A new life

It’s been a few days since Irina became a snack. She has been properly digested and probably excreted already. Élise has been trying to teach me some French and I have been trying to behave as best as I possibly can in order to avoid sharing Irina’s fate, but the connivance has been considerably difficult because of our communication deficit. Her temperament is rather short-fused, even though I can see how she tries to maintain a serene posture around me. She even brought a shrunken Minerva home to help us. How many more people will have to suffer at the hands of this seemingly sweet teenager?

I’ve learnt that she does horse riding on Wednesdays, she rarely ever practices the tuba, and she drinks lots of coffee with powdered chocolate everyday (that’s what the smell of her breath was). One time I told her I found it odd that, as a musician, she only has 8 CD’s to which she responded that she didn’t want to be a musician but was forced by her mother. I told her that she shouldn’t be studying music if it wasn’t her true call and I’m pretty sure she almost threw me in the trashcan. Anyway, ever since Minerva is here, things have been a lot easier. I have to repeatedly remind her not to say anything mean to Élise but she keeps telling me that “no one can be that bad”. She has not seen what I’ve seen. But at least that keeps her at bay and she’s managed to live here with us for a couple of days now.

Speaking of living, Minerva and I are almost always separated unless we require her as a translator. I have been sleeping over a folded clean sock in her nightstand, using the other clean sock as a blanket. Normally I sleep on the socks she’ll be using the next day to school (which I’m already missing. I wonder if they’d think I quitted and went back home) and, even though, they’re clean and generally smell like chamomile, there’s always a faint smell of her feet and I have to sleep embraced by that smell. I still don’t know where Minerva sleeps but I have a few theories: either she sleeps inside a drawer among clothes or she sleeps inside the shoes she’s worn that day. If she sleeps in the shoes, it has been very warm lately and I imagine they’d stink as hell. I should probably ask her.

“Hey, Minerva. Good morning.” I say as Élise drops her rather harshly on the desk I was sitting on. Minerva rolls around for a bit, she clearly hurt the knee she landed on. As I approach her to help her up, Élise starts talking rather quickly: “Puisque tu étais impolie avec moi hier soir, je vais te donner du travail à faire pendant que je sois au lycée. Comme ça tu pourrais me rembourser pour ce qu’il faut pour que tu sois là.” Immediately, and out of pure habit, Minerva starts translating, “Dice que, ya que fui grosera con ella anoche, me dará trabajo para hacer mientras se va a la escuela y que de esa manera le puedo reembolsar lo que necesita por tenerme aquí ((She says that since I was mean to her yesterday, she’ll be giving me work to do while she’s at school, that that way I can repay her for what it takes to have me here)).” “Eso me parece medio injusto, ¿no? No es que como que estemos aquí por voluntad propia ((I think that’s kinda unfair, isn’t it? It’s not like we’re here on our own free will)).” I tell her. “I think only I’m expected to work.” Minerva says. Élise starts looking for something inside her closet for a few seconds until she comes out with a pair of old leather brown sandals and drops them on the floor in the middle of the room and storms off through the door, shutting it hard behind her. This is, literally, the first time I give a thought about anything outside this bedroom that has become our entire world. Is the house big, does she live with her parents? Any parent at all? It seems strange to me now to figure out that no one has come through that imposing wooden pink door other than our captor. After a few minutes, the slapping of Élise’s bare feet approaches and she enters the room carrying a sponge, a pair of scissors, and two old, rusted silver thimbles.

“Vas a limpiar la plantilla de mis sandalias porque ya están muy sucias y me da pena que me vean con ellas ((You’ll be cleaning the insole of my sandals because they’re very dirty and I am ashamed to be looked at with those)).” Translates Minerva as Élise cuts the sponge into several small pieces that could easily be grabbed by our tiny hands. “J’aurais besoin d’eau aussi, tu sais? ((I’ll be needing water also, you know?))” Says Minerva to Élise, to which she responds: “Je le sais bien, petite bête, c’est pour ça que j’ai amené les dés à coudre.((I know it, little beast, that’s why I brought the thimbles.))” And without any preamble whatsoever, Élise proceeds to pull both thimbles closer to her face and spit into them. A single spittle on each thimble was more than enough to fill them both entirely (one even overflowed and Minerva had to use her shirt to clean it from the desktop as ordered by the giantess). She carefully places all the devices required to complete Minerva’s job right next to the awaiting sandals on the floor and comes back to face us. Her otherwise petite, round face approached us too fast to be comfortable, her small, pointy nose hovered over Minerva’s meek frame and I was able to see myself again in the reflection on her glasses. I remember that first time I saw myself there. “Tu ferais mieux de finir tes devoirs en temps, ou bien… ((You better finish your homework on time, or else…))” Threatens Élise as she grabs Minerva by the hips and places her on top of one of the old sandals, she then stands up. “Tu est si minuscule de là-haut, on dirait que tu est juste un tout petit insecte à mes pieds, en attente d’être écrasé ((You look so insignificant from up here, one would say that you’re just a tiny little insect at my feet, waiting to be crushed)).” Says the gargantuan teen as she menacingly and repeatedly pokes her new property with her right big toe, pressing slightly harder on the last part. Minerva is so small and so far away for me to see her clearly but she doesn’t seem to be moving. I’d be terrified if I saw a gigantic foot in front of me, I’d probably be running until my lungs burn out. Élise is now coming towards me and her hand is – Whoa! – She’s carrying me and taking me to her bed, she… drops me on the pillow? Well, this is nice. “Tu n’as rien à faire, juste repose-toi jusqu’à ce que je reviens du lycée, d’accord? ((You don’t have to do anything, just get some rest until I come back from school, OK?))” Oh, Minerva. Why are thee so far away when I need thou? Oh, God. She’s coming in for a kiss. I hate that sucking, smelly sensation.

Our new owner then returns to her closet and pulls out a pair of old, very worn out white converse shoes. She deliberates whether or not to wear my bed and blanket today but decides to just put the shoes without socks. She grabs her school bag and her tuba case and off she goes to school. Where I should be going too. At least I’m comfortable here on this cloudlike pillow. Oh, God, Minerva is not moving.

The shoe shiner

I jump from Élise’s bed unto her nightstand, travel across a valley inhabited by various coins, a teen’s magazine, and a watch to reach the big, pink lamp. I use the cord to slide down to the floor and walk as fast as I can towards Minerva (What? There’s no need for me to get tired, is it?) until I reach her.

“¡Es enorme! ((She’s huge!))” says Minerva as I approach her. “Oh, por Dios, Minerva, mírate. ¡Mira cómo te ha dejado esa loca! ((Oh, my God, Minerva, look at you. Look at how that crazy girl has left you!)) I respond. Minerva’s left arm and leg are crushed completely flat on the blackened insole of the sandal. Apart from a few bones that are protruding from the gory mess, it looks as if part of her body has fused to what she’s supposed to be cleaning. “¡Es gigantesca! ((She’s gigantic!))” She keeps saying. I, honestly, have no idea how she’s not agonizing in utter pain. Perhaps the shock of actually seeing Élise at full size from the floor is greater than the pain. She’s sweating cold and her eyes are wide from total fear as if she was on ecstasy. I haven’t yet seen her from bellow her cute small breasts. I mean I’ve seen her far away from a safe distance. Minerva doesn’t seem to be bleeding, though. All the blood on the insole is from her arm and leg alone. Maybe her limbs were so strongly crushed that any way the blood could come out is sealed. I think I’m about to vomit. Still, the pain must be unbearable.

“AAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!” The screaming started. I knew it was a matter of time. The initial shock is over; the adrenaline running through her veins must have stopped. “AAAAAAAAAHH!!! ¡¡¡AYÚDAME!!! ((HELP ME!!!))”, “¡No sé cómo ayudarte! Ni siquiera sé si es posible ayudarte! ((I Don’t know how to help you! I don’t even know if it’s possible to help you at all!))” That’s not very reassuring. Between the screams, the smashed limbs, the blood, our tears, and the vomit all over my mouth, shirt, and floor, I think I’m turning off again.

I have no idea why I keep passing out. It’s beginning to become annoying. At least Minerva has fallen asleep, maybe due to a pain shock. I am only 100% certain of three things: Minerva is still alive, I don’t know how nor why, but she’s just unconscious; I am a mess, I am covered in the remnants of my fruity breakfast and Minerva’s blood; I need to clean these sandals as fast as I can before that crazy bitch comes back from school because she’s going to kill Minerva for sure if I don’t. Plus, I have no idea how long I was out. I don’t think I have much time.

With lots of effort, I manage to get back on my feet and walk towards the sponges and the thimbles, which I carry back with me to the sandals. I realize that, in order to fully clean both shoes, I have to move Minerva at some point. I almost puke again at the thought. I think I better start with the left one.

I grab a sponge and submerge it into the… EW! I had forgotten that the thimbles were filled with Élise’s saliva! This is so disgusting! The slimy substance is slowly dripping down my hand and my arm. I shake my arm to try to get rid of the sticky fluid until I realize I have a very limited amount of resources. I gag at the strong smell of spit and toothpaste covering my arm, but I think I’m going to have to suck it up for Minerva’s sake. Great! The sponge is now at the bottom of the thimble and I’m going to have to stick my hand into it and pull it out. This whole thing reaches just bellow my nipples. I’m going to have to submerge myself to get it out. Would Élise really kill Minerva if she’s not done with the insoles? Should I just wait and see? What am I thinking? I cannot risk Minerva’s life because I find something disgusting. Well, here goes nothing.

I can’t breath! The saliva is so dense that it doesn’t fall off easily. I manage to spit some of it and breath through my mouth and I proceed to roll on the insole to try and spread as much of it on it. As most of the spit is now on the floor, I can use my hands to free my nostrils and my eyes from the reeking fluid. I feel as if I were myself a parcel of food that has been spitted. At least I got the sponge. I should have taken my clothes off before diving into the thimble. Now I am covered in vomit, blood, and spit. This day cannot get any worse. And what’s even worse, I just now remembered that Élise cut the sponge on several other tiny pieces and that such pieces are merely 20 feet away from me. I’m stupid! So stupid!

As I’ve been cleaning Élise’s left shoe for about three hours now, scrubbing tirelessly the smelly, soaked sponge across the insole, I’ve come to realize a few things: 1) These sandals are so worn out that I can perfectly feel the relief on the insole where the foot usually rest with each and every toe; 2) The insole has molded to Élise’s feet so naturally that I can deduce that she has very high arches; 3) I am barely the size of her big toe; 4) The strap says the size of the sandal is 26.5cm; 5) It takes me roughly 22 to 24 steps to walk from one end to the other; 6) That means I must be around 1 inch tall; 7) Élise is bigger that I had previously estimated or rather, I am way smaller than I though. Now I understand why Minerva was in such a shock.

The sponge I was using is no longer usable so I started using the second one and finished the first shoe with it still in mildly good conditions. Luckily I still have another one for the other sandal. Also, the saliva inside the first thimble has run out and I will have to start using the second one to clean the other shoe. It’s as if she had known the exact measures of materials I would need. Creepy, right? I have to move Minerva now. I think she entered a comma or something. She’s still alive and asleep. This sandal is going to be harder to clean as it has vomit, blood and spit (just like myself!). All right, I can do this. I know I can. How hard can it be? I just have to move a half dead, half glued comatose person out of a teen giantess’ insole so that I can use a sponge drenched in saliva to clean the imprint drawn by the mentioned giantess’ foot, the blood of the comatose person, and the barf of the one cleaning before my owner arrives so that she doesn’t crush the life out of me with her huge, wrinkled foot like an insect. Piece of cake.

Now that I have assimilated my Kafkian predicament, it’s time to finally move Minerva. I’m trying to pull her as gently as possible but she is well stuck to the shoe’s insole. Even using my whole strength it has proven difficult but, slowly, she starts peeling off the floor and it becomes easier. Minerva is waking up I guess. At least she reacted to my pulling. I grab my trusty sponge, soak it in my not so fresh, stinky saliva and get myself to work. I pass it sidelong and sideways. I pass it in circles and straight lines. I pass it between crevices and cracks. Four hours later my arms are burning like hot racecar’s tires, my knees are swollen like a wine’s cork after being microwaved; my back aches as if I had been carrying elephants for several hours, but at least I’m done. I hear sobbing. It’s Minerva!

“Me duele, Alex. Me duele mucho ((It hurts, Alex. It hurt so much)).” I can barely hear Minerva talking through her tears. “No lo voy a lograr. No podemos hacer nada contra ella, es inmensa ((I’m not going to make it. There’s nothing we can do against her, she’s immense)).” “Por favor, no digas eso. Vas a salir de ésta. No me abandones ((Please, don’t say that. You’re gonna pull through this. Do not abandon me)).” Now I am crying too.

Those giant foot stomps start echoing through an air so thin it could be cut with a butter knife and we start crying even harder. We have no idea whatsoever of what is going to happen but we hug each other ((she hugs me as best as she can, considering the pain and the missing limbs)) and we brace ourselves when the old pink door squeaks open. Élise immediately kicks her sneakers off and looks for me on the bed and I can see her turning red of anger when she can’t find me, she then looks down at her shoes and see us cowering besides them on the floor. She’s fucking taller that I could have ever imagined! It is the first time I truly see her at her full height right in front of me. Her kilometric thin legs reach higher than any building I have ever seen before. I feel so tiny, so powerless, so fragile. Élise looks down and reaches down to grab her sandals. She lifts them with so much ease it makes me angry. “Tu as fait un bon travail, petite salope ((You’ve done a good job, little bitch)).” I try to urge Minerva not to translate and save her energy to no avail: “Dice que hice un buen trabajo. No parece saber que fuiste tú quien las limpió y no puedo creer que hayas pasado por todo eso por mí. Te lo agradezco ((She says I did a good job. She doesn’t seem to know that it was you who cleaned them and I can’t believe you’ve been through that for me. Thank you)).” Élise kneels so that she’s closer to us: “Et qu’est-ce que tu fais ici? Je t’ai dis de rester au lit ((And what are you doing here? I told you to stay on the bed)).” As she speaks, Élise realizes Minerva’s state and mine, “Que s’est-il passé à vous deux? Il faura que je te lave, Alex. Et que pour toi, Minerva, je suis vraiement désolée, mais je pense qu’il serait mieux de te mettre hors de ta misère ((What happened to you two? I will have to wash you, Alex. And as for you, Minerva, I am truly sorry, but I think it’ll be better to put you out of your misery)).” Minerva starts translating as Élise stands up again to her full height. “Pregunta que qué nos pasó, que va a tener que bañarte y que será mejor librarme de mi miseria. No llores, Alex, es mejor así. Ya no soporto el dolor y ahora nunca podría regresar a dar clases en la escuela de música. Prométeme que vas a sobrevivir. Prométeme que vas a salir de aquí y que matarás a esta bruja de una vez por todas. ¡Promételo! ((She asked what happened to us, that she will have to wash you and that it’d be better to free me from my misery. Don’t cry, Alex, it’s better this way. I can’t stand the pain any longer and I could never go back to teaching at the music school like this. Promise me you’ll live. Promise me you’ll get out of here and that you will kill this witch once and for all. Promise me!)).”

As tears start committing suicide out of my eyes, I look up and see Élises massive foot right in front of me. It’s only a few feet away from us. It sees me as a raging bull about to dash towards me. It can stare into my soul. And I can see the vague color of Minerva’s blood from the morning at the tip of her big toe; the fleshy tyrant has mostly absorbed it by now. The bull slowly rises above us until we are completely overcome by its enveloping shadow. It dangles atop our heads as if waiting, yet I am ready to take on the bull face to face. “BOUCHE ((MOVE!))!” screams Élise, “Muévete!” translates Minerva. I run from under the menacing foot as it slowly descends upon my teacher. It must’ve been a few seconds but they felt like hours. Every second I see less and less Minerva and more and more foot until the foot is all I can see. And then comes the crushing sound. As beautiful as an autumn leaf getting trampled yet as terrifying as Irina getting chewed on. Élise is now fully on top of Minerva. Her full weight is supported on that foot, on that specific spot near the center of the ball. She then twists. She’s fucking twisting! Like she’s stepping on a pest! Blood comes out form under her foot. A little bit of it travels through the small crevices on her foot. I can’t see this.

Élise then grabs a tissue from her nightstand and wipes Minerva from under her sole. She uses the same tissue to wipe the blood off the floor near her sandals. She tosses the tissue inside the garbage can. And there goes Minerva, as disposable as the pest she was treated like. No ceremony, no burial, no grieving, she’s just in the dumpster alongside some chewing gum, some used tampon, and a fresh banana peel. This bitch is fucking crazy.

“Viens ici, mon petit amoureux, allons te laver maintenant ((Come here, my little sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up)).” The hand I am getting so familiar with reaches for me. I can’t find my will to fight right now. I’m broken inside.