by R. Linda
“She better not be,” he grunted before he choked on the smoke he’d just inhaled. For a brief moment, I prayed he’d choke and die, but the cough passed as quickly as it came.
“Kat!” he yelled down the hall, stubbing his cigarette out on the floor at my feet.
“Coming, dear,” Kat called out softly, and I cringed. I hated hearing the way he spoke to her and how she spoke almost lovingly back to him.
“Come and clean this little bastard’s face up. Can’t have him looking like shit when his girlfriend wakes up in the morning.” He pulled another cigarette out of his pocket and placed it in his mouth as he walked away.
“Go with your mother, boy,” he called over his shoulder as he walked into the living room. A moment passed before the sounds of the game on television echoed through the house and his shouts at the screen started.
“Come on, sweetie,” she whispered, grabbing my hand and leading me down the musty hall to the bathroom. “Let’s fix you up.”
I sat on the edge of the pink tub as Kat rubbed alcohol on my cheek, causing it to sting. Tears welled in my eyes but I wouldn’t let them fall.
No.
That was another sign of weakness.
“He got you good this time. You need to be more careful,” she said softly, gently dabbing a little cream on my cheek before putting a small plaster over it.
“Let’s wash the blood off your hands,” she said, pulling me over to the basin. I hadn’t even realised there was blood on my hands. His ring must have torn up my face pretty good. I watched as she packed away the first aid kit before turning to look at me.
She looked scared, her teeth were digging into her bottom lip, and her blue eyes were dull and broad. I had seen that look too many times in my life. I glanced back in the mirror and noticed she had done a pretty good job of patching me up—like always.
“What did you do?” she asked softly. I just shook my head and watched her reflection in the dirty glass because she knew what I had done—exactly what I had done—and I knew she didn’t approve. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. He had done the same to her.
“Why? Why would you do that? Do you want her to become like me? Become like the others? Because she will, you know that, right?” She stepped behind me and rested her hand on my arm. I flinched.
“No, of course not.” I sat back down on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes, trying to force out the images of all the others that came before Lucy and Kat. She wouldn’t become them.
“I don’t want her to end up like you or the others, but I couldn’t let him do it again to someone else. I hate the thought of it happening again to anyone else. You were smart, Kat; you succumbed quickly and easily. I don’t want another innocent girl to get hurt.”
“So why did you bring her here? She is only going to end up hurt or dead. You know that,” she hissed quietly so Ray couldn’t hear her.
“No, she won’t. I won’t let her. I had to do it this way. I had to bring her here. Do you want to keep digging holes in the woods? Do you want to keep weighing bodies down so they sink in the lake?” I asked her. “Cos I sure as hell don’t.”
It was something we had done too many times, me a lot more than her, but still, it was not something I ever wanted to do again. No matter how many times I had helped him clean up the damage, the blood, after he snapped, I always felt sick. I would never get used to it. It didn’t seem to bother him, though.
“Just another bump in the road, boy. We’ll find you another one. Don’t you worry,” he’d say. Then he would pat me on the back like it was nothing. As if I had just lost a shoe or something and not just helped him hide another girl’s body.
“No,” she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. Kat was smart. She knew how to survive this house. Ray. “So, what? This is your way of protecting the greater female population? Kidnapping an innocent girl?”
“Yes. You know what he’s like. By bringing her here, if I can get her to submit as quickly as you, all of this ends.” As terrible as it sounded, that was what I was hoping for. Lucy was a means to an end. I only hoped her feelings for me were strong enough to make her give in a little easier. If I gave my father what he wanted, what he had wanted all along, maybe it would end. The searching, the pain, the cries, the torture and the death. I just wanted it all to end.
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” I told her. Kat had survived three years with my father and I and had seen her fair share of girls leave here in the back of Ray’s car, never to return. Hell, she’d helped me get rid of the bodies more times than she’d like to admit. But she knew it was them or her. She was a fighter. She’d survive. And Lucy would too.
I’d make sure of it.
We’d be happy. Ray would be happy, and it would all be over.
“I hope you’re right about this one. I really do.” She sighed before turning to the mirror to fix up her hair and straighten her clothes. Ray had moved the hallway mirror to the bathroom after Kat moved in, so she could make herself pretty in the mornings.
Her hair was curled and pinned back in a headscarf. She was wearing a floral dress with a high neckline, no sleeves, and pulled in at the waist. Her make-up was flawless, white skin, rosy cheeks, thick black lined eyes and perfect red lips. She looked like she had stepped straight out of the fifties. Just the way my father liked.
I was left alone in the bathroom with my thoughts and fears. I hoped I had made the right decision. No, I knew under the circumstances that I had made the right choice. There was nothing else I could have done. If I hadn’t done it, Ray would have, and that would have been bad for everyone. That would have meant another body. I’d spent weeks gaining Lucy’s trust, and I hoped it would work in my favour.
If I could do this my way and still keep him happy, maybe we would be okay. I washed my face and straightened out my clothes in the mirror. Downstairs, there was a toilet for Kat and the other girls, now Lucy. Kat had earned Ray’s trust enough to be allowed in the main house freely. Lucy would have to work toward that.
Ray expected Kat to be well groomed and neatly presented at all times. The perfect housewife and the perfect mother; even if she was only one year older than me.
My life was fucked up because of my fucked up father, and now I had gone and fucked up Lucy’s life. I hoped that she would forgive me one day. I would spend every day for the rest of my messed up existence trying to make it up to her.
The house was eerily silent when I finally left the confines of the small bathroom. I made my way down the hall to my room, noticing that my father’s door was closed. I locked myself in my room and put a pillow over my head. I didn’t want to risk hearing any cries coming from his room. I wouldn’t hear anything from Lucy’s room downstairs because he’d soundproofed the floor and all the outside walls so no one could hear anything below or from the street.
I knew my father’s door being closed meant I had to stay away. It was private time for him and Kat as he liked to call it. Kat called it her escape time. The time she spent pretending she was anywhere but there with my father. It was the only way she could get through it without crying and showing him weakness.
I called it rape and had to do my best to ignore it. Not that I was okay with what he was doing, no, because the thought made me sick to my stomach, and I hated the idea of him doing that to anyone, especially Kat. But the last time I tried to interfere and stop it, it ended badly for both Elizabeth and me.
Elizabeth was my mother before Kat. She had seemed like she was the right one. My father was happy with her until I stepped in and tried to protect her, tried to stop him from forcing her to do things she didn’t want to do. That night, he had me digging a hole in the woods with a broken arm and fractured ribs.
Since then, I’d tried to keep my distance. I didn’t want anything like that to happen to Kat, and she understood that. I had to protect her and keep her as safe as possible even if that meant lett
ing him do awful things to her. It kept her alive and, for the most part, uninjured. I always made sure she was okay, though. We looked out for each other, took care of each other, and we both tried our hardest to keep my father happy. If he was happy, the beatings were less frequent. If he was happy, we were safe.
And now we had another to look out for and protect and keep safe. And I would die before I’d let him anywhere near her.
The guilt from what I had done was eating away at me. I could barely sleep, my stomach in knots just thinking about what I was doing to her. I kept playing a hundred different scenarios in my head. Ways that this could work and ways that it would all turn to shit and end the way I feared. With another body in the woods.
Lucy
I AWOKE DAZED and confused, the lumpy pillow beneath my head giving me a sore neck and foggy brain. Springs from the mattress under me dug into my skin, and the cold, damp air caused a chill to break out over my skin. The musty smell had me sneezing, and it took a few moments for me to remember where I was and what happened.
The realisation that someone had tampered with my car and broke into my tiny apartment hit me like a tonne of bricks. Who would do such a thing?
If it weren’t for Hendrix being there at the right time, I shuddered to think what might have happened. Someone could have been waiting for me. I could have been kidnapped or killed. There were so many psychos out there.
I sat up and glanced around the room, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness but they never did. It was pitch black. I waved my hand in front of my face and though I felt a shift in the air, I saw no movement. Weird.
Throwing off the rough, scratchy covers that reminded me of blankets my grandma used to put on me when I was little, I sat up and placed my feet on the floor. I had no idea where the door was or if there was a light nearby. Perhaps there was a lamp beside the bed.
Feeling around blindly in the dark, I started at the bedhead. It was cool to the touch. Metal. A little rougher. Cast-iron maybe. Feeling my way across the bedhead, my fingers grazed something soft wrapped around the post. Material. It was smooth, silky, almost. Maybe from a canopy above the bed. I waved my hand around blindly beside the bed, searching for a table, or small set of drawers, the type everyone has beside their bed. My nightstand was stacked full of books, alarm clock and a small lamp, but this room didn’t appear to have one.
Weird.
Standing up, I kept one hand on the wall to guide me around the room, and one out in front of me in case I walked into anything. The room was empty. The walls cold. Dusty. My nose tickled until I sneezed again. I reached the corner of the room without encountering any obstacles. Moving along the next wall, I’d made it a few steps before my hand brushed something rough, flat. I traced my fingers around the straight, coarse edges, up to the top where it abruptly turned into a sharp point. A corner. I followed the perimeter all the way around. It was a large square, the size of a window.
The window was boarded up.
That’d explain the complete darkness. There was no way for outside light to get in.
Another thing that was weird about this room.
Perhaps they were renovating? Why else would the window be barricaded or there not be any furniture in the room?
I wondered whether Hendrix was close by. I didn’t even know where in the house I was. All I remembered was him carrying me inside and putting me into bed. Oh, my God. How embarrassing. I hoped he didn’t think badly of me. I doubt many women had ever fallen asleep in his presence. I couldn’t believe I did.
I continued following the wall, unencumbered of any obstacles, in the hopes of locating the door, or at the very least, a light. I had no clue where my purse was or my phone and had lost all concept of time. It was a surreal feeling. And I didn’t enjoy it at all.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I found the door handle. Breathing a sigh of relief, I leaned my head against the door for a moment before twisting the knob. Nothing. It was jammed.
Or locked.
I felt around for the bolt to unlock it and found nothing.
My stomach dropped, and an uneasy feeling washed over me. Why was the door locked?
I tried again.
And again.
And again.
The door didn’t budge.
My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I was locked in a dark room and had no idea what was going on.
Where was Hendrix?
More importantly, where the fuck was I?
I pounded my fists against the door and yelled out for him but got no answer.
I did it again.
And again.
And again.
Nothing.
Deciding that screaming until my voice was hoarse was useless, I followed the wall again in the hopes of finding a light switch. But there was nothing. Nothing but blank walls and empty floor space.
Nothing but another door.
Oh, my God. There was another door. Hesitating for a moment and not wanting to get my hopes up, I paused with my fingers on the door knob and prayed—I wasn’t even religious, just scared as hell—that it would open.
It did. It twisted, and the door swung open with a creak.
A chill ran up my spine, and I suddenly didn’t want to step over the threshold. That room was just as dark and cold, only it smelled damper and the unmistakable sound of something dripping made my skin crawl. I felt along the edge of the door frame until my fingers brushed over a light switch.
Yes.
I flicked the switch. Electricity buzzed in the air but nothing happened. I flicked it again.
Still nothing.
Dammit.
I stumbled through the dark until I knocked my knees against the edge of the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress and tried to think things through.
The fear was real. Hovering over me like a storm cloud, but I refused to give in to it just yet. I had to believe that this was all a misunderstanding. That it was the middle of the night and Hendrix would wake in the morning and realise that the door to his guest room was busted and the light globe in what I was assuming was the bathroom had blown.
It happened all the time.
My dodgy little apartment had terrible wiring, and I was constantly replacing the light globes. And doors got jammed all the time.
There was no sense in panicking. Yet.
I was sure Hendrix could explain everything. We’d gotten to know each other over the past few weeks when he came into the bar. He’d always tell me he was there for the whiskey, because it was the best he’d drank. I knew that was a lie because we served the cheap stuff, watered down so it didn’t taste quite like rocket fuel.
I curled up on the bed and rested my chin on my knees, trying to think rationally and keep my cool, but it was hard. There were too many variables. Too many possibilities. Too many voices in my head telling me what to think and what to feel. I closed my eyes and rocked back and forth, hoping to make sense of what was going on.
A door creaked, and suddenly I was bathed in a blinding white light. I squeezed my eyes shut, even tighter than before because the lighting was harsher than a hospital.
The bed dipped under the weight of a body. I choked back a sob and pushed myself further up the bed until I hit the metal headboard. The fear chilling my blood.
“What have we here,” a man spoke, but it wasn’t Hendrix. His voice was too raspy. Too croaky. Too wheezy; like he had bad asthma and smoked a pack a day. Which, judging by the smell, he did. “Boy got himself a good one this time.”
I shuddered. My skin crawled and I wanted to curl tighter in a ball and not look to see who was now hovering dangerously close over the bed. At the same time, I wanted to look around and assess the situation. I knew I was in danger. I could feel it in my bones. It was instinct. I needed to run, but I didn’t want to open my eyes. I had this vision in my head of the big bad wolf, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, yellow skin, no teeth, and a teardrop tatt
oo under his eye.
A hand gripped my calf and leisurely made its way up my leg. I tried to move further away, but I was already in the farthest corner of the bed, pressed against the wall. The heavy breathing in my ear had me shivering. And the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath made me want to throw up. I had nowhere to go. My stomach rolled, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Please,” I mumbled. Tears falling down my cheeks as I struggled to keep my composure.
Who was he? What did he want? Where was Hendrix?
His fingers tightened on my thigh, his nose dipped into my hair and he groaned.
Oh, God…
Hendrix
I MUST HAVE fallen asleep at some point, exhausted from worry and fear, because the next thing I knew, Kat was leaning over my bed and shaking my shoulders.
“Hendrix, wake up.” I heard her voice but was exhausted, so I rolled over and tried to ignore her.
“Hendrix, please wake up. Come on. Wake up.” Her hands were gripping my shoulders tighter and her voice was soft, hushed, like she was trying to keep quiet so no one would hear her. The only person she wouldn’t want to hear her was my father. I snapped my eyes open, making her gasp and sit back. What was she doing up here? She should have been downstairs in her room. Next to Lucy.
“What’s wrong?” I pulled myself into a sitting position and grabbed her by the hands. They were trembling. I could see that look in her eyes, the one I’d seen so often. Fear.
“You’ve got to get in there now.” She nodded her head in the direction of my wall.
I frowned in confusion wondering why I had to get into the bathroom so urgently. Then I realised it wasn't the bathroom Kat was referring to. “What—?” I started to ask her what was happening, but then I heard it. Faintly. Muffled. She’d left the door to downstairs open, so the sound travelled up.
I could hear her. Softly crying, pleading and begging. I broke out into a cold sweat. My heart dropped to my stomach. My vision blurred. Lucy was crying, and he was in the room with her.
