Eeny Meeny

31

Her fury was reaching fever pitch and she wanted to scream until her lungs burst. The last few days had been terrifying and confusing for Anna, but her mother’s refusal to talk to her now was making everything a million times worse.

When Ella had put the bag on her head, Anna’s first thought was that she would suffocate – she was unable to move her head at all and if her airways were covered then she would die a slow, inexorable death. But luckily the bag was loose-fitting and made of some kind of natural fibre, so she could breathe. Reprieved, she’d listened, straining to hear what was happening. Were they being robbed? Was her mother being murdered? But there was nothing, no sound at all apart from the front door being closed and the sound of the grille going on. Was it Ella going? Her mother going? Please, God, don’t leave me here alone like this, Anna prayed. But no one had answered her prayers and so she’d sat there, a little girl all alone, swathed in an awful darkness.

She sat like that for hours, then suddenly a blinding light as the bag was pulled off her head. She closed her eyes in pain, then slowly opened them, struggling to acclimatize to her freedom. Whilst she’d been sitting there she’d been imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios – the flat turned over, her mother murdered – but as she looked around now, everything seemed relatively… normal. Nothing had been taken and it was once more just her and her mother in the flat. At first Anna was relieved, waiting for Marie to explain that the mad woman had stolen some stuff and gone and that they were ok again. But her mother said nothing. Anna grunted and gasped for attention, whilst her eyes swivelled in their sockets, desperately trying to make eye contact. But Marie wouldn’t look at her. Why not? What had happened to make her too ashamed to look at her own daughter?

Anna started to cry once more. She was only fourteen – she didn’t know what this was all about. Yet her mother didn’t look up or try and comfort her. Instead she left the room. It was three, maybe four days since Ella had arrived and in that time her mother hadn’t said one meaningful thing to her. She’d read to her, taken her to the toilet, urged her to sleep but she hadn’t talked to her. Anna had never felt so unloved. And so utterly in the dark. She had always been a burden, Anna knew that, and had always loved her mother unreservedly for the patience, love and tenderness she showed her. But she hated her now. Hated her with all her heart for the cruelty she was inflicting on her.

She had gone beyond starving. Her stomach cramped constantly, she was light-headed, her mouth was so dry she could taste blood in it. But her mother refused to give her any food. Why? And why wasn’t she feeding herself? What the hell was going on!

A sound from the hall. A terrible battering and screaming. Fists pounding, her mother wailing. Suddenly Marie was back in the room. She marched straight past Anna, looking crazed and ragged.

She was opening the window. Because they were in a tower block, the windows were hinged in the middle and only opened a bit so you couldn’t throw yourself out – a smart move given the desperation of the inhabitants. But you could get a bit of a breeze on your face if that was what you wanted.

Now Marie was shouting, begging for help. Yelling for someone – anyone – to come and rescue them. And it was then that Anna knew. They were prisoners. That’s what her mother wasn’t telling her. Ella had locked them in, imprisoned them. They were trapped.

This was why her mother was shouting at the night. Hoping against hope that someone would pass by and hear her. That someone would care. But Anna knew from experience not to count on the kindness of strangers. As her mother slumped to the floor defeated, Marie finally realized that they were entombed in their own home.