Appetite for Innocence

by Lucinda Berry

“Was it before or after Ella lost the baby?” Blake asks. My stomach coils at the mention of the baby.

Omg :(

“We did it, Sarah! We did it. We’re pregnant.” He skipped around the kitchen like a little kid while I stared in amazement. I’d never seen him let his guard down and certainly never act giddy. What had she done to him?

He has a heightened interest in me. He’s increasing the odds of getting me pregnant by increasing the number of times he has sex with me every day. I hate it.

Every morning I take a pregnancy test. Each time it comes back negative, his face crumples in sadness. Until today.

They have fancy tech people who look at people’s profiles and they found a guy we were both friends with on Facebook and who followed us on Instagram. He didn’t use the same name but they connected him to us through his IP address.

He pretended to be a sixteen-year-old boy named Marcus on my accounts.

It’s also how he knew we were virgins. Vowing to stay a virgin is a big deal and we had posted pictures of our purity rings with the status update signaling the classic Christian promise, “True Love Waits,” after we’d had our commitment ceremonies.

The sickest part was that he’d been on the Facebook pages our parents created for us after we went missing. He’d even reached out and sent them condolences. He subscribed to be notified of any updates. Even though the FBI monitored the pages, there’d been nothing about him that stood out. Everything had checked out.

“His name isn’t John Smith. It’s Derek Hunt.

“He stopped because he was panhandling with his daughter. You—his daughter.”

Well, your father’s only condition was that Derek never bring you back.”

John was the only person who ever gave a shit about me. Ever!” Blake clasps his hands together in front of him as if he’s holding back the urge to clap. “That’s it. Now we’re finally getting somewhere.”

I’ve started punching my stomach during the day when he’s gone. I have to be careful about it. I can’t let Sarah see and I have to do it away from the cameras.

She appears immediately when he calls for her. She doesn’t unlock the door. “What?” she asks from the other side of the door. “I need to go to the bathroom.” She lets out a deep sigh. “I was right in the middle of Survivor. They’re just about to vote.” “Please? I don’t think I can wait. I really have to go.”

The fuck

“It’s Ella! Something’s wrong with Ella! You have to help her!” As soon as I say Ella, he starts to run. He’s pushing past me before I even finish my sentence.

“Okay. Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair over and over again. I’ve never seen him lose his composure. “Help me lift her out of the bed.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” I whisper to her while he’s gone. I don’t care if we’re not friends. Nobody should have to go through this. “I wish I could help you. I do.”

My mom still doesn’t know I’m the one who killed my baby.

I wasn’t surprised when the doctors told me I’d never be able to have children because there was too much damage inside me. Randy made her leave the room because she was crying so hard she couldn’t get herself together. I’m glad I can’t have children. I don’t want to bring a child into this world. I used to think the world was a good place. Now I know it was only a fairytale.

I promised John I’d never tell and keep all his secrets. I took my life before and locked it in a vault. There’s no key, and even if there was, I wouldn’t open it, but they keep insisting on prying it open.

For a second—only a second—I almost start to talk and tell her everything.

That filthy thing is gone. It’s no longer inside of me. My plan worked. John has no idea I did it to myself.

John isn’t any help. I’ve never seen him like this before. He hasn’t said anything about what happened. Nothing. He doesn’t ask about her or me.

I hope the reporters got my picture and flash it on the news. I want John to see where I am. He needs to know I’m still with them. He knows where Ella lives. I wonder how long it will take for him to come get me.

“Welcome Home Ella and Sarah.” This isn’t her home. It’s mine.

Jaycee’s face breaks through the crowd and she runs toward me with her arms out wide. I step back before she can grab me. I don’t know why. I just do it.

Sarah peeks her head in my door. “Do you want to come watch TV with me?” she asks. I look at her in disbelief. She’s never asked me to do anything with her.

I thought her friends would leave when she did, but they stayed close to me.

I look away for a second and that’s when he pounces. His teeth sink into my calf.

“The remains found at the crime scene have been positively identified as Paige. Her family was notified last night. It won’t be long until the media gets wind of it and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”

Omggggg

“Nice? I’m not nice?” I point to Sarah. “Do you know how mean she was to us?”

It doesn’t always make sense, but whatever Sarah did, she did it to survive.” “Seriously? She helped him. For years. She never stopped him.” I want to slap the tears off her face. How dare she cry for Paige now?

“Did she burn?” I ask. “We’re unsure how she died, but yes, her body was burned. We don’t know if she was dead prior to the fire or if it was the fire that killed her.” He struggles to keep the emotion out of his voice.

57 He’s not back. He’s supposed to be back and he’s not back. I have to do it. I don’t want to do it, but I promised him I would. I promised him if it ever came down to this, I’d do it.

I could press the intercom, but what would I say? Paige, you’re about to die. And then what? Maybe it’s better that I can’t warn her.

Over the years, the girls have always argued over stories they’ve heard about the walls being wired with bombs. I would never give them a definite answer, but the truth is—yes, they’re wired. They’re programmed to explode. I click yes. Instantly, a loud boom like a firecracker goes off downstairs. I run for the door and race down the stairs to the driveway.

Wow

Still no John. Where is he? He’s supposed to be here by now. We’re supposed to be gone. On our way to a faraway country with new names and identities. That’s what he said. What he promised.

Smh

but remember how I advised against this in the hospital?” I nod. She continues. “This is why. I was afraid having Sarah in your home would affect you like this. It must feel like you’re being violated all over again and in the space that was the most sacred to you.” “I hate it.” I almost choke on the words. “I hate it so much. I can’t stand that she’s here.

“I’m not. You didn’t kill her. Yes, she died in the fire, but you didn’t trigger the bombs by opening the door.”

It had to be Sarah or John.”

“Paige’s remains weren’t the only remains found on the property.”

My story is worse because my own father gave me to John. I keep telling them I don’t remember the day, but I do.

The man who liked to give us money at the shopping mall appeared.

Ella hates it when she calls her anything sweet. She yells at her every time she does, but I don’t mind. I like it. It makes me feel special.

“I’m fine,” she says. She doesn’t look fine. I know that look. I’ve seen it on her face before. She’s drunk.

They’re trying to put me back into my life, but I don’t fit. I’ve been disassembled and even though they think I’ve been put back together, I’m not. Parts are missing.

Blake whips around to stare at me, unable to hide his surprise. “Take your time. Don’t rush. Look again. Did you live with one of these men?” I lock my eyes on John, hoping he’s proud of me. “I’ve never seen any of these men.”

Damn

“How could she do that?” I cry. “It was him. I swear, it was him. I’m not lying.” “Shh. Shh,” Mom soothes, wrapping her arms tighter around me. “We know. We believe you.” She turns to look at Randy. “What would make her lie?” “Sarah’s bond with him is strong. In her mind, he took care of her. She’s convinced he loved her and she was a girl who was never shown love.

Her disappointment in me is so strong I can feel it. She turns to look at me. “Why did you do it?” I don’t have to ask what she’s talking about. “I don’t know.”

One night after a football game, he had a few beers at a party we went to afterward.” Her voice slows. The words fall further and further apart as she talks. “He forced himself on me that night. I kept trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t. It was like he was a different person. Afterward, he sobbed in my arms and told me how sorry he was.”