by Athan, Jon
Jane smiled and nodded at her daughter, as if the pair had arrived at an agreement. She walked away from the support beam and wrapped her arm around her husband's waist.
Ashley scowled at her parents until they left the basement and closed the door. She stared at the pile of hair on the floor and bellowed at the top of her lungs. By her lonesome, trapped in a dungeon created by her wicked parents, the teenager could only cry and hope for the best.
Chapter Thirteen
A Civilized Dinner for a Civilized Family
The sound of clanking silverware, loud munching, children screaming, teenagers complaining, and adults chattering dominated the crowded diner. The smell of meatloaf, steaks, and burgers meandered across the eatery, suppressing all of the other scents in the room. The patrons sitting in the booths to the left basked in the sunset sunshine. A few families were squeezed tight in the tables at the center of the diner. And, at the bar to the right, patrons drank beer and watched a baseball game.
Logan, Jane, and Calvin sat in the first booth to the left – the table closest to the entrance. Logan ate his meatloaf with a beer while Jane nibbled on a chicken sandwich with a diet soda.
Calvin sat across the table from his parents. He opted for the basket of chicken fingers, fries, and a Coke – his favorite. Yet, he did not devour his meal. He twirled a piece of chicken in his barbecue sauce as he brooded during the dinner. He shared the same love for chicken as his sister, but she wasn't around.
A chicken finger never made a child so sad.
Interrupting Calvin's thoughts, Jane dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin and said, “Thank you for taking us out today, Logan. I know it's been a little rough on us lately. You're not getting as many hours as before. I'm still not working... I'm sorry.”
“Enough. I don't want to hear it,” Logan responded. He took a swig of his beer, then he said, “You don't have to apologize for anything. Everything is going well. You know, Robert offered me a job to work on a bigger crew. He was talking commercial construction. If I land a spot on his crew, I'll have plenty of hours and plenty of pay. Besides, we have our savings. Everything's fine. We deserve to dine out every once in a while. It's good for the family.”
“You're right. You're the man of the house. You know how to take care of us. I just... Oh, I don't know. I just wish I could help out.”
She glanced around the diner, curious. The other families had their fair share of problems, but they seemed genuinely happy. Even the waitresses, working for tips in a world ruled by the rich, appeared happy – perhaps it was simply part of the job, maybe they were actually grateful.
Jane said, “I want to get out there again. I want to work, Logan. I want to help the family and I want to help myself. You're an excellent provider, but... I want to grow, too.”
Logan nodded and said, “I get it. I mean, I can see it working, too. You could even work here. You can be a waitress or even a manager. It's close to home. Yeah, that can work.”
“You're right. I might ask for an application before we leave...”
Calvin absently gazed at his parents, watching their mouths as their lips flapped. They spoke about work and life, but it all translated into a garble of noise to him. He didn't care about their conversation. He was young, so he wasn't fully aware of their financial issues – money bought things, that's all he knew. He couldn't catch on to his mother's need for personal growth, either.
Who will take care of Ashley if you get a job, mom?–Calvin thought.
The boy picked at his food as he pondered his sister's condition. He considered asking about her, but he feared he would be scolded in public. He didn't want to end up like Ashley, either. I can't say anything, he thought, they'd tie me to the other side of the pole with her.
He lowered his food and dragged his chicken finger across the basket, using the chicken as a brush to paint broad strokes with the barbecue sauce. His parents were victorious. Since Calvin was afraid to speak up, they successfully made an example out of Ashley.
“Logan! Good to see you, buddy,” a voice echoed from the entrance of the diner.
As he glanced over at the source, Logan smiled and murmured, “Speak of the devil...”
Robert Castro stood near the entrance with his arms extended away from his body, as if he were welcoming a hug. The man mumbled to his wife, excusing himself from the wait to be seated, then he approached the booth.
Robert said, “Good to see you, man. How are you, Jane?”
Jane scooted closer to her husband and said, “I'm fine. Thank you.”
Robert patted Calvin's head and asked, “How about you, champ?”
Calvin stared at the man – a grizzled man in a filthy polo shirt and denim jeans. He wondered if he could sense the secret hidden by the Collins family. Instead of answering, the boy offered a simple shrug – I'm fine.
“Great, great,” Robert said, amused by the awkward exchange.
Logan said, “We were actually just talking about you. How are you doing, man?”
“It's all good, bro. We finished the kitchen and the living room earlier while you were out. We'll probably finish everything else by the weekend, then we'll move on to the next project.”
“We're going to talk about that, right?”
“Right. I gave you my word, brother.”
“Thanks. So, what are you doing now? Doesn't, uh, Jenny wanna come say 'hi' or what?”
Robert glanced back at his wife and chuckled. He said, “Yeah, she probably does, but she doesn't want to lose our place in line. She's probably pissed at me, too.” He glanced back at the Collins family and furrowed his brow. He asked, “Anyway, where's Ashley? I haven't seen her in a while.”
Where's Ashley?–the million-dollar question required a million-dollar answer. Logan wasn't prepared for a casual interrogation, though. He hesitated, chuckling and shaking his head as if someone had just told a crass joke.
Chiming-in, Jane said, “She's out with her friends. You know, she's doing what girls do.”
Robert nodded and said, “Yeah, I get it. I hope she's safe out there.” He glanced over at his family and said, “I think we're about to be seated. I'm starved. Listen, are we still up for that barbecue at your house this weekend?”
Logan forgot about the scheduled barbecue – it was marked on his calender for weeks. He couldn't cancel or change the date without raising any suspicion, though.
He said, “Yeah, we'll see you on Sunday.”
“Alright, great. You guys have a good one.”
Robert returned to the entrance of the diner. His wife could be seen scolding him for leaving her in line with the kids. The man's teenage daughter, the same age as Ashley, giggled as she watched her quarreling parents. The argument wasn't serious, so it brought a smile to her face. The couple quickly reconciled anyway.
Logan watched the family with glowing eyes, amazed. The teenage girl did not snap at her parents or complain about being embarrassed. Their son appeared happy, too. The family was respectful towards each other – in public, at least. The image of a decent family brought tears to Logan's eyes – it was everything he ever wanted.
Logan smiled and whispered, “The life... We need something like that.”
Jane asked, “You say something, hun?”
Logan shook his head, snapping out of his trance. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed his cheeks, then he blew his nose. He tried to act as normally as possible. Men don't cry in public, he thought, fathers set examples for their children.
He said, “I just got some pepper in my eyes.” He nodded at his son and asked, “How's the food, Cal?”
In a monotonous tone, Calvin responded, “Good, I guess...”
“Good. Let me know if you want anything for dessert. You deserve it, kiddo. You really do.”
Do I?–Calvin bit his tongue before he could blurt the question. He slumped his head downward and continued eating. He ignored his parents' conversation, occasionally grunting whenever he was addressed, while thinking
about his sister and his actions. The civilized dinner at his favorite diner was not what he expected.
A cloud of guilt poured pessimism over the booth, but only the young child was hit by the melancholic storm. In spite of his overwhelming emotions, he focused on his food and waited for the dinner to finally end. He could only think about his home and Ashley.
Chapter Fourteen
Silent Night
Calvin stared at his bedroom door with wide eyes. Midnight moonlight poured through the window next to his bed, barely illuminating the dark room. He had been resting on his bed for hours, unable to sleep. Instead, he counted each footstep in the hallway outside of his door. He listened to every creak and groan, tracking his parents in the house without leaving his room.
The sound of a door closing down the hall emerged.
Calvin whispered, “That's it. They're asleep.” He sat up on his bed and said, “You can do this, Calvin. It's not weird. It's... It's natural.”
The youngster tiptoed across the room, lunging over the creaky floorboards, then he locked the door. He returned to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He stared at his pillow as if he were staring at a nude woman for the first time – excited, nervous, frightened.
His arms trembled as he pulled the pillow onto his lap. His hand slipped into the pillowcase, then he pulled out his sister's lace panties. He had resisted the urge for what felt like an eternity – it had actually only been a few days. He couldn't resist it anymore, though.
Sleeping on the underwear, he felt as if he could smell the panties through the pillowcase. He needed a real whiff – he itched for a hit like a heroin addict.
Calvin held the panties over his nose and mouth, then he loudly sniffed. The aroma was faint, but it was there – he was sure of it. He licked his lips and rubbed his crotch as he sniffed the underwear again. Despite his inexperience, he was aroused. He knew it was wrong to sniff his sister's panties – it was sick and deviant – but he couldn't resist the temptation.
That taboo sensation aroused him just as much as the minuscule scent.
He let off a moan and rubbed his crotch over his pajama bottoms. His fingers slipped under his waistband, then he stopped. A faint groan echoed from the hallway. It's them, he thought. He quickly shoved the panties into his pillowcase, then he tiptoed across the room and unlocked his door – he didn't want to raise their suspicion. He swiftly hopped back onto his bed, slipped under the covers, and closed his eyes.
Pretending to sleep was difficult for him due to his anxiety. Getting caught with the panties would not end well for him. However, no one entered the room. He didn't hear the door down the hall, either. He opened his eyes and sat up as he gazed at the door, curious.
Calvin whispered, “Ashley?”
He grabbed his touchscreen cellphone from his nightstand, then he opened the door. He peeked into the hall. All of the doors were closed, the coast was clear. His heels and shoulders raised, he crept down the hall and tiptoed down the stairs while using his phone's screen as a light. From the bottom of the steps, he could see the living room and the kitchen were empty. His mother did not partake in any late-night gardening, either.
The home was calm.
Calvin puckered his lips as he stared at the number pad on the door knob on the basement door. To most people, the lock might have been a problem. However, everyone in the home knew most of Logan's passwords. He relied on the same set of numbers for every pin – the last four numbers of his credit card.
As he tapped the number pad, Calvin whispered, “2... 9... 3... 8.”
The door swung open. The youngster took one final glance at the stairs behind him, then he descended into the basement. He was immediately awed by his discovery.
Ashley was still tied to the support beam, her wrists and ankles cuffed. Her head slumped down, she appeared to be sleeping. A few strands of her remaining hair dangled over her brow and across the nape of her neck. There were dried streams of blood on her thigh. Her chest was beaten black and blue above her bra. She was brutalized by her parents.
Yet, Calvin couldn't help but gaze at her breasts in a lecherous manner. Despite her battered condition, bruised skin and a shaved head, he was aroused by her figure. He slowly approached the support beam, his bare feet slapping the frigid concrete. With a shaky hand, he reached forward and squeezed Ashley's left breast. He grabbed her other breast for a comparison, barely avoiding the welts on her flesh.
Soft, he thought.
He glanced up at his sister's face – she was still slumbering. He unfastened another button, then he pushed her shirt aside. He pulled her bra down and lifted her breasts over the garment. He licked his lips as he stared at her light pink nipples. His friends had shown him pictures of breasts before, but he was still awed by his sister's elegance.
The perfect color, he thought, can I suck them?
He shook his head and pulled the phone out of his pocket. He stepped to Ashley's left. From over her shoulder, he took a picture of her exposed breasts. He angled his phone perfectly so he could avoid the rope and her bruised flesh. The flash from his phone didn't seem to wake her, so he stepped in front of Ashley and took a close-up shot of her nipples.
Like pepperoni on a cheesy pizza, her nipple looked appetizing. He smacked his lips and rubbed his crotch as he leaned closer to her breasts. He wanted to suck on her nipple while he masturbated. His heart pounded and his legs wavered. Sweat streamed across his brow and cheeks, dripping towards his neck and chest. A voice in the back of his mind told him it was wrong, but his overwhelming lust roared over his rational mind. He didn't care anymore, he was on the verge of exploding in his pants.
With his lips puckered as if he were about to kiss someone, Calvin stopped an inch away from her nipple. Something was wrong – he could feel it in the air. He glanced up, then he gasped and staggered in reverse – his sister stared back at him, awake.
Ashley asked, “You like what you see?”
***
Paralyzed by his fear, Calvin stood a meter away from the support beam and gazed at his sister. He was rendered speechless by his sibling's sudden awakening – the cat got his tongue and ripped it out of his mouth. He glanced over at the stairs and considered running. What if she tells mom? What if I end up like her?–the questions ran through his mind.
Calvin stuttered, “I–I thought... I thought I heard something and I... I don't know what happened. I'm sorry. Please, don't tell them.”
Ashley stared at her brother with a blank expression, stunned. She couldn't hold the expression, though. She couldn't bottle her emotions. She grimaced and whimpered.
She whispered, “So, you're just like the rest of 'em. You... You're no better than the others. Just another monster...”
“I don't get it,” Calvin responded, confused. He stared at her shaved head, then at her bruised chest. He took one step forward and explained, “I came over here because I was... I just wanted to see. You know? I was, um... curious. I couldn't stop it, I just wanted to look and... and touch. I didn't know they were doing all of this to you, I swear. I don't like this, either.”
Could a tortured woman believe the person caught molesting her? Ashley's stomach turned and a lump formed in her throat. She was disgusted by her younger brother's despicable actions. She didn't know if she could believe him. As far as she knew, he supported their parents and their parents would support him.
Ashley nodded and asked, “Do you know why I act like such a bitch?”
“You–You're... You're not a bitch.”
“Oh, please. I know I'm a bitch because I do it on purpose. Do you know why? Huh? Or, are you blind like everyone else?”
Calvin shrugged and shook his head, genuinely unaware of the reasons behind his sister's attitude. He never thought of her as a 'bitch,' either.
Teary-eyed, Ashley said, “I'll tell you. Yeah, I'll tell you if you're willing to listen. It won't be good. You understand? It... It'll change the way you think of mom and dad forever... if yo
u're not already like them. You wanna know the reason? Do you?”
Calvin clenched his jaw and nodded. He took another step forward and said, “Yes.”
Ashley struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, then she said, “It all started five years ago. I was eleven years old. I was young. I mean, I still played with dolls, Cal. You were, I don't know, seven years old, I guess. We were at Aunt Steph's house one day and... Well, you remember Uncle Hugh, right? Huey?”
“Y–Yes...”
“Well, that man we call our uncle, our father's brother, he... he molested me. Do you know what that means?”
“I–I think–”
“He touched me, just like you did,” Ashley interrupted, fighting off the urge to bawl. She said, “Except, that bastard touched me everywhere. He... He put his fingers into everything. You understand? Ev–Every hole he could find.... He even took pictures of everything he did. That sick bastard probably still has them, too! He... He probably still has them...”
Ashley slumped her head down and stared at her feet, depressed. Her tears plunged from her face and plopped on the floor. The memories she tried to suppress hurt her more than her father's physical abuse. Admitting to receiving abuse was difficult for victims – it was a big step forward, but it also caused the pain from the past to return.
The young woman said, “I don't trust most men because of that. At least, I don't trust men like our uncle or our dad. They're the same: fake upstanding citizens. They are from the same... generation of abuse. I'm just waiting for the day dad finally rapes me... I just know it's going to happen.”
