“He wants to know,” I say, feeling a little sick. Feeling my eyes fill up. Feeling powerless and hated and trapped all at once.

“He’s just anxious to start a family. That’s all.”

I snatch the tampons out of her hand. “Then when you tell him, make sure he knows how happy I am that he’ll be disappointed!” I spin around, wiping the back of my hand across my face to get rid of the idiotic tears that wet the skin around my eyes at this fresh humiliation. Because what did I expect? What did I think? That he felt bad about what he did that night he took me to the compound? The night he had me crawl naked on my hands and knees for everyone to see? I don’t even know who was there. Don’t know who saw me being led like a dog by my husband. Being fucked by my monster.

God.

I hate him. I hate my husband.

And the worst part, the stupidest part is that I don’t want to. That I thought—

Fuck!

I find my way back to the main part of the house and have to pause at the bottom of the stairs when a dizzy spell overtakes me. It’s always worse around my period. I clutch the handrail and hold on until it passes, ignoring the girl asking me if I’m okay. I squeeze my eyes shut and beg for it to pass quickly. Not to come until I’m back upstairs in my room. In my bed. Until these vultures won’t see more weakness to exploit.

“Ivy!” It’s Antonia.

“I’m fine!” I force myself to move, sweat making my grip on the wide handrail slippery as I concentrate on getting away. Just getting away. Not letting myself stop until I’m back in my room and in the bathroom, the only door with a lock on the inside where I drop to sit on the cold tile floor, my back against the door head between my knees, stupid tampons scattered at my feet.

30

Ivy

I lie in bed most of the day, staring at the rectangle of waning light coming into my room. I flushed some of the food Antonia brought down the toilet so she would think I ate and leave me alone. He’s managing that too. Probably getting daily reports. Hourly, maybe. He’s just controlling enough.

I am a body to him. A body he can humiliate and fuck and ultimately use to make babies. Then what? What happens when I’m all used up?

No. I don’t need to think about that. I know. He’s told me.

I turn over as the door opens. No knock. Mercedes strolls into my room like she owns the place.

“Well, aren’t you lazy,” she says, gaze condescending.