To Heal in Brooklyn’s Sunlight

My fall had sent the contents scattering even further.

Caspian grabbed the back of my collar, and with a vicious tear, the fabric gave way, shredding into rags.

It was the same shirt I'd worn yesterday; two years of neglect had made it fragile enough to tear at the slightest pull.

"Mr. Hale, please have some self-respect," I said, my voice sharp as I clutched the torn fabric to my chest. The cool air on my exposed back made me tremble.

But that was the only shirt I had left. I hadn't had a chance to buy a new one.

How was I supposed to go out and buy new clothes looking like this?

However, Caspian's attention was on the crisscrossing scars on my back. "What happened to your back?"

"I was disobedient, so a counselor tased me with an electric baton," I said, my tone so casual it was as if I were talking about someone else.

"Serves you right," Caspian bit out, then turned on his heel and left.

I glanced at my back, covered with countless new and old scars, like an ugly map.

They were the marks left by the electric baton and restraint straps.

The most recent scar was probably from a few days ago. I had already forgotten which day exactly.

The newest one hadn’t even fully healed.

I walked to the closet and found a dust-covered shirt.

I shook the dust from it and put it on without a second thought.

After a while, I felt an itch on my back near the wound.

It was probably getting infected.

As I was going out to buy clothes, Caspian came back again.

What was he back for? To watch me suffer?

He tossed a clean shirt at me. "Put this on."

I refused. After all, he had a fiancée. It wasn't appropriate for him to buy clothes for another girl, right?

Wait, two years had passed. Wasn’t she his wife by now? Not my business, I reminded myself.

Caspian pulled me back into the house.

I sat obediently in a chair.

Caspian took out alcohol and ointment to clean my back. His fingers brushed against my skin, their heat so jarring I almost flinched away. Every swipe of the cotton ball felt like a violation, awakening a dormant terror deep inside me.

The alcohol bit into my raw flesh, but I remained silent.

What was this sting compared to the agony I had already endured?

"I'm curious, how did this scar get on your stomach?" Caspian pointed to a particularly ugly horizontal scar on my stomach.

It was less on my stomach and more on my lower belly.

I shook my head, indicating I didn't know.

"Why did they hit you?" Caspian asked as he straightened my shirt.

I had changed into a new shirt.

"Because I was disobedient," I added quickly, as if afraid he wouldn't believe me, "but don't worry, I'm very obedient now."

"Why were you disobedient?" He didn't seem to get the answer he wanted and asked again.

"I dropped a single grain of rice during a meal, and a counselor saw," I recited, making my voice as placid and submissive as possible.

Caspian frowned and said nothing.

I glanced at him, unsure of what he was thinking.

After a long silence, he slowly spoke.

"Besides your back, did they touch you anywhere else?"

I shook my head to say no.

The truth was, they hit whatever they could. I always curled into a ball, so my back took the brunt of it.

"It's getting late, you should go back." I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him. The air felt too thin to breathe.

And, without realizing it, it had already grown dark outside.

"You're right, it's late," Caspian said after a moment. "I won't be going back tonight."

I hadn't eaten since having breakfast at Caspian's place.

I took out the vegetables I had bought at noon, lit the stove, and made a simple meal.

Thankfully, Grandpa had barely used the gas stove, otherwise, I would have starved.

"This isn't the sanatorium. You don't have to eat so fast," I heard Caspian's voice as I was concentrating on my meal.