by Anne Malcom
The other times, they weren’t as stark. Weren’t as memorable. Was it because the horror became monotonous? Or because her brain could only handle so much trauma? Maybe the drugs. She’d gotten used to the drugs.
They gave them to her that first night when they dragged her into the house. She was fighting again at that point, screaming, clawing at them. After the injection, they dragged her down the basement steps. Her vision was hazy, her body going limp, but she did see the cockroaches scuttling across the floor as one of them flipped the lights on. She saw the stained mattress, chains, and a large door in front of her, like the gateway to hell.
At some point she passed out, her eyelids too heavy to fight. She thought she saw other girls, thought she smelled blood, but she no longer could distinguish what was real and what was a dream.
The smell caught her a few hours later, like the roadkill she and April had found once when they were younger, poked and prodded the thing until the smell became too much to bear, the iron-y scent of dried blood, the musk of decay. Its pungency yanked her from unconsciousness, or maybe it was the pain. She felt it then in her side. Her ribs screamed with every small movement, every breath. It brought visions of the van, and the car she collided into, the fists that rained down on her and the clunk of her thin body against the basement steps.
It wasn’t dark. She thought that was cruel, on top of it all. To show her where she was, to light the bloodstains on the floor. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the concrete walls aged with filth. The floor—which served as her mattress—was cold, the concrete dirty. She observed the stains again, all various shades of crimson. She didn’t want to think about what they were.
She did anyway.
Wants didn’t mean anything in a place like this.
Ri tried to sit up, out of habit more than anything. She didn’t know why she should want to sit upright, be conscious, move from the stained, smelly floor. She wanted to try and lapse back into unconsciousness. She should just close her eyes and drift back to sleep . . . perhaps she would wake back up in her own bed. She’d never thought of home as home before, never wanted to spend any time there, dreamed of escaping and never returning. But now, now she begged God to be taken back, to be told this was all some horrible nightmare. She’d never spoken to that being, that thing people worshipped at the small church in town. Orion had thought it was all bullshit. But she was desperate right now, so she pleaded God for this to be a nightmare.
It wasn’t. And as she took in the metal clasp around her ankle and the chain that connected her to the concrete wall, she began to weep, wincing from the pain it brought her.
“Don’t try to move too fast, sweetheart.”
Ri jerked, the voice catching her off guard, even though it was soft and kind. She didn’t understand soft and kind anymore.
Ri searched the room for the owner of the voice, but the lights were too bright, searing her eyes, the back of her head, spots clouding her vision.
“Help me, please,” Ri rasped, sobbing through the words.
Someone scoffed. “There’s no helping you now, baby.” This voice was different. Sarcastic.
“Shut up, Jaclyn!” the first voice snapped.
A hand settled on Ri’s shoulders, gently helping her upright. She didn’t have it in her to flinch. The hand on her, no matter how gentle, all but peeled the skin from her flesh. Someone strange touching her, it caused the memories to rush back in. The van, the loss of her innocence at the hands of two vile pigs. She was dirty. Defiled.
That only made her sob more.
Through her tears, Ri took in the girl she’d come to know as Mary Lou. Her strawberry blonde hair was tangled, messy, but not dirty. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, which made the dark circles under her eyes all the more prominent, even in the dull light. She looked older, maybe in her early twenties, and the thought of their age difference sent a shudder down Orion’s spine.
How long has she been in here? she thought, her stomach turning.
Mary Lou smiled warmly, as if she could sense Orion’s turmoil. The smile—more importantly, how genuine it was—surprised Orion. Such a smile seemed foreign in a place like this.
Mary Lou placed her hand on Ri’s cheek. The gesture was meant to comfort, so Ri didn’t flinch away from the touch because of the girl’s kind smile. She didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Are you okay?” Mary Lou asked, a concerned wrinkle in her brow. “I mean, considering.”
She asked it like the answer could be anything. Like somehow, in this basement, this cell, with the rancid smell of monsters all over her, the rancid presence of them inside her wasn’t real.
Ri couldn’t fake it, couldn’t pretend to be strong. Before this, she’d always thought she was tough. She weathered abuse from her parents. Poverty. The ridicule from those at school who considered her to be trash. She had none of that strength now. It was stolen, scooped out of her like everything else had been.
“I hurt so bad,” Ri sobbed, all semblance of strength crumbling away from her like the weak shield it had been. “I’m so tired.”
She was. Exhausted. She wished she could sink into the concrete, the ground, and sleep forever. She didn’t just want to sleep, she wanted to die. It was the first time she’d wished such a thing, and it would certainly not be the last.
Mary Lou wiped the tears from Ri’s face. Ri regarded what the girl was wearing. A white hospital gown with tiny blue flowers covering it. She expected it to be dirty—they were surrounded by filth after all. But it was spotless. Ri looked down to see she was wearing the same thing. She was clean. How could she be clean? The dirt and grime clung to her, was embedded in her bones.
“Where am I?”
“That’s a good question,” Mary Lou said. “We call it The Cell. Not very original, I know.” She fumbled with a chain wrapped around her ankle. It was attached to the wall just like the one around Orion’s ankle. “Truth be told, we don’t know where we are.”
“We?”
She motioned to her right, and Ri’s eyes found the girl at the other end of the room—The Cell—leaning against the wall. She wore the same gown as the other two girls, ankle chained to a D-ring on the far wall.
“That’s Jaclyn,” the girl explained. There was an edge to her soft voice. “She’s a delight, if you can’t already tell.” She pointed a few feet beside Jaclyn. “The one pretending to be asleep is Patricia.”
Ri focused on a girl, curled up in a ball on the floor, facing away from everyone. She found herself jealous of the girl, pretending or not, wishing she was doing the same. It hurt to talk, hurt even more to take in her new reality.
“We don’t all live in denial like Mary Lou here,” Jaclyn said, her words sharp. Everything else about the girl was sharp too. Latina; emerald eyes; long, dark, wild hair; all of her features strong, jarring, and beautiful, even in here. She was also clean.
Ri was struck with pure jealousy in that moment, despite everything. Despite the pain between her legs, inside her soul, the fear gnawing at her nerves, telling her that nothing would ever be the same again, her girlish envy somehow remained unharmed.
Ri would come to learn that Jaclyn’s beauty, her presence, was not something to be envied, coveted. It meant she was the prize possession. Their favorite.
In The Cell, you didn’t want to be the favorite.
Mary Lou straightened, jutting her chin upward in a gesture that Ri recognized. April did it now and again, not really knowing she was doing it. Almost a tic for girls from families that spoiled them, pampered them, and gave them the tools to be spoiled, to look down on people whether they knew they were doing it or not.
“You will never bring me down to your level, Jaclyn,” Mary Lou said, her grip tightening ever so slightly on Ri. She found she preferred that pain as opposed to the tenderness of before. “I will always have hope.”
Jaclyn narrowed her eyes, focusing on Ri. “You want to know what happened to the last person who wore those c
hains, little girl?” she asked Ri, and Orion didn’t much like where she was going with it.
It hit Ri then, quickly, without mercy. The truth. The ugliness of it. These girls were familiar with their surroundings. Resigned. They’d been here long enough to figure out ways to cope.
She wasn’t stupid. She’d read stories, watched the news. Missing girls. Children. Rarely found. What was it, the first twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? They were important. Critical. You didn’t find many after that. You wouldn’t want to find many after that.
“Do you really wanna know?” Jaclyn followed up, her tone condescending.
“You shut up right now, Jaclyn,” Mary Lou snapped, voice bordering on shrill. Similar to the tone April’s mother used with her when she was being a brat.
Then again, she also shouldn’t have been sitting in a basement with a chain on her ankle.
Ri started to tremble. She didn’t want to. She wanted to lean against the wall with her arms folded, accepting of her fate like Jaclyn was. Or maybe even blindly hopeful and kind like Mary Lou.
Not shaking, with tears and snot running down her face.
But she wasn’t in control of that. She felt powerless to the realization.
So she trembled and sobbed. “Wh-where are we? What is this?” The words came out on their own, panicked.
“This is hell on earth,” Jaclyn said, not the least bit gently. “And you’re the newest resident.”
Mary Lou stood, crossing the small space between them with a purpose, right up until the chain at her ankle went rigid and stopped her a few feet shy of the girl.
Jaclyn remained leaning lazily against the wall, a sly, taunting smile on her face. Ri suspected such a face-off happened often by the look of it. How could tension not be high? Orion had shared a trailer long enough to know, close quarters with anyone will lead to conflict.
Mary Lou jabbed a finger in Jaclyn’s direction, fire in her eyes. “I swear, Jaclyn, if you don’t leave this poor girl alone—”
“You’ll what?” Jaclyn snarled, pushing off the wall and standing, the chain jangling at her feet. She tensed her shoulder, hands fisted at her sides. “She’s not the only ‘poor girl’ in this fucking place. She’s no more damned than the rest of us. Stop fucking babying her.”
Mary Lou shook her head in disappointment or anger. Orion couldn’t decipher. Maybe both. “And who was here to comfort you when you first got here? Would you rather I just fed you to the wolves?”
Jaclyn scoffed. “Newsflash, Mary Lou. The wolves have been feasting since I got here. You can’t protect me from that. Just like you can’t protect her. When the beasts are hungry, they come prowling for their hapless prey.” She rattled the chain on her ankle purposefully.
Ri saw the fire, the fury in Jaclyn’s eyes from across the dimly lit space, and she felt something that surprised her . . . pity. She imagined then, Jaclyn’s first day in The Cell, and what she must have been like. She imagined an innocent girl just like herself, slowly turned jaded over—years? Weeks? Months?—of abuse.
“And comfort?” Jaclyn asked, her eyes piercing. “Comfort? You lied to me, Mary Lou. You don’t make it any better when you pretend we’re not all going to fucking die in here. And that before we die, we’re gonna experience shit that’ll make us wish we were dead. When you spew your toxic optimism all over the place like we’re going to see our families again. Our friends. Like we’re ever gonna walk out of this fucking hellhole. Like we’re gonna ever see freedom again.” Jaclyn’s face was red, spittle flying from her lips as the words tore from them. “Get a fucking clue, girl. We’re not! This is it, Mother Mary. I’m not going to live in fucking La La Land and I’m not going to let you give this poor girl false hope.”
Jaclyn backed up to the wall and slid back down so she was sitting on the concrete again. She rested her arms on the top of her knees, and just like that, the anger in her features dissipated. The smug grin Orion would get more than used to returned. “Now leave me the fuck alone,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall and letting out a long breath. “And good luck with your new project. Hopefully she fares better than the last one did.” She nodded her head to the freshest of the crimson stains on the floor, nearest Orion’s feet.
Orion cowered away from the stain, back against the cold, hard wall, tears welling in her eyes.
Mary Lou turned from Jaclyn sharply, disgust written on her features. “Shame on you, Jaclyn,” she said quietly. “Shame on you for bringing Sarah into this.”
Jaclyn ignored her.
Mary Lou focused on Ri once more, chain clanging as she walked back toward her, as close as she could get. She sat down, cross-legged, and rested her hands in her lap. “Ignore her, dear. She’s got a bad attitude.”
“What happened to the last girl?” Orion asked, not even hearing her last statement.
Mary Lou didn’t answer.
“What do you think?” Jaclyn snapped from across the room. She was glaring at Ri now, coldly, like she hated her for speaking, for breathing.
Ri hated herself a little for breathing too.
Mary Lou’s hand reached out to Orion. “Ignore her,” she repeated.
Ri wouldn’t, of course. She was fascinated with the details of the last girl who wore her chains. She searched for words, but couldn’t find any, couldn’t figure out what she wanted to know.
“What is this place?” she finally asked, her eyes flitting from Mary Lou, to Jaclyn, and finally, to Patricia, who now trembled uncontrollably as the tears came.
“Put two and two together, sweetheart,” Jaclyn said, laughing coldly.
Mary Lou’s lips pursed. She took a visible breath. “We were all . . . taken.” She paused, eyes going far away. She was remembering something, Ri could see that. Maybe the van. The things. The smells.
“We’re being held captive by the two who brought you in here. We call them Thing One and Thing Two.” Mary Lou continued, “One is the fat one. Two is the one who looks like Skeletor.” She chuckled. “Not that it matters. They’re both disgusting pigs.”
“Why did they take us?” Ri asked the question, even though the pain between her legs told her everything she needed to know. They were there for one thing, and one thing only.
Mary Lou’s eyes flitted to her lap. “It’s best we don’t discuss that right now. You need to rest. There are a lot of drugs still in your system.”
Tears trailed down Ri’s cheeks. Why did she have to be so nice? Calm. It made everything worse. “I don’t understand,” she said through a sob.
Chains rattled. Jaclyn was standing again. “It seems you need someone to spell it out for you. You’ve been taken by two pedophiles. You belong to them and their buddies now. You don’t belong to yourself. You don’t control anything. It’s something you need to get right with fast, because fighting fate ain’t gonna do you any good. And fighting them is only gonna get you beat up worse.” She paused. “And one last thing. You are never getting out of here. That’s the truth. It’s ugly. But I’m thinking as soon as you opened your eyes, you realized ain’t nothing beautiful waiting for you in the future, no matter what this bitch tells you.” She jerked her head to Mary Lou. “Your fate is sealed, just like ours. And the sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.”
Mary Lou’s face had been getting redder and redder during Jaclyn’s tirade, her mouth twisted into a scowl that Ri would only see a handful of times throughout their years of captivity. For the most part, Mary Lou stayed positive, energetic. She rarely let reality bring her down. “I hate you, Jaclyn,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. The chains clanged again as she stood. “I hate you!” she screamed. “I wish it were you and not Sarah, you know that?” Mary Lou clapped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to hold the words in.
Jaclyn raised her middle finger, sitting down again. “I wish it were me instead, too, bitch . . . trust me.” Her voice was a growl, her elbows resting atop her knees once more, and then her head dropped between them
. “Trust me,” she murmured, and Orion thought she heard a sniffle.
The silence that followed was long and stifling.
It was something that would get to Ri, throughout the years. The absolute quiet. No far-off sounds of cars, sirens, civilization. No music, no TV, no books. Nothing but empty air to taunt them and show them no one would hear them scream, that no one would ever find them.
“How long have you guys been here?” Ri asked finally, the quiet starting to burrow under her skin, to make her think crazy thoughts, unwelcome thoughts.
She regretted the question upon seeing Mary Lou’s face. As kind as her eyes were, the rest of her face dropped, that hope falling off it like water on a windshield.
“You really should rest,” she said, avoiding Ri’s gaze.
“Please,” Ri said. She should’ve felt bad, pressing Mary Lou like this. Not giving her respite, but she didn’t. Mary Lou was in a position above her. Didn’t Ri hear that knowledge was power? Chains at her ankle and bruises on her thighs were the sign of how little power she had. She’d get the knowledge. Even if it were just shreds. She needed something.
Mary Lou took a deep breath. “How long I’ve been here really depends on what year it is.” She was weary. Words and tone decades older than this girl in her early twenties was.
“It’s 2006,” Ri replied.
Mary Lou’s sharp intake of breath told Ri something. As did Jaclyn’s slightly maniacal cackle from the other end of the room.
“What?” Ri asked, even though she knew this was bad for her. For all of them.
A tear ran down Mary Lou’s cheek. “It’s been far too long,” she rasped.
“How long?” Ri probed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.
Mary Lou took another sharp breath. “I was taken in 1997,” she whispered.
“2001,” Jaclyn called out. She shook her head, clicking her teeth. “Five years,” she muttered, then laughed coldly again. “Five fucking years.”
Sobs echoed from the corner where Patricia was still curled in a ball. Her body twitched with each one.
