The quilt lay underneath Zoe undisturbed. It had been four hours since her step mother came into her room and said the words that cut through Zoe like a knife. It had been four hours since Zoe had first contemplated taking her own life as a solution for her tragic problems. It had been four hours for her to lie there, staring at the wall, holding Roger ever so tight and go back and forth on the decision to do it.
It was now two o’clock in the morning. The red numbers on the alarm clock next to her bed pierced the darkness. Zoe hadn’t had much of an appetite in the previous week but now she was finding her stomach growling like a caged tiger. Mulling over the consequences of the last journey from her room, Zoe decided the chances of everyone being sound asleep were good enough to venture forth to the kitchen.
Once in the hallway Zoe tip toed towards the kitchen with Roger in tow. She emerged from the end of the hallway, took a right and was at the opening of the kitchen within ten steps. Luckily for Zoe the multiple expensive appliances offered enough luminance through the dark for her to manage a path to the marble tile floor. The ground felt cold on her bare feet as she crossed from the carpet of the hall to the kitchen. Her hand traced over the long matching marble counter as she found her way to the double door refrigerator fixed against the back wall. Like all of the other appliances around her it was gleaming stainless steel.
Zoe reached for a handle on the front of the refrigerator but found nothing to grasp. Squinting her eyes and looking closer she found that except for a pencil thin line separating the two doors, the surface was totally flat. Stumped and still hungry Zoe made her way back to the long counter where she thought she had seen a basket of fruit. She found it there in the center of the marble, a perfect hand woven basket holding a variety of fruit. Zoe’s stomach grumbled when she saw what appeared to be a juicy red apple. Zoe snatched it quickly in her hands and found it to be slick and odd. She looked closer and realized that the apple was wax and out of the top hung a small wick.
Zoe frowned and set the apple imposter back in its home. Disappointed she decided to give up on her quest to relieve her hunger. Just as she was about to turn out of the kitchen she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. After her last experience from exploring the house she found herself stricken with fear and anxiety. She feared the passive, bitter sweet wrath of her step mother. But before she could move there now stood a shadowy figure at the end of the hallway and was taking its steps towards the kitchen. Out of pure instinct Zoe found herself shutting her eyes and cowering.
“Zoe? Is that you?” It was the voice of her father that rang through the darkness calling out to her. Zoe found herself slowly releasing from her tight ball of protection.
“Yea, it’s me dad,” she responded back to him. While the largest portion of her fear had subsided she found herself still a bit weary of letting herself feel totally comfortable.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” Her dad’s voice sounded weary and tired but also expressed concern.
“I don’t know…..I’m hungry I guess. I was trying to find something to eat but the refrigerator handle is broke, I think.” Zoe offered her explanation.
Zoe could hear her dad chuckle under his breath. He walked past her, wearing his navy blue flannel pajama pants and crisp white cotton t-shirt, and stopped in front of the fridge. He motioned her over with a small hand gesture. Zoe obeyed and walked over, standing next to her father. He pointed to the bottom of what appeared to be the right door of the steel obelisk. He placed his finger three inches to the left of the pinstripe line and pressed. The door released from its grasp and exhaled a deep breath of cold air.
A small awe of the obviously expensive technology was felt by Zoe but was soon replaced with a wonder why her dad needed the Jetson’s refrigerator. It, like everything in the house, seemed to all be put together for the simple purpose to impress others. Not to be practical but to be the talk of those who saw it. Zoe, who had spent the last couple years shopping for her and her mother and microwaving most of her dinners found herself just not feeling the need for all the hoopla.
While Zoe pondered what other domestic devices had secret hidden entry methods her father had removed a glass bottle of milk and a plate of cookie bars. He then placed his hand gently on Zoe’s back and guided her around to the other side of the countertop. There she found a row of wooden stools with puffy black cushions. Her dad pulled out one and let her sit first. Then he found his own sitting next to her. The hunger pains grew sharply as he pulled the plate of cookie bars in front of them. The graham cracker base was covered by a swirl of chocolate. Zoe’s mouth watered as she reached for her first one.
For the next five minutes the two sat in silence. Swallowing her second rich cookie bar Zoe’s stomach while now satisfied was telling her just how good some cold milk would be. After a quick scan of the counter she turned to her dad.
“We need glasses” she noted.
“No. No glasses,” he said rather bluntly. “This is my time. I come out here once a week. I get to be alone. I get to drink from the bottle. I get to be by myself.”
Zoe suddenly found herself assuming that her father was giving her a hint. She mumbled what was an attempt at a quick apology and started to get up from her stool.
“I wasn’t telling you to leave, kiddo. My time is now our time. It gives me a chance to share some cookies and milk with the daughter I haven’t seen nearly enough of lately,” He told her warmly.
Her father grabbed the large bottle of milk, his hand wrapping around the neck and he brought it to his lips. With a bend of the wrist he swallowed three large gulps. The bottle was then returned to the counter as he let out a soft belch. Zoe giggled a tiny bit as she looked up at her dad and saw a long white milk mustache above his upper lips.
“What?” He questioned feigning confusion and returning a big warm smile. Then he slid the bottle over to Zoe and nodded for her to take her own drink. Zoe placed her small hand on the neck of the bottle, her fingers barely wrapping halfway around. Her other hand found the bottom in order to lift it to her lips. She tilted the glass container and took a large chug of milk. The bottle once again found the table as Zoe’s small body let out a high pitched pip of a burp. Her father looked over at her and gave a hearty chuckle as he saw a massive matching milk mustache dripping from her lips.
* * *
The morning sun penetrated through the windows in Zoe’s room. It was now Sunday, eight hours after her late night dessert snack with her dad, and for the first time in a long time Zoe awoke with a feeling of hope. While that feeling was still very small it was doing a good job of distracting her from the dark emotions that overwhelmed her daily.
Rolling out of bed Zoe scanned her bedroom floor and found the same denim blue jeans she had worn the day before. With only a few pairs of pants Zoe often had no other choice but then to wear the same pants two or three days in a row. Today was no different. As she lifted the worn fabric from the ground something fell out of her pocket and bounced off the carpet. Reaching down, picking it up and examining it Zoe found herself looking at the lipstick from Gabrielle’s room.
“I have to give it back,” Zoe uttered groaning to herself out loud. Her head hung low as she held the cosmetic tube tightly in her palm. She realized there was no way she could make this journey alone. Quickly she snatched Roger up in her left arm and seized him to her side. She turned and made the slow journey from her room out into the hallway.
As Zoe walked she imagined Gabrielle’s response in her head. At worst Zoe predicted that her step sister would take the makeup back and command her to get out of her room. At best Zoe envisioned Gabrielle appreciating her honesty and welcoming her to use her makeup and extraordinary vanity anytime she wanted. Realistically Zoe knew that it was more likely to fall closer to the worst side.
The pounding of her heart felt like a jackhammer inside Zoe’s chest as she reached her step sister’s door. Making a loose fist she brought her hand up, flicked her wrist and using her knuckles tapped lightly on the door. The soft beat was followed by no reply so Zoe used a little more force this time increasing the volume of her knock.
“Come in,” came the voice of Gabrielle through the door.
Zoe, moving with the caution of a gazelle entering the den of a lioness, ever so slowly turned the handle and creaked the door open. The door crept open and Zoe could see her Gabrielle sitting on the bench in front of the vanity, looking into the mirror and brushing her perfect straight blonde hair. The two step sisters made eye contact through the mirror.
Gabrielle spoke first, “What do YOU want?”
The nerves inside Zoe’s stomach wound even tighter hearing the sharp tone of Gabrielle’s voice. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Regardless, she took a few steps into the room. Unsure of what to say and unclear if she would even have the clarity to form the words Zoe simply extended her arm out towards Gabrielle.
“I didn’t mean to….” Was all she could muster as her fingers lethargically crept off the tube of lipstick and revealed it in the palm of her hand. With her head bowed in shame Zoe could still see her step sister through the mirror. As soon as Gabrielle’s gaze came to the item in Zoe hands her eyes widened in shock and then quickly squinted in fury.
“You STOLE my makeup!?” Gabrielle accused Zoe as she shot up from the bench and turned to face Zoe.
“I was just looking at it and then….” Zoe’s soft, almost whisper like explanation was quickly cut out by Gabrielle’s harsh words.
“You were in MY room!? And you took MY makeup!? You ugly little brat! Just because you look like a troll doesn’t mean MY makeup will fix that. You’ll NEVER look like me. You’ll NEVER be me. You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re not even a member of this family. You’re father never loved you enough to see you and you’re only here because he felt sorry for you. You pathetic little loser. How would you like it if I took something of YOURS!?” Gabrielle’s words hit Zoe’s soul like poison arrows shot from point blank range. Zoe winced at each one, not feeling anger in return but instead she found herself feeling shame and emptiness. Gabrielle wasn’t finished. “Not that you have anything worth taking. Even your stupid little monkey is ugly. How would you like it if I took that? It might do you some good to grow up and not be such a baby carrying it around all the time.”
With Gabrielle’s last words she reached out, grabbed the dangling arm of Roger and pulled sharply. Zoe was caught off guard but came to her senses enough to catch the end of Roger’s leg and initiate an immediate case of tug o war over her purple, fluffy primate.
“Stop. You’ll hurt him.” Zoe pleaded with her step sister.
“Hurt him?! What are you? 6? He’s fake.” Gabrielle shot back.
“Please. Stop. I’ll never come in here again. Just let Roger go.” Zoe begged this time with her step sister, trying to secure her stuffed monkey and find solace in her own room.
“You bet your butt you’ll never come in here again! And this monkey is MINE now!” Gabrielle gave a heavy pull so strong it pulled Zoe forward two steps.
“LET GO!” Zoe shouted loud, in both anger and desperation as it was her turn to give Roger a mighty tug. Except when Zoe pulled Gabrielle didn’t come forward like she had. Instead there was a loud rip sound that pierced the air. The tension on Roger’s leg was gone as his body fell back to Zoe’s possession. It was missing an arm.
Zoe looked up and what happened before her took place in slow motion. It was almost like time slowed down as she watched Gabrielle lose her balance after Roger’s arm ripped off in her hand. Gabrielle stumbled backwards, flailing, unable to catch herself, but it was too late. Zoe watched in shock as Gabrielle fell back into the vanity, sending it crashing to the ground and falling on top of it. The glass of the mirror shattered and Gabrielle fell in a heap on top of it.
Before either girl could move there were two loud heavy set of feet running down the hall way. First to appear in the door way was Zoe’s father. He stared in awe of the sight before him. Second to arrive was Victoria, Zoe’s step mom, who upon seeing her baby girl lying on top of the broken vanity mirror let out a shriek of terror and horror. She shoved her husband aside and ran to her daughter.
“Zoe, what did you do?” were the first words to come out of her father’s mouth. Before Zoe could mutter an answer Victoria interjected.
“I’ll tell you what she did, Robert. She came in here to ask Gabrielle if she could use her makeup. When Gabrielle said no Zoe got so jealous and angry that she shoved poor Gabi right into the vanity. The vanity, by the way, that was one of a kind and will take me forever to replace.” Victoria’s baseless accusations came forth so freely. She had turned again to her daughter who was now sitting up. Gabrielle appeared to be fine save for her now messy hair and a two inch superficial cut on her left cheek. It was a cut so shallow that while it was red it couldn’t produce a single drop of blood.
“And look at my poor baby! That’s going to scar! I know it! I know it! Robert we have to take her to the emergency room. She may have internal injuries. I’m going to get her into the car. You take care of…..that girl,” Victoria seemingly refusing to refer to Zoe as Robert’s daughter.
Victoria helped Gabrielle to her feet and putting her daughter’s arm over her own shoulder, helped her out of the room. As they passed by Zoe, Victoria shot her a look of anger and bitterness. Once they were out of their room Zoe’s father turned and faced her.
“Zoe, is what Victoria said true?” Robert asked her softly and solemnly.
Shaken by the events of the last fifteen minutes Zoe struggled to find words. She became aware that it may appear she was trying to think of an excuse so she just babbling whatever she could get out.
“Dad…I just..I didn’t……” She was quickly interrupted.
“Don’t lie to me Zoe. Please. Do not lie to me,” Her dad immediately accused and commanded at the same time.
“But….but….I’m not lying,” Zoe stammered pitifully.
Zoe could see both growing anger and disappointment in her father’s eyes.
“Zoe, I want you to go to your room and stay there the rest of the night. I’m going to take Vicki and Gabi to the ER. Do NOT come out. And tomorrow is your first day of school and you ARE going. I don’t want to hear anything else about it. . I’m so disappointed in you. I really thought this could work Zoe. I really did. But now I’m starting to wonder maybe you’d be better off somewhere else.” her dad trailed off in such a disheartened tone that it almost brought tears to Zoe’s eyes. If she wasn’t already so empty inside it would have.
Slowly she walked past her father and turned down the hallway. She stopped just inside her door and looked once more back down the hallway. Her father stood with his head bowed under Gabrielle’s door frame.
“Dad……” Zoe attempted to communicate one last time.
“Just go to your room, Zoe,” her father spoke defeated.
As he turned and walked to the front door, Zoe slowly closed her own door behind her. Crawling into bed she laid Roger next to her. Lying on her side she traced her finger over the giant rip where his monkey arm used to be. Now it was torn. Just like me, she thought to herself.
Zoe wrapped him up in her arms and stared at the wall. She played back her recent memories in her head, starting with finding her mother dead in her own home. Slowly, darkness crept over Zoe’s heart. Slowly, feelings of emptiness, abandonment and loneliness swept over her. As the images in her head reached the present she found her heart and soul drowning in a sea of numbness.
Zoe finally was overcome. She finally reached her breaking point. The feelings inside her overcame her and she was convinced that she no longer had a place in this world. That the only person who truly ever loved her had died and that she wanted to follow her. As Zoe closed her eyes she had made up her mind. There was no turning back now. Tomorrow would be her last day on Earth. After school, she would return home and with everyone out of the house and all alone, she would take her own life.
