“Have fun!” I called as she briefly turned to wave before disappearing into a door in front of the gymnasium.
I sighed, happily sad and directed the car in the direction of home, stopping at the grocery store for some ice cream along the way. Back at home, Steve was watching a man get hit in the nuts by a waffle ball bat on America’s Funniest Home Videos. I put the ice cream in the freezer and went to join him.
He was laughing hysterically when I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. I stared, un-amused at the TV screen. “Why do people think this stuff is funny?”
Steve shrugged. “Mostly because it’s not happening to them.”
“That’s dumb. Can we please watch something else?”
“Sure,” he said picking up the remote and scrolling through the channels. “Want to watch this?”
I glanced up at the blue menu on the television screen, reading through the information listed about the show. “Not really,” I replied. “Not really into shows about people being haunted. My life was a little too much like that.
“Okay. How about a movie? We can watch, hmm, let’s see.” He flicked through the channels, stopping on Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. “A movie about meatballs, a movie about lovely bones, or a movie about, hmm, I have no idea what it’s about.”
“Not the Lovely Bones,” I told him. “That book was terrible. Definitely not the meatball movie, so I guess that leaves the George Clooney movie.”
He clicked on the channel and set the remote down on the coffee table. “Did you stop at the store on your way home?”
“Mhmm. I picked up some ice cream. You want a bowl?”
“What kind of ice cream did you buy?”
Smiling I said, “I got rocky road, and moose tracks.”
“Come on, we’ll get ice cream.” He picked the remote back up and paused the movie, then grabbed my hand.
In the kitchen, I pulled out two bowls, peering out the window as I did so. A fierce wind had kicked up and was blowing damp leaves around the street, littering the gutters with bits and pieced of wind-swept garbage. The rain, it appeared, had ceased.
I handed Steve a bowl and he handed me the carton of Rocky road ice cream. I set it down on the counter and peeled the lid back, dipping the spoon into the partially melted contents.
“What time is Emma supposed to be home?” Steve asked spooning ice cream into his bowl.
“I didn’t tell her,” I answered. “But she should know that curfew is eleven, regardless.”
Steve nodded, replaced the lid on his container of ice cream, and deposited it back in the freezer. I slid mine in behind his and shut the freezer.
“She should, but you know how these kids are. Especially on a dance night…”
“She’s not like the other kids, it doesn’t hurt that you’re the fuzz either.”
Steve snorted. “I doubt she cares whether or not I’m the fuzz.”
“She cares. She knows she’ll be treated just like anybody else if she steps out of line.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to crack down on her,” he said, sitting back down on the couch. I sat down beside him, picking up the remote, restarting the movie.
“I know that,” I said, talking over George Clooney’s monologue.
“I know you do,” he replied, dropping the subject.
I sat back, watching the movie unfold before me, not really interested in the plot as much as George Clooney. Halfway through the movie Steve turned to me and said, “This is dumb.”
I nodded in agreement, glancing at the clock with a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. I think I’m going to head to bed.”
He clicked off the TV and set the remote back down on the coffee table. “Let’s go to bed then woman.”
I picked up my bowl and shuffled to the kitchen, rinsing it before setting it in the sink. In the other room, I heard Steve click the light on the porch and lock the bottom lock of the door. I went to the back door and checked the locks before meeting him at the foot of the stairs.
“Emma has a house key right?”
I nodded as I climbed the stairs. “She does.”
“Just checking. The last thing I want is a phone call asking me to let her in.”
“It was one time,” I laughed. “And she hasn’t forgotten her keys since.”
“Yup, yup,” he muttered, yawning. “I have a whole mess of reports to work on tomorrow.”
“You sure do,” I replied.
Not wasting any time, I changed and slid into bed, Steve following a few minutes later. I rolled over as he pulled the covers up and laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“I know things have been kind of weird the last couple of weeks,” he said running his hand down my back. “It’s just… well; there are some things going on that I’m trying to protect you from.”
“Like what?”
Steve chuckled softly. “If I told you then I wouldn’t be protecting you from them, now would I?”
“I don’t need protecting,” I told him.
“And I agree, for the most part. But this, this is different. You need me to protect you from this. It’s for the best, and I’m not saying that to be patronizing. I’m saying it because it’s seriously true. Can you just believe that I’m trying to protect you and promise you’ll leave it alone?”
I glance up at him as he stared down at me with real fear in his eyes. “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll leave it alone.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied, closing my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Several hours later, a strange noise woke me up. It took me a minute to recognize the sound, it was one I hadn’t heard in the middle of the night in such a long time I’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like. Quietly I slid out of bed and quickly padded to the door, the sound growing louder.
Crying in the bathroom at the end of the hall was Emma. I opened the bedroom door and slipped into the hall, making my way to the bathroom door, the crying growing louder.
“Emma?” I said softly, placing my hand on the door. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice wavering. “I’m fi-fi-fine.”
Gnawing in my stomach told me to open the door. I reached apprehensively for the knob, my fingers closing around the cool brass fixture and turning it. The door swung open slowly, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I gasped as the door fully opened.
Huddled in the small space between the toilet and the tub, Emma sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her face beaten and bloody. “Steve!” I called.
Beneath me, the tile floor rose up and quickly dipped back down. Flashes of scenes from the past flickered before my mind’s eye. Me, tumbling down the stairs, bruised, beaten and bloody, that same alley, the chilled steel of a heavy gun in one hand and a knife in the other, the loud echoing of multiple gunshots, the wailing of a police siren.
The scene in the bathroom started to gray, the pristine white tiles rose up once more, and my mind swirled as I pitched forward to meet them.
The last thing I remembered was the cool tile against my cheek as the light of my world was instantly snuffed, casting me into darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
I blinked against the harsh white light blinding me from above. I fought to sit up, struggling against something stiff that was biting into my wrists and ankles. I raised my head up, trying to glance down at my restrained limbs. That’s when I noticed something was amiss. My bathroom walls weren’t a filthy shade of gray and the light was nowhere near this harsh.
What the hell was going on? Where am I? I glanced around frantically, fear rising up my throat, choking me.
“Ah, you’re awake,” a soothing voice said behind me.
I angled my neck to see who was speaking and bit back a scream as Curtis Duggar smiled down at me. “Wh- what are you,” I paused, swallowing my fear. Don’t let him see you’re afraid, my subconscious whispered. “Why
am I strapped down?” I said boldly.
Curtis dragged a stool to the head of the bed and sat down. He glanced at me sympathetically and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on the clipboard he had in his hand. “Do you know where you are?” he asked softly.
“No, you frigging monster,” I spat at him. My heart raced, my fear chipping away at my precariously crafted façade of calm. I knew this was going to happen, I knew they’d let him out of jail and he’d kidnap and torture me to death.
“Do you know how old you are?”
I stared stupidly at him. “Of course I know how old I am.”
“How old are you?” he asked, pen poised over the clipboard.
“I’m thirty five. But you already knew that.”
Curtis shook his head. “No, Jobeth, you’re not. You’re seventeen.”
I laughed at him. “No I’m not, I retorted. I’m thirty five, I have a house and bills, and a job and a car and I have an almost seventeen year old daughter and all the grief and aggravation that goes along with it.”
“No, Curtis said slowly. “You do not. You’re a nineteen year old girl.”
“No,” I replied and just as deliberately. “I am not.”
Curtis sighed and clicked his pen, resting it on the clipboard. “You are. You’ve been in Western State Hospital for a little over a year. Don’t you remember? You were raped by your date at the homecoming dance while his two friends held you down. Do you remember what happened next?”
I turned my gaze away from him and stared at the wall.
“What happened next Jobeth?”
I closed my eyes and tried to tune him out. Where was Steve? I wondered. Was he coming to save me from this lunatic?
“JoBeth, what happened after Rodger raped you?” Behind me, Curtis stood and I heard him shuffle around the bed. He knelt down in front of me. “You have to stop this – this living in a fantasy land. You need to start facing reality, as cold and harsh as it may be.”
I rolled my head away from Curtis, away from his words, the soft peppermint of his breath.
He sighed and shuffled around the bed, sitting back down in his chair. “Jobeth, this has been going on for over a year. It’s past time it came to an end.”
I wanted to scream at him I didn’t know what he was talking about, and as I went to do so, there was the sound of something metallic sliding and a soft, feminine voice said, “Dr, Duggar, Mr. Reeves’ is in your office.”
My eyes popped open. Daddy’s alive! My heart beat rapidly at the thought of seeing my father again. To see his kind brown eyes, to hear the subtle sarcasm that laced his voice. I wanted to cry from happiness. Daddy was alive!
No he isn’t, my subconscious interjected. It’s some kind of drug, Curtis drugged you, and that chick is just trying to make you think he is. They’re screwing with your head. Don’t let him into your head!
I couldn’t help it; I opened my eyes and said, “I want to see my dad.” I swallowed hard as Curtis turned around and glanced at me. “Please,” I added. “Can I please see him?”
“We’ll see,” Curtis replied. The door buzzed and he exited the room.
Alone in the room, I stared at the ceiling trying to process everything that was happening. I was tied to a bed in a room in a building in the middle of god only knows where. Curtis Duggar was here, some woman called him doctor, and Dad was supposedly alive.
You are way too calm, a sarcastic voice in my head piped up.
I am, I thought back. That’s not normal right?
Of course not. You’re talking to yourself. That’s not normal either.
I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. Maybe I was dreaming and when I woke up this would all be okay, I would be back at home and everything would be as it should be.
***
“Are you awake?” the voice of the ever-annoying Dr. Duggar screeched in my ear.
I opened one eye and glared at him. “I am now, dickwad. What the fuck do you want?”
“Well hello, JoBeth,” he said snidely.
“Hell-fucking-o,” I replied. “What do you want? Here to try and con me into admitting that what I did was wrong, because, guess what doc? I ain’t gunna. That motherfucker had it coming, fuck, all three of them did, and they all deserved what happened to them. So save your breath, ‘cause the answer is still no. I don’t fucking feel bad for what I did to them. And how many fucking times do I have to tell you that my name is Josie, Not JoJo, not JoBeth, Just Josie. Fuck, what kind of head shrinker are you, if you can’t even remember that?”
Duggar didn’t say anything; he sat in his fugly orange chair and scribbled on his little notebook while I lay tied to this goddamned bed. “Hey, douchasaurus, you plan on untying me anytime soon?”
Duggar glanced up. “No.” he said. “You’re a threat not only to yourself, but anyone else who even tries to come in here.”
“No I’m not,” I shot back.
Curtis glanced at me, his one eyebrow rose questioningly. “Really? And what about the nurse you punched two weeks ago? You broke her nose JoBeth.”
“It’s Josie and she looked at me funny. She deserv-“
“Let me guess,” he said, cutting me off. “She deserved it.”
I nodded emphatically. “She did.”
“What about the orderly who came the other day to take you to the sunroom. You bit him. He deserve it also?”
“He tried to grab my tits, so yeah, he deserved it.”
Duggar sighed. “He didn’t try to grab your chest. We’ve been over this a million times. No one here is out to get you, or hurt you.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“Okay, let’s talk about the night of the dance,” Curtis said, quickly changing the conversation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.
“Yes you do. The night of the homecoming dance last October. Tell me about what happened.”
“I already told you, asswipe, nothing happened.”
“So then tell me this,” Curtis said, a smug smile on his face. “If nothing happened the night of the homecoming dance, why did you shoot and mutilate Rodger Byers, Arnold Ames, and Tyler Crow?”
I closed my eyes, the feeling of being dragged under by a huge wave washed over me. I fought to stay awake, to stay focused, but the drag was too much. It pulled me down into the blackness and held me there.
***
“I shot Rodger, Arnold, and Tyler. I mutilated them?”
Duggar looked up. I hated this guy. I hated his face, the smooth, baby like quality of it; I hated the lock of blond hair that hung limply across his forehead. However, he was better than the other doctor. I really hated him and I can’t tell you how glad I was when he left. I’d like to think I had something to do with that.
Confined Page 20
