Near the Bone by Christina Henry (the mitten read aloud txt) 📕

one had ever hit her before, not for any reason. Her mother didn’t believe in spanking, and Sam wasn’t the sort of child who got in fistfights on the playground.

“You can’t hit me,” she said. “My mom doesn’t even hit me.”

She was just as unprepared for the second blow as the first.

“I told you not to speak of your mother again,” William said. “As far as you are concerned, your mother no longer exists.”

Sam wanted to shout again, wanted to scream that he couldn’t take her mother away from her, couldn’t do what he was doing. But her head hurt and her cheek hurt and her mouth hurt and she was really scared now, scared of what he would do if she didn’t do what he said.

But he can’t make me forget Mom and Heather, she thought. He can’t see what’s going on inside my head. I can remember them all I want. And as soon as I have a chance I’m going to run away from him and go back to them. I just have to pretend to be good, to think and pay attention.

“Where are we?” she asked.

William flashed a smile at her again. His smile used to seem so happy but now it made her feel sick.

“We’re on our way to a special place, my pretty girl. A special place just for you and me.” He frowned then, looking at her bare feet. “We’ll have to stop somewhere and get you some shoes, though. And warm clothes. It’s cold where we’re going, even in the summer.”

If they stopped for clothes then she could run away from him in the store, could shout and scream until someone came to help her. There were usually security guards in big stores and security guards were almost like police, right? Some of them carried guns.

She’d seen security guards with guns at the mall where Mom took her and Heather shopping sometimes. They couldn’t afford new things very often but they all liked to go and window shop, and imagine how they might look in new jeans or a new blouse. They’d go into the department stores and spray all the perfume samples, and sometimes ladies would try to put makeup on Mom but she always said no. Mom didn’t really wear a lot of makeup, just lip gloss or mascara sometimes, and Sam knew that even though the ladies were acting like trying on makeup was free, they really would want Mom to buy some of it after.

After they sprayed lots of different perfumes on themselves Mom would take them to get ice cream cones from the McDonald’s in the food court. It was fun when they did that, and Sam didn’t even feel so bad that they didn’t have the money for new clothes or shoes. She didn’t mind just looking as long as she got to go somewhere with Mom and Heather.

Sam looked at William out of the corners of her eyes. She didn’t think shopping with William would be like shopping with Mom. She remembered how hard his arms had been wrapped around her on the stairs. She’d have to pay attention for her chance and run so fast when it was time, or else he’d just grab her and cover her mouth again and she’d never get away.

She must have fallen asleep again because the next thing she knew the truck had stopped and William was opening the passenger door and lifting her out.

“Come on, my sweet girl. Rest stop.”

She wished he’d stop calling her that. He used to say things like that at home, when Mom and Heather were there, call her “sweet girl” or “pretty girl,” but he’d say them to Mom and Heather, too, and it didn’t seem so weird. Now it felt strange and it made her belly feel sick.

They’d stopped at a small brick building next to a long parking lot. There was no one else in the lot and it was so cold. Her bare feet felt like bricks of ice. William held her very close as they went inside.

“Hey, this is the boys’ room!” she said as he took her into the restroom with him. “I can’t go in the boys’ room!”

“You have to stay with me,” William said, and she knew better than to say anything else because his eyes were like chips of ice and she sensed danger.

He set her down in front of a stall. The tile floor was freezing and dirty, and the bathroom smelled of disinfectant and pee. “Go do your business.”

Sam didn’t want to walk on the tile, and she especially didn’t want to go into the toilet stall in her bare feet, but she did because William was looking at her in a way that told her she’d better.

There was grit and dust and hair on the floor, and Sam tried very hard not to think about what she was stepping on. The toilet was very high and she was so small for her age that she had trouble sitting on it to pee. Her feet dangled off the ground while water came out of her in a tiny trickle. She always had trouble peeing when she was nervous, would hold on to it compulsively until she was able to relax again and then she’d have to sprint to the bathroom before she wet her pants.

After a minute William said, “Hurry up,” and he had that tone in his voice again, the one that said she had to listen. Sam wiped herself and hopped off the toilet. William picked her up again as soon as she came out of the stall. He seemed like he was in a big hurry all of a sudden.

“I have to wash my hands,” she said. She really wanted to, for a change, wanted to wash them properly (that was what Mom always said, that she didn’t wash them properly) because the toilet had been so gross and she wanted to scrub her hands really well.

William hesitated, then