Girl in the Shadows

by V. C. Andrews

  "Now she knows April's still here and she's seen what you're doing and what we did."

  He shook his head. "I didn't... how could she hear her scream?" he demanded. as if somehow he had been cheated, as if someone had broken one of the rules.

  "Does that matter now, you fool? Why did you come in here? Why did you have to do this? We're almost there."

  "Aw-." was all he could say, and waved at her. He struggled to his feet.

  Echo looked at him with confusion and terror and then looked down at me. I tried turning myself so I wasn't so exposed. I could just imagine how frightening a sight I was to her. Rhona seized Echo by the shoulders and walked her deeper into the bedroom, forcing her to sit on the bed with her back to me.

  "Stay there,' she said, waving her finger at Echo. "Stay!"

  "She's not a dog," I muttered.

  "You shut up," Rhona said. "Why are you still standing there like that. Skeeter? Go put something on while I think. Go on!" she shouted, and pointed at the doorway.

  He moved quickly out of the room. There was no doubt she had sobered him up instantly.

  "Now you listen to me," Rhona began, stepping closer to me. "This doesn't change anything, understand?" I could almost see the wheels churning in her head as she thought and spoke. "No one's going to believe what she tells them after we describe how you seduced her. Of course, she would say whatever you tell her to say. Anyone would realize that. You'll just put her through a terrible, terrible ordeal."

  "She's your own daughter." I said as though she had to be reminded. "'You're the one putting her through a terrible, terrible ordeal, not me."

  "You're going to make it worse for the both of you now," she replied, undaunted.

  Skeeter returned in his underwear and a T-shirt. He stood by looking like a remorseful little boy, his head slightly bowed, waiting for Rhona to either whip him or grant him a reprieve. She looked at him. at Echo, and at me.

  "All right. Here's what we'll do," she began, "You and Echo will stay in this room until we return from the hospital tomorrow. Skeeter, you'll nail that door shut, tie the handle, do whatever has to be done."

  He nodded, looking happy he had been given something to do to repent.

  "What about her?" he said, nodding at me. "Echo could untie her while we're away. I mean. I'll get that door shut so tight, it'll take a tank to open it, but still, they can go to that window and start screaming or something. I could nail it shut. too. I suppose, but they could break the glass and she could make a commotion."

  She thought, nodded, and turned to Echo. "We'll have to tie her up, too, then, so she can't free April," she said.

  "No, please don't do that to her. She's absolutely terrified as it is."

  "It won't hurt her to lie still for a few hours,"

  "I promise. I won't shout out the window. We won't try to escape.

  Rhona raised her eyebrows. "Sweetie, the last time I believed in promises. I believed in Santa Claus, and you know what that's worth," she said. "Skeeter. get something to use."

  "No, don't do that," I pleaded. Skeeter turned and ran out.

  Rhona walked over to the closet, lifted her foot to push me into it, and closed the door on me.

  "How can you call yourself a mother?" I screamed.

  She was still right at the door. She brought her lips to the slight opening. "I never did," she said.

  14 The Great Escape

  . I heard Echo's cries for help and her moans of confusion. She surely wondered how her mother could stand by and watch Skeeter tie her up. Trevor was wrong. I thought. Blood wasn't as telling and strong as he imagined it to be, at least for someone like Rhona, who was so selfish.

  Once again I heard them talking to Echo as if she were some sort of pet.

  "Stay here, Just stay here," Rhona shouted at her. "We'll be back as soon as we can to untie you."

  Echo was probably too hysterical and frightened by now to have the concentration required to read lips and had no idea what she was being told. All she saw was a wild, angry woman shouting down at her, a woman she once hoped would be the mother she never really had. In her small, protected world what was happening to her was far too bizarre for her to understand.

  Now that they had us both tied up. Rhona decided it wasn't necessary to nail the door shut.

  "It would be something we would be forced to explain later." she realized.

  I heard Skeeter agree and they left to get some sleep. I could hear Echo whimpering. Apparently, so could Rhona. She returned to the bedroom and shouted at her to be quiet. She probably put her finger to her lips and gave her some sort of threatening look as well because soon after. Echo did stop crying. In my mind's eye. I could see her shivering on the bed, her hands and feet bound. Before long, like me, she drifted into the escape of sleep.

  I woke to the sounds of Skeeter and Rhona getting themselves up and ready in the morning for what they believed would be their big day. I heard Rhona come back into to the room to check on Echo first,

  "See? You're fine: she told her. "Just rest. Drink this water," she said.

  I didn't know whether Echo did or not, but a few moments later. Rhona opened the closet door and looked down at me with the jug of water in her hand.

  "If all goes as I expect it will. I'll be back to cut you loose," she said. "Don't make any more trouble, not that you could. Just don't try and you'll be out of here and on your way, wherever that is."

  I said nothing and then, probably more because she didn't want anything to happen to spoil things for herself than because she felt compassion. she knelt down and poured me a glass of water. too. I took it greedily and she was a bit more patient about it.

  "Actually," she said as I drank. "I expected things would have gone better than this from the very beginning of my arrival here. I was being Pollyanna like you and deluded myself enough to believe my mother would be generous and forgiving and happily give me what was mine, especially after she willingly helped me when I was in trouble in Mexico. Of course. I didn't know you were here and that she had formed this surrogate daughter relationship, leaving me out in the cold."

  I stopped drinking and she took the glass away,

  "That's not true," I said. "I never replaced you as her daughter,"

  "Don't tell me how my mother thinks. I don't think she liked me from the day I was born. She always used to tell me I cried too much. I whined too much. I demanded too much. Half the time she pushed me off on my father and made him take care of me, comfort me, entertain me. Who knows? Maybe I wasn't really her child, although I'll have to admit she was very pretty when she was my age and looked like I do now.

  "She got pregnant again, hoping for something better than me. I'm sure. For the longest time, she kept it a secret that she had given birth to a boy after me. I bet she didn't even tell you that. huh? Well?'

  "No." I said. "'Trevor told me. The memory is too painful for her."

  "Ha! Too painful? After all these years?"

  "Unlike you, most women would find losing a child too traumatic to ever forget or forgive," I said, dipping into some well of wisdom I didn't know I had. She raised her eyebrows.

  "Nice try, butI'll tell you what I think. I think she believed I had taken all the health possible out of her body and left the next baby deformed and inadequate. She blamed my existence for his death."

  "That's so stupid." I said, and she flushed with anger, her cheeks flaming red.

  "How dare you tell me I'm stupid! You didn't live here all those years and listen to her and the way she spoke to me. I could hear it in the tone of her voice. What do you think Echo's being deaf meant to her, huh? The same thing. It was somehow my fault. That's why I had to get out of here. I couldn't stand it," she said. "I couldn't stand being blamed for every disaster in the world."

  "I'm sure that was something you yourself imagined," I said. though I couldn't be sure there wasn't a grain of truth in what she said. Even so, it didn't come close to justifying all the terrible things she had do
ne and would do.

  "Are we going or what?" Skeeter called from the doorway. "I'm growing old waiting."

  She glared at me. "It's a waste of time to talk to you anyway," she said. "Just keep quiet."

  She stood up and closed the closet door. I heard them leave the room and even descend the stairway. Then I took a deep breath. Somehow. I thought. Somehow, I've got to find a way to stop all this.

  But what could I do, tied and shut away in a closet? What would Brenda do? I wondered, not that I could ever imagine her permitting herself to be in such a predicament.

  "She wouldn't lie here like a dead one," I heard. Did I say that, throw my voice again?

  No, she wouldn't. I thought. She wouldn't be feeling sorry for herself, moaning and groaning about how this is her own fault and how terrible the world and some people are. She wouldn't flee to the escape of constant sleep either.

  I looked up at the closet doorknob. To me, with my wrists bound behind my back and my ankles bound together, it was as far a reach as the moon itself. Struggling, turning and twisting, I managed to get to my knees.

  Now what? I wondered. I couldn't bring my leg forward to get on my feet. but I could move inches at a time to get myself down to the part of the closet that had some shelving for shoes in it. Then I leaned over until I was on my left side and I extended my legs. Using my hands. I pushed myself around until my feet were at the bottom shelf. Once there. I pushed hard against the shelving. My back was against the opposite wall. As I pushed, my lower back rose and I pressed my hands to the wall. It took so much effort to do that much. I had to stop to catch my breath. If I didn't have enough reason to lose weight. I had it now, I thought.

  After I caught my breath. I manipulated my feet until I was finally flat-footed on the closet floor, Then I straightened and pushed along the wall behind me until I actually reached a standing position. Never did I imagine that such a simple move would seem like such a monumental accomplishment. I had a rush of excitement and renewed hope.

  I slid along the wall until I was at the door and my hands were just below the door handle. I leaned over and then got to my toes and again pushed my lower back up until my fingers found the handle. For a few moments, I couldn't figure out how to manipulate it, which way to turn it, down or up. I pushed up when down didn't do anything, but I wasn't getting it up high enough apparently. My hands were down too low and I couldn't raise my arms higher. It was too awkward.

  I had also not anticipated how being without any nourishment for so long would effect me when I made all this physical effort, I felt my head spin and my legs wobble. I closed my eyes and once again waited for my heart to stop pounding and my breathing to get better. Then I stood there thinking. I needed an inch or so more height. Another idea occurred to me. Sliding back along the wall. I turned and squatted enough to reach into the shelves so I could grasp a pair of high boots. I pulled them out and dropped them to the floor. What I wanted to do was stand on them.

  The next part seemed to take me hours. but I slid along the wall again, shoving the boots along until I was sure I was close enough to the closet door and the handle. Because my ankles were bound. I couldn't raise my foot and step on the boots. I held my breath and leaped, turning myself slightly so that I would come down on them. It was awkward and uneven, causing me to fall hard onto my shoulder, this time even rapping my head against the closet floor.

  I just lay there, exhausted, and once again feeling defeated. I screamed in frustration and then turned and, pulling my legs up, pounded at the closet door. I couldn't get my legs back enough to strike the door hard. but I did what I could and then I stopped, closed my eves and rested. Before I could start again. I saw the handle of the closet door jiggle.

  They had come back. I thought, Something had gone wrong. Who knew what they would do now, especially if they heard me making all this noise and effort to get out? I raised my feet in anticipation. I would fight with every ounce of strength. The doorknob clicked and the door opened so gradually, I thought it was being pushed by my breath.

  I stared in joyful disbelief.

  Echo was there. Still bound around her ankles and at the wrists, but Skeeter had not put her arms behind her. She was able to lift her arms and get her hands on that doorknob. She had managed to roll, slide, and whatever from the bed to the closet and then get to her knees and get her hands around the knob.

  I wished she could hear my cry of joy. She smiled as if she had and I twisted and turned to get myself rolled out of the closet.

  "You did good," I told her. She nodded. I saw how streaked with tears her face was.

  What would we do now? I wondered, I turned my back to her to show her how my wrists were bound with the wire. She was able to use her hands even though her wrists were tightly bound together. She worked on the knot. It was difficult and she stopped and whined her frustration. but I kept encouraging her until finally, she made some headway and became encouraged and more determined herself. I could feel the wire loosening until finally, she was able to pull it far enough apart for me to jiggle my hands free.

  I turned and hugged her and then I quickly undid her wrists. We both smiled and laughed with joy as we untied our ankles. Once again. I had to pause to catch my breath. but I wasn't acing to linger long. When I stood straight this time. I felt the ache in my legs. I had to move about and limber up quickly. I put on a new pair of panties and another pair of jeans. I located my shoes where Skeeter had tossed them and then we went to the door. She was worried they were still in the house. but I had no doubt they were well on their way to putting their plan to work, which meant going to the attorney they had dug up from some legal junkyard and then rushing over to the hospital to get Mrs, Westington's signature.

  One of the first things I did when we walked out and down the stairs was go to the kitchen and get some orange juice. I found some bread and smeared some jam on a slice, gobbling the food quickly. Echo was signing all sorts of questions at me: "Why did they do this to us? Were they gone? How was her grandmother? Can we go to see her? Where was Trevor?"

  I made my answers as simple as I could, explaining that her mother was just after money. I told her about Trevor's mother dying and then I said we had to go see her grandmother immediately. She nodded. eager. How ironic it was that she was the one who had saved me. I thought, and then I thought back to when she had first appeared in that bedroom doorway and saw what Skeeter was trying to do to me.

  "How did you know I was still here?" I signed.

  She smiled and pointed up.

  "Destiny." she said. She pronounced the name rather well. I thought. And then she signed. "She told me."

  It was a strange and eerie moment for me. What did she mean? She couldn't hear anything, even if my voice had come through the walls.

  "How?" I asked her.

  "I found her in my closet," she explained. "And I knew you would never leave without her."

  I smiled. Yes. I thought, Destiny did tell her. In more ways than one. Destiny had rescued me again, "Thank you. Uncle Palaver." I muttered under my breath.

  "Come on," I said. "We have work to do."

  It didn't occur to me until we had stepped out of the house that Skeeter had taken my car, and of course, Trevor was still away.

  "Hurry." I said, and led her to the motor home. How happy I was that the legal system moved so slowly and it was still here on the property. Echo was excited about riding in it. Despite all that had been done to her and all she had seen, she still had a young girl's innocent view of the world. How sad it was to have to give that up, but eventually we all had to do it.

  I started the engine and turned it around to head down the driveway. I really had no detailed plan. I thought first about going directly to the police to tell them what Skeeter and Rhona had done to us, but my first concern wasn't that. It was Mrs. Westington, so I drove as quickly as I could to the hospital. Of course. I was afraid of what it would be like confronting Rhona and Skeeter, and I was even more frightened of what
effect it might have on Mrs. Westin ton if it was done in front of her. The commotion would be too much. but I had to show her that I hadn't deserted her.

  When we turned into the hospital parking lot. I looked about quickly for Skeeter and Rhona's van. I didn't see it and first wondered if they had already been here and gotten what they wanted out of Mrs. Westington. Perhaps we were too late. I found two empty parking places wide enough for the motor home. As soon as I pulled in, I hurried Echo along and we crossed the lot to the hospital entrance. Of course. I knew what I looked like to everyone, rushing about in a frenzy, my hair a mess. with Echo clinging to my hand, her own face still tear- streaked and her hair just as wild. I was sure we both made for quite a sight.

  As soon as we stepped out of the elevator onto Mrs. Westington's floor. I thought finally, finally, luck had decided to smile upon us. There at the end of the hallway, in conference with a nurse. was Doctor Battie. He glanced in our direction, looked briefly at us, and then down at the chart before lifting his head again with surprise.

  "I thought you had left the area," he said as we approached him.

  "She lied to you. I have to speak with you," I said, eyeing the nurse. who looked at us with curiosity and interest. "'Privately, please."

  He nodded and led me and Echo down the hallway to an empty patient's room.

  "How is Mrs. Westington?" I asked before saving anything else.

  "I'm not seeing enough improvement yet to be comfortable with her having any other procedure. Something is really upsetting her," he added. "What's happening here?"

  How do I begin? I wondered. Without speaking, I showed him my wrists.

  "What's that from?" he asked.

  And then I told him. He listened, his face changing from mere curiosity to concern and then anger. He signed with Echo and learned her story as well.

  "You were right not going directly to Mrs. Westington with all this." he said. "Wait here,'

  He left us and when he returned, he had two hospital security guards with him.