In the House of Spite Ch. 19

Nope. Not at all.

"Yeah," Pearl said, "I'm done eating." She brought her plate and can over to the door, which was soon unlocked. Catalina took everything from her and locked Pearl back up.

More coughing.

One of her sinuses felt swollen.

Great. Just fucking great. If she was sick, then it was likely that Darren was sick too. That would mess up his ability to find her. Reese always had any illness Darren had. His sense of smell would be impacted by even a cold. If this illness was bad enough to be like a flu, then Pearl knew she'd be in even worse trouble. Darren would have little choice but to rest for a few days.

Pearl sat back down on the bed and tried to massage the space around her nose with her fingertips. It didn't really help.

Maybe Shawn wouldn't demand sex if he knew she might be sick.

Her shoulder jerked up in a lonely shrug.

She spent the next bundle of hours alone and full of ambivalent feelings. She didn't like essentially waiting for anything to happen. She also didn't want anything to happen. Anything could mean something good, but it could also mean something wildly horrifying. The ideas of getting raped, tortured, or both were still likely possibilities. Most of her time was spent either coloring or playing video games. Sometimes she got up to pace about.

Pearl had to turn on one of the lamps because of the darkening sky. There was another knock on the door. It frightened her a bit, making her hop in place. Shawn's voice, or she assumed it was (it sounded so much like Darren) went through the wood. "Hey, Sweetheart. Catalina's been gone for a while. I had to make you supper."

With a wavering, uncertain tone, Pearl said, "Oh. Okay."

"I'm coming in," he said in what was like a cheerful warning.

Pearl went to the chair at the desk and sat down. "Sure."

The door was unlocked, then opened. With a relaxed smile, Shawn entered the room with a tray loaded with stuff. A glass of sweet tea (always served cold even in winter). Red cabbage and broccoli that had been fried in soy sauce. A slice of cornbread. A pile of macaroni and cheese. And two fried chicken legs.

Of course he was a decent cook.

Pearl wanted to roll her eyes, but thought against it.

Vaguely, she remembered a far off time when Darren had jokingly insisted that anyone, man or woman, that had been raised by a working class southern Black woman had to learn how to cook. In all fairness, Pearl didn't know how accurately that represented most Black mothers in the south. She only knew what Darren had said, and his mother was an individual. She wasn't the Empress of Black people.

Shawn put the tray on emptiest spot on the desk. Pearl chose this moment to really let herself cough, not that she needed much encouragement. She even put the back of one hand against her brow and trembled.

"Oh no," the man said with all the gentleness of a highly professional and kind nurse, "are you sick? Let me see." He put both of his large palm on her cheeks, covering most of her face. Pearl turned her eyes away. She hated looking up at this creep and seeing what looked like Darren. It confused her stupid brain. One of the man's longer fingernails tapped on her jaw as he said, "You're not hot, but I'll get someone to pick up pills for you."

Please, she thought, please let them be ordinary meds from a Dollar General, fresh and unbroken seals and perfect plastic containers! Pearl didn't put all her trust in the meds one could get in USA but she wasn't about to pop any pills from a shady, unmarked container that might be from the Mexican black markets.

Shawn stepped away to sit on the bed and watch her quietly eat. It was like he understood that she was uncomfortable with the situation and didn't want to piss her off anymore than he'd already done. The concept almost put a seed of hope in her heart. She didn't linger with that, however. It was never wise to underestimate the enemy. Overestimating was a much safer option.

When Pearl had a mostly clean plate (she wasn't about to eat any bones) and an empty drinking glass, Shawn got up and asked, "Are you full?"

She nodded.

He went to pick the tray up. "Okay. I'm going downstairs. Holler if you need anything." He left the room and locked the door again.

He never made a threat. He never held her down. He never raised a hand nor claw.

He didn't need to. He knew he didn't need to.

Pearl was able to feel a splinter's worth of relief. Any possible damage to her body would be minimized with this strategy. Darren might've been proud had he been able to witness it all, furious and wanting to kill someone, but still proud that Pearl was keeping her temper down.

Still, being a damsel in distress was a frightening thing.

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