By Sara Leonard
Honorable Mention, Prose, Create | Encounter 2024
Harriet walks home, late one night. Tired and worn from a day of work and play. She doesn’t see them lurking in the dark. She doesn’t see them stalking her in the night. She doesn’t see anything until they jump her. A man and a woman. The Man grabs her from behind. He smells of alcohol and weed. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight, while the Woman steps out in front of Harriet. The woman lifts the gun in her hand, aiming it right at Harriet’s face.
Harriet freezes in the grip of the stranger. Tears drip down her cheeks in fear, her very short life flashing before her waking eyes. All that it has been, all that it is and all that it could be. But the woman doesn’t pull the trigger. She has a drunken smile plastered on her face.
“You’re coming home with us, you won’t fight, you won’t run. If you do, I’ll kill you,” the Woman says.
Harriet can’t argue, she wants to live. She nods out her compliance. She’ll do anything to survive.
Harriet is well behaved, going where she is pushed, being still as they wrap a chain around her ankle. She has just enough slack to pace the small living room. To sit on the couch and hide behind it.
The Woman leans forward, the gun still in her hand. She presses her cheek against Harriet’s, the gun slides under Harriet’s chin. “You cause me any inconveniences and I will kill you.”
“Bang,” she whispers into Harriet’s ears.
When Harriet is left alone, she hides behind the couch, as small as possible, anything to not be seen, not be noticed. But it’s impossible when the parade of men trip over her chain. It’s impossible when she’s slapped and berated for stealing scraps of food half eaten and half forgotten off the floor. It’s impossible when the drugs are coming in and out of the house, smoke staining the ceiling and the inner lining of Harriet’s lungs. Harriet survives and hopes and dreams of being free from under the reign of the Woman.
It’s impossible when the Woman complains about the food Harriet eats and the space Harriet takes up and the spotlight and fault always falls to her shoulders. The months are hard and hungry, sickly and barely surviving. But Harriet makes it out to the other side. The other side of so many hardships.
Then one day, the same as so many days of so many months. The woman shoves and pushes Harriet from her hiding place. Forces her into the center of the house, the living room, the center of attention. And it’s the worst place to be.
“You are trespassing,” the woman says, on that day. On the last day of it all.
“You brought me here against my will!”
“You eat my food, take up my space and waste my money. You’re a parasite,” the Woman says.
“I wouldn’t be eating your food if I wasn’t here. But you brought me here.”
“You’re an invader, invading my place,” the Woman says. Her hand lifts up, the light reflects off the metal of her favorite pistol. “It’s time for you to leave. So get out of my house.”
“You’re letting me go?” Harriet whispers, tears springing to her eyes in joy. She can… leave? Harriet stands up and runs to the door. But of course, before she can make it her leg is pulled out from under her and she falls onto her face. The chain still wrapped around her ankle. She pulls and tugs. The chain twists and presses painfully into her skin. She reaches, her arm outstretched, but the door is too far away. And it’s closed and she is still chained.
“You don’t have permission to be here. I don’t consent to you being on my property. Get out, this is my house, you are trespassing,” the Woman repeats, stepping closer. The woman slowly raises the gun. Slowly, she makes her way over to Harriet. Slowly she towers over the intruder.
“Please,” Harriet cries. “Please, I don’t want to die. I want to live. You just…You just have to let me go.”
“No one is sad when a parasite is cut out and thrown away,” The Woman says.
The trigger is pulled. A loud bang fills the house.
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