Autonomy: a novel

by A. R. Braun

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

  Lelila had torn out the kitchen door, also, but she’d come around the other side of the house. They’d ambushed her.

  Scout put her chin on her chest just over her breasts and prepared to pull a reverse head-butt, but Mack caught her shoulder, turning her around. He pulled her to him, her backside to his chest, his hard on throbbing in his pants over her ass.

  Are men ever not horny? Jesus Christ, give me a break!

  Double-team time. As soon as Scout bit into Mack’s hand and he yanked it away, Lelila, facing her, put her hand over Scout’s mouth. She slapped her every time she tried to bite her. Soon, oh lackaday, they were dragging her back toward the house.

  But what would they tell the mailman?

  “Sorry, sir, this is my retarded sister,” Mack said in his best be-my-buddy-buddy voice. “She’s bipolar, too, and she gets out and wreaks havoc sometimes.”

  Oh, you shit-stained tool.

  Just like that, her escaped had been foiled.

  The mailman still delivered his cargo. His face beet-red, his squinty eyes showed no sympathy for Scout. He was having a Monday, and this took the cake.

  “Let’s get her her medication,” Lelila said, his wing-woman joining in on the ruse. “Then she can take her nap.”

  As they dragged her through the threshold, the mailman wiped his face and barely managed a smile.

  “Woo-ee!” the postal carrier said. “Good luck calming your sister down.”

  Thanks for saving the day, “hero.”

  Scout sailed onto the living room floor after Lelila threw her, and the door slammed shut.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Scout knew by now that it was coming. Once inside, they kicked her while she was down. Painful thumps blasted the wind out of her, and again, she dry heaved. Lelila’s Skechers hit her right breast. She cried out.

  Scout couldn’t wait to go to the bathroom anymore. She’d been practically giving herself a bladder infection holding it in for so long. She had used the bottle a few times, but she let go on their living room carpet. The carpet-mite-infested butt ugly couldn’t get much worse.

  Mack kicked her so hard his male Skechers tennis shoe went up her ass, and Scout shrieked. Then he scowled at the piss staining the carpet. “Jesus H. Christ! Get that bitch to the bathroom!”

  Lelila blanched. “You pick her up. I’m not carrying her while she’s pissing like a racehorse.”

  Scout couldn’t believe her eyes when Mack kicked Lelila in her sex. The latter muttered “Oomph,” then doubled-over in pain.

  “Lazy bitch!” Mack picked Scout up by her underarms and hauled her into the bathroom. Yellow piss left a snail-trail, then dribbled onto the kitchen floor. He threw her on top of the toilet with a thump, hurting her backbone, and she squealed. “Do your business. Take a goddamn shit, too. I don’t want that landing on the floor.” He slammed the door.

  Scout burst into tears, knowing there was no escape with them double-teaming her. She keened over the impasse, being trapped in this hellhole, missing her mother and father. As she turned her head to the left, cockroaches squirmed in the sink, and she winced and shut her eyes. Her urine seemed to come out in liters, then gallons. Her shit burst out of her orifice so vehemently it hurt, as if she were being reamed.

  I know it’s impossible, but I’ve got to keep trying to escape.

  Scout looked around for a window and saw a small one, frosted glass, right above the bathtub, unfortunately too wan for her to crawl through.

  That’s my luck.

  Lelila and Mack carried on a scream-fest in the living room, and Scout tried to drown it out, instead concentrating on a futile escape effort.

  “You kicked me … in the vagina!”

  “I’m sorry, babe. That retard friend of yours is driving me nuts.”

  “She was right about you.”

  “I didn’t mean it, sweetness!”

  “I ought to move out and leave you to deal with her!”

  Yes, please do. One against one would suit me just fine.

  Scout looked over the bathroom, but there were no other means of escape.

  “Don’t make me kill you, babe!”

  “Fuck you!” The sound of a punch or a slap. “Take that, you cocksucker!”

  “Jesus jumped on a cross! You feel better now, you psycho bitch from hell?”

  Cursed silence followed. Hexed because Scout didn’t know if they were making up, planning to punish her or scheming to kill her, she groaned in terror. Her heartbeat sped up, causing drumming in her ears. In this situation, anything was possible. She had to find a way out of there.

  A rash was forming on her left forearm. She knew this to be the lack of food and a result of an improper insulin injection. She’d have to appeal to Lelila’s heart and get her to do it right, or at least let her do it herself. If she continued not eating, she could develop metabolic failure, or worse.

  Scout finished, wiped and flushed, then struggled to hobble across the bathroom—she was seeing stars again from lack of food—wrapped a towel around her fist and bashed in the window with repeated blows. Warm air flowed in like inside an oven.

  “Help! A couple kidnapped me and raped me!”

  Mack burst through the door with Lelila in tow. The latter’s eyes were soaked with tears. He reached into the bathtub, grabbed Scout around the waist and hauled her through the threshold.

  Lelila said, “Careful with her.”

  “Oh the hell with her, tryin’ to escape twice.”

  Scout thrashed in his grip. “I need to eat! I’m diabetic!”

  “I don’t give a fuck!” Mack hauled her down the stairs, her bare feet clomping on the wooden landing. “She’s gettin’ cuffed with no privileges till she calms down.”

  “You don’t understand! I could get kidney failure or have a seizure! I could even lose my legs.”

  “Then you fucking learn to behave,” he screamed. Mack threw her onto the bed. When he reached her, she punched and kicked at him with all she had, so he straddled her, pinning her arms down. “Lelila! Get your ass down here and help me hold her down!”

  “Hold her down yourself, vagina kicker!”

  Oh good, a clash among the demonic ranks.

  Scout continued to thrash and flail. “I could have a seizure or a heart attack! I could go into a coma!”

  “Who said?” Mack asked.

  “My doctor, you horse’s ass!”

  “She gave you your damn injection!”

  “She did it wrong!”

  Mack clamped her into the handcuffs and bound her legs at the ankles. Lelila walked down the basement steps with her hand over her mouth and wet eyes. Mack got off Scout and stood by the bed, taking the gun out from beneath his pants and shirt, the latter soaked with sweat.

  He waved the gun. “We’ve gotta set up some rules. If you’re going to eat and get a proper injection, you don’t try to escape, you don’t scream and you certainly don’t break our fucking window and piss on the floor, got it?”

  Scout strained at the restraints. “Fuck you! I hope you die, motherfucker! You’re going to hell. What about your God?”

  Mack shook his head and walked away. He stopped before Lelila, pointing at Scout with the gun. “She doesn’t get any food and she doesn’t get to go to the bathroom till tomorrow. I’ve gotta go buy a window and rent a motherfucking rug doctor.”

  Lelila watched him with wide eyes. He leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. Something to the effect of “It won’t happen again” and “I love you,” probably. She harrumphed. Obviously, she’d about had enough.

  Scout hoped they killed each other, preferably when she wasn’t in handcuffs.

  “I mean it, babe,” Mack went on. “You’re my heart.”

  Lelila nodded and—insanely!—gave him a peck on the lips. Then he clomped up the stairs.

  “Put the duct tape on her mouth,” Mack cried from the top of the landing. “I fucking forgot.”

  The
room had become a sweatbox. Slicked with perspiration, Scout licked her lips. She had to try to bond with this wacko now that Mack had pissed Lelila off, though she wanted to kill her “bestie,” too. All in good time.

  Lelila pinned her with her eyes. She power-walked over to the bed and knelt beside her, taking her hand, which made no sense, it being cuffed. “Are you okay?”

  Scout raised her head from the pillow. “No. I need a fan down here. Air conditioning would be even better.”

  Lelila nodded. “I’ll get you one.”

  Go on, bond with the bitch. This may be your only chance. But first, a little sustenance.

  “Lelila, please, I need some food and water. I need a proper injection. Look at the rash on my forearm. It could get worse without a meal and another shot. I could have kidney failure, a seizure, a heart attack or go into a coma.”

  Lelila’s eyes went wide. She nodded and pitter-pattered upstairs. “Be right back.”

  Oh, thank God. Scout tried to work up enough spit to keep from gagging, but failed and retched anyway. As soon as she brings the food and insulin pen, get in good with her so she’ll let you out of here while Mack’s gone.

  About ten minutes later, Lelila huffed while carrying food and a bottle of water on a tray with one hand and a fan with another. She set the fan down and walked toward her with the food. She’d brought her a ham sandwich, and apple, a banana, a yogurt cup and a bottle of water, God bless her. Well, not really. Lelila uncuffed her wrists.

  “Here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Fuck you.

  Lelila’s eyes were troubled until she turned around and walked back over to the fan, plugging it in and directing it Scout’s way, as close as possible with the short cord. Blessed breeze uplifted her.

  Lelila knelt by the bed, putting her face in her hands. “Oh God,” she whispered.

  Scout ravenously devoured the food, but stopped taking bites and pulled on the bottled water. She drew a deep breath. Don’t screw this up. “I’m sorry he kicked you.” I’m sorry you’re not dead. “The bastard.”

  Lelila looked at her, eyes alight. She smiled. “You were right about him. He’s no good.”

  Scout had returned to the food. With her mouth full: “Please give me an injection, and do it right this time.”

  Lelila nodded. She dug into Scout’s purse and retrieved the insulin pen. “What’s the proper way?”

  “You have to prime it. Take the old needle out and put in a new one. It’s in my kit. It’s the little brown purse within a purse.”

  Lelila retrieved it and pulled the zipper open. “I’m sorry I was bi.” She opened the kit, inspecting it. She pulled out the old needle and inserted a new one, thank God. “I was drunk, and I didn’t know—”

  “You squeeze two to five units into a sink to make sure it isn’t clogged.”

  “Okie-doke.” Lelila walked over to the sink by the washer and dryer and did so.

  Horrible fear and uncertainty before she asked this question: “Is there any more? When you left the old needle in the pen, the insulin might have evaporated.”

  She shook it. “Feels like there’s some in there.”

  Thank goodness.

  “Now pinch my thumb and stick me, but count to eight seconds before you pull it out.”

  “Or what?”

  Scout sighed. “Or I won’t get enough of a dose.”

  Lelila furrowed her brow at her. “Jesus, diabetes is complicated.”

  Like I asked for the disease.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Great glory and hallelujah, Lelila did it right, even counting 1,001 through eight out loud. Sweet relief flooded Scout’s system, and her breathing slowed. Her heart quit pounding out blastbeats. Lelila put the pen in the kit. She whipped out another gadget. “What’s this?”

  “My glucose meter. I need that, too.”

  “Sure.” Lelila put the kit by her belly.

  “Empty everything out of the kit,” Scout said. “You have to prime it. Place the test strip inside the glucose meter. That turns it on. Squeeze a small drop of the test solution onto the test strip. Make sure the number that shows up on the glucose meter is in the range of the test-strip container.”

  Lelila did so. “It’s 120.”

  “Then it’s working. Open the lancing device—yeah, that one—and put a needle in. Twist the cap off the needle. Don’t dare touch the needle. Put the cover back on. Adjust the cap of the lancing device till it says ‘two’.”

  “Okay, got it.”

  “Get a test strip from the bottle and put the cap back. Place the strip in the meter.”

  Lelila sighed. “Damn! This shit is hard!”

  “Yeah-huh. Match the code on the meter screen with the code on the test strip. The code is printed on the test-strip bottle. When the test-strip symbol flashes on the screen, it’s ready for my blood.”

  “Okay, gotcha.”

  Scout explained the rest of the obsequious duty, and Lelila caught on and proceeded.

  “All right, that’s it,” Scout said.

  “Damn!” Lelila said. “Have to be a rocket scientist to use this thing.”

  Scout sighed.

  Not really.

  Lelila put everything back into the kit. “Mack can be such a jerk.” She returned the kit to the purse.

  Scout finished her lunch, practically inhaling it. One thing at a time. She locked eyes with her. “He kicked you in your vagina. He’s dangerous. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Lelila took her tray and looked at her cross-eyed. “I don’t know. Mack thinks you’re dangerous. You fucked me up that one time.” She locked Scout’s wrists in the cuffs.

  Scout shook her head emphatically, her arms already cramping from the cuffs. “No, I won’t attack you again. I promise.” She squirmed within at having to say this to her rapist: “We’re … besties, remember?”

  Lelila shook her head. “I don’t think so. Look, I need to go upstairs to think about things.” She gathered up the diabetes supplies, tray, plate and glass, then turned to leave.

  “Lel’? Please let me out of these handcuffs. Please?”

  Lelila looked over her shoulder. The girl was so gorgeous. Scout hated herself for admiring her. “No, you tried to escape. Quit pleading. You got your meal and injection, okay? I need time to think.”

  With that she was gone.

  Scout dropped her head onto the pillow, closed her eyes and sobbed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “The fuck you give her a fan for?”

  Scout had cried herself to sleep, but it seemed the second her head hit the pillow, Mack’s shouting had woken her up. He turned off the fan, then ripped the plug out of the wall and hefted it away. Dreadfully, the sweltering June day slicked Scout with sweat. Lelila came down the stairs with her pinkie in her mouth.

  “You feed her, too? Give her an injection?”

  Lelila shook her head.

  Mack pointed Scout out. “She doesn’t get any privileges for trying to escape. None. Nada. Until she starts cooperating”.

  That did it. “I’ll behave! Please!”

  Mack glowered at her. “Shut up.”

  “I have to have my food, water and injections,” Scout said, wincing after it came out as a whine.

  His evil eyes pierced her again. “Then you’ll goddamn well behave. Starting tomorrow, when we let you go to the bathroom, if you’re good and don’t run, you’ll get your meals and injections.” He turned his head to glower at Lelila. “That is, if you didn’t sweet-talk my girl here into giving them to you already.”

  Lelila dropped her arms, looking at Mack. “We need to talk. Upstairs.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “’Bout what you did. And yeah, I did give her the injection. She needs it or she’ll die.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I already apologized for … you know.”

  For kicking her in the crotch. Say it, you douche.

  “We still need to talk. No
w would be a good time.”

  Get him, Lelila. Oh, please God, turn them against each other and make it easier for me to escape.

  Scout’s arms had already gone numb from the handcuffs. She wriggled them to try to get feeling back into them.

  Mack nodded. “Whatever.” He followed her up the stairs.

  ***

  Scout napped until the evening. She woke to a horrid pain in her ear. She shook her head violently. What had they stuck up her ear?

  Then she horridly knew.

  Feelers and little legs writhed around her eardrum. A cockroach had crawled into her ear! Scout shrieked.

  Mack and Lelila walked down the stairs—oh God!—holding hands. Scout continued screaming.

  Lelila pointed at Scout. “WTF?”

  Mack pointed her out. “I thought I told you to behave.”

  “There’s a goddamn cockroach in my ear! Get it out, get it out!”

  Mack put his hand over his mouth. “Oh Jesus.”

  Lelila broke free of his grip and ran upstairs. After a few minutes, she sprinted down the landing and over to Scout. Holding tweezers, she bent down to her ear. “It’s not too far in. I see it.”

  “Good,” Mack answered, “then we don’t have to pour oil in her ear and take her to the E.R.” He caught Lelila’s stare. “I saw it on the weather channel.”

  “Fucking where?” Lelila asked.

  “He-llo,” Scout cried.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mack answered. He gesticulated her way. “Take care of that.”

  “Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!”

  “All right,” Lelila answered. “Hold still.”

  Scout shut her eyes, as if that would help.

  Lord, please take me now! I can’t stand it anymore!

  The hard shell twisted and brought sharp pain, causing Scout to squeal, then it was gone.

  “Got it.” Lelila threw it onto the floor and shuddered when it crawled away.

  Insanely, Mack bent down and picked it up, then looked at Scout … and busted out laughing. “That’s hilarious!”

  Scout bawled as Lelila stroked her hair.

  “It’s gone, bestie. Don’t cry.”

  Mack threw it onto the floor and stomped it underfoot. It crunched like a person eating a potato chip. “Actually, it was a beetle, or maybe a water bug.”