Travesty

by Carrie Thomas

  I had always been afraid that Jim or Pat would throw it away, so I’d hid it. Deciding now would be the time to get it, I paced my steps and moved quickly, so as not to alert anyone. The stairs going to the basement were old and there were a few steps missing. I carefully made my way down each step, paying close attention to where my feet touched. I had a small moment of panic when the long string from the light grazed my neck. I shook and shivered as I pulled the chain.

  I looked over my shoulder, making sure they were not coming after me. I hadn’t heard anything, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to lock me down here. Hell, at this point, I wouldn’t put anything past them.

  My nerves were working double time since I’d made the decision to finally break free. I’d thought about it for so many years and the time had finally come. Everything had me on edge. I probably wouldn’t feel completely relaxed until this place was far enough in my rearview mirror.

  I walked over to the large brown cabinet sitting directly to the left of a small, dingy window, and used all of my strength to pull it out from the wall. I had slid the piece of wood behind it and it was still there, with a thick layer of dust on it. I bent over to pick it up and ran my hands across the words burned into the block.

  I was getting out because I’d been patient enough and worked hard enough to meet the one goal I’d set all those years ago. What about the kids who didn’t have a chance to make the money I had? Luckily, I was mechanically inclined, and good with my hands. What about the kids who weren’t?

  I shook off the thoughts racking my mind. It killed me that I couldn’t save every one of them. I knew there were others out there like myself; stuck with captors who were the epitome of evil. Some of the victims had been treated worse than I had.

  As messed up as it was, I often found myself in a sort of a depression, sinking into a dark place when I thought about every way I could have been violated. I honestly wouldn’t have put it past either of the people I lived with, but I think down deep, they knew I would’ve fought back—and possibly won. And I don’t think they wanted to deal with the headache of having to fight me once I’d outgrown both of them.

  When I felt guilty, I took a deep breath and concentrated on how I was going to assist others once I set myself up in a new place and was legally old enough to do something worthwhile. I wasn’t well-versed in charities, but I’d made it through so much, it seemed like a complete waste to not put my experience to work for someone else’s benefit.

  As I was putting the cabinet back into place, I heard a groan. I stood as still as I could and listened. Another soft moan came from the far right corner, then a whimper. What the hell is that? I followed the sound over behind the stairs, to the other side of the deep freeze. Laying at my feet was a girl, slight-framed, curled up on her side, legs pulled tightly to her chest.

  My gaze fell on her small, bare feet. Her toenail polish made her seem like a normal teenage girl, but then my eyes traveled up her legs, taking in the rips in the knees and the dirty T-shirt. Her head was covered with a motorcycle helmet, with only her stringy, blonde hair sticking out the bottom of it.

  Horrified, I hadn’t even realized my mouth was open until I snapped it shut. I closed my eyes tight, trying to think about my next move. The girl had clearly been beaten and taken against her will. I swallowed the disturbed growl creeping up my throat, and reached for her wrist. I was afraid I wouldn’t feel much of a pulse.

  I found a faint beat, scared to death that it would stop completely while I was still checking it. I went to take the black helmet off her head, but she moaned again. I figured me pulling on the helmet would only add to her pain, so I backed off. It made me sad to acknowledge she and I had something in common. I too had once been in this position.

  Her arms were bound behind her, connected to a rusty chain that my eyes followed to a metal pole behind the deep freeze. She moaned again, bringing me from my distracted thoughts. I sat back on my ass, bringing my hands up to my mouth. I rubbed my hands back and forth over my rough jaw, racking my brain about what to do. My body was strung tighter than a bow.

  This girl, whoever she was, was not here on her own free will. She’d been brought here, beaten, starved, and possibly abused in ways I’d not been. I tugged tightly on my short black hair. Dammit! I am so not leaving today.

  I caught a glimpse of a shadow hovering above me, but I was too frightened to acknowledge it. I kept my eyes closed and counted to ten. The shadow hadn’t moved, but it hadn’t kicked me either. Whoever it was, stood there, still as a statue, waiting me out. I was too weak to get away, and if this Jim guy had any say in it—which he did—I’d be punished in no time for not acknowledging him.

  I carefully opened my eyes wide, taking in the younger guy standing over me. He was tall, with broad shoulders. Dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, he hunched over me, his eyes darting from me to the door at the top of the stairs. My brows creased in reaction to the light he’d turned on.

  I watched his chest rise and fall fiercely. Then he took a deep breath in, and it was a full twenty seconds before he slowly released it. It was almost as if he was struggling to hold back his emotions. Dread flooded my body. I didn’t know what he wanted, or why he continued to hover.

  Our eyes made contact, but I couldn’t see anything behind his gaze. I still didn’t have the strength to make any kind of move, and he wasn’t saying anything about me being handcuffed. He may have been the one who brought me here.

  I tried to rise up, but was too feeble. He squatted down in front of me and slowly extended his hand.

  “Don’t touch me,” I squeaked out. He flinched at my demand. My voice was rough and it felt like someone had rubbed sandpaper down my esophagus. It burned, and didn’t sound like my voice. He gradually moved toward me and I whispered, “No.”

  We locked gazes and he stopped, trying to assure me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Please,” I whispered, partly because my throat was bone dry, and a little because I was scared of him.

  “My name is Abe. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” I tried to focus on his eyes, but my gaze kept going to his jaw. It was strong and ticking. It looked as though he was gritting his teeth.

  My eyes finally made their way back to his, but I didn’t respond. Abe? That name meant absolutely nothing to me. I could remember everything since I’d woken up on the dark, dirty floor, but anything before that was a no-go.

  “What’s your name?” he whispered, looking over his shoulder. It was almost as if he was hiding the fact he was down in the cellar. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Look, I’m not sure what happened, but I can help you. First, I’m going to take this helmet off, okay?” His body language was rigid.

  I winced as he carefully pulled the helmet off and set it to the side. He knelt back down so that he was eye level with me. He gingerly drew his hand up to my forehead, looking me in the eye as he brushed my bangs back. I flinched and he stopped. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Damn. I can see the fear in your eyes. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I will help you get home. What’s your name?” he asked again.

  I had no idea what to say to him. I was petrified out of my mind, but he seemed so genuine. He was the first person I’d seen in days. I didn’t know if I should trust him, but he seemed sincere, and he hadn’t harmed me yet. The big problem was, I didn’t know where I was from, or how I had gotten there. I didn’t even know my name. My wrists hurt and I just wanted him to remove my restraints. I didn’t know where to go if he released me, but I knew I needed to be free from the people who had me.

  “Look at me. I know you don’t know me, but I’m not like them.” He raised his arm, pointing up the stairs. “I’m going to keep you safe. I want to help you.”

  “Them?” I croaked out. I had no idea who they were or what I meant to them.

  “How did you get here?” He ignored my question.

  “I don�
��t know,” I answered honestly.

  “You don’t know?” He seemed more confused than me. His eyebrows were pinched together, frustration plain on his face.

  “No,” I answered.

  He looked aggravated, running his hands through his short, dark hair. Each follicle spiking up in the direction he’d last pulled it. His disposition puzzled me. He was acting as if he was on the verge of freaking out. Did he really not know why I was here?

  “It looks like you were hit on the head. Can you remember anything?” His eyes went to the knot on the right side of my head. I knew it was bad; it’d been throbbing for days. He was close to my face and kept whispering, like he was afraid of someone hearing us.

  “No.” I teared up. I felt so lost, like I was supposed to know what had happened, but I didn’t.

  “Shit. Okay, let me figure this out and I’ll get you out of here, okay?”

  I kept quiet, not knowing how to respond. I was so confused. I couldn’t tell if he was being truthful or not. He stood up abruptly and cursed again. He glanced back at the stairs, like he’d heard something.

  “They’re back. Don’t talk to them. I’m going to figure out what’s going on and I’ll come back and check on you, okay?”

  “Wait!” I whispered. Oh God, please!

  “Yeah?”

  I pleaded silently with him not to leave me, tears flooding my eyes. I couldn’t understand where my sudden bout of trust had come from. I had no clue if it was going to pay off, but given what I’d been through since I’d woken up in this dungeon of terror, I decided the chance was worth the risk.

  I let a moment pass between us and nodded my head. I watched him turn and climb the stairs two at a time, until I was surrounded by darkness once again and the door shut quietly behind him.

  I slowly slid back down against the concrete, at peace with my decision to have blind faith in his word. My shoulder hit something. I turned sideways, craning my head to see what it was. The small block of wood almost glowed in the darkness. I inspected it, squinting at the words burned into the center of it. True strength comes from facing your fears.

  The words gave me comfort. I sighed, twisting myself around so that I could kick it behind the freezer. My gut instinct told me to hide it. I didn’t know why I felt the need to keep it safe, but I did.

  I could not believe the shit storm I’d happened upon. Every time I finally worked something out concerning my way out, it fell through. They deserved to be in prison, and I was going to make sure they served time, just as soon as I was legally of age. They were pathetic and I hoped they rotted in hell.

  I considered every variable twice, but still was at a loss on how to handle the situation. I couldn’t call the police because they would take my ass and throw me into another shitty foster home—prolonging my freedom. No, I couldn’t let that happen. Besides, I wanted to be the one who took these pathetic people down. I deserved that much.

  The bottom line was . . . I had to get the both of us the hell out of here.

  I was curious as to why they’d chosen her and who she was. What were they going to do with her? Not that I had been around a whole lot lately, but I hadn’t overheard them talking about a young girl. And I would’ve known if they’d received another foster kid, so that wasn’t it.

  It concerned the hell out of me that she didn’t remember anything. She looked younger than me, sixteen maybe. I walked quietly down the hallway, praying they hadn’t heard me. It didn’t take long before arguing rang throughout the house. I stopped just shy of the doorway and listened.

  “You had better covered our tracks.” Jim coughed out.

  “I did everything you told me to do.”

  “I don’t need no fuckin’ cops at my door.”

  “We won’t have any. I followed her for two weeks straight. She’s a loner. She walks around town with her nose stuck in that stupid camera. Even her own family doesn’t give a shit about her. They leave every Friday afternoon and don’t return until late Sunday night.”

  “I’m just sayin’. It’ll be your ass if they do. I ain’t goin’ to prison.”

  “She’s perfect. She doesn’t have anyone, and she’s young. We’ll be able to make her do anything we want.” I could hear the smile in Pat’s voice.

  Her admission made me sick. I couldn’t believe they’d actually done it. I’d known they were capable of almost anything, but stealing another human being was crazy. They’d kidnapped the poor girl. But that still didn’t explain why she couldn’t remember anything. Did she have amnesia? Was she in shock? I had no experience with anything like this. I didn’t even know where to start.

  Resting my head on the dirty wall, I closed my eyes. This was way-the-hell more than I had planned on dealing with. I hated them—absolutely freakin’ hated them!

  Pat took a drag from her cigarette before adding, “She hasn’t eaten in two days.”

  “Give her another day and then I’ll go down.”

  “She’ll break before that.”

  I turned around and walked back to my room. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to wrap my hands around both of their necks and squeeze until they stopped breathing; watching their eyes bulge out of their skull. My blood was boiling with pure hatred. Rage filled me to the point where I was actually starting to scare myself. Out of everything I had been through, this was going to push me over the edge. They were the lowest level of human scum.

  They were obviously getting desperate. I had a feeling things around here were going to get bad and I couldn’t allow them to hurt her any further. It was just the whole loss of memory thing that had me worried. I mean, traveling with no ID or any idea of who she was would bring attention in my direction, and cause more problems than I wanted to deal with. But, I’d have to improvise.

  I plopped down on the mattress, overwhelmed. Scrubbing my face with my hands, I prayed for some divine intervention. I sighed and leaned back.

  First things first . . . she needed some food and water.

  I’d waited for three hours, until I knew for sure Jim and Pat were asleep. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I grabbed some crackers and water. Leaving at night would give us an advantage. I needed Jim and Pat to be asleep. I was going to struggle getting both of us out as it stood, without either one of them trying to impede our escape.

  I felt bad not having anything else to offer her other than some stale Saltines, but I’d been gone working and they didn’t seem to care if they had food or not.

  I snuck downstairs, walking on the outer edges of each step, careful not to make any noise. I felt my way in the dark, hoping I wouldn’t scare the girl. As I made my way down the steps, I could see her small body still leaned up against the front of the freezer. She was in rough shape. I approached her slowly. She still had fear in her eyes and seemed timid.

  “I brought you some food and water,” I whispered.

  She brought her hands up as far as she could and snatched the sleeve of crackers out of my hands. The chain had a little more slack in it than I’d remembered. She leaned over, nearly placing her head on the ground and shoved one into her mouth. My gut wrenched watching her. I remembered it all too well. It had taken five days for me to break at age thirteen. I knew exactly what she was feeling like. How her stomach was clenched so tight from hunger pains, while at the same time feeling like she could throw up from one cracker.

  “Slow down, I don’t want you to feel ill.”

  She eyed me, but kept chewing. I took the cap off the water and put it up to her mouth. Treating her as if she were a toddler, I tilted the bottle to give her just enough. After the way she had fumbled with the crackers, I didn’t want to take a chance with the liquid.

  “Go slowly. I’ll let you finish,” I coached, sitting quietly by her side, alternating the crackers and water until they were both gone.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You’re at a house. West Rose Street, eleven-thirteen to be exact, in Dexter, Oklahoma. Does that ring any bells? Do you know if
you are from here?” I knew she lived somewhere around here because Pat had been watching her for two weeks.

  “No.”

  “Do you know where Oklahoma is?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t lost all of her memory.

  “Yes.”

  That was a good sign. “But you don’t know if you’re from around here?” I asked again.

  “I don’t know where I’m from, or who I am.”

  The tremors in her voice had me rethinking my plan. Maybe I should take her to the hospital. If she was in the right person’s care, they’d know what to do for her, and who to contact in order to get in touch with her parents. But what if she came from a home like this one? Pat had said she had no one that cared about her . . . If that were the case, I wouldn’t be doing her any favors by turning her in.

  I made my decision. “I know this is sudden, but if you’ll let me, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “I’m not, I don’t—it’s diffican’t,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “Diffican’t?” What in the hell was that? Maybe she had more brain injuries than a simple loss of memory.

  “It just came to me. I remember that I say that,” she whispered. Her eyes got bigger and brighter than they were just a few moments before; almost like she’d unlocked a secret code.

  “Diffican’t? What does it mean?”

  “I’m . . .” She paused and sighed. “It means, it’s too difficult, I can’t do it. I know when I get nervous, I make up words.” Her voice trembled, not out of fear. It was something else. Possibly embarrassment.

  “As weird as that is, you just remembered something. That’s a positive. Look, I’m going to go get my things and take them a couple of blocks from here. That way, I don’t have to worry about them while I’m getting you out.” I knew I was going to have to carry her.

  The only way out of there was the window. I couldn’t take a chance of staying here any longer. My initial plan hadn’t involved an accomplice, but things had gone from bad to worse in a matter of six hours. I wasn’t sticking around to find out what their plans were for this girl. If we could get out of here, Jim and Pat wouldn’t know until the morning, and by then, we’d be long gone.