Appetite for Innocence: A Dark Psychological Thriller

by Lucinda Berry

  (NOW)

  I wake to blinding fluorescent lights. My throat is on fire. I turn my head to the left. Mom is sitting next to my bed. I’m in the hospital. How did I get in the hospital again? My movements startle my mom. She scoots her chair closer to the bed. She rubs my cheek with the back of her hand.

  “Hi... you’re awake.” Emotion thickens her voice.

  “What happened?” I croak. It hurts to talk.

  “You tried to kill yourself.” Pain etches her face.

  It all comes flooding back. The sleeping pills and mouth wash, but I didn’t try to kill myself. I just wanted to numb out. I shake my head, “No, I didn’t.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “Well, it certainly looked like you did. You took a bunch of sleeping pills and drank mouthwash.”

  “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

  “Then, what were you doing?” Randy’s voice breaks into our conversation and she moves into view.

  I should’ve known she’d be here. It’s just like before.

  “We found the empty liquor bottles under your bed.” She glances over at Mom.

  I start to cry.

  “That’s a lot of alcohol,” Randy says.

  “Have you been drinking every day?” Mom asks like she’s not sure she wants to know the answer.

  I nod. I’m crying too hard to talk.

  Mom grabs my hand, careful not to jerk out the IV, and squeezes it tightly. “We can get through this. We can. We’re going to be okay,” she says with conviction.

  I pull my hand out of hers. “Stop saying that! Please, stop saying that. Stop acting like it happened to us. It didn’t happen to us! It happened to me! I’m the one he took! He tortured me—not you. He raped me, Mom. He didn’t do anything to you!”

  My entire body shakes with sobs. Mom looks like I slapped her. She reaches up to touch her cheek as if she’s searching for a mark.

  “Good. Good,” Randy coaxes. “Tell her how you feel, Ella. Let it out.”

  “I hate being at home. Hate it! I drink every single day because it’s the only way I can stand it.” I sit upright in the bed and point my finger at Mom. “You won’t make her leave. All I want is for her to leave. Do you know how awful she was? Your second daughter?”

  Mom is weeping now, but I can’t stop.

  “She helped him! And she liked it. She never tried to help us. Not once. Not any of us. Do you know how many of us there are?”

  Randy is beside me now. She places her hand on my back for support.

  “He was a monster and she is too. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care how sorry you feel for her and her sad little life. Every time I look at her—I see him. His face. And you cuddle and laugh with her like you’re best friends.”

  Mom hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake.

  I slide up against the wall behind me. Spent. Exhausted. Depleted.

  “I’m so proud of you, Ella,” Randy says.

  She waits for a few minutes before walking over to Mom. She kneels beside her chair, puts her hand on her back, and speaks in a soft voice. “I know this is hard to hear, but you have to take it in. You have to listen to what she’s saying. Really listen.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She leaves her head buried in her hands. “I almost lost you again. It would’ve been my fault.” When her sobs subside and she looks up, it’s like she’s seeing me for the first time. Not the Ella she knew before, but the Ella I am now. “I don’t know what to do. How do I make it better?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “She has to leave.”

  SARAH

  (NOW)

  I’ve been waiting all night for Jocelyn to get home and it’s taking forever. She sent her friend Greta to stay with me like I needed a babysitter. It feels weird to be in the house without her. We’ve been watching TV for the last two hours, but I’m not even paying attention to what’s on. I can’t. It’s another hour before she comes home and when she does, I’ve never seen her look so wrecked.

  She and Greta chat quickly in the kitchen before Greta leaves. She walks into the living room and sits down next to me on the couch. She turns the TV off.

  “We need to talk,” she says.

  “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

  I’d do anything for Jocelyn. She’s done so much for me.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “This is really hard for me. Did you know Ella has been drinking since she’s been home?”

  What do I say? If I say I knew then she’ll wonder why I didn’t tell her. She’ll think she can’t trust me. She has to trust me.

  “She was drinking?” I ask, doing my best to feign surprise.

  “Yes. Every day since she’s been back.” Her eyes are so sad. She’s never looked so sad. “She’s having a very difficult time adjusting to being back. Much harder than I even knew.” She stops looking at me. She shifts her gaze to the fireplace, staring at the pictures on top of the mantle. “I’m so sorry...”

  What’s she sorry for? She doesn’t need to apologize. She hasn’t done anything to me. She’s the only person who’s ever been good to me.

  “I really thought I was doing a good thing. I just wanted to make things right. It’s all I wanted.” Her eyes are wet.

  She’s not making any sense. She needs to get some rest. This is all really taking a toll on her. Why does Ella have to be so weak? I was wrong about her being a fighter.

  “Maybe you should just go to bed. You look tired,” I interrupt.

  She lets out a deep sigh. “I thought this would be the easy part—the getting better part. I never thought it would be so difficult.”

  I reach out and place my hand on top of hers. I want to comfort her the way she always comforts me. She places her hand on top of mine and turns to look at me.

  “When I found out about your childhood while we were in the hospital and that you were going to have to go into the foster care system, it broke my heart. It literally broke my heart.” Her voice cracks. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of you being shuffled around and not knowing if you had someone to really love and take care of you. I hope I’ve been able to show you that since you’ve been here.”

  “Jocelyn, you have. You’ve been so good to me.” I look deep into her eyes, hoping she can see that I’m telling the truth. Why is she beating herself up so much?

  She wipes her eyes. “Thank you.” She turns to look at me. “Having you here has been very difficult for Ella. Randy told me it might be, but I didn’t believe her. I thought it’d be good for her. Good for both of you to be together. I thought you’d be able to help each other. Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked out that way.”

  Hasn’t she seen the way I’ve tried to help Ella? I was the one who was able to get her dressed for the photo shoot. She never would’ve done it if it hadn’t been for me. It’s not my fault Ella is so stubborn.

  She clears her throat. Clears it again. “Ella can’t move forward with you here. I’m so sorry. She doesn’t feel safe with you because it reminds her of everything that happened and she needs to feel safe. She can’t get better if she doesn’t feel safe. I’m so sorry.”

  All the air gets sucked out of the room.

  “Wh–what are you saying?” I can’t wrap my brain around what’s happening.

  “Randy is looking into finding a foster home for you. She says there’s some really good homes that work with teenage girls who’ve been through similar experiences–”

  “I have to leave? You’re making me leave?” Everything is spinning. I can’t believe it. I didn’t even do anything wrong.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” she cries. “We can still stay in touch. I want you to know I’m always going to be here for you.”

  “I have to leave?” I ask again, still shocked.

  She struggles to say the words, but she does. “Yes, you’re going to have to leave.”

  ELLA

  (NOW)

  For the first time since I escaped, I can breathe witho
ut feeling like I’m going to choke on the air. Mom told Sarah she had to leave last night. She cried about it this morning, but Randy assured her she was doing the right thing even if it’s painful. It didn’t seem to make Mom feel better, but she understands that Sarah needs to leave and says she’d never forgive herself if something happened to me because she didn’t make her go.

  It’s going to be awkward at the house for the next two days. Randy thinks she’s found a foster home for Sarah, but all the paperwork won’t be done until Thursday. I’d rather stay in the hospital until she’s gone for good, but the doctors are going to discharge me this afternoon.

  They say I overdosed on the mouthwash and sleeping pills. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m still not sure Mom believes me. Part of her thinks I was really trying to kill myself no matter how many times I tell her I wasn’t. I didn’t want to die, at least I don’t think so. I just didn’t want to feel anything. Everything was just too heavy.

  I’m glad I was unconscious when I got here because they had to pump my stomach and it sounds terrible. The last thing I remember is the taste of Scope in my mouth and the next thing I was waking up here. For a split second, I thought it was all a dream and I’d never gone home. But it was real.

  I can handle two more days with Sarah if it means once she’s gone, I never have to see her again. It’s not like I want bad things to happen to her. I hope wherever they send her, it’s a place where people can help her. I just don’t want any part of it.

  We get to ride in the car by ourselves on the way home from the hospital. It feels strange, but normal. I can’t help but think of all our morning rides to school. Even though I could’ve rode the bus, Mom always insisted on driving me. I have to get to school earlier than I would if she didn’t, but I’ve never minded. Mom’s silent as we drive. She’s lost in her own thoughts. I don’t mind the quiet. It feels good not to have to fill up the space. It isn’t long before we turn onto our street.

  “What’s she been doing all day?” I ask.

  “She was really upset last night after I told her. She got really angry and said I was just like everyone else. That I never really cared about her because if I did, there’s no way I could do this to her.” Her face is lined with pain. “She stormed up to her room and didn’t come out for the rest of the night. She didn’t even let me in when I knocked to tell her good night. But it’s been a little strange today.”

  “How so?”

  “She was in the kitchen making coffee this morning like nothing happened. She didn’t even bring it up. She hasn’t said anything about it all day. I think she might be in denial about the whole thing. I asked Randy about it and she said that’s probably what was going on. I’ve never been so grateful for Randy than I was today. She was a huge help for me. I should’ve listened to her all along and I wouldn’t have added to her pain. Or yours.”

  We pull into the driveway. We don’t get out even after she’s shut off the car.

  Mom turns to look at me. “I’m sorry, Ella. I should’ve listened to what you needed. I promise from now on, I’m going to listen to what you need.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I still love you.”

  “I love you, too. So much.”

  She gives me a huge hug before we head into the house.

  SARAH

  (NOW)

  Jocelyn and Ella look shocked when they come in the door and see the table filled with food. I spent all afternoon cooking for them. We’ve been eating leftovers and frozen casseroles from things people brought for us, but I figured it was time we had a real home-cooked meal. It felt good to be in the kitchen cooking again. It’d been a long time. Their kitchen is so much smaller than what I’m used to, but I was able to make it work.

  “Hi, Sarah. You cooked?” Jocelyn raises her eyebrows.

  I smile. “I did. I figured you guys would be hungry and hospital food is terrible.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” Ella says.

  Jocelyn shoots her a pointed look. “You should try to eat something.”

  Ella glares at her, but sits down.

  We haven’t ever sat around the table with just the three of us before. I fill their water while they pass the food around. Ella barely takes anything but Jocelyn fills her plate. I appreciate the gesture.

  Randy is coming over in the morning to discuss what happens to me next. She wants to show me pictures of the family I’ll be living with. They live somewhere in Iowa. It’s probably in the middle of a cornfield. She called me today expecting me to be sad and was surprised when I wasn’t. I had my moment of being sad last night, but I refuse to stay in that place. What none of them realize is that I’m not one of the weak ones. I’m a fighter and I know what I have to do.

  ELLA

  (NOW)

  He’s here. He’s coming for me. I can’t see him, but I’m next. I know I’m next. I scream, but the sound gets caught in my throat. My eyes snap open. There’s no air. My pulse pounds. I’m dripping with sweat. My night gown sticks to me. I try to calm myself, “It’s only a dream. It’s only a dream. You’re awake now.”

  But I can’t shake the sleep off me. I can’t wake up. My lids are so heavy. I force myself to focus, trying to adjust to the darkness. My room slowly comes into view. Everything in slow motion. There’s pressure on my bed. Slowly, the silhouette of someone sitting on the end of my bed comes into view. I try to clear the cotton from my brain, force myself to wake up.

  I’m still dreaming. I’m awake. What’s happening?

  I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. There’s still a figure on my bed. I focus on my breathing, using the techniques Randy taught me. I try to move, but I can’t. Something’s holding me. I struggle against it, trying to fight my way out of the darkness and back to wake.

  I’m awake.

  My arms are tied to my headboard.

  This is real.

  Sheer terror shoots through me. I try to scream but I can’t. My mouth is taped shut. Just like before.

  Sarah’s face comes into view above me.

  “Oh, Ella. I had a feeling you’d wake up. You should’ve eaten all of your dinner.” She brushes her hand on my cheek.

  I try to pull away from her, but my reactions are dull. It’s like moving through quicksand. My head just rolls.

  Sarah throws her head back and laughs. “You can make this easy on yourself or you can make it hard. Your choice.”

  What is she talking about? Is John here? How did he get in the house? How did this happen? Where’s Mom? Did he hurt her? Liquid fear pools my insides.

  “Did you really think I’d just let you get rid of me? Your mom loves me and she’d never make me leave if it wasn’t for you. All of this is your fault. All of it.” She tightens the straps holding my wrists back. “These are just to be sure. I bet you can’t even feel your body right now, can you?”

  What did she do to me? I try to scream for Mom. It comes out muffled.

  “She can’t hear you. She’s fast asleep. I made sure of that.” She laughs again. It’s a different kind of laugh, one I’ve never heard her make.

  I move my head back and forth, scanning for a way out.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take your gag off and you’re going to take more of these pills.” She points to my nightstand. A glass of water surrounded by pink pills—the same ones I overdosed on. “I already gave you your first dose at dinner, but sometimes it’s not enough and the girls wake up.”

  It hits me with a sickening realization that she’s done this before.

  “You made this way too easy for me. Everyone already thinks you tried to kill yourself and now, they’ll just think you finished the job.” She pulls the tape off my mouth. Duct tape.

  “Mom! Mom! M—”

  Her fist slams into my face. The taste of blood fills my mouth.

  “If you scream again, I’ll kill her. I mean it. I gave her pills in her water too so she’ll never even know I’m coming.”

  “Why? Why are
you doing this to me?” My words slur like I have a mouthful of marbles I have to speak around.

  “I’m not going to let you take her away from me. That’s not going to happen.” Her lips are set in a straight line.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You can stay. I promise. I’ll tell her I changed my mind. That I can make things work with you here.” My words tumble over each other.

  She shakes her head. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? You probably do. Just like the rest of them.” She picks up the pills, cupping them in her hand. “No, this is going to happen. Trust me, it’s totally painless. And if you struggle, some of them struggle, I’ve seen it happen before.” She points to the pillow beside me. “Well, then I just help you along.”

  “You can’t do this to my mom. Think about how much it will destroy her if I’m gone.”

  She doesn’t care about me, but she does care about Mom.

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. She’ll be devastated. That much is for sure, but it’s only going to make her want me more. She won’t be able to go on without a daughter to love. That’s where I come in.” She places her hand on my forehead again. I jerk back. “You don’t need to worry about her. I’m going to take good care of her. I’ll be there for her in her grief. Nothing bonds people together more than shared grief.”

  I have to keep her talking. The longer she talks, the clearer my head gets.

  “How do you know it’ll work?”

  “You think this is my first time? Like I’ve never done this before?” She smiles. Her eyes light up. “I’ve been doing this for years. I give all the girls their last supper. Then, John takes care of the rest.”

  I want to cry, but have to keep my emotions in check so I can think. I bite my cheek hard to keep from crying.

  “Are you done talking now? I’m really ready for this just to be over.” She brings her hand to my mouth. “Now open your mouth and take these.”

  I clamp my jaw shut, gluing my lips together, jutting my chin out in defiance.

  Her eyes flash with anger. “Open up.”