“Why are you in here alone?” the man asks from the door of the playroom. “Come read in the living room.”
I carry my book into the other room. Eve is playing the piano. The woman is embroidering and watching Claire sew two pieces of fabric together. I sit in the rocker. Under cover of my book, I suck my thumb.
“Take your thumb out of your mouth!” the man says.
I pull my thumb out and continue reading.
“Your legs are so tender and delicious, I’ll just have to eat them all up.” The man is sitting on the floor with Ames nibbling his calves.
Ames gushes, “Do it again, daddy! Do it again!”
The man nips his legs again.
He looks up and sees me watching, “Come here. Let me see your legs.”
I hesitate. He lunges forward, grabs my arm, and pulls me onto the floor. He pushes up the leg of my jeans and bites me.
“No!” I cry. “You’re hurting me!”
I push at him, struggle to escape. He puts one leg over my body. I continue to struggle.
He smacks my thigh, “That didn’t hurt you! Ne fais pas le bébé!”
He bites again and again. Finally he releases me. My legs are covered with angry, red welts.
I see his leg between his sock and trouser. I lunge and sink my teeth into him. He jumps. Sobbing, I say, “I wanna bi-i-te you! I wanna bi-i-te you!”
The man hold me at arms length, laughs, mimics me, I wanna bi-i-te you!” Then, “Bébé! I didn’t hurt you!” He smacks my bottom. “Go change for bed.”
The woman’s voice stalks me as I limp from the room, “I wanna bi-i-te you!”