by A. R. Braun
“Me,” the girls cried.
Stacey turned to look at them as they skipped into the kitchen, about three steps from the living room. “Pizza?”
“Yay,” they cried.
“Pizza it is.”
All I can do is change the subject. When we get out of here, if we ever get out of here, we’re all going to be mad as hatters. We’ll need years of therapy.
Stacey wondered if even therapy would help, or if anything ever would.
<^^>
Dick walked toward his entry door at 5:00 p.m. on Friday. The butler put his coat over him and opened the front door for him; the winter air rushed in, making him shiver. A blanket of snow covered the ground like a white quilt. Dick pulled his coat taut over him.
“Dick!” Marie called.
He stopped and turned around.
What’s that fat old bag want now?
“Yes?”
Carrying the cordless phone, Marie wobbled her huge frame into the foyer. “Wait a minute. I’ve got to put you on hold.” She pressed a button. “Where are you going now?”
Dick forced a smile. “I’ve got a prospect for the apartments I built over the workspace in the warehouse.” He looked at the butler. “That’ll be all.”
“Very good, sir.” Butler Jones walked away.
Marie came closer to him and Dick cringed inside. She whispered in his ear. “Keep that cunt fed. Bread and water that bitch, and I’ll keep making us look like the perfect family.”
Dick forced a smile. “I sure will, honey.” He made himself kiss the pig.
“Mmm.” Marie pushed the button on her phone. “So, you know it’s the perfect house. Make a decision here. Come on, I know you’re going to love it. I’ve got a single man with a kid looking at it, but I want to rent it to a large family—”
Dick closed the door and trampled through the snow.
Atta girl, just keep them thinking we’re the perfect family.
He snickered.
Then a delayed reaction: Had she really said that out loud? What if the butler overheard it? He’d have to get on her about that next time.
As he walked next door, he watched for police cars.
I don’t know why I’m so paranoid. No one’s ever going to know. I can rape that bitch for the rest of my life if I see fit, my little convenient whore. It’s probably hard for her to deal with, but that’s not my problem.
A thin businessman in glasses stood outside the apartment building.
He looks like a fuckin pussy, but he’ll pay rent. Oh boy! More money! I think I’ll take my vacation and go to Bermuda. “Peter Vonachen?”
The man smiled and held out his hand. “Yes. Dick Alley?”
Dick shook his hand. What a wussy—a limp-fish handshake. He pointed to the stairs. “It’s up here. Follow me.”
Dick’s dress shoes thumped on the wooden stairs. “I think you’ll be pleased.” He unlocked the door to the apartment right above where he kept Stacey and their children prisoners. “C’mon in.”
Peter shivered and crossed the threshold, looking around. He seemed pleased.
Dick walked in and shut the door. Blue paint, white blinds, and brown carpeting dominated the spacious apartment. The sun shone in, making yellow lines in the carpeting. “This is one of three units. The other two aren’t done yet. You’ve got ceiling fans in the living room and the bedroom. It’s got central air. I spray for bugs and I’ll fix anything promptly.”
Peter smiled. “Sounds good. Looks like there’s plenty of room.”
Dick smiled back. “Let me show you the kitchen.” He led Peter in. The sun shone brilliantly here, the room almost the size of Stacey’s whole apartment. The blinds were turned. “There’s a dishwasher and the fridge is brand new.” He opened the refrigerator, then the self-defrosting freezer, and cold air rushed at his face. He closed it.
Peter opened and closed the dishwasher. “Hmm. Also brand new.”
“You bet.” Dick walked past the brown, wooden posts highlighting the kitchen space and headed toward the bedroom. This room was as big as Stacey’s whole apartment. The ceiling fan clicked as it shook from whizzing around. “Oh, shucks, I left the fan on.” Dick clicked it off. “You’ve got plenty of room here. Lots of outlets and cable wire jacks, plus phone jacks.”
Peter walked over and opened the closet’s two big brown doors with golden handles. He looked in.
Dick walked up behind him. “It’s a walk-in closet. Perfect to impress the ladies.” He made a clicking sound twice with his mouth.
Peter looked at him with raised eyebrows, then walked in.
I ought to shut the doors on the bastard and put a chain on the knobs. No, the gimp won’t pay me right-royally then.
Peter walked out of the closet. “This is great. How much a month again?”
“Follow me.” Dick led him back into the kitchen, where he whipped out a renting contract from his pocket, as well as a gold felt-tip pen. “Sorry it’s not furnished. It’s five hundred a month, plus utilities.”
Peter took off his glasses and yanked a hankie out of his pocket, cleaning them. “I think I can manage it.”
“Great! I’ll just have you sign this renter’s agreement. Cash or check? I need the first month’s rent and deposit.”
Peter took out his checkbook. “I’ll write a check for a thousand.”
Dick handed him the pen after Peter fished through his pockets and came up empty-handed. “You won’t have a problem with noise from the other tenants, because there aren’t any, ha-ha. But when I rent the other units, if they ever make noise, you let me know, and I’ll shut them up pronto.”
Peter smiled and nodded, handing him the check. Then he signed the one-year lease.
Dick struggled not to chuckle when Peter scrawled his John Hancock.
Nope, no other tenants but my adopted daughter and her brat kids, but you won’t hear them ‘cause I soundproofed the dungeon. You probably wouldn’t have the balls to do anything if you could hear ‘em.
The gall I have. Good ole balls of steel.
Gets me laid.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Seven years later
Stacey stretched in her exercise outfit while watching Therese boogie and the other girls bounce up and down to the music on the radio. She wasn’t sure what band played this time, but they loved it. Therese surprised her by filling out at fourteen, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Devon’s breasts were just starting to bud at twelve, and Samantha still retained her baby fat at eleven, but hadn’t started morphing into womanhood yet. Now a tomboy—albeit a sweet one—she demanded to be called “Sam.” She often walked around the apartment throwing a softball into her baseball glove. A Cub fan, Dick had gladly purchased them for her, not that he ever made time to play catch with the child, though.
God, they’re so pale from never getting any sun.
Stacey’s good looks were starting to flee. She finished her workout and laughed as she passed the giggling girls. Not many steps and Stacey was looking in the bathroom’s mirror. She plucked out the few gray hairs she saw. Good god, I’m thirty-five, never been married, and I’m starting to lose my looks. If it wasn’t for the girls, I’d kill myself. Crow’s feet had sneaked up on her like a flesh-eating zombie. I still have my figure, though.
Stacey thanked her lucky stars Dick didn’t rape her anymore. How could he, with their daughters crammed into such a small space? She thought he’d do it anyway, knowing him, but he’d surprised her. Maybe he’s a little human after all. He’d put three small beds in the bedroom and they were crammed in there like a family living in a slum.
Shit, this is a slum, remember?
She’d barely turned around when she noticed the girls had advanced on her.
Therese scowled and crossed her arms. “Mom, I want to go outside and meet some boys!”
Devon grabbed Stacey by the forearms. “Let’s attack Dad and break out of here.”
Stacey looked at the floor, seeing a daddy lo
nglegs lumbering along, then met her eyes. “He has a gun.”
Sam walked forward and hugged her. “Leave Mom alone. Do you wanna get shot?”
Therese stomped on the floor, not realizing she’d squashed a roach. “Fuck!”
“Watch your mouth now.”
Devon curled her hands into fists. “If I get a knife and sneak up on him while you three distract him…”
Sam hugged Stacey harder, putting her head on her breasts. “Don’t listen to ‘em, Momma.”
Stacey sighed and put her arm around Sam. “I don’t know, maybe they’re right. But I should be the one with the weapon. You kids can distract him.”
Devon said, “Yeah, Mom, protect us.”
Therese’s face brightened. “Let’s get that hater.”
Dick’s key rustled in the lock.
Stacey reached into the drawer and took out a butcher knife, hiding it behind her sweatpants. “Okay, go distract him.”
Dick came in holding a bag of groceries. He hadn’t changed much looks-wise. He’d always been an ugly old man as far as Stacey could remember. He’d probably had reddish-blond hair before he’d gone gray, and that explained Therese’s and Devon’s manes.
“More food for my lovelies,” Dick said.
Therese looked at Stacey out of the corner of her eye, then burst into the living room. “Daddy, watch me dance!”
Devon hopped in. “Me too!”
Sam did a cartwheel and joined them.
Dick smiled. “Let me get these groceries on the table first.” He walked in and plopped them down, then nodded at the head of the household. “Stacey.”
She didn’t return the greeting.
I’m about to say hi in a very special way.
“Daddy, watch,” The girls cried.
He chuckled and sat at the dinner table. Stacey slipped her tennis shoes off and clutched the stained walls, doing her best to creep up on him. The girls bounced around, with the exception of Therese, who surprised her by dancing sexily as the women on TV did, sticking her butt out and shaking her money maker.
This is my chance. Stacey crept up on him and held the knife to his throat. “Let us out of here or I’ll cut you a second mouth!”
The girls stopped moving and shot concerned and hopeful looks their way.
At the same time, Dick whipped his gun out and held it on the girls. “Fuck you! Let me go or I’ll fill your kids full of holes!”
Stacey held the blade tighter on his neck. “Drop it or I’ll cut you from ear-to-ear!”
He squirmed a little but, to her great delight, he trembled. “The moment you start cutting, your daughters get it in the chest! Let me goddamn go now, bitch!”
Don’t lose your nerve, don’t!
“Let me go!” he recapitulated.
Stacey loved the nervousness in his voice.
“I’m going to count to three, and if you don’t let me go, I’ll shoot them in the heart. If you start cutting, I’ll shoot early. One… two…”
Stacey couldn’t risk it.
My babies! He’ll just cover it up, acting like they never existed, then rape me afterward.
The children should’ve screamed and ran into the bedroom, but they froze. Stacey eased the knife off his neck and backed up.
He wheeled on her with the gun. “I ought to blow your brains out, you fucking cunt!” He wiped sweat from his face with his hand. “Drop the goddamn knife!”
Stacey dropped it, fast.
Therese grabbed a lamp, but unfortunately, Dick heard her go for it. He turned around. “Drop it, you little bitch!”
“Don’t you call her that, you old fucking pervert!” Stacey shook so badly she could hardly stand, half from fear and half from rage.
Dick moved toward the wall and stepped on the couch. “Shut up! I ought to waste you whores right now! If I can’t trust you, I’ll just kill you and cover it up. No one will ever know.”
Sam wept and ran to hug Stacey. That seemed to calm him a bit. Therese and Devon shook with fright and held each other.
Dick moved the gun from Stacey and Sam to the other two girls and back to them. “Tell me you’re sorry and you’ll never do that again!”
Sam pulled her face from her mother’s bosom. “We’re sorry, Dad,” she whined.
Therese and Devon were crying. They faced him, still hugging each other. “Sorry,” they said.
He held the gun on Stacey. “Well, slut?”
She eased Sam away from her. “Sorry you’re alive, you dickhead! You want to shoot me? Go ahead! Leave me to rot down here with my daughters.”
“Mom, don’t,” Therese cried.
“No, don’t,” Devon agreed.
They’d lost their nerve.
He stepped off the couch and held the gun on Stacey’s stomach. The girls’ eyes goggled.
“Well?” he asked.
Stacey sighed and swore smoke would come out of her ears for the rage she felt. She gritted her teeth. “I apologize, Dick.”
He slapped her with the free hand so hard she dropped to the floor before she knew what had hit her.
“Mom!” their daughters said, running to Stacey and bending over her.
Dick took advantage of this opportunity and headed for the door. “Goddamn bitches! You put those groceries away and just forget about Christmas presents! The kids living with me are getting everything they want from Santa.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him and locking it.
Stacey saw dots. She blinked her eyes, and the girls looked blurry.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Therese asked.
Stacey sighed and spit out some blood, then nodded. “I’ll live, unfortunately. Get me to the couch.”
Bawling, the girls helped her to the couch. They knelt before her.
Stacey touched her cheek, which she knew was red from how badly it stung. “I’m sorry about ruining Christmas, girls.”
Therese stroked her hair. “We’re just glad you’re okay, Mom.”
Devon nodded. “Who cares about cruddy old Christmas in here?” She looked at the floor, then back at her. “At least we tried, huh?”
Stacey managed a chuckle. “Yeah.”
Therese nodded, bright-eyed. “At least we didn’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves.”
Sam climbed onto the couch and suffocated Stacey with baby fat. “Oh, Momma, I was so scared. I told you not to listen to them.”
“Oh, shut up, Miss Priss,” Therese said, rising. She stomped over to the iron door and kicked it with all her might. “Let us out of here, you fucking cocksucker! LET US OUT!” She shrieked and shrieked, attacking the door with all of her youthful strength.
Stacey wept as she watched her.
Devon left Stacey and did likewise. “FUCK YOU, DAD! YOU SUCK!”
Stacey hoped they’d be able to kick it in, but they didn’t even dent it. She wanted to tell them not to cuss or hurt their feet; she understood, however. Stacey joined them. It didn’t do any good but, God, it felt terrific.
They’d made their first strike.
<^^>
Dick stepped outside, the winter wind chilling him as he pulled on his gloves. His hands shook when he thought about the confrontation.
I can’t believe those cunts, trying to overpower me. How can they stop me? I’m GOD NOW.
Not many steps and he stood at his front door, unlocking it. As he came in, the powerful heating system soothed him.
Butler Jones was there. “May I take your coat, sir?”
Dick put his back to him. “Yes, please.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler pulled his coat off and hung it up, then exited the foyer.
His three seven-year-old daughters came running up to him, looking a lot more tanned and healthy than the girls in the dungeon.
“Daddy,” they cried.
Kyra sported black hair, jumping up and down by Bobbi, who had brown hair—just like her mother—and stepped from foot to foot. Louisa, a blonde, also jumped.
Dick grinned.
“Hi angels!”
Kyra stopped jumping. “Dada, where’d you go?”
He bent down to her. “Daddy went out to fight monsters.”
Bobbi stepped forward. “Did you beat ‘em?”
He took her into his arms. “You betcha, honey.”
“Yay,” Louisa cried, coming over also.
A group hug ensued. He gladly obliged.
Since I took them when they were babies, they don’t even know about their real mother and sisters!
Marie wobbled in. “Girls, give your dad some space. He’s tired.”
Dick frowned as the children moved away. “Oh honey, I’m fine.” He looked over his kids. “Anybody up for a story?”
“Yeah,” they cried.
He smiled. “There’s only time for one ‘cause it’s Christmas Eve. You have to get to bed early so you don’t interrupt Santa.”
The kids nodded, being all about Santa Claus.
“Go in the living room, and Daddy will get the picture book.”
“Yay,” the girls cried. They bounced into the living room.
Marie smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “Ha-ha-ha. Let’s give them the perfect life to show that bitch Stacey not to fuck with us.”
Dick put his finger to his lips. “Shush! The butler may be around the corner.”
Marie put her hands on her hips, giving him a sly grin, then wobbled into the living room. “Who wants cookies while Daddy reads your story?”
“Me,” the girls cried.
Dick retrieved the picture book from the bookshelf, then looked at Marie. “Whew! I need a vacation.”
Marie perched her fat butt in a white suede sofa. “So, you’re going to the Bahamas, then?”
Dick sat down with the girls. “Yes, I think I’ll leave on Monday. I already told everyone at work.”
“Did you get you-know-who and her you-know-what’s enough food for two weeks?”
Dick harrumphed. “I think so. If not, let ‘em scramble up something from scratch.”
Marie rang the bell.
Butler Jones came in. “Yes, madam?”
“Cookies and Kool-Aid for the girls.”
“Very good, madam.”
The girls leaned on Dick.
“Daddy?” Kyra asked. “Who’s you-know-who and her you-know-what’s that need food?”
