I have a mental illness that is causing me to be so avid about death, maybe I do, or maybe I just can't live with the memory of cradling the body of my dead baby in my arms.
So, tell me, am I still crazy?
It felt like miles to reach the garden that is tucked behind the log cabin, but truly, it must've only been minutes. The closer we came to the garden; the more tense Malachi's hand became around my arm.
As if our bodies were joined, I felt his emotions rushing through my blood. He was anxious, angry, and sad. I felt almost disturbed to feel his emotions for to me; he is still a stranger.
He is still my prison...
Soon enough, we were turning sharply around the large cabin. The sun welcomed us with it's burning light, and I nearly felt as if I would faint from it's heated embrace upon my skin.
Malachi's steps began to slow as we approached a large garden. There was a fence that surrounded the garden. It was laced together with wood and chicken-wire. I suppose if I were to stand next to it, it would come to my waist, and climbing over it with it's sharp wire would be an ill-minded thing to do. Inside the garden laid many rows of vastly different vegetables. I was no expert on any form of growing food. Truly, however, even a child could point out tomatoes and carrots.
"This garden is older than even myself. When Pa and Ma first bought the farm, it was important to them to be as self-sufficient as they could. Hince the cows, garden, etc."
Walking alongside the outer fence of the garden, I peered over the fence and shockingly saw the kneeling form of a petit woman in the garden. She wore a baseball cap over her midnight black hair, and thick gardening gloves shielded her boney hands from the weeds she was ripping away from a row of potatoes.
A glimmer of hope cursed through my murky veins for perhaps she is a prisoner like myself. If so, we could form together and escape this nuthouse. However, I dared not to show such surprise and hope among my outer features for her back was facing me, and I could not read her body language.
Clearing his throat, Malachi unlatched the gate to the garden and pushed me into the small pen.
"Ma, this is Candy. Candy, this is Esther, my mother."