House of Glass

by Sophie Littlefield

  The stairs took forever. Dan went first, and together they eased Ted down each step, their progress punctuated by his moaning from the pain. When they reached the first floor, all three men were sweating. Dan and Ryan dragged Ted down the hall past the kitchen, Ted barely even able to move his feet, and then Ryan supported all of Ted’s weight while Dan fumbled with the lock. Now, Jen thought, now would be the time to go for it. Dan’s gun was still jammed in his pants, near the front where his gut was fleshiest. She could make out the top of the grip, pressing into his stomach. She could get to it, she was pretty sure, though she had no idea if she could figure out how to shoot fast enough, and she’d have to aim to kill because anything short of that was just bound to make things worse.

  Dan turned the key and the basement door swung open. Once again, she was too late—stalling, deliberating too long. Useless.

  Dan grunted as he got in place to help Ted down the stairs. His face was red with exertion.

  “Daddy!” Livvy shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Back off,” Dan barked, reaching for his gun. Jen barely saw him move before he had it out and aimed at Livvy, but in the process he let go of Ted, who started to sway, unable to grab for the handrail with his damaged hand. Ryan tried to hold on, but his hands slipped on Ted’s sweat-soaked shirt. If he fell, there was nothing to stop him but the flimsy rail, nothing below but the concrete floor. Jen lunged for his belt, straining to hold on to him, but she wasn’t strong enough.

  Ted wobbled and then crumpled. He fell down hard on the top landing, dragging Jen down with him. Livvy was running up the stairs, but then Dan seized her arm and forced her back down, twisting her wrist up and behind her back. When they were at the bottom he yanked up hard and she mewled with pain. “Do not come up those stairs again, do you hear me?” he snapped.

  “Yes,” Livvy whispered, then repeated it, louder, when Dan pulled at her wrist again.

  Jen felt something hard jab the small of her back, and she twisted around to see Ryan nudging her with one of his shoes. “Get up,” he snarled, and she pulled herself up.

  “Come on, honey,” she murmured to Ted. She looped her arm under his armpit and, leaning on the rail for support and praying it wouldn’t give way under their combined weight, guided him down one faltering step at a time.

  “Can I help my mom?” Livvy sniffled, her voice thick with tears as she rubbed at her wrist. Jen wondered if it was sprained. “Please?”

  Dan shrugged, taking the rest of the stairs slowly. Livvy rushed to Ted’s other side and pressed her face to his soiled shirt, careful not to touch his injured arm. “Oh, Daddy, what happened?”

  And then, quickly, so quietly only Jen could hear, she muttered “Did you do it? Did you call Jake?”

  Jen shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she whispered.

  “Give it to me.” Livvy’s hand went around her father’s waist, hugging him tight while her fingers sought out Jen’s hand. She made hiccuping crying sounds that were so real Jen wouldn’t have been entirely sure her daughter was acting except for the fact that when she didn’t react quickly enough Livvy pinched the soft flesh of her stomach and hissed “Now.”

  Jen slid her hand into her pocket, fingers closing on the little walkie-talkie. Coming down the stairs behind Dan, Ryan said, “Aw, ain’t that sweet.”

  Livvy pushed her hand into Jen’s pocket and took the walkie-talkie. Jen could have stopped her; she could have held on tighter. But what did it matter, now? Ted was downstairs. There was no excuse to go back up, and no time, either. Livvy twisted as though she was helping her father, pulling his arm up and over her shoulder as she jammed the walkie-talkie into her jeans pocket with her other hand. It made an unmistakable outline in her tight skinny jeans, but Livvy managed to tug her sweater down over the pocket before she limped to the sofa with Ted and helped him sit down. Ted collapsed into the corner of the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he puffed out a breath.

  “What happened?” Livvy wailed, turning on Jen. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad!”

  “Honey, it isn’t— I wasn’t—”

  “Mom, there’s bone sticking out. What did they do to him?”

  “Honey, I don’t...”

  Livvy clutched her stomach. “God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Jen tried to put her arm around her, but Livvy shook her off. “Don’t. You’re just making it worse.”

  “Your dad’s going to be okay,” Dan said gruffly. For the first time, he looked a little embarrassed. “This was all an accident. Things happen. He’s just in shock, the body protecting itself. When we leave tomorrow, we’ll get someone over here.”

  “Right,” Jen snapped. “You’ll make that 911 call on the way out of town, I bet. Top of your priority list.”

  Dan wheeled on her. “I didn’t ask you to talk. You’re lucky if we don’t just leave you high and dry here.”

  “Please...can’t you just take me up to the bathroom?” Livvy pleaded. “I don’t want to throw up down here, we’ll all have to smell it. Please.” She added a convincing whimper and put her hands over her face.

  “Too damn bad,” Dan said, but Ryan was already at Livvy’s side.

  “I’ll take you up,” he said. “Last thing we need in this house is more stink, that’s for sure.”

  Livvy cast her mother an inscrutable glance over her shoulder, and Jen’s heart constricted: Livvy had done it; she had found a way upstairs. But she was going with Ryan, and Dan wasn’t doing a thing to stop them.

  “Livvy, please—”

  But Livvy didn’t even glance at her. As she walked up the stairs, Jen noticed her daughter’s thin shoulders sloping up to her delicate collarbones and elegant neck; her long, glossy hair curving down her spine; her perfectly rounded behind tight against her jeans. Jen’s mouth went dry, knowing what men saw when they looked at her daughter. She cringed as Ryan’s hand slipped down Livvy’s arm to her wrist. He slipped a thumb down into her palm and stroked suggestively.

  Ted moaned, oblivious in his haze of pain.

  Dan muttered to himself, and Jen knew he’d completely lost control of the situation.

  And as she followed Ryan up the stairs, her daughter never even turned around.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Control what you can control. It was something Mr. Marvin, her drama teacher, always said. Livvy took a deep breath, held it in her lungs for a second and then let it out slowly, counting off in her mind the way she’d learned to do during warm-up exercises in his class.

  It was hard to focus as she climbed up the stairs, trying to stay ahead of Ryan. She could still feel the place on her palm where he’d put his thumb. The skin where he’d touched her felt warm and clammy, and she wished she could claw it out. She knew what Ryan was thinking, and she saw how her mother looked at her with horror like Livvy didn’t know what Ryan wanted to do, like Livvy was some innocent fragile thing.

  But Livvy wasn’t fragile and she knew things and she was going to use them. She could smell the liquor on Ryan’s breath; he was drunk the way the boys got at parties, early in the night when they were showing off, splashing and joking and crushing cups in their fists. Later they got quieter, cagier, meaner. But at first they were like this, loud, confident.

  But with Ryan it was scary because there wasn’t anyone else around for him to bounce all that energy off. There was just Dan, and Livvy was pretty sure there was something bad going on between the two of them. Dan didn’t trust Ryan, and Ryan didn’t like Dan. Livvy couldn’t understand how it worked, who was the boss. When she had asked Dan about Allie’s cousins it was like he really didn’t know what she was talking about, but maybe they only brought Dan in because he had more experience. Like he was the professional and for Ryan it was more personal. Except, now it seemed like there was something personal between them.


  As for her dad, she didn’t even want to think about what had happened to him, couldn’t stand to remember the way his arm looked. There was no way that shooting him was part of the original plan. She really believed they had meant to pull this off without anyone getting hurt. But now everything had changed. In the movies, the minute the plan started to fall apart, all the loyalties shifted and the bad guys turned on each other. Which made things more dangerous for everyone.

  And Teddy—it had been hours since he’d run out the door, and no one had knocked on the door, no one had tried to bring him home. Teddy was super smart and everything, but no kid should be wandering around, getting lost, wondering why no one was coming to get him. The thing about her brother was that he wasn’t like other little kids. She knew he wouldn’t look for a grown-up. She could see him totally staying out all night and never even thinking of finding someone to ask, just wondering why his mom didn’t come for him, and getting colder and colder.

  Which was why this had to work.

  At the top of the stairs Livvy dashed for the bathroom and jammed the door shut, twisting the lock and leaning on it, her heart racing. Outside, Ryan’s voice was way too close.

  “Hey, don’t you lock that door!” he called as he pounded the door.

  Livvy turned on the bathroom fan and ran the water. “Just give me a minute, please!” she said, making her voice sound weak and helpless. She flipped up the lid on the toilet and made retching sounds while her thumb found the button on the walkie-talkie. She moaned and coughed, keeping up a steady stream of sound.

  She pressed the button and put the thing to her ear and listened. When she heard the click of Jake answering—thank God, she wasn’t too late—she flushed the toilet and talked fast and quiet.

  “Jake, listen, it’s me, Livvy,” she hissed. “We’re in trouble over here. You need to have your mom call the cops and tell them to come to our house. Do you understand?”

  “What?” Jake’s voice was tinny and distant. These cheap things were crap, just toys. “Livvy? Is that you? Where’s Teddy?”

  “Teddy’s not here,” Livvy said, pushing down her fear and speaking as slowly and clearly as she could. She flushed again, knowing this was her last try. Ryan would get suspicious if she didn’t finish soon. “Tell your mom to call the police and have them come to our house. Say it back to me, Jake.”

  “You want my mom to call the police? Why?”

  Livvy’s hands clutched the little plastic unit so tight she thought it might break. “Bad men are in our house, Jake. We need help.”

  There was a silence, too long. Finally Jake clicked on again. “What?”

  “They have guns. I have to go. Promise me you’ll tell your mom.”

  “I promise, Livvy.” He sounded scared now, and Livvy felt bad about that, but she needed him scared so he’d tell Aunt Tanya.

  “Go,” she said urgently. “Do it now. Love you, Jakey.”

  She stood and slipped the walkie-talkie back into her pocket. She washed her hands at the sink, scrubbing hard, and then brushed her teeth. Ryan started knocking, and she said, “Just a minute” while her mouth was full of toothpaste. That should help, that should make it authentic.

  She wiped off her mouth and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like someone else, as dirty and unkempt as a homeless person, fear and exhaustion giving her deep circles under her eyes. But that was all right. She’d rather be someone other than herself right now. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Ryan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, grinning at her.

  “Done yakking?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “You brush your teeth?”

  Livvy nodded, but she didn’t like the way he was looking at her. She touched her pocket and was reassured by the feeling of the hard surface of the walkie-talkie under the fabric. Now what? If Jake told Aunt Tanya, if she called 911, it shouldn’t be very long until someone arrived.

  “Excuse me,” she said, looking down at the floor as she tried to step past him, back toward the stairs.

  He put out a hand, blocking the way. “Not so fast.”

  “I’m good now. I can go back in the basement with my mom and dad,” Livvy said, then blushed because it made her sound like a little kid. Little and scared.

  “What if I don’t want you to go back down there yet?” Ryan said, taking a step closer to her. She could smell his breath, and it smelled like he had been eating Fritos with his beer. Now she really did feel nauseous, her stomach diving and rolling.

  She forced a smile. “I just thought, because my mom and Dan have to go to the bank tomorrow? To get your money? I mean, I should probably get down there so everyone can get some rest.”

  She’d hoped the mention of the money would distract him, but Ryan just raised an eyebrow and kept smiling.

  “I don’t think rest is what you need, little girl.”

  And then he reached for her face, and Livvy made herself keep still. Somehow she knew it would be worse if she flinched, if she tried to duck out of the way, so she didn’t move. His hand landed softly on her skin, his fingers cupping her chin, and they weren’t rough and hard like she expected but warm and soft, like a girl’s. His thumb went to her lips and rested there for a moment, and Livvy could feel the warmth of her breath reflecting off his hand back at her.

  Then he started rubbing, gently stroking her mouth. Livvy didn’t dare say anything because talking would make her open her lips. Instead, she pressed them together tightly. But he rubbed harder, turning his thumb on edge so his nail grazed against her skin, not quite hard enough to hurt. He moved closer, his face only a few inches away from hers.

  “Suck it,” he whispered, his voice all weird and harsh.

  She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes, her heartbeat getting faster. She put her hand on his wrist and tried to push his hand away but he grabbed her behind the head with his other hand, his fingers splayed on her scalp, digging into her hair. They were locked in a silent struggle, and his thumb never stopped working, working, finally forcing its way past her lips, into her mouth, rubbing against her front teeth.

  She clenched her teeth as tight as she could, but he squeezed hard. She whimpered deep in her throat, and he said, “Yeah, like that, suck it like that.”

  His thumb went in. He shoved hard, and it pushed against the back of her mouth, rubbing against her tongue, hot and salty and making her gag, and he was muttering things, awful things, his face bumping against hers, his tongue jamming inside her ear. She tried to pull away but he pushed harder, his mouth making wet noises in her ear and his thumb probing around in her mouth. Livvy couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t seem to get any breath in through her nose, and she tried to scream but it was impossible, with his thumb in her mouth. The tears had spilled over and the heel of his hand mashed against her cheek, spreading the tears and saliva around, and Livvy bit down.

  At first it was just her molars clamping on his thumb but then she got a better grip with her front teeth and squeezed as hard as she could, imagining them slicing right through his skin, his callused knuckle, the bone and sinew and cartilage. She felt his blood fill her mouth, hot and metallic, and then he slammed her head into the wall so hard she let go, dizzying pain arcing out from her skull through her entire face.

  “Fuck, girl, what the fuck!” he yelled, rearing back to take a swing at her, closed-fist, and she braced for it, had time to wonder how many bones in her face he would break, but it didn’t happen, and after a couple of seconds she opened her eyes to see him still standing there squeezing his fist with his other hand.

  “You’re going to wish you didn’t do that,” he said softly, almost whispering.

  The dizziness settled into a throbbing ache. Livvy spit blood on the floor and touched the spot with her fingers, feeling
the lump rising on her scalp. Ryan held up his thumb, turning it this way and that. A smear of blood glistened wetly. That was her spit mixing with his blood, Livvy thought with disgust. She’d swallowed some of it. Her stomach rolled again, and she pressed her hands flat against it.

  “What’s going on up there?” Dan demanded, from the bottom of the steps.

  “Nothing,” Ryan snapped.

  “You can’t keep me up here,” Livvy said.

  “Oh, yeah?” Ryan wiped his thumb on his shirt, twisting his mouth back into the smile he’d had earlier.

  “Didn’t sound like nothing.” Dan started up the stairs, his tread heavy like an old man’s. He came around the landing, a concerned look on his face. Livvy felt such relief at the sight of him that she had to remind herself that he was also the enemy.

  “What are you doing with her?”

  “Nothing. She threw up, she washed up, that’s it. She yakked on her shirt so I’m taking her to change. Seriously, it’s covered.”

  Dan was already shaking his head. “The girl goes back downstairs.”

  “No, she fucking doesn’t.”

  Livvy could feel the tension between them, dangerous and out of control. Ryan’s smile grew wider, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her close to him, and suddenly it occurred to her that maybe Dan wasn’t the boss after all.

  “I want to go,” she said, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to be up here.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Ryan said, quietly, never taking his eyes off Dan.

  “That’s enough.” Dan took two long steps and shoved Ryan, just hard enough to send him tripping backward. It was reassuring, how much bigger Dan was than Ryan, and Livvy wrenched her arm free and scrambled behind Dan, putting him between them.

  “You might want to keep an eye on her,” Ryan said lazily, but Dan had already grabbed her arm without even turning around. Livvy didn’t mind, until he started squeezing, which hurt. He wasn’t as gentle as she thought he would be. “Don’t want to lose another one.”