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corner with a clawfoot tub speckled with rust directly in front of us. You cleared your throat, trying to prompt me to speak but I didn’t. I had no words; I didn’t understand why I was there or what you wanted.
    “Bathe?” you finally questioned. “Umm, I just assumed you’d want to.”
    My mind had lost track of how long it had been since I had been submerged in water to cleanse myself. The smell emanating from me was noticeable, even to me. I was suddenly self-conscious, no longer the mistreated, starving captive. I was just a girl in complete disarray in front of an attractive man. I nodded my head and you nodded back.
    You bent at the waist and laid my body into the clawfoot tub gently, the porcelain felt harsh and foreign against my skin. You didn’t even bother to remove the only white shirt you’d given me that was now dark and dingy from prolonged wear. I watched cautiously as your hands reached out to push my greasy hair from my face.
    “Don’t be scared,” you whispered.
    It wasn’t until the water started to rise against my legs that I noticed the slight tremor of my limbs as tiny ripples circled me. The sight of my terror reflected in the water only further heightened my fear. Nothing was known to me, all control was lost.
    “What do you want from me?” I asked through chattering teeth.
    My eyes focused on a single rust spot just below the knob for the hot water. I could see where hands had once rubbed against that single spot, slowly wearing down the porcelain until it no longer remained. For some reason that rust gave me comfort, told me this tub had been used longer than I’d been on this earth. This house had been occupied by people long before I came along which let my heart believe that it still would be once I was gone.
    “I don’t want anything from you, Annabel. I want you to be happy, and right now I think a nice long bath will make you happy.” I didn’t look upon your face, but the pitch of your voice told me that you were smiling.
    Your hands moved in to my vision, blocking my rust spot temporarily, as you handed me a bar of soap and a rag.
    “I don’t have fancy shampoo or bath salts, but I think this soap will do just fine.”
    There was a long pause where the only sound was the water sloshing into the tub and the sound of my heart racing inside my chest. My eyes never faltered from the comfort of my rust spot.
    “I want to go home,” I finally said.
    “You are home,” you immediately replied.
    I shook my head and felt the steam washing over my aching nerves. “This is not my home. You took me from my home, from my everything.”
    A loud bang assaulted my ears as your foot came down hard on the side of tub. “This is your home now and it will always be your home!”
    My hands flew to my ears trying to block out your voice, your breathing, your presence. But I still heard you yell, “I love you, Annabel, and you will love me, too.”
    I shook my head, feverishly trying to convey what my voice could not.
    “You will. One year, in one year you will love me and never want to leave.”
    Your hand circled my wrists, forcing them back into the water.
    “What if I don’t?” I asked cautiously.
    “You will!” you screamed before leaving and slamming the door.

On the wrinkles of water
    My eyes focused on the door where your figure had just disappeared. Even though I could no longer see you, I could still feel your presence – ever watchful, always lingering. You had seemed so sure that I’d love you, almost like I didn’t have a choice. I would not love you. I might have been young and inexperienced, but I knew this was not how someone earned love. Trust came first, then love. I knew I would never trust you.
    The only people in this whole world that I loved were my parents. I cared for my friends, but teenage friendships were wrought with suspicion and back stabbing, which was not the place where love was bred. My parents were not perfect, they both worked too much and