Hot & Cold: Toxic Love

by Jessica E. Kirby

  My head is spinning. If my father knew about it, he just let him kill her. He just let him cut and torture her. I’m emotionless. I don’t feel anger, I should. I don’t feel joy that my father is probably alive, but I should. I feel nothing. I feel like my entire life has been beaten and stripped from me, and replaced by the most atrocious, disgusting, despicable life that has ever walked this planet.

  “I sent you there until I could figure out what to do with you,” He gets up and puts his cup in the sink in the far corner of the room. I stare at the floor again and do not follow him. “Then I started to think back at our conversations from when you were a little girl. It was a far stretch for someone with a huge imagination like yours. I remember talking about buried treasure with you, do you remember that?”

  “Barely,” I sniffled, “I was just a little girl, with a big imagination, just like you said. My father used to tell me stories of pirates and castles and dragons to put me to sleep. My mother heard me constantly telling stories, so she gave me a journal to write it all down. If there’s anything that I would have known, it would be in that journal.”

  “I need to know what he has told you. I know he tried to cover it up with stories to you so that you’ll put the pieces together and find it one day.”

  “Rob, I think you’re overthinking it,” I say bravely.

  “My name isn’t Robert. My name is Parcel. Robert is just an alias of mine. And no, I’m not overthinking it. It took me a lot of failed attempts to find this money, and I will not let some stupid slut of a girl ruin it for me.”

  “I’m not a slut, thank you. I’m a human being. I’m someone’s daughter. I’m someone’s girlfriend. I’m someone’s love, and you think you can play God by giving and taking. You may think you win, but you don’t. You’ve torn away priceless lives and memories, just for a monetary gain that may or may not exist. Even if it did, you should be ashamed of yourself. Killing people just so you can get what you want, and plaguing people’s lives and manipulating things to get something that you already have. Money. I’m not stupid. I know this brotherhood has millions. If it does reach around the country, I’m sure this loss from over twenty years ago will not affect the way this corporation runs,” I’m deep in a scream when I realize he’s in my face. I don’t feel it when he smacks me, but I hear it. The sting comes after when I calm down.

  “I know that was just a lot of pent-up anger, so I forgive you. Regardless of what you think of this situation, you will help me find out what has become of this money. For your troubles, I will even give you a portion. I just want it back. It is the symbol of this brotherhood’s hard work, and motivation, regardless of how long ago it was taken. Those men died for that money, and I will not let that be in vain, do you understand?” He has my cheeks pinched so hard in his grip, I feel it bruising. “Even your mother will die in vain if you do not help me find it. Your father will rot in prison for the rest of his days. You have no choice, my dear. Do I make myself clear?” I nod to the best of my ability. I look to Ward, his eyebrows are clenched so tightly, there are red wrinkles forming there. His hands are gripping the seat so tight, they are cracking the wood. He goes over to the dresser in front of the beds, beside ward and lifts up a needle to the dim light, taps it a few times, and inserts it in his arm. “I’ve given you enough to calm down.” His eyes grit together as he pulls the needle out. I sit there on the bed, watching him with a blank face.

  “Here,” he hands me a neatly folded set of clothes, “get dressed.” I get up and start walking to the restroom on weak legs, “Not there, here. There’s a window in there, I don’t think so.”

  “I also have to use the restroom,” I say without looking at him.

  “Yeah, and you probably should shower too,” He thinks with the gun pressed up against his lips, “Try anything funny, and I will shoot both of you.”

  “I don’t need a shower, I just have to pee,” I say. I am very concerned he wants me to shower. There is no logical reason for me to shower. He doesn't say anything, just motions me with his gun. I think the worst, but I do what I’m told in fear of the pistol. I turn my back on him to undress, and I feel his eyes all over me. My spine crawls with disgust, and my legs shake. In my head, I talk to God. I haven’t talked to God in a long time. I hope he hasn’t given up on me and is watching out for me.

  “Please forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” I repeat in a whisper out loud. I do not realize that my silent prayer is being spoken until I hear him chuckle when I bend at the knees to turn the water on. “I slept with men, unmarried,” I say with the water cascading down my neck, “I’ve lied,” I said when pouring the soap in my hands, “I’ve used your name in vain,” I said when I rinsed my hair off. “Please forgive me, and watch over me,” I say as the shower curtain flies back.

  “Prayer isn’t gonna help you, Hayden. Your God has forsaken you.”

  I spit in his face, “He will never forsake me. He gives me as much as I can handle, no more.”

  Without wiping the spit from his face, “You’re about to get a lot more than you can handle in a minute.”

  He forces me from the warmth of the shower, and I fight back. I fight back as hard as my body can. I feel myself spinning around. I feel his hand on the side of my face, and I feel the pressure of the yellow tiled wall on my head.

  TWENTY-TWO.5

  -(WARD’S POV)-

  I see him drag her naked, lifeless body from the bathroom. He plops her on the bed and looks at me while taking his belt off. I see his face through my blurry vision. His lips move as I hear, “This is your punishment for disobeying my orders, boy.”

  He turns her so she’s laying sideways on the bed, with her bottom half hanging off. He makes me watch. I see her eyes open, slowly shut a few times. It’s like she’s beckoning me to help her. I cannot move. The drug makes me weak. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” The rage starts in my stomach. “If this slut can get two of my best men in bed within a couple of months, I wondered what that would feel like, and why they would disobey my direct orders!” He screams.

  I scream from the pit of my stomach, I scream from the deepest parts of my lungs. I fight against the strong drug and feel myself pulling every restraint. It does nothing but tires me. It doesn’t stop him either. He keeps violating her. He keeps hurting her. She knows that I cannot move, right? She knows that I am unable to help her, right? I pray she knows. I pray to God above she knows that I will do anything in the world if I could help it. I can’t let her see me be weak anymore. I have to try something. I have to get out of these restraints and kill the son of a bitch.

  I stop for a minute and think. It may be my drugged set-of-mind. If I kill him, they would only arrest me. They would never believe me. Then I realize what evidence I have. I have all of the text messages he’s sent me from his personal phone. I have the entire plan laid out in the cell phone he gave me. I also hit record on the phone and stuck it in my boot. I don’t know how much I have on it, or how good the quality is. My next move would depend on this evidence that may or may not still be there, or of legible quality.

  I hang my head down in front of me and weep. I cry for Hayden. I cry for my mother. I cry for my father who is burning in the pits of hell. I cry for my sweet and innocent sister. I shake the bandanna loose from my mouth. “Our Father,” I cry out loud, “Who art in Heaven,” I take a deep breath as my voice gets a little louder, “Hollowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” I say, looking at him in the eye, “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” I start hysterically laughing, “I forgive you.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I open my eyes to such total darkness, I wonder if I even woke up at all. I stop fighting and start looking around for a light source. To my left, there is a red glowing light. I figure it’s the light from the telephone on the nightst
and in the motel room. When the light is switched on, I see his face in the corner. “Okay, I’ll take you there, I’ll give it to you,” I say, “It’s not worth any more bloodshed.” I look around to the place where Ward once was. “Where’s Ward?” I ask the silent man.

  “He needed to cool down,” He said while pulling a cigarette to his lips. I try and not to think about why his pants are off, and why he is tightly dragging on that cigarette. The pounding in my head brings a familiar headache. I know it all too well. I try to avoid eye contact with him, as I wait for Ward to reappear. I look to the trashcan by the bed and see a used condom laying on the side. I try not to scream. I try my best to hide the cry that’s building up in my throat. I feel it sitting there with a noticeable, familiar taste to it. “Hurry up Ward, It’s two in the morning.”

  Ward stumbles out of the bathroom with a white shirt and black pants on. His shirt is half wet, and his eyes are glassy and red. Rob gets up from the chair and puts his butt out. “Did you clean up the blood?” He asks Ward, as Ward nods yes. He then throws me the clothes from earlier, and I am suddenly aware that I’m naked. I dress in clothes that are heavily baggy on me. He lowers his gun to his waist and pushes us out of the room. Ward put his hand gently on my back. This startles me for a minute until I realize It’s not who I thought it was.

  I honestly don’t remember the drive. I feel the sedan jolt as it stops, and the engine is shut off. I open the passenger side door, like a zombie, and everyone follows. “Don’t try any funny business,” He says calmly with the gun steady at his side. He tosses Ward and me a flashlight. The air is silent, stiff, and cold. My breath puffs out with each exhale. I shine the light to the porch where my mother and I used to sit and read. I try and push the memory out of my head. I know it will bring back sorrow, and guilt. I try and focus.

  With each step, I feel my childhood disappear. With the familiar creak to the floor of the porch, I feel my life fade away as it once was. This house and everything in it was a lie. The door has a new “for sale” sign nailed to it. Rob unlocks the door, and I shine my light in on my childhood home. The only home I ever really knew. It was the only place where I felt safe. Right now, I don’t feel safe. I know if I don’t find answers tonight, Ward and I are dead. That scares me, and there’s no way anyone can prepare for a fate like that.

  It’s empty. The furniture is gone. The staircase has been removed of its runner, and there is a white new banister complimenting it. The kitchen to my left is barely recognizable, every appliance has been replaced. The dining room is an empty shell. I faintly hear my mother’s laugh in the back of my head as we sit down for dinner. I shake my head and lead the trio upstairs to my father’s den. The door creaks open. The bare window lets in the moonlight. I shine the light on a hidden door. I pushed it open and watched the old ironing board gently float down in front of me. I feel the space between the ironing board and wall and pull out a familiar textured book. It’s white with flowers on it. My father had told me about this spot. I was allowed to hide it there, so no one will ever steal my ideas. I now know why he told me to do this.

  I crack the book open, only to find every page ripped out but one. My heart falls to the floor. A very angry man pushes me out of the way. “NO! NO! NO!” he said as he read the note that my father has left for him.

  “You didn’t win, -Dave” was all that was left for him. He throws the book so hard towards the window, he breaks it.

  “FUCK FUCK FUCK!” He yelled some more. Rob sank to the floor. Ward held me in his arms.

  “You got what you wanted, man. Let us go. She doesn’t know anything else.”

  “Shut up Ward!” He points the gun at us. “This is far from over!” He gets up with the gun still pointed at us. He ushers us out in the hallway, and down the stairs.

  “Just let us go,” I beg.

  He does nothing but forces us out the side patio door by the dining room. He takes my arm and drags us out to the field behind the house. Oh God, he’s going to shoot us. He picks up the book he threw and leads us further in the field close to the tree line. We reach an old well and my old playhouse. With my arm still in his grip, he pushes the house out of the way, revealing a rusted, metal door. He lets go of my arm, and jolts upward to open the squeaky door. “GET IN!” He yelled as he pointed the gun at us. We weren’t moving fast enough, so he tosses me into the dark five foot by a five-foot hole in the ground. I fall about six feet and land on my back with Ward not too far behind me. I land on a metal floor. The door above us slams shut, and locks after he angrily throws the book down.

  “Are you okay?” I hear him say beside me, in the darkness.

  “Yeah, I think.”

  “Where are we?”

  “My father built a storm shelter when I was young. I thought it was always pointless being so far away from the house,” I cough, “But I kind of know what this is supposed to be now. Probably an old meeting place for the Brotherhood. The lock that’s on the outside, though, that’s new.”

  I get up and feel around the wall for the light switch I know is there. This place is powered by the city, not the private company that powers the house. My father used the wires that power the light posts on the street nearby to power it. Illegally. I had forgotten all about this place. I find the power box and fumble to get it open. I push the lever up, and the small, dank room comes to life. I cough and wave the dust away from my face. It’s just how I remembered it. It was built with one of those old storage containers they use to ship things overseas. The walls were lined with a crumbling corkboard-like material, the floor had a few old rugs atop some planks used for floorboards. They creaked as we walked around.

  “Wait!” Ward says, “I have a cellphone still!”

  “You do?” I ask, stupidly. He bends over and pulls out the cell phone out of his boot, only to find out that the battery was dead. His face falls.

  “Damn it!” he exclaims. “I turned it on before we got into the hotel room,” He whispers, “and I pressed record on the voice feature.”

  “That’s good!” I say with a smile. “We can put him away,” I say with a small whisper. I start crying uncontrollably. I close my eyes so tight, I barely realized Ward was holding me.

  “We have to get out of here. Is there any other way out?” He holds me at arm’s length.

  “That’s the only way in or out” I point up, “There’s a small ventilation system in the bathroom, but that’s a far stretch. The hole is only about as big as your hand, there’s no way you can fit through there. He runs over to the bathroom that’s been planked with wood and flips the light on. He looks up, and his eyes display defeat. What if he never comes back? I sit on the small cot that’s between the wall and the bathroom. Ward sits beside me as we stare blankly in the small room. It’s only about 12x15 at most. There’s a small kitchen-like area on the far side with a manmade table and two chairs. The empty book lays open and faces down on the floor. I get up and feel the textured binder on my fingertips. On the front, is a drawing that I did of a bunny in a pirate costume. I open the book as I sit back down beside Ward. My father’s handwriting dances when I read his last small letter. I close the emptied book again and notice the binding has a strange indention on it. The spine of the book has the outline of something strange. I reopen the book, as I feel Ward’s eyes on me. Without thinking, I tare the binding of the book open, only to be disappointed by an empty cardboard spine. The thread hangs delicately over my fingertips as I trace the spot where the mysterious figure sat. Something was there, something had to have been there, like a key. Frustrated, I slam the book shut and throw it across the room. Ward puts his arm around me, trying to console me. He kisses a spot on my tender head that makes me wince. It’s a reminder at the moment that this psychotic, dangerous person would stop at nothing to get what he’s been searching for all these years. He’s not even a person at this point, he’s a thing. He’s an evil entity.

  The one person I thought I could trust at the start of all of this has tur
ned into a spitting, nasty, vile snake of a mongrel that I ever did know. I find myself pacing. I find myself going through the drawers in the makeshift kitchen. I pull out candles, a matchbox, a heater from under the counter, and some kerosene. “When the sun comes up,” I say, “The street lights will go off, and it’ll be completely dark in here.”

  He gets up and helps me set up the candles and pour the kerosene in the heater. It gets really cold down here in the winter. I opened the last drawer and pull out some old chargers. He reads my mind when I hold it up. We try every single one until a charger finally goes in. The outlet over the counter doesn’t work, so we scramble to find another outlet before the sun comes up. We find one by the cot and plug it in. The light on the screen displays a charging symbol for a few minutes before coming on. No service displays in white letters.

  “Just turn the phone completely off, and we’ll let it charge as long as it can, then we’ll try and find a sweet spot,” He says while turning it off.

  I don’t know how long we’ll have until he returns if he returns. It’s a race against time. When we flipped the phone on, I briefly saw 4:45 AM. We have a good hour before the sun comes up, and the lights go off. It should be charged enough for that. I set the heater on the counter, and sit on the small cot. Ward lays down, and I lay beside him. We’re beaten, but we’re not broken. We have a fight left in us still. I will not die like this.

  He puts his arm around me, and I fall into somewhat of a brief sleep, before being woken by the lights shutting off. I look at the phone, and it’s fully charged. I use the light from the screen to find my way to the bathroom. Ward wakes up and follows silently. I step on the toilet and hold the phone up to the vent. One bar.