Right now, I am in my room at Henry’s house. My parents aren’t talking with me ever since I quit my job and moved in with him. I wish I could describe how Henry’s face lit up when I said I would move in with him and spend the rest of my life with him.
The living’s okay here. I have a nice bedroom in the middle of the house, cleverly disguised so that it looks like a closet when seen from Henry’s bedroom. There aren’t any windows here either. Just a waterbed, a small dresser and a nightstand.
Every day it’s the same routine. I get up between 10am and 1pm each morning and turn on the TV Henry put in my room. I stay in bed and watch TV until 3pm, when Henry comes home. Henry undresses and climbs into bed with me and we watch TV some more until 5pm. Then I get out of bed, get dressed and go watch TV in the living room while Henry cooks dinner.
Now here comes the part where I pay the rent. I strip down to my underwear and dance around the kitchen while Henry claps his hands and begs for more. He has me climbing the counters and appliances like, as Henry describes it, “a pretty monkey.” After the dance is over, Henry rewards me with a meal. After dinner, I get dressed and go to my room and watch TV. Sometimes Henry checks out a movie on his way home and he watches it with me.
That’s all I can do anymore. I don’t have a car or a bike since Henry made me sell them. In fact, he had me sell my bed, my furniture and everything in my apartment. I moved out of my apartment and into Henry’s house, much to the dismay of my parents. In fact, they won’t even talk to me anymore. Fine. Jealous bastards.
But they do have a point. Living with Henry is scary. I don’t want him reading this, but sometimes Henry acts like he’s about to die sometimes. Sometimes he hyperventilates and sometimes he gags unexpectedly.
But Henry tries to change my mind with his feats of strength. He runs around the house and lifts one end of the sofa to prove how strong he is. But Henry has yet to explain why he occasionally walks around the house at 3am, carrying a gun and talking loudly to himself. Occasionally he comes in my room in the middle of the night to scream and fire his gun and chase something around my room, knocking over furniture and throwing my things around the room.
Still other incidents saw Henry going into the bathroom and making loud, gagging noises. Sometimes he screams. These incidents have shaken me so much that I have not been able to sleep for several nights.
Yet, I cannot leave Henry’s house. I have no car, no wallet and no money. Henry leaves me with nothing to wear but a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and some underpants. Before he leaves for work, he locks me in my room. I feel like a prisoner. There is no sense escaping from Henry. He has the house locked and alarmed. I am not allowed to use the phone to call for help. Henry is a monster.
I just heard the front door slam shut. Henry always does that to wake me up. Oh, there he goes.
“Hello, pretty boy!” Henry just screamed. “Is door unlock after I taked da shit. Henry going da takeda shit.”
Great, When Henry says that, he will be in the bathroom for the next three hours. Hell, he’s even got a TV and telephone in there.
Oh great. I just heard Henry screaming. He’s wheezing, coughing and gagging. That really scares me. Is Henry okay?
Now what? I just heard a door slam open. Henry done so soon? Oh – I forgot. He’s checking for toilet paper, which he’s been out of for 25 years. Now he’s going to use his hands. Disgusting, and he’s going to smell like shit for the rest of the evening.
YIPES! Now I hear the deadbolt on my door unlock. Henry’s coming! Yes, he’s opening the door right now and he’s coming in, stark naked and smelling like shit. I hate it when he’s in the mood to come in naked. I better stop writing this before he