“If you say so.”
“Oh, but they are. Look how they grow, bigger and stronger, the hotter they burn. So destructive and powerful. Like me.”
I couldn’t believe what I witnessed next. Justin reached out his hand and put it in the middle of the fire. The flames licked at his flesh, his face twisting with the agony. But still he kept it there.
“You’re crazy!”
I wasn’t sure whether it was the wind howling through the eves, Justin, or even the house itself, laughing at me. An insane laugh. The kind a person only hears in their nightmares.
He retracted his hand and slowly turned towards me, cradling the burnt lump. His eyes locked straight on to mine, his lips pulled back in a perverse snarl. He moved his hand up towards his mouth. His bloated tongue flickered between his teeth, licking the burnt skin.
“Mmm, it tastes good,” he drooled, then pointed it towards me. “Want a taste?”
“You sick, twisted bastard.”
I was struggling to hold on to my own sanity. He came towards me, trying to force his fingers down my throat. I coughed and spluttered, gagging on the taste. Vomit exploded from my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. He was smothering me, laughing incessantly in my ear. I could see the enjoyment on his face.
He took his hand out of my mouth and walked towards the kitchen. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in him, in such a short amount of time. He had gone from the most perfect guy I’d ever met, to the most hideous and crazy. How was it possible for someone to hide their true nature the way he had? I wondered, trying to get my breath back. It wasn’t natural. If someone else had been telling me this story, I never would’ve believed it. But there it was, right in front of me. My brain just couldn’t understand it.
I tried to keep my breathing steady in order to conserve my energy. I would need all of it, before the night was over. I felt a new confidence growing in me. Something happens to a person when they witness so much horror. It’s hard to explain. The mind switches off its inhibitions, the part that knows what it sees is wrong. It convinces itself that everything around you is normal, even though it’s far from it. I don’t know whether it’s something to do with adrenaline, or whether everybody has a place in their psyche that they can hide away in, where no one else can find them, or get to them. It creates a sense of hope. False hope.
The cursing and banging in the kitchen, told me that he might be in there for some time. I peered over the top of the sofa. He was rooting around in the cupboards and drawers at the other end of the kitchen. It seemed as though he was focused on finding something.
“Rachel,” he called over his shoulder. “Do you want a sandwich?”
It took me a few seconds to understand what he’d said. My ears heard the words, but my brain didn’t understand them at first. Then like a light bulb switching on, a thought struck me.
I took a breath. “Yes, please. If it’s no bother.”
“For you,” he replied looking over his shoulder at me. “Nothing is a bother.”
I watched him as he moved over to the fridge and stuck his head inside. The power must have been out, as there was no light, or electrical humming coming from inside.
His head popped up above the fridge door. He was smiling. “Fancy chicken? I can do you a nice chicken and mayo sub. Yes, we’ll have chicken.”
He disappeared again in to the fridge before closing it with his foot and walking over to the counter. I heard him whistling the Davy Crocket theme tune, as he worked. It was surreal. One minute he was putting his hand in to a burning fire, the next he was making me a sandwich. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I probably would’ve laughed at it.
He came over with the plate and handed me the sub. Bluish green mould was growing on top.
“Enjoy,” he said, passing me the plate.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, as I took it from him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sugar pie.” He left and went back to the kitchen.
Within seconds I heard him rooting around in the kitchen again. What was he searching for? I wondered, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. My moment had come.
Carefully, I placed the sub on the floor, trying as hard as I could not to make a sound. I peered over the top of the sofa again. He hadn’t heard anything. His back was to me. I moved my legs over the side of the sofa, so that I was sitting up. Not once did I take my eyes off the kitchen. God knows what he would do to me, I thought, if he found me?
My body protested, but I fought it off. My vision swam, as I slowly stood up. The dizzying feeling made me feel sick. Somehow I kept myself from puking. My legs were wobbly but they would do.
I tiptoed towards the door. I had to get out. This time I wouldn’t run in to the woods. Justin always kept his cell phone in the car, which was always unlocked. If I could get to the car and lock myself in, then I could call for help. I’d be safe. Free. I reached out my hand. The door knob was centimetres from my grasp. I held my breath, taking one last look over my shoulder. Still he was searching. I felt the door grind in my hand, as I turned the handle. My heart was racing, blood pounding in my ears.
“For fuck sake,” he screamed, slamming his hand down on the counter. “I can’t find it.”
I shot back to the sofa, placing myself in the position I had been in. Had he seen me? Had he known I was moving? He looked at me inquisitively.
“Did you move?”
“N-n-no.”
He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure? Liars go to hell you know.”
“I-I’m not lying, I swear.”
He scratched his chin. “How’s the sandwich?”
“It’s lovely. Thank you.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
“Hmm, well, I’m going to be in the back room for a second.”
Was he testing me? I wondered. Tempting me to try and run again.
“I won’t be a minute. But when I come back, I’ve got lots of games for us to play. What do you think?”
“S-sounds good.”
“Awesome.”
I watched him leave the room. This time I didn’t waste a single second, trying to guess what he was doing. Once I heard his footsteps enter the other room, I bolted.
My knee smashed against the coffee table as I ran past. Blinding pain shot up through my leg. The jerry can toppled over with a loud bang. It must have echoed through the silent house. I stopped to listen out for any footsteps heading towards the living room. Nothing. There was no time to lose. Ignoring the pain, I grabbed hold of the door and yanked it hard, not expecting it to open first time. A rush of cold wind blasted me in the face, filling my lungs with clean air. Freedom.
Just as I was about to shoot down the porch steps, heavy hands grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back in. The door slammed shut.
“You’ll catch your death out there,” Justin said. “We don’t want that now do we?”
I kicked and screamed, trying to wriggle loose of his arms. He was strong. He lifted me off the ground with ease and carried me towards the kitchen. The strength he possessed seemed unnatural. I wondered if he had been taking drugs, a performance enhancer, steroids, something like that. It was the only possible reason that my brain could cope with, as to why he had changed so much.
He slammed me down on to one of the wooden chairs. I’m surprised the legs didn’t buckle out beneath it. I scratched at him, bit him, tried anything I could to get free. All he did was laugh it off. He knew I couldn’t hurt him.
“I like it rough,” he sneered, taking out a piece of rope that was tucked in to the waistband of his jeans.
I spat in his face. “Let me go. I want to go home.”
He wiped the spittle off his face. “This is home now. You’re never going anywhere again. Like the rest of them, you’ll be staying here with me.”
“The rest of them? What’re you talking about?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, sugar pie. Now you hold still while I tie you up. We’re
gonna have ourselves a party.”
First he bound my ankles with the course straw rope and then tied my hands behind my back, so that I couldn’t move on the chair. The material scratched and bit in to my skin, leaving red friction burns. I couldn’t take anymore.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Let me go, I promise I won’t tell anybody. Nobody has to ever know about this. I can keep a secret. I swear I can, just let me go.”
His hand came flying across my face in a wild swing. There was a loud slap followed by a burning sensation as he struck me. Blood trickled from my bottom lip. I spat out a tooth.
“Close your fucking pie hole, whore. I do hate a woman that does nothing but whine. Here I am, trying to provide you with a damn fine, entertaining evening and you throw it right back in my face. Peachy, ain’t it? Just as ungrateful as all the rest. There’s just no pleasing some people.”
He left me sitting in the chair and walked over towards the fireplace.
“Look at the damn mess you’ve made in here. There’s lighter fluid all over the floor. I’m going to make you lick that up like a dog later.”
He picked something up by the door. At first I wasn’t sure what it was. Again he had his back to me, so that I couldn’t see anything. He crouched down by the fire.
“I found my toy,” he said, talking more to himself than to her. “It was out in the back room. It’s funny how things are always in the last place that you look, but then again, I guess they would be. Why would a person continue looking when they’ve found the object? Some sayings just don’t make sense. Take for example this one. A watched pot never boils. What the fuck does that mean? It just makes no damn sense. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“You’re crazy.”
“I think we’ve established that already.”
I tried to crane my neck to see what he was doing down by the fire. But I couldn’t see. His broad shoulders blocked my view.
“Take, for example, this poker. I’m watching it and it’s getting hotter. Prime example of how lame that saying is.”
Poker? Why would he need a poker? I wondered.
He came back over towards me, placing a chair right in front of me and sitting himself down on it backwards. He folded his arms over the back of it and leant his chin on them.
“So, what shall we do first?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well that there poker, it’s gonna take a good few minutes to heat up fully, so until then, what would you like to do?”
“I’d like to go home.”
Tears coursed down my cheeks. I didn’t care if he thought I was weak, or what he thought about me. The opinions of a mad man don’t matter. Nothing mattered to me, except staying alive. But I wasn’t even sure I was going to be capable of that. I was almost resigned to my fate.
“W-what are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Why all the tears? Are you afraid of me?”
“Yes.”
His eyes darkened over. He lowered his head keeping them fixed on mine, as he sucked in the air through his teeth. “That’s sensible.” He stood up. “Because you should be.”
I closed my eyes, unable to bear anymore. I wanted it to end. Listening to his footsteps walk back over to the fireplace, whistling the Davy Crocket tune again, I realised what he was going to do to me. As much as I wanted everything to be over, there was no way it was going to be quick, or easy. Torture is one of the most inhumane things a person can do to another human being. It strips away their dignity, the very thing that makes them a person. Only a monster could do that. And that’s what Justin had become. A monster.
He came back over to me, breathing on me. I could smell his putrid breath and burnt hand, as he got close. The inside of my eyelid had turned an orange colour. I could feel heat. My eyes slowly opened. The poker was only an inch away from them, the red hot metal making them water.
“Did you know that eyeballs explode when they’re exposed to high temperatures? Now I’m thinking that’s probably a myth, but I’ve always wanted to try it out.”
“No, please,” I screamed. “Justin, please don’t. Do you remember, you said you liked my eyes? You said they were pretty. Wouldn’t it be better to leave them?”
He stopped to think about it for a second. “Hmm, they are your best feature. I guess I’ll have to have some fun elsewhere.”
His hand lifted up my skirt, revealing my milky white thighs. He brought the burning metal down against them.
My body writhed in agony, as I let out a high pitched scream. The pain was excruciating. At first, red hot and then freezing cold as the nerve receptors in the skin began to fire and die. He did one thigh and then the other. The smell was like nothing else in this world. It was like a cross between burnt chicken and a slaughter house. I thought I would pass out from the pain. Eventually it goes numb. Everything goes numb. I still can’t wear short skirts now.
I felt him pull the poker away.
“Nah, that’s boring. How about here?”
Before I could ready myself, the sharp tip of the poker jabbed through my shoulder. I almost bit my tongue off as my jaw clenched shut. His laughter was ringing in my ears. This time I was sick. I’m surprised the chair didn’t fall over, as my body was racked with spasms. He pulled the poker out. There was no blood, only a small trickle oozing from the newly punctured hole. The heat had cauterised the wound. He clearly had no plans to kill me quickly.
“This seems to have cooled down a little. I’ll be back.”
He left me sitting on the chair, semi-conscious. I don’t recall much about what happened next. Eveything’s a little hazy. All I can remember is suddenly feeling the ropes slacken around my wrists. Somehow, I’d been saved. I’d been given a second chance to escape.
Ignoring the pain as much as I could, I untied my ankles. As I looked up, I could have sworn I saw the young girl from the picture in the kitchen window. I blinked to clear my eyes and the vision was gone. It must have been my imagination playing tricks on me after everything my body had been through. I blocked it from my mind and focused on my escape.
Justin was still crouched down by the fire. I crept over to the sink. He’d been stupid enough to leave out the bread board when he’d made me a sandwich. It was something I could use. I picked it up and made my way towards the living room. My eyes blazing with deadly intent. I’d make that bastard pay for everything he’d put me through. He would feel every tear, by the time I was done.
Three steps.
I’ll make him pay.
Two steps.
Sick fuck.
One step.
I brought the hard wooden surface of the chopping board down across the back of his head with my uninjured arm, the other burning with pain. He hit the floor with a thud, sending the red hot poker skidding away from him. A primal scream tore from my throat. Harder and harder I smashed his head with the board. My lungs were burning with the effort. Still I continued. Bits of brain matter, skull and blood sprayed through the air like a gruesome fountain.
I don’t know why I stopped, but I did. My chest heaving in rapid bursts. I wiped blood from my face with the back of my hand, slinging my weapon to the floor. It landed with a crash. But there was also a splash.
The lighter fluid had spilt from the Jerry can on the floor. It was everywhere. A huge puddle of it had started to form and now it was beginning to soak in to the carpet, the furniture, everything. It was around my feet, Justin’s body was laying in it, Jesus, it had even managed to stretch to the front door. I didn’t realise just how much liquid one of those cans could hold. It was then I recognized my mistake.
The puddle was inching towards the poker. I ran.
The heat singed the back of my heels as the living room went up like a raging fireball. The flames followed me, stretching towards the clean air in the hallway, grabbing at anything it could feed on. I couldn’t breathe, where the air had been sucked out of the house by the fire. I didn’t stop moving, just ran. My only other escape was the back
door.
I flung myself in to it, but bounced straight back off. I could hear the fire roaring behind me. It wasn’t going to take long for it to spread.
I stood up and pulled at the door. It didn’t budge, just sat there mocking me and my feeble attempt at trying to open it. I felt so weak. I wanted to collapse, but knew I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to live. I pulled harder and harder, but it didn’t even rattle in the frame. I was trapped.
“Rachel, oh Rachel. Come back, sugar pie.”
I couldn’t believe it. Justin was standing in the doorway, wreathed in flames. It wasn’t possible. He’d been in the middle of the room when it ignited. He should’ve been dead, burnt to a crisp. But there he was, his dark eyes stared at me with murderous intent.
“You’re not going anywhere. I’ve told you a thousand times already, no one ever leaves this house. Even if you get away, I’ll follow you. You’ll never be rid of me, Rachel. You may as well give in.”
“Screw you.”
He lurched down the corridor, howling, bouncing from wall to wall, as he spread the fire deeper in to the house. He lunged at me with his burning hands, but I managed to dodge, shooting up the stairs, my only escape route blocked off. There was nowhere left to run except up. Thinking about it now, it probably wasn’t my best move.
I felt a tugging at my ankles. Justin had grabbed hold of my foot through the stair rail. The fire was crawling up his arm. I must have had lighter fluid on my shoe because it burst in to flames. I kicked it in to his face and scrambled up the rest of the stairs.
I wasn’t thinking straight. Where the hell could I run to up here, I thought. I felt like a rat caught in a trap.
“I’m coming to get you.”
I peered over the banister.
“Peek-a-boo.”
He grabbed me and began to close his hands around my throat. The heat was unbearable. I could feel it licking at my skin, wanting to consume me. I was going to pass out. I could feel it, the edges of my vision starting to go black. I had to do something. Fast.
Out the corner of my eye, I glimpsed an old rocking chair. I could feel his grip tightening. I stretched for the chair. Any second and I’d be dead. My fingertips scratched at it. I pushed him backwards trying to give myself some room. I reached it with one hand. It slipped from my fingers. Everything was going dark, but I gave one final lunge.
The House of Wood Page 15
