Matt had heard about the first part, but never the dog shit part and had a feeling Brett was embellishing the story.
“Yeah, well a lot has happened since then, Brett, now move along before I run you in for failure to comply with a police officer.”
“More like failure to comply with a wannabe police officer who sadly lost his package in Iraq,” Brett said, though he did start heading toward the car.
Matt hesitated before following, his eyes watching Deputy Widgeon for a moment to see if he was going to do something. Thankfully the deputy kept his cool and a moment later Matt followed Brett to the car.
* * *
It wasn’t a conscious decision to start counting the message beeps from her phone. Instead it just started to happen because there was nothing else to do. Sometimes Megan would even try to count down the time till the beep occurred, her mind saying something like it will be in ten, nine, eight, seven . . . until she reached zero, her mind never able to actually match the countdown with the beep. Sometimes the beep would just happen, her mind not really focusing on anything when suddenly the beep would echo. Other times she waited for it, her mind wanting and needing the beep. No matter the situation, however, her mind always registered the number, even if she was simply staring at the wall, drifting. The phone would beep and her mind would say FIVE or SIX. It didn’t make a big deal out of this, nor did it attach any significance to it, until the twelfth beep.
TWELVE, her mind noted. This happened at one of her staring at the wall moments, her mind wondering how thick the concrete was and whether or not it had been built to withstand some sort of blast, or just a place to hide for a little while.
After the beep she thought to herself: Twelve beeps means it’s been two hours since she called, and then went back to thinking about the wall thickness.
Another beep echoed.
Two hours and ten minutes, her mind said.
It was then that she realized she was able to keep track of the time, something which momentarily seemed monumental despite its simplicity. Of course, being able to pinpoint that time passage on a clock would be even better, but she would take what she could get. Other discoveries would follow, ones that seemed even more significant, but at the moment she relished this one.
* * *
Waiting for Rebecca to come home from work was nerve-racking and for the hour or so after finding the prom ticket Tina did nothing but pace the house, her body unable to relax, her mind envisioning the horrible confrontation that would take place. Rebecca would be pissed, there was no doubt about it, and once things got started there would be no stopping the verbal abuse that would follow. Tina also had the feeling things would turn physical, especially if Rebecca tried to forcefully take the ticket away from her. Tina would not tolerate it, and if Rebecca laid one finger on her Tina was going to hit back and she wouldn’t hold herself back.
She’ll call the school.
This thought was a constant companion to the vision of the fight, one which chilled Tina, yet also made her question how effective the call would actually be. Parents and guardians always had the ultimate say when it came to things like prom, but her situation was so different, and Rebecca was so weird that the school might let things slide.
It was a risky bet; one that Tina hoped to God would pay out in the end. If not, well, there wasn’t much she could do about it. All her cards would be on the table.
Occasionally during this hour of pacing another thought would enter her mind, one which had nothing to do with her own prom and instead focused on her father and Rebecca’s prom.
Was I conceived that night?
It was a question she had never really given any thought too, mostly because the possibility had never occurred to her. She always knew her father and Rebecca had married young and that her father had been forced to cut back on the amount of classes he was taking due to the financial responsibilities, but the true reason for this never really clicked. It was the year changes that did it. Her father had graduated high school in 1991, prom and their marriage had been in 1992, and her birth had been in 1993. Because of this she had always assumed things had been planned out - not well, yet still planned out - and that she had been conceived after the marriage, the two feeling that they could bear the responsibility despite the burden it would place upon them. In reality Rebecca must have gotten pregnant around the time of prom and her father did the honorable thing and married her, which of course explained why everything was so ill fated and eventually broke apart.
Stupid teenagers, she said to herself. Probably didn’t have any condoms.
At the same time she knew she wouldn’t have been born if they had been wiser, which meant she couldn’t condemn them too much. It was crazy.
Did Rebecca plant the ticket there so I would find it?
This was another question that was bothering her, one which she couldn’t seem to figure a reason for. When first starting the search Tina had had a strong feeling that it was a fruitless endeavor because Rebecca would never leave the ticket where she could find it. A part of her had even tried to convince her against the search all together because it would be a waste of time. The other part had needed to try it, though, just in case it wasn’t. Now it seemed incredibly doubtful that Rebecca would have left the prom ticket lying around because she would have known Tina would search for it. Sure, the two still didn’t know each other all that well, but the experiences learned from living together gave them enough insight to predict the others actions with a high degree of accuracy.
Why leave it?
Whatever the reason Tina knew it wasn’t going to be so she could simply stumble upon the photographs and come to the realization that she had been conceived out of wedlock. No. As horrible as such a situation might have been for Rebecca and her family, she was sure Rebecca understood that it wouldn’t faze Tina. Another reason was behind it, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. To the outside world Rebecca could portray herself as a poor tragic woman who was being abused by her newfound daughter, one who she just wanted to be loved by, but with Tina she knew she couldn’t pull this off and for the most part didn’t even try. Tina knew the truth and knew the goal of anything that seemed calculated was supposed to hurt her.
It won’t work.
Nothing Rebecca could say or do would get to her. Tina just didn’t care.
Downstairs the garage door suddenly opened.
Tina put the prom ticket in her pocket, which would be its permanent place until the actual dance, and went to her room to wait. The calm before the storm would be broken soon and Tina was ready for it.
* * *
Megan was waiting for the eighteenth beep to echo, marking the third hour since her mom had first called, when she heard a sudden gasp from Samantha and turned.
Her friend was moving around, only this time her actions seemed calculated rather than the simple shifts her body had been making earlier.
“Samantha?” she asked.
Samantha twisted her head and looked up at Megan, her eyes growing wide as she recognized her friend.
“Megan?” she asked, her lips unable to muster much sound.
“Yes,” Megan said. “It’s me.”
Samantha’s closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. A second later she started gagging and twisted her body away from Megan. The vomit came in small harsh sounding clumps, and instantly filled the room with its stink.
Tears began falling from Samantha’s eyes as she spit out some leftover residue. Small bits clung to her lips and chin. Snot dangled from her nose.
Megan felt terrible for her friend but didn’t know what she could do. Above her head she could feel her hands automatically straining against the ropes without much success. There was no way to get free.
A few more gags followed but nothing else came up. Hearing it, however, and smelling the fresh stench as it flooded the room, made Megan feel nauseous once again. Fortunately there was nothing within her stomach to come up.
Samantha moaned on the floor and straightened herself into a sitting position, one which would allow some slack in the rope if she was able to lift her hands. At the moment such action did not seem possible, however.
Watching Samantha move about like this intensified Megan’s discomfort and for a moment she yearned to be on the ground as well.
But at what cost? her mind warned.
Jimmy hadn’t allowed Samantha to lie on the ground like that because he was kind; he had done it because she was broken. The question was what had the bastard done to her to make her this way?
Rape. That was obvious. But what else?
The phone beeped.
“Eighteen,” Megan said without much thought.
Samantha looked up at her and then toward the purse.
“My phone,” Megan said. “My mother tried calling me three hours ago and left a message. Ever since then it’s been beeping every ten minutes.”
Samantha did not reply to this.
Megan didn’t like how quiet her friend was being and wished she would talk with her, but also knew not to push it. Samantha would talk when she was ready and then the two would be able to start planning their escape.
* * *
Samantha herself couldn’t remember much of what had happened, the pain being the only exception. Every second she had been hanging from her wrists had seemed an eternity. It had gotten so bad that she had actually scolded herself for trying to escape and had wanted nothing more than to have Jimmy come into the room so she could apologize and be let down.
Freedom no longer seemed possible. No one was going to find her and Jimmy wasn’t going to make the mistake of tying the ropes too loose in the future. Hell, even if he did she wouldn’t be able to use her hands afterward so it didn’t matter. Despite the time she had been sitting on the ground her hands still felt as if they had been cut off at the wrists.
“Samantha,” Megan said. “What did he do to you?”
Samantha looked over and up at her friend still unsure if it really was Megan or just her imagination. She didn’t answer the question for several minutes.
“What did he do to you?” Megan repeated; her words a bit forceful.
“Hung me,” Samantha said while looking down at the floor.
Hanging from her wrists had been so terrible and exhausting that she had actually forgotten about the whipping Jimmy had given her, though the bruises and welts that covered her body still throbbed.
She shuddered at the experience, her mind hoping he would just kill her next time.
There won’t be a next time, unless . . .
She looked up at Megan while thinking this and pictured her friend fighting with Jimmy. Some of the images were real images from earlier, though she didn’t realize this. Instead she just saw everything as a future event, something Megan would do if given the chance, which then would result in them both being punished.
Emotions hit.
Jimmy would be punishing her again and this time it wouldn’t be her fault. It wasn’t fair.
Tears started falling again and carved new paths through the drying dampness of her earlier tears.
“It’s okay,” Megan said.
Samantha didn’t reply. It wasn’t okay.
The phone beeped again.
“Three hours and ten minutes,” Megan said.
Samantha looked over at her friend and then back at her own wrist, her mind realizing that she might be able to take the pressure off of them by bending her legs a bit and resting her elbows on her knees.
Would Jimmy be okay with that? she wondered.
He wouldn’t have lowered you to the ground if he wasn’t, another part of her mind countered.
Samantha agreed with that part of her mind and quickly shifted herself so that her knees were scrunched up toward her chest. The movement hurt her back a bit, but only in an ‘it will only hurt until something pops’ kind of way.
A few twists and the pop echoed up her spine, relief following close behind.
Slowly Samantha lifted her arms, the muscles barely able to function, her mind having to focus everything on the simple task of getting her elbows on her knees.
It took several seconds, but eventually, despite the numbness and exhaustion, she got her elbows positioned correctly and balanced them on her knees.
Pain followed as the blood flow increased, her fingers once again filling with the much needed fluid. At first it wasn’t much more than a discomfort, but within moments it got to the point where she couldn’t stop herself from screaming, her dry crusty lips opening just enough to allow her anguish to bounce back and forth across the concrete room.
* * *
Megan couldn’t stand the screams as Samantha tried to keep her wrists elevated above the ropes and quickly tried to distract herself by looking at the shelves of food. She also pressed her biceps into her ears, but that did little to drown out the sounds. Thankfully they didn’t last too long, though the gasps Samantha continued to make once the screams faded indicated that the pain hadn’t eased up any. Megan didn’t care just as long as the screams had stopped.
* * *
Tina could somehow tell that Rebecca had made the discovery, and prepared herself for the coming confrontation, but it never happened. Instead her mother stayed in her room for a long time, and then headed downstairs for a while, never once speaking to Tina or even venturing down the hallway toward her room. The situation was unnerving, especially given how uncharacteristic it was. Just the fact that Rebecca hadn’t said anything about Tina not making dinner since it was her night to cook was bizarre, but stirring it in with the prom ticket situation, that made it unreal.
It’s all part of a scheme, Tina said to herself while waiting on her bed.
Unfortunately she had no idea what that scheme was, which in turn meant she couldn’t prepare herself for it, thus causing her anxiety to skyrocket.
What is she waiting for?
The silence almost made Tina want to go confront her, but she knew that would be a mistake. Instead she would just mirror Rebecca. If she wanted to play the silent game Tina would play as well.
* * *
“Did you two stop by Taco Bell again?”
Jimmy looked up at his mother and then down at his plate, which he had barely touched.
“Jimmy did,” Alan said. “I told him not to and tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen and forced me to go with him and then threatened to tie me up and shove tacos down my throat all day if I said anything.”
“Shut up!” Jimmy snapped. He shook his head and said, “We didn’t stop at Taco Bell, I just got lost in thought there for a moment.”
“Where you able to get yourself all measured for your tux?” Kelly Hawthorn asked.
“Tux?” George, their father, asked.
“For the prom,” Kelly said.
“Prom,” George said. “You’re going to the prom?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. His father always seemed one step behind when it came to current events in the Hawthorn household, despite always being around when things happened or hearing about them. It was strange and frustrating.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“George, we talked about it last night at dinner,” Kelly said.
“You talked about the prom, but no one ever mentioned anything about going.”
Jimmy stood up from the table and grabbed his plate, his mind too high strung to deal with a conversation like this, and his stomach too tense to handle the heavy spaghetti dinner.
“Honey, you haven’t eaten a thing,” Kelly said.
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry.”
“Well at least sit with us while we finish dinner,” George said.
“I can’t,” Jimmy said.
“Why not?”
“I just need to get out for a while.” Jimmy didn’t know what else to say. All afternoon he had been thinking about Megan and what he had done after school. It had been way too risky and probably un
necessary because chances were she wouldn’t have found a thing even if she searched the Hood place. At the time, however, his mind hadn’t really thought about the risk and instead just wanted her and her thoughts on the kidnapping out of the way. He also had been excited about the idea of having another girl down there. Two was better than one.
And they are best friends.
It was this final thought more than any others that was really tormenting him now because he wondered if he would be able to use that friendship against them. Would he be able to force one to do something on the threat of the other being punished? Even better, would he be able to force the two to compete against each other.
In his mind he saw both girls on their knees before him taking turns giving him a blowjob. Whoever made him cum first and swallowed everything would get to spend the night handcuffed to the post while sitting down - no more ropes for a position like that - while the other would be stretched to the very tips of their toes all night long, or maybe even put into a strappado position.
His pants bulged with the thought.
Of course, he didn’t even have the handcuffs yet to make such a situation possible, nor did he think he would be able to muster up the courage to stick his penis down their throats even though it was something he desperately wanted to experience. It was just too risky. In time maybe this wouldn’t be the case and they would be broken enough to do whatever he asked without question, but now that wasn’t possible.
I should knock out all their teeth, he thought to himself. That would solve the problem.
He wondered if such a thing would be possible. Could he safely remove their teeth without having to worry about infection killing them?
In his mind he saw the pliers yanking free a tooth. Once they were removed he would grab a bottle of peroxide and make them swish it around.
This led to another thought. What if the girls got tooth infections and cavities because they were no longer brushing or flossing?
God, he hadn’t even thought about this. A tooth infection could be fatal if left untreated.
He would have to start having them brush their teeth, or brush them for them if they refused to cooperate.
Jimmy Page 13
