The Half That You See by Rebecca Rowland (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

the hole above. The morning was coming. Another day. Another song. Another howl. Another hurt. Another. . .something.

She froze, there was a sound nearby.

A rat?

A cat?

A bat?

A mouse?

She covered her mouth and suppressed a giggle in case it was more food.

Something was at the door.

She dug her fingers into her cramped, knotted legs and scooted her bare rear across the dirt to the other side of the hole.

The noise sounded soft.

Like padded feet.

Virginia could pee after all.

Something was listening at the door.

Without thinking, Virginia wiped her moisture against her lips, staring in the near darkness at the door.

Something sniffed.

Virginia’s heart began sending her body into spasmodic convulsions with each beat.

Something joined whatever was at the door.

Something joined in with the sniffing.

Virginia pulled at her hair until a clump tore free and she grabbed another handful.

She was biting her lips; the pain was not even noticeable.

Something scratched at the base of the door.

Virginia held her breath.

Something began digging at the base of the door.

Two things began digging frantically at the door.

Virginia crawled on all fours toward the door and lay on her dirty belly, pressing her face to the ground.

The digging stopped and sniffing began.

On the other side of the door, Virginia remembered, or did she imagine, a rocky staircase down to the door. Not much wider than the door. Large enough for two big men, or one man and struggling woman, to stand side by side as they came down.

Sniffing continued and digging returned.

“Hello?” Virginia whispered.

The digging stopped.

“Hello, doggies,” Virginia whispered.

There was no movement for a moment. The wolves continued howling above.

The digging began again, more frantic than before.

“Go,” she whispered.

Her voice would make the two things, the doggies, the nice doggies, to pause in their digging, but then they would resume.

“Go away,” she whispered.

The doggies did not.

“I said go away,” she ordered quietly.

The bad doggies did not.

“Go,” she said louder.

Bad doggies.

Very bad doggies.

She moved forward and slapped her hand against the door.

“Go away!” she yelled.

The doggies moved away from the door and sounded as if they climbed back up the stairs.

Virginia relaxed.

Then a growl came from the other side of the door and the very bad, naughty doggies began furiously excavating.

Virginia loudly growled back at them from the base of the door.

The doggies paused, then resumed.

Virginia spun around onto her back and began pounding the door with her feet.

Stomping, stomping, stomping the door as she screamed and shouted for the very bad doggies to go away.

The rough wood tore the soles of her bare feet and bled, dripping fine drops of blood to the base of the door and the dirt. Growls grew in volume as the digging now began at the door as well as the floor. A chain clanked occasionally.

Virginia pushed herself away from the door, rubbing her throbbing feet, licking the blood from her feet and palms.

She began howling, snarling, growling, at the very bad doggies.

She charged the door and pressed her nose to the small gap between the very bad doggies and the floor, inches from the doggie’s nails.

She growled and snarled at them.

The doggies did not want to leave.

Virginia began digging on her side of the door with her hands as furiously as the doggies on the other side.

If they stopped to sniff, she bent to sniff and growl back.

After a few seconds, Virginia’s digging fingers struck solid rock.

The very bad doggies were clawing rock, too.

Virginia laughed and crawled around her circular den, howling and growling, stopping at the door to lean down and bark at the doggies before she began crawling again. She found her discarded panties and stuck them in her mouth like a dog’s toy, shaking her head back and forth, growling until finally spitting them out.

She crawled in a widening circle until she was bumping against the sides of the pit. The hole. The den. She found an old pile of her excrement and grabbed two handfuls of it. Then, kneel-walking across the circle to the door and shoved, smeared, pushed, plugged, the base of the door with the waste.

She barked loudly, laughing, as she scurried back to her excrement and grabbed another pile, repeating what she had done.

She growled with her face to the ground as she pushed the waste further against the rock and door base, inches from her nose.

The sniffing turned to huffs and the digging slowed.

Virginia howled against the door. Howled and laughed. Laughed and howled.

The digging stopped. Howls joined hers echoing down the overhead shaft. Padded feet slapped up the stone staircase to the world above.

Giggling, Virginia pushed herself away from the door to the middle of the cell and stood, laughing, howling, spinning in a circle until she passed out and dropped to the ground.

She dreamt of cool winds and placid seas.

Light woke her.

She glanced toward the hole in the ceiling. The moon was still up. Where had the light come from?

She turned her head toward the door, searching for the light.

Dim light flashed through the base of the doorway.

The men were back.

Virginia rolled slowly over onto her hands and knees and pushed back against the opposite wall from the door.

Human voices echoed down the staircase.

Virginia had nothing to use as a weapon. The plastic containers were useless.

“What’s that smell?” a man said. “It smells like shit.”

Virginia crouched and rocked back and forth on her feet and rear.

They were coming back.

They were coming back.

They were coming back.

Virginia suddenly realized her body had just enough slug and snail in her to give her one more involuntary, minor, bowel movement.

“I’m going down,” a man told someone.

“Be careful,” another warned. “It looks slick.”

Virginia’s mouth dropped open into a silent scream as she dug stinking, filth-covered fingers into her skinny, hairy, knees.

“Geez, it stinks even worse down here!” the descending man said. “I found the door! Wow, it looks like some animal’s been trying to get in.”

“Did something get in?” the other voice asked.

“Nah. But they must have shit all around it.”

There was the sound of a chain moving against the door.

“The chain’s still wrapped around the handle.