9 Months Trilogy: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Matt Shaw

  The briefest of moments.

  “Did you want to see Jess?” he asked.

  Nothing has changed.

  5.

  I wasn’t sure what to think when I walked into the house and saw Jessica standing in the kitchen, a slice of toast in her hand, wearing a small white t’shirt. My first thought was panic; she had escaped. And then I thought, if she had escaped, she wouldn’t be stood around semi-dressed, eating toast. She’d be running. Running from us as fast as her legs could carry her.

  My second thought was that of the baby.

  Exactly how far gone is she? Already I can see a little bump.

  A baby.

  “Hi mum,” she said when she spotted me, “dad thought he heard your car pull up.”

  What have I walked into? How has everything changed in such a small space of time?

  “Is Darren with you?”

  I froze.

  “Just your mum,” said Bryan, as he stepped into the house behind me and locked the front door.

  “Oh, right.”

  I spun around and shot Bryan a glance - a glance he answered with a wink.

  “Didn’t he have classes today?” Bryan asked me.

  Play along.

  Keep the peace.

  “I believe so - yes.”

  “Maybe he’ll come over later?” asked Jessica through a mouthful of toast.

  “Maybe,” I answered.

  Play along.

  Keep the peace.

  I feel as though I’ve entered The Twilight Zone - not sure what to really say. What have they already been talking about? What has Bryan said to make her so calm? It’s hard to strike up conversation on the off-chance I say the wrong thing and ruin everything which has so far been achieved.

  I wish I had gone to work.

  All I can do is avoid all conversations about health, babies and living situations.

  “Toast?” said Jessica. She didn’t wait for me to answer, just slid some more bread into the toaster and pushed it down. “Bread is nice and soft,” she finished.

  “Okay,” I said.

  This is too weird.

  The daughter, we kidnapped, is making me toast.

  She turned to me, whilst the bread browned in the toaster, “Do you think I’d have a girl or a boy?”

  I was flustered.

  No answer.

  Yesterday, she was sure she didn’t want it and now - a complete turn-around.

  Has he drugged her? I hope not. It could hurt the baby.

  I turned to Bryan.

  “I said she was going to have a boy,” he said.

  I smiled at him. Not a genuine one. More of a ‘what the hell is going on’ kind of smile.

  “We talked today,” offered Jessica....

  Good, someone with an explanation.

  “I thought about it most of the night,” she continued, “with all this support around me - I’ll be silly to have a termination...”

  “Okay,” I said - not really a lot I could say.

  Bryan was just stood in the doorway, grinning.

  “I can have the baby - you and dad can help me raise it and hopefully Darren will be around too...”

  My heart sinks.

  Bryan’s grin was fixed to his face.

  How does he do it? How does he pretend to be so happy about it? She’s saying this now but - when Darren doesn’t come and she realises she is yet another single mother - how will she feel then?

  “And dad said we could have this house - Darren and I....”

  “Did he?” I turned to look at him. He’s still smiling. Smiling like an excited child, early on a Christmas morning.

  I wish I could share his enthusiasm.

  “Did you bring my clothes?” asked Jessica.

  “Clothes?”

  “I hadn’t called her yet,” said Bryan - the grin finally fading from his face as though it too had got bored of being there.

  “Oh, right,” replied Jessica.

  “I’m sorry,” I lied, “I just popped over here whilst on my way to work - just to make sure you were okay.”

  That gave me a get out clause. Make out I had just popped in and had to go again. Get away from this madness so I could have a conversation with Bryan, over the telephone, about what the hell has been going on.

  “Oh. You aren’t staying?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you can come back later,” she said - perking up again. “And bring me some clean clothes, I hardly have anything here and I can’t very well walk around in this shirt all the time.... shit...”

  “What?” I asked.

  “My clothes aren’t going to fit for too much longer,” she said... “I need some clothes - what are we going to do?”

  “Your mother can pick some new bits up,” said Bryan.

  I smiled, “Of course I can.”

  Jessica smiled again.

  I need to get out of this house.

  It’s too weird.

  * * * * *

  Mum looks tired.

  I feel sorry for her.

  “Right, I best get going or I’ll be late,” she said with a smile on her face. A smile. She doesn’t mean it, though; putting on a brave face.

  Like me.

  “Your toast?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time,” she said.

  She gave me a kiss on the cheek and turned to the door.

  “I’ll see you later,” I called after her as she walked towards the front door, closely followed by him.

  I feel sorry for her.

  I don’t feel sorry for him.

  The front door closed and, a few seconds later, dad came back into the kitchen.

  “Nice surprise,” he said. “She wants me to call her later, when her shift is over, to remind her to bring some clothes over for you this evening.”

  “Thanks,” I took the newly browned toast from the toaster and put it on a plate. “Did you want this?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I wish I had some rat poison.

  He took a big bite, not taking his eyes off me.

  Kind of creepy.

  I smiled at him.

  “This is nice,” he said.

  Did he mean the toast?

  “I mean - this...” he gestured towards me and him.

  “And the toast?” I asked. Nice. Keep it light. Have a laugh.

  He smiled.

  “You do understand why I had to do this?” he asked after swallowing another mouthful of toast.

  “Do what?”

  I knew what he meant; do I understand why he kidnapped me and cuffed me to a dirty, stinking mattress.

  “You know,” he continued.

  Yes, I do know. I want you to say it.

  I looked at him blankly.

  “This...”

  “Ate the toast?”

  Trying to be awkward now. Make him think I’ve forgotten about what he’s done.

  “Never mind,” he said.

  Another bite of toast. Do I offer him more, I wonder? No. Put him out of his misery. He obviously wants to talk about it.

  Talk about what he did. What he’s done. What he’s doing.

  “I understand why you did it,” I said.

  “Really?”

  He put the toast to one side. Great, he really does want to talk about it.

  “You didn’t want me to make a mistake I’d live to regret.”

  He nodded.

  He doesn’t want me to live my own life; make my own decisions.

  Fuck him.

  “We do love you,” he said.

  A coldness rushed down my spine as he walked towards me and put his arms around me.

  Don’t ruin it now, hug him back. I put my arms around him too.

  “I love you too,” I lied.

  A shame as, once upon a time, it wasn’t a lie. He finally let go, allowing me to take a step back. Keep smiling at him.

  They might not want me to have an abortion but they can’t sto
p me from having a miscarriage. But I can’t just do it. I can’t just hurt myself - and kill the baby. I need to be sure both mum and dad really do love me first... If they really do love me, they will help me through the miscarriage; just put it down to bad luck. If any part of them isn’t happy with me... I can’t say what they’d do.

  But, with no baby - they have no reason to keep me here.

  They’ll have to let me go.

  And as soon as they do I’ll get away from them once and for all; turn my back and start my life again. Start my life again with no money and nowhere to go...

  I’m in trouble.

  I can’t think about that now. I can’t. First things first - concentrate on getting rid of the baby first. Lose the baby, leave this house... then think about what I should do next.

  “So what do you want to do today?” he asked.

  Lose the baby, leave this house, choose a new future and decide what to do with my day - trapped in a house with a man I hate. Nothing’s ever easy.

  6.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  I looked up to Darren, from where I was snuggled into his chest, “What?”

  “Five years? Where do you see yourself?”

  A random question which shattered our blissful silence. I liked how I could cuddle into Darren... or even just spend some time with him - and not feel as though we had to fill the air with mindless chatter. Comfortable silences. We were good at comfortable silences. But, from time to time, he had a habit of reminding me how quirky he was with his random questions. I didn’t mind the randomness, though. When they did happen - they just served to mix things up a bit; keep me on my toes.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied.

  I snuggled back into his chest and closed my eyes.

  “Come on, play along,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t know what you want me to answer.”

  “You just say where you’d be in five years - your dreams...”

  “My dreams?”

  “You know - your job, education, where you’re living....”

  “Well, I guess I’d have my own flat in five years. I guess.”

  “A flat?” He laughed. “I love the ambition.”

  “A great, big house.”

  “That’s better!”

  “A great, big house in the country. A mansion, in fact!”

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “Eight.”

  “Eight?”

  “Nine?”

  “Nine?!”

  “Okay, ten! Ten bedrooms!”

  “That’s a big house!”

  “Well, I did say it was a mansion.”

  “That you did.”

  “And I’ll have my own company but, in five years, it’s already got to the level where I have a team of people working with me.”

  “A team?”

  “Yep!”

  “And they work from the house?”

  “Oh no, they work from the office in town. I don’t want to have to spend time with them. I want peace and quiet and house parties.... they have to stay in the office.”

  “A nice office?”

  “Nope. I won’t be going in there so I’ll save money by getting a small, crappy office.”

  “Hardly seems fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair.”

  “So if they are doing the work - what are you doing?”

  “Executive decisions once a month.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “The rest of the time is spent shopping. But, I get the shops to close first.”

  “And where am I in all of this?”

  I smiled at him.

  “Well?” he pushed.

  I hadn’t really thought about a future, like that. Scary. I was busy enjoying our time together and taking one day at a time.

  “Not a fan of the silence,” he kissed my forehead.

  I could see a future with him, though. He’s nice, gentle, sweet, caring.... funny.... definitely funny. Annoying sometimes but, I guess, everyone can be like that from time to time.

  “You’re in the house with me.”

  “I get to stay in the mansion?”

  “Yes. You can stay in the cellar.”

  “Oh, thanks!”

  “And on special occasions, I’ll let you out.” I laughed.

  * * * * *

  I cringed as I thought back to the conversation I had with Darren on that rainy, Sunday afternoon. It was supposed to be him staying in the cellar - not me!

  But...

  I do want him here.

  I want him in this house with me.

  The more I think about him - the more I want him. And I’d feel safer, if he was here. Funny how I’m staying with my dad and yet I need my old boyfriend here just to feel safe. I should feel safe with my dad and, if I had to be threatened, I should feel threatened by the boyfriend. In an ideal world - no one would make me feel threatened or upset.

  This isn’t an ideal world.

  I looked over at dad, sat on the sofa - scribbling his way through a crossword. He looks calm. Relaxed. Content, even. Who is this man? I don’t recognise him anymore.

  I coughed and he glanced up before looking back down to his crossword.

  “Would Darren be able to move in too?” I asked eventually - killing the uncomfortable silence. I miss the comfortable silences and wonder whether I’ll ever experience them again.

  He didn’t answer me, straight away. Not until he finishes whatever word he was currently writing.

  “Dad?”

  He turned to me from his sofa and smiled, “We’ll see.”

  That means ‘no’. Whenever he says “we’ll see” it means ‘no’. I learnt this years ago when I asked for a puppy. He always said “we’ll see” and yet the puppy never came. Same with hair-straighteners. A nice pair I found for a stupid price. I asked for those too and got the same answer.

  I continued, “It would be nice to see if we could live together. Something for us to think about in the future. I mean, if we’re going to have a child together - it would be nice to see if we could at least live together too. I don’t want to start with a broken family.”

  “Hardly a broken family, you have your mother and I!”

  Exactly.

  “Just thought it would be nice.”

  “We’ll see....”

  No.

  He turned back to his crossword.

  This conversation is over, I guess.

  My heart sinks.

  He seems to be very short when discussing Darren. He used to refer to him as the ‘boy’ but I always felt it was said with a certain amount of endearment in his voice. I always thought he was happy with my choice in boyfriend.

  It’s different now.

  I feel he’d rather not talk about him at all.

  Time will tell. I’ll see what mum has to say when she comes back over, later on, with my clothes. Hopefully she’s got hold of Darren. Maybe Darren will even be with her. So many emotions going through my head but I think Darren is the one I need. He’s my ticket away from mum and dad.

  If I have the miscarriage though - would Darren be able to forgive me? Maybe, if the baby dies... maybe he won’t want me anymore.

  Damaged goods.

  With what I’m going through, aren’t I already damaged goods?

  No.

  No.

  I won’t allow it.

  No.

  I’m not damaged from this. I’m stronger than this.