by R. Linda
“Lucy, can we talk?” I asked softly, sitting on the floor by the door hoping that I would look less intimidating if I weren’t towering over her. Maybe I could explain today. She seemed a little better, a little less aggressive. Perhaps she was starting to get used to being here, if that was even possible. I didn’t expect her to answer, so when she turned her head and looked at me, I couldn’t help the gasp that left my lips.
“Are you letting me go?” she asked flatly. It was the first time I had taken a really close look at her since bringing her here. The pink tinge to her cheeks that initially caught my attention all those weeks ago had gone, only to be replaced by pale, pasty skin. Black circles and bags were evident under her dull eyes. She looked like she had given up. There was no life, no spark left in her. After six days, she was just a shell of herself. I did that to her. It was my fault. I had destroyed her, and I hated myself for it.
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t let you go,” I answered, keeping my voice neutral and my face expressionless. No weakness.
She would be my weakness. I knew it.
She sighed and nodded her head in understanding. That was it? No arguing? No pleading? No crying or begging? No screaming? She had lost her will to fight. I knew it was a contradiction, but I wanted her to fight, dammit. I didn’t want her to give up. She had too much to live for. She needed to fight.
“Lucy.”
“It’s okay. I understand,” she murmured, staring at her fingers.
“You do?”
“Yes. I understand that you’re a sick, twisted, fucked up psychopath who preys on girls.” Those few words uttered from her mouth hurt worse than any punch or cigarette burn my father had laid on me over the years. My stomach clenched, and my chest cracked in two. Ray was the psychopath, not me. I didn’t want to do this. I had no choice. I was a victim just as much as her. But this was the only way to make him stop. I had to make her see that. I had to make her see how much I hated him and how much I hated what he did.
“No, Lucy, I’m not. Please, you’ve got to understand; it’s him, not me. My father, Ray, he’s the psychopath. I had no other options.” I tried to explain, but she just shut herself down again and ignored my presence.
All I needed was five minutes of her time for her to understand the situation and why I had done this to her, but she wouldn’t give it to me. I was about to say something else to get her to listen when I heard his voice yelling above us. I frowned. I shouldn’t be able to hear him. The basement was soundproofed. Unless… I jumped to my feet and pressed my ear to the door. Shit, I’d left the basement door open, allowing his voice to travel down here.
He should have been in the shop working, not back here screaming at Kat.
“Don’t you dare fucking tell me what to do in my own house!” His voice boomed. I hadn’t heard him that angry for a long time. At least not since the day I tried to protect Elizabeth. Kat had never given him a reason to be mad. Within two days of being here, Kat gave in and submitted to him knowing that it was her only chance at survival. She had been doing that ever since… Surviving.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lucy had stood up and was looking in my direction. I turned my head to look at her, she was standing there with wide eyes and her arms wrapped protectively around herself. Fear lined her face. I pressed my finger to my lips telling her to be quiet. She nodded before taking another step closer to me. This was the closest she’d been to me without trying to gouge my eyes out.
I opened the door to Lucy’s room, just a crack. Enough to hear a little better.
“I-I’m s-s-s-s-sorry. I-I-I d-d-didn’t…” Kat was apologising and I wanted nothing more than to go up there and make sure she was okay, protect her, but I couldn’t. Kat and I had an understanding, an agreement; no matter how angry or violent my father got toward one of us, the other would stay away until it was safe. It was the only way that wouldn’t result in one of us digging a grave in the woods.
Well, it would save me from digging Kat’s grave in the woods. I didn’t think I could handle digging a hole for her. Not now. The others had been hard, but I’d done it because I had to. Kat was different. Kat was family and I cared for her. If he killed her, it would kill me too. We survived him together.
“You don’t speak until I tell you to!” he shouted at her. They must have been in the hall upstairs, right near the basement door because their voices were much louder than they should have been.
Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the images in my head of what could be going on up there. My hands were balled so tightly into fists that my fingers were beginning to cramp. I didn’t even have time to wonder what she could have done to piss him off that badly before I heard the unmistakable thud of Ray’s hand connecting with Kat’s face, or stomach, or side. I wasn’t sure where, but I knew he’d hit her. Lucy knew it too. She was trembling behind me and her soft cries tickled the back of my neck as she realised what was happening just up the stairs.
Kat’s whimpering and muffled screams barely drowned out the sound of him beating her. My breathing picked up and was coming out in pants as my hatred for him continued to grow. With a final crash of what sounded like him throwing Kat across the room, her cries fell silent and his footsteps faded down the hall back toward the shop.
The house was eerily quiet after that. I waited a moment and listened to make sure he had really left the house before opening the bedroom door with a trembling hand and climbing the stairs to find Kat. I didn’t even think about leaving Lucy in that room alone or locking the door. All I could think about was Kat. The silence terrified me after the sounds of him beating her.
I was scared he had gone too far and that I would be burying Kat tonight.
Hendrix
SHE WAS BREATHING. It was slow and ragged, but she was breathing all the same. I sighed in relief and fell down on the floor beside her. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rid myself of the horrible images rushing through my mind. Looking around the room, I realised how lucky she was that she was still breathing.
The lamp table had been shattered into pieces, furniture upturned and knocked over in the living room. It almost looked like he had just thrown her around the room. The way she way lying now she’d be lucky not to have any broken bones. I slid my arms under her and carried her into the bathroom. She was unconscious and bleeding badly from a gash in her arm.
I needed to clean her up and see how badly he had hurt her this time, so I lay her on the floor, careful not to cause her any more pain and grabbed the first aid supplies from the cupboard. We were running low on everything since he had been laying into me more than normal this week, but I guess that’s what I got for disobeying him and trying to protect Lucy.
I washed away the blood as best I could from her arm so I could inspect the wound. Fragments of glass were embedded in her skin and it looked like she was going to need stitches. I didn’t have the first clue how to stitch a person up. It was always me getting the stitches and being treated, not the other way around. I was gathering the needle and thread and rubbing alcohol, keen to stitch her up before she woke up because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it while she was crying in pain, when I heard a soft gasp coming from the doorway. I looked up to see Lucy standing there, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in shock. I forgot I’d left her downstairs alone.
“C-c-can I h-help?” she stuttered, taking a cautious step toward me. I just stared at her wondering how the hell she was going to help me.
“I'm s-studying n-n-n-nursing,” she said, swallowing hard and kneeling down in front of me.
And right then, I thanked my lucky fucking stars for choosing her.
“She needs stitches,” I told her, handing her the needle.
She didn’t say anything else as she set to work removing the glass pieces and stitching up Kat’s arm. I watched everything she did carefully so I would know how to do it properly the next time something like this happened to one of us, because this sure as hell wasn’t going
to be the last time one of us would be lying unconscious on the bathroom floor and bleeding.
After Lucy was done, she threw the rubbish in the basket under the sink and washed her hands. “She’s going to need painkillers and that dressing changed and cleaned every day,” Lucy said, frowning. “She was lucky.”
“Thank you, Lucy.” I nodded my head gratefully and picked Kat up in my arms once again to take her to my room so she could sleep.
“She probably shouldn’t sleep for long, though. She could have a concussion.” Lucy followed me down the hall.
“I know,” I said, knowing all too well how serious her injuries could be. I pulled the covers over Kat and turned to face Lucy, who was looking around my room nervously.
Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the camera in the corner and she sucked in a small breath. She probably hadn’t noticed the camera in her room, because it was hidden better than in the rest of the house. Ray liked to keep an eye on everything. He had monitors in his room, and in his office in the garage that allowed him to watch everything in the house at any time. Nothing was private in this place. Not even the bathroom. Though over the years, I had figured out there were a few blind spots that the cameras didn’t see.
“Um… Hendrix, please let me go. I could go and get Kat help, and you too. I can’t stay here.” She bit her lip, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
I stepped toward her expecting her to push me away or to turn around and run but she didn’t. She just cried into my shoulder when I gently wrapped my arms around her. I hated what I had done to her. I hated myself, I hated him, and I hated the defeated look on Lucy’s face when she had finally given up. I knew she’d given up. I could tell in the way she cried. In the way she leaned into me. In the look in her eyes.
A knot formed in the pit of my stomach and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to knock down the back door and let her escape. But I knew if I did that, it would be the end for her. He would hunt her down and kill her. No one had ever left this house alive. Instead, I silently led her back down to her room and locked the door, promising I would come back in soon and try to explain things to her.
I went out to the living room and began picking up all the broken pieces of furniture and took them downstairs to the corner of the basement where everything would stay until my father decided to get rid of it. I grabbed the cleaning supplies from the closet while I was down there and went about cleaning up all of Kat’s blood from the bathroom. The smell of bleach no longer burnt my nose I was so used to it. I was thankful the only blood in the living room was on the rug, so I just rolled it up and threw it in the basement as well. Blood was a bitch to get out of carpet. By the time I had everything cleaned up and looking normal again, it was almost time for lunch.
Since Kat was out cold, I would have to feed my father, and I knew Lucy would be hungry. I doubted that she would have touched that breakfast Kat had made for her earlier. I quickly checked on Kat before preparing lunch to make sure she was still breathing. She mumbled something when I tried to wake her, but I was satisfied she hadn’t slipped into a coma or anything too serious.
Grabbing the plate of sandwiches from the counter, I carried it down the hall to the front of the house and out into the workshop. Out into almost freedom. We were that close to the outside world, yet no one had a clue what went on in the house behind the garage.
Ray was standing behind the counter, laughing with a customer, and just for the briefest second, he looked normal, like he wasn't a raging lunatic with a fetish for abducting and killing women. He looked like every other father, business owner, normal, stand-up guy.
“Ah, here’s my boy now,” he smiled proudly and gestured toward me. He had become so good at acting the part over the years that no one ever suspected anything. “We were just talking about how talented you are, son, and how proud I am of you.” He clapped me on the back and almost had me convinced that he was serious.
“Yes, your father was just telling me how you’re following in his footsteps and going into the family business as well,” said the guy he was talking to. I felt the bile rise in my throat but swallowed it down. This guy thought he meant the auto business, but I knew what he really meant. I was not my father. I was not following in his footsteps. Lucy and Kat would be safe. I would end this.
“Ah, thank you,” I said quietly, clearing my throat.
“I brought you some lunch.” I turned to my father and held up the plate.
“Thanks, son. How’s your mother feeling?” he asked, sounding like a caring husband.
“She’s not doing very well. She’s still asleep but I’m taking care of her.” I clenched my jaw, wanting him to know how badly he’d hurt Kat.
“Good boy.” He smiled. He was so screwed in the head. The fact he could stand there and pretend like everything was normal, like we were normal, was so messed up.
Growing up, I had always wondered whether he had been like this as a child. You know, did he show signs of being a complete psycho? Did he torture his pet cat or hurt other kids in the neighbourhood? Could all this have been prevented if he’d been given help as a kid? Or was this something that had developed later in life, like a psychotic break or something?
“I hope your mother’s okay and it’s nothing serious,” the guy said, sounding concerned.
I wondered for a moment what would happen if I told him that my father had beat her so badly this morning that she’s still unconscious, but Ray must have sensed that because he answered before I could.
I’d given up trying to attract customers’ attention, the pleading looks in my eyes usually went unnoticed and Ray watched me like a hawk whenever I was in the garage with him, ensuring I kept my mouth shut, and ‘my mother’ alive. Sometimes I think that pretending to be a happy, normal family in the public was harder than burying a body in the woods. The urge to scream out what was going on in the house just behind the shop was hard to fight, but I knew if I said anything, we’d be dead before anyone could come and investigate. Hell, Ray’d kill anyone I told or tried to involve to keep it quiet.
To the outside world, Ray was a pillar of the community. No one would believe me even if I managed to draw attention to the fact he had two women locked in the house behind us. Ray would put a spin on it and make me the crazy one, ‘Ah, the kid needs his meds,’ he’d say while rotating his finger around the side of his head with a cuckoo whistle. Then I’d get the sympathetic look from the customer that said ‘I’m sorry you’re insane. You’ve got a great father’. And then Ray would beat me so hard, that I’d black out for three days. I knew from experience.
“Oh, yes, she’s fine, just a bug of some sort. Plenty of rest and she’ll be good as new. Well, you best get back out there then,” Ray answered, nodding at me. I quickly retreated, muttering a goodbye to the customer.
I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the plate of sandwiches I’d made for Lucy and I to share before heading downstairs. I was hoping that she’d have lunch with me and that we could talk about everything a little. Carefully unlocking her door, I pushed it open and peered inside. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in the exact same position she had been that morning.
“I brought you some lunch,” I said, holding up the plate in front of me, a small smile on my lips so she wouldn’t freak out too much.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to eat with me?” I asked, watching her for a reaction. I was momentarily taken aback by her thanking me. She truly had given up. And that made me sad. I didn’t want this for her.
She shrugged and continued staring at the wall. It was weird to see her this way. There was no fight left in her, there was no sadness, just resignation. She had well and truly given up hope of escaping or being let go.
I placed the plate on the bed beside her and grabbed a sandwich for myself before making my way across the room and sitting on the floor underneath the window. Under the window that you couldn’t see out of because it was boarded up.
> I didn’t want to force her into anything, so I quietly sat and ate my sandwich, waiting for her to speak. If she spoke first, I knew she’d be ready to talk things through. We sat staring at each other in silence for a while, both waiting for the other to say something before she finally reached over to the plate and took a sandwich.
“Does he do that often?” she asked quietly and completely out of the blue. I didn’t think she was ever going to speak. I was glad, though. We were making progress. I knew that she was referring to Ray almost beating the life out of Kat.
“Yes.”
“To her?”
“Yes.”
“And to you.” It was more a statement than a question. She was beginning to process the whole situation.
“Yes, to me more than anyone.”
“Why?”
“He’s screwed in the head,” I told her truthfully. It was the only answer I had. Why else would someone do this? To their own flesh and blood? To innocent women?
“What made him that way?”
“My mother died when I was very young. It messed him up,” I told her. It was the only explanation that made sense—a psychotic break after my mother’s death. Sometimes late at night, I’d remember her, my mother and my life before she died. I didn’t remember a lot. It came in flashes and feelings, sounds. Things were so completely different then. I remembered the sound of her laughter, how my father was loving and caring and doted on her, on me. How things change.
Lucy took a deep breath and for half a second, I saw pity in her eyes, but then it was gone.
“So, he takes it out on women and you?”
“No, not exactly.” I didn’t quite know how to explain it to her properly. She laughed. Not a happy laugh, but one of disbelief, like she couldn’t believe what I was saying.
