Caged in Darkness

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Caged in Darkness Page 5

by J. D. Stroube


  “Child, I am not bringing you there for your parents’ legacy. I am bringing you there for your ancestral legacy. You shouldn’t turn your back on your ancestors just because your parents took a dark path.” Maye fixated me with a stern look, and shook her head in disappointment. “You of all people should know not to judge someone by who they are related to. Your line is filled with extraordinary witches who have passed down heirlooms that belong to you.”

  “Couldn’t you just go and bring me back whatever you think I should have?” Silence greeted my question, and I hesitantly began to explain, “I’m not sure I can face that place again. I don’t know what it will do to me. Please don’t ask me to do this.” My head bowed in personal shame at admitting my weakness.

  “Darling, I will be with you. Your parents are gone; they can’t hurt you. All that is left to bring you pain are the memories. If you face those, you’ll be free. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from yourself; always afraid that your memories will incapacitate you, and they will if you continue to bury them.” She gripped my hand, while her eyes flowed with a river of emotion.

  “Why do I need to face the memories in that house? They already plague me every night in my dreams? I can’t escape them.”

  Maye looked disappointed, “Sweetheart, you know I love you, and part of loving someone means that sometimes you need to save them from their self. You are not confronting the memories in your dreams. The nightmares are your minds attempt at repressing demons that refuse to leave.”

  “Okay, okay. You win, but before I agree to go, you have to promise me one thing. If I want to leave, we leave. I’ll face my demons, but on my terms.”

  “Agreed.” She smiled and kissed my forehead. “If you were strong enough to become the woman you are, after being subjected to such evil, you can overcome any obstacle.” She walked slowly from the room and closed the door behind her.

  Her faith in me was eternal. I never knew unconditional love and support until I came here. Maye and Ash had given me more than a home; they took my fractured soul and somehow pieced it back together. The damage was still done, but now I knew I could survive. I wouldn’t fail them.

  My body became overwhelmingly lethargic. It was as though the stress that had built up over the course of a lifetime was suddenly slamming down on my shoulders, and forcing me to kneel before the memories. My eyes drifted shut and I passed into a dark sleep filled with nightmares. My mind swam with blurry images of my parents committing horrendous acts, and switched to visions of red eyes following me as I ran for safety. I continuously turned and each time I was confronted with a new image that left me whimpering beneath the sheets. I was becoming fitful, when something cool grazed my cheek. A soothing sound quieted me into a restful sleep and I was at peace.

  I woke to the sound of my alarm clock indicating that it was 8 o’clock. It felt much earlier. The sun shone through the glass, which made my room look larger than it actually was. I opened the bay windows to step onto the terrace. The rush of damp morning air refreshed me, but I couldn’t tarry long. I could see a storm coming in and did not want to be caught on the terrace in a downpour.

  The terrace connected to Ash’s room, and I looked over to see his window open. He must have been out earlier. We met here most mornings. We rarely spoke, but instead sat in warm silence. It was my favorite part of the day. He never pressured me to talk and understood that I needed those moments.

  I followed my weekend morning routine; showered, brushed my teeth, threw my hair into a messy bun, and replaced my robe with a pair of jeans and a billowy t-shirt. Before leaving my room, I opened the dirty clothes hamper and pulled my money and student ID from the jeans I wore the day before.

  I walked into the kitchen to be confronted by the obnoxious odor of burnt cinnamon rolls, cooling on the stove top. Ash bent over them and poked each with a fork, as if testing to see if it would move.

  I cleared my throat and he angled his head away from the rolls to greet me with a slight smile.

  “I think I killed them.” He nodded towards the charred remains of his attempt at breakfast.

  “I think that’s a safe assumption. I vote don’t risk it.”

  Ash folded the rolls into a paper towel and threw it into the trash with a thud. I sat on the counter and grabbed the glass of milk abandoned there.

  Ash arched his right eyebrow, “Feeling lazy this morning? I guess that means, I am setting out everything for breakfast?” He sighed, and flashed a sarcastic smile. “Since you’re drinking my glass of milk, I suppose I have to make do with a can of orange juice, since that was our last clean glass?”

  “Mmmm… good milk.” I smacked my lips. “You could always do the dishes and have a glass of milk too.” He walked over to where I sat, and placed his hands on either side of my waist.

  “Or I could take back what is rightfully mine and you could do the dishes.” He made a grab for the milk and I artfully pulled my hand holding the glass as far away from him as I could.

  “Fine. You get the darn milk.” His arms were back in their original position and he stared directly into my eyes, while I brought the milk back to my lips to take another sip.

  Guilt rushed over me. I smiled and hesitantly offered the glass to his lips. He took a sip. His mouth quirked into a half smile.

  “You’re too easy. Keep the milk; I poured it for you anyways.”

  Laughing, I swatted at his back with the kitchen towel that lay on the counter. He began combing the cabinets for assorted boxes of cereal, bowls and sugar. I watched as he placed them on the table in the connecting family dining room, and added fruit, nuts, and bread to the mix.

  “Hope you’re okay with dry cereal?” He didn’t glance up to see my nod.

  Pushing myself off the counter, and moving around it I ran directly into Ash on his way back into the kitchen. Our feet tangled and before I knew it, I was plunging towards the antique tile. Ash grasped my waist with one hand and my hip with the other. He held me in a position that mimicked the type of dip couples generally did at the end of a dance.

  “Klutz.” He kissed the tip of my nose, and pulled me back to stand before him, but I was dizzy from the movement and fell against him.

  Ash’s eyes widened, as my body molded to his. I quickly sucked in my breath. My face angled upwards and his lowered. Our noses grazed one another’s in an Eskimo kiss. We stood still, his breath gently brushing my lips, and I noticed that he had specks of brown in his green eyes.

  He straightened suddenly, and pulled my body away from his. My confusion greeted his detached stance, and noticing he moved closer. His hand, which had been holding my upper arm, slid upwards to pull the part of my t-shirt that covered my shoulder, to the side. He then leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the exposed skin between my shoulder and neck.

  His breath grazed my earlobe, “As I said, klutz.” He laughed awkwardly and went back to sit at the table.

  I didn’t know what was wrong with my body, but I felt warm. My spine was tingling from when he had kissed my nape, and my chest felt weighted down.

  I vaguely wondered what Ash had meant to get from the kitchen, as I moved to sit across from him at the wobbly table. Before I could ask, Maye entered in her normal bubbly mood.

  “Morning!” She stopped at the counter and poured her morning cup of coffee, took a testing sip, while gazing at us over the rim of the mug. “Did I interrupt something?” Her eyebrow arched in a way that always reminded me of Ash.

  Ash quickly responded, “Nope.” He shoved the last bite of Frosted Flakes into his mouth and moved to bring his empty bowl to the kitchen sink.

  I grabbed an apple, from the bowl of fresh fruit Ash placed on the table earlier and watched as he leaned back against the sink behind Maye.

  “What were you two chatting about then? The room feels positively frigid.” She feigned a shiver.

  “I believe we were talking about how I am a klutz and Ash is bull headed, or something like that.” I jumped
up from the table and walked to the dining room side of the counter. I looked at Ash innocently, expecting him to comment, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked away and began to leave.

  I frowned at his back, but he stopped in the veil between the kitchen and the hallway leading to the front of the house. He looked over his shoulder and said, “I promised Griffin I’d meet up with him and I’m already late. See ya later.” Ash then looked me directly in the eyes and disappeared into the hallway.

  “Bye!” Maye and I shouted in sync.

  “What was that about?” I asked Maye, though I don’t know why I thought she would have the answer.

  “You tell me. I wasn’t the one in here talking to him. Did you sleep well?”

  “At first, no. Later I did though.” I polished off my apple and addressed the elephant in the room. “What time are we leaving?”

  Maye paused between sips. “We are going to leave as soon as I finish my cup of coffee. Be a dear and fetch my shoes. The black flats with the little swirls on the side.”

  I headed to the room in search of her flats. While sorting through the debris of shoes tossed haphazardly into a pile at the back of Maye’s closest, I came across an album.

  On the cover of the album was the name “Cross”, which was my line. I opened the album to the first page to find a family tree, which dated back to the original members. When I continued to turn, the family tree was replaced by drawings, then portraits, and eventually pictures of people. I grabbed the album and the shoes.

  After placing the album beneath the covers of my bed, I jogged downstairs to greet Maye. She was waiting at the door with her car keys in her hand and a large tote over her shoulder.

  “Good, you found them!” She beamed and sat to place the shoes on her feet.

  Our ride to my parents’ estate was riddled with silence. Too many emotions overwhelmed me and Maye seemed tense. It wasn’t long before we pulled up in front of the house. I sat still in the seat after the car went silent and built the courage to go inside.

  Ash

  I climbed into my SUV, but didn’t put the car in drive. I looked out the windshield at my house. When Savannah fell against me it had been difficult to pull away. Our noses touched and I felt a pounding need to close the space between our lips. I wanted to taste her.

  I shook my head; trying to wipe the thoughts from my mind. When she first came to live with us, I was protective of her, but over the years we had become closer. She began to eclipse everything in my world, which is why I needed to stop these kinds of thoughts.

  Last night, I woke to Savannah’s nightly screaming, but it was worse than usual. In response, I tried to quiet her. She had been in a deep, fitful sleep and remained unaware of my presence when I slipped into her room.

  Careful not to wake her, I eased myself onto the bed and her restless movements quieted. I held her face, smoothed her cheek with my thumb, and sang lightly in her ear. Savannah curled her body around mine.

  I felt strange being in her bed when she wasn’t aware I was there, and tried to detach myself, but she pulled me in closer. I laid on my back with her legs tangled in mine, and her head resting on my chest. Her smooth legs twitched, and I gently eased her shoulder away, but she lifted her head.

  “Ash.” Her eyes were mere slits. I paused in the hope that she would fall back to sleep. “Ash…”

  “It’s me.”

  “Mmmm… stay.” Her voice was barely audible, as she grazed her lips against mine and her head fell back against the pillow into a deep sleep.

  I don’t think she remembered her actions from last night, but considering my reaction to the memory, my body did. I spent most of the night calming her with my presence and voice. However, at dawn I managed to remove myself and get back to my room. It had been a painful night. I winced at the memory.

  My best friend, Griffin was usually the one who had the heightened sex drive. Lately, mine had kicked into high gear when I was around Savannah. It was beginning to worry me. Maybe Griffin was right and I needed to get laid, but I was never one of those guys who had casual hook ups.

  Groaning, I pulled out of the driveway. If there was ever a good time to visit Isis, it was now. Somehow, the relief that she would provide, left a bitter taste in my mouth. Instead, I turned my car towards the preserve. Maybe a walk would clear my head.

  Savannah

  I mimicked Maye’s foot placement towards the deceptively plain house. The lower section of the house was multicolored stone and the upper portion was painted light yellow. A wraparound porch gave the home a Victorian air. The grounds were unkempt from neglect over the years, but the house was still beautiful. It stood calm against the suburban storm raging around it. The thunder screamed across the sky slapping the clouds into a heated turmoil that flew towards the south.

  I wasn’t surprised my parents’ estate took this long to sell. From the outside it looked like an ideal family home. However, its history was not conducive towards “baby making” and family holiday dinners.

  My mother and father had been discovered on the property; their lifeless forms frozen solid against the kitchen tile. Horrified expressions were taped across their features, and strange markings left angry welts against their flesh. Maye kept this information from me until she felt I was strong enough.

  The police came to the house to investigate my parents’ deaths and found the answer to serial vanishings in the area. In the basement, the police found a giant freezer filled with vials of blood from each of my parents’ victims. The police found evidence they considered proof of their involvement in a cult. The world pronounced my parents, as participants in a serial killing spree, encouraged by a satanic cult. They were considered the greatest mass murders the state had ever seen. That was one point I completely agreed with. This house was not a home to build happy memories, but a museum echoing the nightmares of my past.

  Maye pulled a key from the chain around her neck and opened the front door. I stepped forward, prepared to enter when the faint smell of sandalwood incense wafted through the opening to tease my memories.

  The door opened into a dark foyer with a small den to the right and a large dining room to the left. I thought that once I was inside, the panic would consume me, but instead I felt detached. I couldn’t hear the younger version of me screaming in horror or my parents’ victims begging for mercy. The house was barren, and I was vacant of emotion. My parents had taken everything from me. They hadn’t even left me enough to react to the destruction of my innocence.

  The den was where my cage had been kept; it was gone now. Most of the furniture had been sold, but a few items remained. The books were still housed in wall sized bookcases, my parents’ altar was still in the dining room, and a rocking chair leaned in the far corner of their library. These were the only pieces of evidence that someone had lived here.

  “I’m going to look around in the basement. I am sure you would rather not go in there.” Maye cupped my cheek with her palm and looked me in the eyes. “If it gets to be too much for you shout out for me. I’ll understand.”

  I nodded. “I think I’ll be okay. Um, what kind of items should I be looking for?” I bit my lip and gazed around in puzzlement.

  “Just follow your instincts. Your blood will lead you to what is rightly yours. Don’t worry about the books. I’m going to have them transferred to the Meadow Falls library in the morning.”

  I watched Maye’s retreating back, as she opened a door and descended towards the basement. The idea of her being in that torture chamber gave me the chills. Maye was the essence of everything my parents had not been. The idea of someone I love entering a place filled with such hate, did not sit well with me.

  She wanted me to follow my instincts, but there weren’t any to be had. I considered what to do first. I could go room to room, floor to floor, or just randomly pick rooms until I had seen them all. One thing was for sure, the kitchen would be my last stop. I wouldn’t be able to look at the tile without imagining my parents’
blood flowing between the cracks. Though their deaths did not haunt me; I had enough death to last a lifetime.

  Turning right, I entered the den. It was a bland room with wooden floors. I could make out the scratch marks my nails had left on the finish, and shivered. From what I remembered of this room, there wasn’t anything special about it. Now, without any furniture to give it a lived in air, it was even drearier. Trailing my fingers across the dusty drapes, I followed the length of the walls all the way around until I approached the library door. Maye had said not to worry about the books, but in truth the library was the only room I had fond memories of.

  Before my parents became the embodiment of evil, my mother occasionally had a maternal side. The memories were faint, but I remembered her reading to me beside the fireplace. As I aged, my mother’s mental state deteriorated and her chaotic mood swings came more often. Eventually, her sanity was completely immersed in evil, and there was no sign of the mother who taught me to read.

  The rocking chair we used to curl up on was in the corner now. The fireplace was dead, and the floor contained scorch marks. I sat down on the burgundy rocking chair. My horrible memories crashed down around me. The tears came quickly and drifted down my cheeks to land on the velvet chair. Not wanting to stain the velvet, I leaned forward to bury my face in my hands and let forth a keening cry. It was the cry of a wounded animal, a woman who just buried her child, and a little one who lost their first pet. It was a cry from my wounded soul.

  My breath came in pants, as I tried to stifle my tears. Brushing the salty moisture from my flesh, I looked down at the rug beneath the chair. When I leaned forward, my only thought was to save the chairs fabric, but I hadn’t noticed the rug enough to protect it. The strange thing was that I didn’t remember seeing the rug, until after my tears fell onto it. A memory teased my mind and I vaguely recalled learning about the royal lines among witches.

 

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