Marcus had ordered pizza that evening and informed her she’d have a salad. She didn’t care, as long as she was sharing the meal with her sons. Mattie did most of the talking while Dayton listened quietly, his eyes turned down. He was old enough to know this artificial normal was nothing but fake playacting meant to cover up something very bad.
They seemed to have questions but hesitated to ask about their situation, which was unexpected but wise. Dayton watched his father carefully, as if somewhat disappointed in the man he’d found, a glorified hero embellished over time and almost forgotten with each passing year. She wished he had a better father, someone he could look up to and respect. But she wished for a lot of things that would never be.
At seven-thirty, Marcus announced it was time for the boys to go to bed. Chloe frowned. They were nine and seven. She usually let them stay up until at least eight-thirty. She was sure they’d object to such an early bedtime, but they didn’t. They dutifully stood and kissed her cheek.
“Will you read me a story, Mommy?” Mattie whispered as his little arms wreathed her neck.
Marcus, overhearing the sweet request, answered before she had the chance. “Not tonight, Matthew. Your mother’s had a long day and we need to discuss some things privately.”
She tried not to worry over what those ‘things’ might be.
After the boys were sent to bed she cleaned up the kitchen while Marcus sat at the table supervising. Odd changes had been made to their old home. Child safety locks had been replaced with key locks. She couldn’t open any drawers that contained the knives or silverware. All cabinets housing cleaning products and chemicals were locked away as well. All the windows had locks and all the knobs in the house had been replaced to require a key. Their home had become a prison.
Worry over fire safety added to the sour knot in her stomach. An alarm system had been installed, the control panel located by the front door and another upstairs outside of the master bedroom.
As Marcus shut off the lights and walked her up the stairs, he blocked her view of the panel and typed in a code. There were a series of beeps.
“If anything heavier than a kitten touches that floor, the alarm will sound and the cops will arrive within six minutes.”
As she turned to the empty room she now considered hers, he caught her arm and she shivered. “We’re going to try something different tonight.”
He waved a hand toward the master bedroom and her old cell suddenly called to her like a sanctuary. Being locked in that hollow vault was better than sharing a bed with him. So many horrible memories.
Marcus nudged her into the room and she slowly stepped to what was once her side of the bed, the knot in her stomach tightening painfully. The door shut and locked with an unsettling click.
“Remove your clothes.”
Shutting her eyes, she comforted herself with the fact that she saw her boys today. He’d kept his word and if she kept up her agreeable act, she might see them again tomorrow, so she did as he said. She endured once more, every forced surrender stealing a bit of her dignity she’d never get back.
She cringed as his fingers tripped over her flesh with cool, placid entitlement. His calm unsettled her and her muscles jerked with every caress, her instinct to pull away enough to make her whole body tremble.
He made her feel dead, like a frog pinned to a sheet of wax in a high school science lab, prostrate to his poking, prodding, and mental dissection. She’d bear it. Build up her strength and get the fuck out of this place eventually.
She tried to escape twice before. Once she failed and he’d broken her hand. The second time she wasn’t so careless. This time she’d have to be even more cautious.
Her mind slipped away as he entered her. It hurt, but she did little more than gasp and wheeze as his weight settled on top of her, rutting into her with punishing thrusts and grunts. Arms going numb under his weight, she shut her eyes and waited for it to be over.
She hurt from places she couldn’t name. She hurt in her heart. She hurt from hunger and thirst. She hurt from thinking too hard. She hurt on the outside and even worse on the inside. She hurt so much she didn’t know if she’d ever not hurt again.
When he finished she felt more like a receptacle than a human being. She lay there, staring blindly at the wall, as he caught his breath beside her. How many more times could she survive that? If he didn’t beat her to death, he’d kill her in other ways. Her mind was already fragmenting, her usual thought patterns forgotten and replaced with a sort of cognitive gibberish.
Standing, he wrapped a robe around himself and handed her a nightgown. She slipped it over her body.
“Come with me.”
Hopeful that he might be returning her to her cell, she did as he said. Walls between them—locked doors or not—were always better than suffering next to him.
He unlocked the door to the empty bedroom and held out a hand. “Take this.”
Another pill, this one small and blue. All the drugs he forced on her over the past two days probably weren’t helping her stomach, but the thought of mental oblivion was tempting. Only… She had to remain coherent in case anything happened with her boys. It was better not to take it.
“I’m already exhausted, Marcus. I promise I’ll sleep. I’m—”
“It’s not a sleeping pill. It’s birth control.”
This might be the nicest thing he’d offered her in years. She took the pill and willingly swallowed it. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He shut the door and locked it.
Her body sagged. Finally, she was alone. She walked into the bathroom and filled the tub, wanting every last trace of him off her.
Chapter Thirty-One
If she believed she’d get a night of undisturbed sleep, she was wrong. Perhaps it was the boy’s presence that brought him through the door each night. It was as if he waited for those pre-dawn hours when the children were sleeping, biding his time to catch her off guard and inflict his rage.
There was no preparing for a monster in your bed. No way to protect oneself when said monster woke you from a dead sleep. Ripped from her slumber, gasping and choking on her pain, he never gave much of a chance to assimilate. Catching her off guard was, what she believed, his favorite part of hurting her, perhaps retribution for having his world pulled out from under him six years ago.
Chloe wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive her. She didn’t need or want his forgiveness. She’d never be sorry for those peaceful years she stole for herself and her children. The only thing she needed was a way out. She vowed with every thought that she would escape again.
When he drove the kids to school she was a shell of the person she had been the day before. Her hope was of the thinnest ice, fragile and tenuous, and she feared any more pressure might leave her drowning in an abyss of broken dreams and pain. All of her hope that Jeremy understood her clues enough to get her the fuck out of here seemed a universe away.
He was a monster, a broken mind that drew thrills from her agony. When she cried, he twisted harder. When her knees buckled, he laughed and kicked her. When she refused to stand up and walk to him, he came to her and stomped on her foot until the bones popped.
As her body cried for relief, her mind battled to make sense of such injustice, and her heart broke under the weight of uncertainty. Was she protecting her children by adapting or was she failing them?
Days felt like years. Minutes passed like weeks. Two days? Three? She hadn’t been here long, but he’d broken her so fast she’d somehow misplaced her logic. There was pain, cruel verbal lashings, rape, endless taunting and threats, and no escape in sight. Perhaps it would be weeks before she regained her strength and found a way out. But she knew she only had days before losing her mind completely.
Every minute, her perception became more skewed, the unbearable reality of her existence erasing memories as if they were written in something as removable as chalk. Normal was so far away from this place, so unreachable, her surrender became less of a choice
and more of a condition, borne of insufficient strength, exhaustion, and an inability to suffer anymore.
Mercy…
The word fluttered through her mind several times that morning, yet she didn’t breathe a sound. It was as useless in her head as it would be to his ears. He had a merciless, evil soul, and the thread of survival instinct she still held was slipping away. The mind was a scary place when wishes of death intercepted the necessity to save her children.
That’s what Marcus did. He made life so miserable, so unbearable, her will to live became a flicker of light that grew too dim to find in the dark.
Her thoughts were sporadic and disjointed. Every time he laid a hand on her another piece of her died. Memories of the past collided with the present, and the in-between seemed just a dream.
When he returned he marched her downstairs and demanded she make him breakfast. Why wasn’t he at work? The thought had been weighing on her more and more.
Her body was as off as her mind and her motor skills were severely suffering. When she delicately tried to flip the second-attempted egg, Marcus hovered at her shoulder. She whimpered as the yolk bled onto the whites.
“Get out of my way.” He shoved her aside, throwing the copper pan into the sink. “Is it that fucking hard? It’s easier to teach a dog tricks!”
When he reached for her, she cowered. He grabbed her arm and she screamed, terrified, as he dragged her up the stairs. Tumbling to her knees, she pleaded and begged, apologizing for things outside of her control. The anticipation of the unknown sent her into a spiraling hysteria.
Her cries silenced on a startled sob as he slapped her. “Shut up!” He shoved her into the empty room. “You’re useless.”
The door slammed and locked. A few seconds later the garage door rumbled and his car sped down the street. Falling to her knees, she covered her face and cried. She couldn’t take any more. Her body collapsed to the carpet as she pulled her knees to her chest and wept.
She no longer wasted the energy on trying to track time. And she couldn’t sleep for fear of leaving herself unprotected again. Her stomach cramped painfully, knots of tension tightening around her hollow gut.
The hum of Marcus’s Mercedes had her sucking in a breath. No more.
Her wild thoughts quieted as she awaited the rumble of the garage door that didn’t come. A car door slammed and then another door. Footsteps pounded up the steps and her heartbeat shook through her in utter pandemonium.
“Chloe!” At Marcus’s shout, she wrapped her arms around her head and braced for whatever was coming for her. The key hit the lock and the door flung open.
He stalked toward her and she recoiled, bracing for a strike. Her eyes opened at the sound of a click.
“Damn it.” He cursed when the bathroom light didn’t turn on. “The power’s out. Take a shower. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
The door slammed and locked. She blinked at the empty room as her heart struggled to slow. The power had gone out? Would he blame her for that, too?
As she rinsed off in the shower the lights flickered. Marcus returned saying something about a blown breaker and told her to get dressed.
“The kitchen floor needs mopping.”
She was filling up the bucket in the sink, Marcus resetting the oven clock after the power outage when the doorbell rang and they both stilled.
“Don’t forget to clean under the burners when you do the counters. Do that before you do the floor,” Marcus instructed before leaving the room to answer the door.
She grabbed her rag and lifted the burner, her ears never losing track of his proximity.
“Yes? Can I help you?” His voice carried from the hall.
“…from PDW Alarm. We were notified of an interruption in your service. I just need to check the main panels then I can be on my way—make sure everything’s running properly.”
The rag fell from her trembling hands as the stranger’s voice struck a familiar chord. Keeping her head down, she wiped her way closer to the edge of the counter as Marcus showed the man where the two control panels were.
“It’s just these two key panels in the house?” the man asked.
“Yes. Is this going to take long? I’m in the middle of something.”
“I should only be a minute.”
She finished at the stove and moved to wipe the kitchen chairs, keeping her eyes hidden by her lashes as she seesawed her gaze between the chair and the hall. The man’s voice was deep. The recognizable way he dropped his vowels made her neck prickle. At the sound of footsteps, she lowered her eyes to her work.
“Make sure you get in between the rungs,” Marcus said as he placed his coffee cup in the sink and walked back into the hall.
“This is a nice home you got here, sir. Everything should be running fine now. I checked the sensors in each bedroom. It’s just the four, correct?”
“Yes.”
The man came into view and Chloe’s gaze traveled over his shoes. Yellow work boots tucked under blue slacks led her eyes up to a trim waist and a PDW Contractors shirt. He was taller than Marcus and her breath sucked in when her gaze lifted to his face.
Bright green eyes and wavy blond hair. “That should be all then, sir. Just sign here.” As Marcus bent over the clipboard to sign, Trenton’s brother-in-law looked over his shoulder, right into her eyes and winked. “Thank you very much.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm and handed Marcus a card. “You let us know if you have any more issues.”
“Thanks. I will.”
As the man left, the alarm system let out a short beep, announcing that the door was closed tightly. Marcus clicked the locks. “Those chairs aren’t going to clean themselves.”
Her focus staggered as she wiped down the rest of the chairs. Marcus sat, observing her.
“Do the floors now.”
As she pushed the mop over the tile floor, which hid layers of grime in the corners, her thoughts spun. Pete was here. Was it Pete or someone who remarkably resembled him? No, he winked. It had to be him. Was he here with Trenton? Were they coming back for her? The boys?
It became difficult to breathe as she tried to understand what this meant. Did they know the boys weren’t here? She had no idea what school Marcus had enrolled them in.
She carefully rinsed the mop in the bucket. “The… The boys seem to like their new school.”
He glanced up from his paper. “I’ll be enrolling Matthew in Martial Arts this week. He needs to toughen up. No son of mine will be bullied.”
She didn’t reply. He wasn’t asking her permission.
After finishing the floor he instructed her to make lunch. Marcus would enjoy a turkey sandwich with torn lettuce and soup, while she was permitted only the lettuce. Though she had no access to sharp utensils, she was able to stir the soup with a rubber spatula.
As she placed his plate on the table the doorbell rang again pulling an irritated huff from Marcus. Her stomach clenched. Marcus leaned back in his chair so he could see the door and wiped his mouth, tossing his napkin on the table.
“Fucking bible beaters.”
Hovering by the table, she glanced at the front door. A narrow-framed male in black pants and a short-sleeved dress shirt waited on the other side of the glass panel.
“No matter how many times I send them away they keep coming back. Worse than fucking locusts.” He stood and went to the door.
Chloe watched, unblinking as he unlocked the door.
“Hello. My name’s Ben. I’m from Holy Calvary.”
Chloe’s heart stopped beating as Tommy handed a brochure to Marcus. What was happening? First Pete, now Tommy. Where were they hiding?
“We’re visiting the area today to spread the word of the Holy Spirit and invite friends to share in the message of our savior Jesus Christ. Do you feel the Spirit speaking to you? We believe everyone can be saved.”
She stared, unable to process what he was saying. This was Tommy, her silly, funny, never serious, flamboyant, agnostic neighbor
. Yet it wasn’t. He was speaking in a southern lilt—wearing clothing Tommy wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.
Numb, her breath coming fast, she wanted to cry out, demand that he get her out of there.
“We belong to the Catholic Church.” Marcus began to shut the door.
“That’s wonderful. We’ll be celebrating our savior today at one. We’d like to invite your family to join us down at the park. At one. Today.”
“No, thank you. We don’t need to be saved.”
“Sir, everyone can be saved.”
“I said we’re not interested.” The door closed.
The pot of soup hissed on the stove and she moved to stir in the rice. Marcus returned to the kitchen and tossed the brochures on the counter. It appeared to be legitimate church flyers. But the bold print on the front caught her eye.
ALL CHILDREN will be saved TODAY.
1:00 pm
Her gaze darted to the oven clock. 12:43. What was happening in seventeen minutes? How would they save her boys? That had to be what this message meant. All children… They were going to save her babies and then—hopefully—come for her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Theresa St. John gathered the last of the attendance records and stood, pausing as a woman stepped to the counter. “May I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Chloe Hunt, Dayton and Mattie’s mom. I forgot the boys have a dentist appointment this afternoon.” She slid an appointment card across the counter with the local dentist’s name on it. “I’ve been so busy with moving and unpacking since we returned, it completely slipped my mind. I really need to find my day planner. I swear a mother’s lost without one.”
Theresa grinned, identifying. She had children and knew how overwhelming managing all the day-to-day appointments of a family could be. “I completely understand. Would you like me to have their teachers send them down?”
Something Borrowed (New Castle Book 3) Page 25
