by Rusty Kontos
“You killed her! I saw you! You killed Mama! She’s dead! I know she’s dead, and you did it!”
Benny looked at her in shock. He kept shaking his head, “No, she is not dead. NO! It was an accident. She hit her head on the table. She just fainted, that’s all.”
“Liar! She is dead! Can’t you see that? Mama is dead!” Nickole was kneeling down, holding her mother’s head in her lap. She kept screaming at Benny that he had killed Mary. Benny backed himself toward the door, a shocked, horrified look on his face as he realized what he had done. He opened the door and ran out, got into his car and drove off.
Benny was no more than a mile down the road when the clock on the living room wall struck twelve midnight. All at once a loud explosion was heard as the house shook around Nickole, who was still holding her mother in her arms and weeping. Plaster fell from the ceiling, rafters fell from the roof, and smoke started filling the room. Nickole could hear the other children screaming from the upstairs of the house where the bedrooms were located. She got to her feet and ran upstairs to Paul and Tiena’s rooms where she found them huddled in a corner, crying and screaming. One side of the bedroom wall was a blazing inferno. She ran over to the kids. She picked Tiena up in one arm and took Paul by the hand with her other hand. Then she led them out of the house to the front yard to safety.
“Paul, you stay here with Tiena. I’m going in after Mama.” Nickole ran back into the burning house. She put her arms under her mother’s shoulders and slowly began dragging her body outside. Paul stood there holding his little sister, tears streaming down their faces as they watched Nickole drag their mother’s body out of the burning house.
As Scallenie sat in his car, heard, and watched the explosion, a chilling sensation of mad delight went all through his body. He was as excited as a child was on the Fourth of July, watching explosive fireworks for the first time. He tipped his hat, grinning and laughing as he said, “Good-bye little girl, see you in heaven, if I ever get there.” Still laughing like a mad man, he drove away, leaving everyone in the house for dead.
It wasn’t long before fire trucks and neighboring people were on the scene. A woman and her husband,
who lived a mile or so down the road, took Nickole and the other two children to their house. Nickole kept repeating over and over that Benny killed her mother. However, no one would listen to her. They were sure she was just suffering from shock. Everyone figured that Mary was killed from the blast of the explosion. The doctor said that she likely was knocked down with a concussion from the force of the blast, causing her to hit her head, thus fracturing her skull and causing brain damage that killed her instantly.
John and Louise Miller took care of Nickole, Paul, and Tiena until Mary’s cousin, Salleina Cecello, came for them to take them to her farm to live. Benny called her the day of Mary’s funeral. He was standing at Mary’s graveside when the Miller’s brought the children. Nickole saw him standing there, staring down at her mother’s coffin.
She started to shake, as all the fury burst out of her. Her eyes glared at him and her tongue lashed the words out like a whip as she screamed, “You killed her, you filthy murderer! I swear to you, I will make you pay for her death with your blood! Do you hear me? Do you hear me? I swear you will pay for killing my mother!”
Benny did not say anything to Nickole’s outburst. He just dropped his head and left the cemetery as fast as he could. The Miller’s tried to calm her down, but she was like a mad animal. After the funeral was over, she was taken back to Bedville. The doctor was called, and she was given a sedative to make her sleep.
Benny left for his cabin where he and Mary, with the children in happier times, spent their summer vacations and weekends. He never came by the Miller’s after that. He phoned them to let them know
that Salleina was coming for the children. She came for them two days after the funeral. Benny spent most of his time at the cabin. It was twenty miles from Bedville and not another house was in either direction for three miles. Deep in his heart, he was sorry for Mary’s death. He knew he would never be able to make Nickole understand that or ever forgive him. He just stayed away from Salleina’s place and tried to forget the children and the guilt he felt. He knew that he could never face Nickole, ever again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Salleina Cecello was a woman in her late forties. Her dark olive skin was like rough leather that was weather-beaten from working hard in the sun too long on her farm. Salleina had worked her farm alone since the death of her husband ten years before. She plowed her fields by hand with a team of mules. She made her living from the crops she grew, and the eggs and milk she got from the few chickens and two cows she owned. The house was nothing more than a run-down three bedroom-room home. In the back of the house, stood a good-sized barn that looked better than the house, Nickole had thought to herself when she first saw it on the day they arrived. This was not the kind of house Nickole and the other children were used to, but they knew they had no choice in the matter, so they made the best of it. Paul worked the fields with Salleina in the spring and summer, and Nickole kept the house clean and did the cooking. Tiena was too young to do any hard work, so Salleina let her feed the chickens and gather the eggs. Salleina was good to the children, but she did not know how to show any real love for them. She never had any children of her own. Therefore, the only real affection they got was from Nickole. She tried to make things a little easier for Paul and Tiena by doing things and loving them like her mother did. The only thing that kept Nickole going was the thought of going to Chicago when she was old enough, and claiming her father’s estate so she could give her brother and little sister the kind of life
they were used to.
May 15, 1943
Three years had passed since Nickole lost her father and mother and came to live with her mother’s cousin, Salleina. Nickole had just turned sixteen and was still making the same plans that she had from the first day she arrived at the farm, only now she was ready to tell Salleina what she was going to do. Nickole could not wait any longer. She was determined to leave with or without Salleina’s permission.
It was a bright, sunny, and warm Sunday afternoon in May. Salleina was sitting in an old rocker on the front porch sunning herself when Nickole came out to join her. Nickole sat down on the steps, her back propped against the porch post. She turned around so she was facing Salleina. “Salleina, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time now. I should have done it long ago.”
“Should have talked to me about what, Nickole?” Salleina asked she stopped rocking and looked at Nickole with a little concern on her face.
“I know that we have been a bit of a burden for you.”
“Nickole! It has been hard for me, but not a burden. I know that I’m not the mother type, but I have grown to love you kids like you were my own.”
“Let me finish, Salleina. It is nothing against you or anything like that. I know you have tried, and I appreciate that. I have wanted to tell you of my plans. Salleina, I have to go to Chicago.”
“Chicago! What on earth for?”
“To claim what is rightfully mine. My father’s estate.”
“Estate? But Nickole, Benny isn’t dead. I know that you have not heard from him in almost three years. I am sure he is not dead.”
“I’m not talking about Benny, Salleina. I am talking about my father. My real father — Nick Colletti.”
“Nick! Well I’ll be.”
“Did you know my father, Salleina?”
“Yes, I did, Nickole. Your mother and I were once very close. I did not always live on this godforsaken place. I used to live just down the street from your mother. We played together as children and we told each other everything when we grew older. Like when the first time your mother met Nick. I always thought they would get married, but as time went by, I met my husband and we were married first. He brought me out here to live and I lost all contact with her until she wrote me telling me of her marriage to Benny. Then a few
months after that, she wrote to me again, telling me of your birth. I have often wondered about that. I mean, about you, really being Benny’s child. It was none of my business, so I kept it to myself.”
“Well, you know why I want to go there. So do I have your consent?”
“If your mind is made up, I won’t try to stop you, Nickole. Nevertheless, I will miss you and the other children when you leave me. I was so lonely until you came.”
“You don’t have to be, you know. When I come back for Paul and Tiena, you are welcome, too, if you want.”
“Do you mean that, Nickole? Would you really want me to come with you?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. Of course, I want you to come. But what will you do about the farm?”
“I know a man that would buy it from me right now. All I have to do is to call him.”
“Okay, Salleina, you give him a call and tell him he can have the place as soon as I get back.”
“How long do you think you will be, Nickole?”
“I really don’t know, Salleina. How about, let us say, three weeks. That should give me plenty of time.”
“All right, Nickole. Now when do you want to go and how?”
“Well, I guess I will have to walk. I do not have any money, and as for when, well I guess tomorrow morning. The sooner, the better.”
“All right, tomorrow, but you are not going to walk. I have a little money saved, so you take it and buy a train ticket.”
“Oh, Salleina, thank you.” Nickole said as she got up from the steps, put her arms around Salleina, and gave her a hug. Salleina smiled and kissed Nickole on the cheek. This was the first time Salleina had ever shown any real love.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nickole was standing in line at the ticket window in the train station. There were two people ahead of her as she glanced up at the big clock on the wall. It said eleven o’clock. She looked ahead of her, and saw she was next at the window. She took out some money.
“Where are you going, young lady?” The old ticket agent asked.
“Bedville, sir.” Nickole replied.
“One way or round trip?”
“Oh, one way, sir.”
“That will be five-eighty.”
Nickole handed him a ten-dollar bill. He gave her change. Then she stepped out of the line and headed
for a small restaurant to eat. After she had her dinner, she walked around town for a while. When it was time, she headed back to the station to catch her train.
Nickole slept on the train. She woke up when she heard the conductor calling: “Bedville! Next stop Bedville.” She got off the train and then started walking toward the street that led to the house where she once lived.
The walk to the house was long and hot. Nickole began to work up a sweat, as she forced herself to keep going. When she finally arrived in front of her house, she saw that it had been boarded up. It looked as though there had not been anyone near it since the last horrible night she lived there. She walked up to the front steps to the porch. She sat her suitcase down beside her. She started pulling at one of the boards that covered the front door. It would not come off, so she kept on searching with her hands until she found one that might be loose enough to pull off. The board moved a little. Nickole gave out a sigh of relief. She started pulling at the board as hard as she could. She worked it back and forth. As she pulled on it, the sweat dripped from her face. She stopped for a moment to wipe her brow. Then she took hold of the board once more. Determination welled up inside her as she kept tugging and pulling at the board. Suddenly the board gave way with a loud cracking noise as it snapped in half, leaving just a small hole big enough for her to crawl through. She wiggled through the hole in to the darkness of the living room. The only light was the sunlight coming through the
cracks of the boarded windows. Memories came flashing through her brain. She put them out of her mind and started looking for what she came for. Everything was just as it had been the night after the
explosion. Nothing had been moved or touched. She started feeling through the desk drawers. What she was looking for was not there. She decided to check the bedroom. Nickole headed for what used to be her mother’s bedroom. She stopped short in the doorway. There was just enough sunlight coming into the room to enable her to see that a large hole was in the middle of the room. The floor was almost completely gone, and the entire room was burned black. She knew that there was no use even thinking of looking for anything in there. Backing away from the room, she decided she had just one more place she could look; the closet. When she opened the closet door, she remembered that her mother kept a box of candles in there for emergencies or a power failure. Nickole felt around the top of the shelves, for the candles. She found the box of candles. She took them down, opened the box, and found that there were six candles and some matches in it. She lit the candles, and by dripping some wax on the box lid, she made a holder for them. The candles gave her the light she needed.
She looked around the closet. Then she saw her mother’s purse on a shelf. It was right there where she had left it three years before. Nickole took it down. She clutched it tightly in her hands for a moment. As her mother’s memory came to her, Nickole stood there, just staring at it. Then she opened it and started going through the compartments. She pulled out what she was looking
for — the cards Nick had given to Mary the day she went to see him at the hospital. Nickole clutched the cards tightly in her hand. She started to cry as the memory of that day came back to her. She crouched down on the floor of the closet in the corner. All at once she stopped crying. The blood started pounding in her head like a hammer and her heart was thumping madly. The sweat burned on her face as she stared at the shotgun standing in the corner facing her. She reached out and took it in her hands. As she held it in her hands, she could see Benny’s face flashing through her mind. She could see and hear him killing her mother all over again. Nickole got to her feet and took some shells from a box on the shelf for the gun. She put the shells in one pocket of her jeans and the cards in another. She blew out the candles, picked up the gun and headed back for the hole she made.
Once outside, she looked the gun over carefully. The one thing Benny did teach her was how to handle and care for firearms. She looked to see if the explosion or the fire and smoke had damaged or rusted the barrel, safety, and mechanism of the gun. Ironically, the gun was in good condition, just as it had been the day she last handled it, pointing the same gun at Benny, the man who taught her knowledge about guns. She went to the garage. All doors were locked. The side door had a glass window in it. Nickole raised the butt of the gun and smashed it through the glass. She reached her hand in through the broken window and unlocked the door. She pushed it open and went inside. She saw what she was looking for – her bike. It had two flat tires on it. Nickole walked over to a toolbox, opened it, and took out a tire pump. After she hand pumped the tires up, she found some rope and tied her suitcase onto the handlebars and the gun in the middle, making the bike look like a boy’s bike. Nickole wheeled the bike out of the garage and got on. Her riding skills were a little shaky at first, but as she went down the road, her riding skills came back to her.
It was now getting dark out. The sun was going down and night was coming on. That did not stop Nickole. She just kept peddling the bike, feeling nothing except hate in her heart for Benny. Nickole was headed for the cabin. She was not sure if he was still staying there or not. She knew she just had to find out.
At dawn, Nickole had reached the dirt road that led through the woods to Benny’s cabin. Nickole rode her bike all night to get there. She was tired, but her hate was keeping her going. She got off her bike and took off the gun. Then she hid the bike in some bushes so that it was invisible from the road. After the bike was in hiding, Nickole started her long walk up the dirt road. She reached the cabin in about forty minutes. Nickole came to a clearing at the foot of a hill where the cabin stood. She could see a dim light
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nbsp; shining through the cabin window. Nickole then took the shells for the gun out of her pocket and loaded it. The shells clicked into place, one by one. Nickole’s legs started to tremble as she came to the window and looked in. The blood roared through her ears and pounded against her brain. Her eyes became as glazed as glass as she stood there, watching Benny. He was sitting at a small table, eating his breakfast. Just as he held a cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip, Nickole burst through the door, gun aimed at his head.
At that moment, Benny’s face contorted into shock and surprise. He called out her name, at the same time dropping his cup to the floor. Nickole could not hear him, for the roar of blood kept pounding in her head. Nickole felt a cold, but delightful chill run through her as she pulled the trigger. The gun sounded like a cannon when she fired it. The impact of the blast from the gun hit Benny directly in the face, thus blowing his head completely off his shoulders. He was dead, instantly. His blood spurted out everywhere. The table, walls – all were covered with Benny’s blood. Fragments of flesh, bone, and his brains clung to the wooden walls around where he was sitting. His headless body fell limply to the floor, next to what was left of his head. The blood kept gushing from his body like a water fountain.
Nickole stood there, just staring and smiling as she said, “That takes care of the justice I promised you, Mama. Now you can rest, and so can I.” At that moment, Nickole was no longer a child of eighteen. She had become the cunning, coldblooded killer that Benny had predicted. Nickole had killed without feeling or mercy for her victim. The victim that had once been the only father she had known and once loved. Nevertheless, her love had turned to hate for him.
