Simmer: An Inferno World Novella by Measha Stone

Author:Measha Stone [Stone, Measha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Heart Publications
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

“I swear, I swept it. I swept it,” Nicolette whimpers as I haul her across the yard to the shed. The sun’s hidden behind the trees, making the night air crisp.

“It doesn’t matter, Nicolette,” I say. It won’t comfort her, but there’s nothing that will make her next twenty-four hours comfortable. Hopefully, it’s just a day. If Mark can soothe Papa, it will help her.

“Please,” she whispers as I remove the padlock and yank the wooden door to the shed open. The smells immediately hits me through the pitch black. It’s the one building we aren’t allowed to clean. Years of piss and shit have stained the air in the enclosure.

“Nicolette, remove your dress.” I let her go and grab the small flashlight hanging outside the room, needing to see what I’m doing.

“Elijah.” The way she says my name crushes me. Like she wants me to save her. But we both know that can’t happen.

“Your dress.” I swing the flashlight to her face. The light shines against her wet cheeks, her eyes wide with pleas that have to go unanswered. Papa will think I’m weak if I don’t go through with his order. He’ll think she has me wrapped around her finger. “Now!” I bark out. Doesn’t she understand how bad things will get for us both?

She rushes into action, pulling her dress over her head. I take it from her and jam it on the hook outside the door.

“Let’s go.” I grab her arm and haul her inside.

There’s enough room for us to stand together with our arms touching. I point with the light to where she needs to be, and she shuffles across the dirt floor to the very place I was only a few shorts days before, a sob breaking free.

She’s quiet as she moves into the corner, her arms wrapped around her stomach. I locate the chain and follow it down to the end with the iron collar. It’s heavy in my hands, and I know from too much experience the weight of it around the neck.

I put the end of the travel flashlight into my mouth and use both my hands to snap the collar around her thin neck. She winces as the metal scrapes and the lock clicks in place. Another tear slips down her cheek.

“Hands,” I say around the flashlight, picking up the chain to her left. Each cuff fastens easily around her slender wrists. They used to slip off her, but Papa fixed them to adjust to her size.

When I have her settled, I step back and look her over, my back pressed against the opposite wall. It would only take lifting my arm a few inches to touch her. The chains will keep her in place. She can sit if she wants, but there isn’t enough room to lay down. Even if there was, the pressure from the collar pulling her back would be uncomfortable.

Being put away in the shed helps us focus on what we’ve done to disappoint Papa. We have to think hard about our behavior and how we’re going to make it better.

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