by Logan Fox
They don’t need me…but I need them. It’s painful to admit, but I’ve had more than enough time to come to terms with the fact.
I detoured soon as I located their phones. I’m surprised they didn’t ditch them…but I guess they weren’t expecting me to come back.
Fuck, I wasn’t expecting me to come back.
I stick a hand down the front of my shirt and fish out Trinity’s crucifix. The wood feels smooth, almost oily, between my fingers. I lift it a little and squint through what looks like a clear gem stuck near the top as the smell of roses fills my nose. The Virgin Mary peers back at me, resplendent in front of her golden halo. Face serene. Like she knows everything’s going to be just peachy, as long as I have faith.
I found it on the floor a few steps from Saint Amos’s front doors, right after I’d locked eyes with Reuben. The clasp was bent—must have fallen off her neck as Gabriel carried her out of the building. I meant to give it back to Rube, perhaps put it somewhere he would find it, but then all I could think about was leaving.
Found it in my bag when I was pulling out clothes to change into. Hung it around my neck in case I lost it, because one thing is for sure…I will find my brothers. And when I do, this is going back to Rube.
My coffee is almost finished before my food arrives. But I don’t complain, because I need the break, and I wouldn’t have given myself that luxury.
My brothers are nowhere close to Saint Amos like I’d thought. They’re in some small town in Virginia. I’m guessing they have a lead on Gabriel. Makes me want to find them even more, and I hate it. But revenge really knows how to get its claws into you. And fuck, does it latch on.
Was that way with my parents, too.
First week I was in that basement, my sadistic little mind was having a fucking field day. Oh, the beautiful, brutal things I did to them in my head. Holding them at gunpoint. Forcing them to do despicable things to each other. Thoughts of their fear, their humiliation—it kept me going for a while.
I’d keep banging on the door, begging them to let me out. Pleading with them. Trying to convince them that I wasn’t one of the others.
Yes, I wanted my limited freedom back. But more than that, I craved the pain I knew I would inflict on them soon as I was free. Vengeance for hurting me. For hurting all the boys they’d kept in that dark hell.
To this day, I can’t believe those tortured souls had been under my feet all that time. That I’d been living mere yards away from so much pain and suffering.
Some part of me still believes that’s how my mind came to be so fucked up. That, unknowingly, I’d absorbed all that abuse through the pores in my skin. Like radiation, it began poisoning me.
I pay my bill. Leave.
The rental reeks of cigarettes, but I couldn’t care if they kept my entire deposit because of it.
All I care about is one thing—getting to my brothers.
What happens after I arrive, that’s up to them.
Chapter Twelve
Trinity
“Trinity.”
“Trinity!”
I’m cold. So cold compared to the warm hands on my body. Behind my neck, between my shoulders. Pushing me onto my side.
I retch. Throw up. I choke on the water and bile burning my nose and throat. It hurts a lot, but at least now I can breathe.
Hands on me again—so warm—helping me up. A towel to cover my nakedness.
Those hands guide me down a passage and into a room.
Halfway across the soft carpet I recognize where I am. A bedroom, but not mine.
Mom and Dad’s.
I’m still in Redford.
Oh God, I miss them so much. The smell in here, although stale, pushes pins through my heart. But why is everything still the same? It’s been more than a month. Surely someone would have bought the house? Moved in? Made it their own? Why is it still exactly the same as the day I left?
I shiver, and then try to resist when the hands lead me to the bed.
I was never allowed in here.
It was their room. They made that very clear.
I never once ran in and clambered over them to wake them up when I was a little girl. No snuggling between them if I had a nightmare.
Because I was a good girl. I obeyed them. Even now, even though they’re gone, I feel like I’m disobeying them.
But when someone pulls away the sheets, revealing a warm nest I can burrow into, I go. No hesitation. Because I’m tired. I’m hurting. And I’m so cold.
As I slip between sheets that still smell like my parents, I hear a voice. Mom’s. Not singing—she never sang—but reciting a prayer.
...hallowed be...
Oh, right. I know this one.
I burrow into the bed, cringing as my wet hair makes my cheek itch. I’m not clean enough to be on these sheets. I can still smell myself. But there’s lavender too, and that makes me think about bubbles and that makes me want to climb out of bed and run away.
But I’m too tired.
…give us this day…
So I stay where I am, curled into a ball, trying to warm up. I cough, and clear my throat, and try to get rid of the awful feeling inside me. The rawness where water went but shouldn’t have.
…forgive us our…
I lie there even when someone gets in behind me and holds me. Even though I know who it is. Even though I know what he’s capable of.
I’m even fucking grateful, because he’s so warm, and I’m so cold.
…lead us not into…
I lie there in his arms until I fall asleep. And I’m still there when I wake up.
But I only wake up a long, long time later after he wakes up. After he brushes hair from my face and kisses my cheek. Only after he squeezes me tight and whispers, “Morning, daughter.”
…deliver us from evil…
Now I’m not tired anymore. I’m not hurting as much. I am scared. But I’m also angry. And I want out.
...thine is the kingdom...
My mind races as he snuggles his face into the back of my neck, as if he’s smelling me.
…the power and the glory…
This is not my new life. I’m getting out of here, whatever it takes.
…forever and ever.
Amen.
Chapter Thirteen
Trinity
I think Gabriel has fallen asleep again. I guess it’s tiring, holding someone captive. But he should be used to it though.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I shift a little, then pause, waiting for his reaction.
Nothing but a soft breath against the back of my neck. His arm is still slung around me, his fingers dangling over my hip.
It would be so easy to stay here. Although I don’t feel as shit as I did when I woke up on the bathroom floor after he tried to drown me, my body is still weak. I haven’t eaten in…days?
So easy just to let it happen.
To go somewhere else inside my head.
But that’s not what they did. Those four boys in the basement fought back. They stayed strong, and they found a way out.
But they were four.
I’m just me.
So easy to feel sorry for myself right now. To think it’s useless. That I’d make Gabriel angry and he’d try to hurt me again.
Even though right now he’s peaceful. Almost like the Gabriel I used to know and love. But he won’t stay this way. I’ll say something and it will trigger him to the violence, and he’ll try to hurt me again.
I gently grasp his wrist and lift it. Slow. Easy. I keep it suspended as I carefully wriggle to the side.
The tendons in Gabriel’s wrist go tight. He murmurs something inaudible as he tries to hold onto me in his sleep.
I freeze, eyes squeezing shut, and send a prayer to any higher power who might be listening.
Our father, which art in heaven.
Hallowed by thy name.
The prayer becomes a mantra that cycles over and over in my mind as I slowly make m
y way to the edge of the bed. As soon as I’m clear, I put his hand down on the sheets.
The instant I let go, he turns over, dragging the bedding with him. Leaving me exposed and naked on the far side of the bed.
I slip out and stand hunched over, my heart thudding relentlessly in my chest. With his back to me, I don’t know if his eyes are open. They can’t be—why would they?—but that doesn’t change a thing.
Deliver us from evil.
All I need is for him to stay exactly as he is. Lost in whatever perverted dream he’s having right now.
I back up out of the room, hesitate at the threshold, and then pull the door closed as I creep into the hallway outside. I’d have locked it, but the key’s gone.
I know I shouldn’t be wasting a millisecond, but I can’t run into the street naked. And it will only take a few seconds to put on clothes. Just pants and a shirt. I won’t even bother with underwear or shoes.
That’s the plan, anyway. But when I step into my room, it’s as if the world does a somersault around me.
I freeze.
It looks like a tornado went through this place.
My closet doors are wide open. Everything inside them has been dumped on the floor or on the bed. Little ornaments—the kind of knick-knacks you accumulate when you’re young—are everywhere. Some shattered. Tears and scuffs on the wallpaper where he threw things against the wall.
Was he looking for something? Or did my accusations really piss him off that much?
Move, Trinity! He could be waking up any second now, and you’re just standing there? You’ve established he’s a nut job—now how about you get on with escaping?
I force myself deeper into my room, but it’s like I’m in a trance. There’s so much chaos in here I can’t find anything.
I pick up a jacket that doesn’t have a zipper or buttons—pointless.
A scarf.
That goes around my neck, because, well, that’s where scarfs go.
I find leggings. Pull them on. They’re not fully opaque, but they’re better than nothing.
Finally, the last piece of the puzzle. A sleeping shirt. Picture of a grumpy cat on it. Something about needing coffee. I tug it over my head as I turn to head out the room.
Gabriel’s standing by the door. Chin down as he watches me. Hands opening and closing at his sides.
Panic slices into me like frozen razor blades. I wrap my arms over my chest and take a step back. “I was getting cold,” I say.
He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants. I hadn’t even realized that when he was in bed with me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bare chested. I had no idea he was so muscular. So strong. No wonder I couldn’t fight him.
He lifts his chin. “You have to accept the things you cannot change.” He turns his palms to face me, arms still at his sides. “I’m your father. That’s never going to change.”
His body fills the doorway. I can only get out if he comes closer. It’s that or jump out of a second-story window. There’s a tree outside—I could maybe catch hold of a branch.
That’s a big maybe.
How badly would it hurt if I missed the tree?
Maybe I can try and find out what Gabriel wants. I mean, I could be over-thinking this. What if he just wants to take me to the mall, watch a movie together, eat some take out?
As long as I don’t mention the Brotherhood, or the basement, I should be fine. Even now, he looks calm.
“I…”
Lord, why is this so difficult?
He puts his head to the side, waiting. Always so patient.
“What are…we doing?” Another swallow. “Here, I mean?”
He frowns, glances around. Then he reaches out and straightens a framed picture I drew when I still believed in unicorns and how awsum they were.
“I’ve always liked this house,” he says. “Spent much more time here than I should have.”
His eyes fix on me again. I don’t know how I could ever have thought those brown irises were warm, or comforting. Now they look cruel. Calculating, even. “They left it to me, the house.”
“Don’t you have a house? Why don’t we go there instead?”
I don’t know if it’s better being here or in a different place, but we’d have to be in a car, on a road, out in public to get there. If I can convince him—
“My house?” Gabriel purses his lips. Shakes his head. “No. My house is no place for a little girl.”
Ghostly fingers crawl up my back and start toying with my hair. That’s what he thinks of me? A little girl? Does he even know how old I am?
It sickens me to think about it, but maybe that’s the only card I have to play right now. He keeps calling me daughter—maybe I can count on his paternal instincts to get me out of this jam.
“I’m kinda hungry,” I say, putting a hand to my stomach. “Can you make me something to eat?”
The kitchen has knives. Pans. Several objects I can use to hurt him with. It’s also closer to the front door, which has a lock I can turn from the inside without needing a key.
If I can get to the front door, I can get out of the house. I can run down the driveway and scream at the top of my lungs. The neighbors would hear. They’d have to look out their windows. And they’d see me running like a lunatic—
“No.”
My shoulders sag a little. “But I’m—”
Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?”
Fuck.
Fuck!
I try and look innocent. “Really, I just want some—”
“You’ve been bad,” he says, stepping closer.
Yeah, come closer, you fucking creep. Close enough that I can run around you and out of the room. Down the stairs. To the front door.
I wish I’d thought of that yesterday. I’d been a few yards from the front door. But I’d been so doped up on heroin, I hadn’t even thought about it.
No. I’d been convinced my father was in the kitchen cooking breakfast.
Ha, ha, ha. I guess he was.
“Slut like you, you don’t deserve to eat.”
Oh Lord. It’s all coming back to me now. The things I told him when we were in the bathroom. Boy do I regret that plan.
I need to turn this around.
I wish it didn’t have to come to this, but I can’t think of any other way of doing that.
“Father, please.”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.
“Please, I’m sorry.” Denial isn’t the way to go. But confession might just work. “I sinned. I know that now, I see it. I just…”
I drop my head. The tears that come aren’t all that forced. I’ve had a lot of practice with feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve been doing it my whole life.
I pitied the fact that I had such strict parents. That I could never do all the fun stuff other kids did.
Then I pitied myself because I’d been orphaned by a random twist of fate. That God had let two of his sheep die. Then came Saint Amos, and oh boy did my pity party turn into a rager.
Now this.
I used to challenge the Universe. I’d shout “What else you got?” in my head when I was feeling particularly downtrodden.
But I’ve met a group of men who could have pitied themselves day in and day out. I can’t believe how weak I am, compared to them. How little it took to defeat me.
The attention of one man, when they’ve had to withstand many.
Two days, when they lasted years.
So yeah. I think I can suck it up and play pretend for a while.
“Will you help me, father?”
Gabriel’s chin lifts a little higher. “Help you?” His voice is faint. He frowns, opens his mouth. But I cut him off with a sob that’s not at all feigned.
Every cell in my body is screaming at me to stop, but this is the only way.
That’s how you overcome fear, right? You face it.
I walk up to him, st
umbling over the things scattered over the floor, and I put my arms around him, and I hug him hard.
When I close my eyes, I can almost believe it’s my first day at Saint Amos, and he’s just arrived outside my room.
The familiar smell of his fabric softener, his aftershave, him...wafts up to me. When he wraps his arms around me so tight.
“Please, father.” Another sob. “Help me find the light.”
His chest expands as he inhales, and I shiver when he kisses the top of my head.
“Of course, child,” he murmurs.
Hands find my face. He draws back my head and stares down into my eyes. His smile is wide, and warm, and genuine. It shouldn’t, but it lights a candle inside me.
He strokes away a tear with his thumb. “Come. Let’s eat.”
My body is ten pounds lighter as he grabs my hand and laces my fingers with his. I float behind him, barely touching the ground as he leads me down the stairs. I force myself not to look at the front door as we pass it, and my body complies.
A gust of wind slams raindrops hard against a nearby windowpane. And then he turns away from the kitchen.
My hope shatters like a glass trinket hitting a stone floor.
The hand around mine is suddenly too tight. He’s pulling me a little too hard.
“Father—”
I cut off with a pained sound as he yanks me after him. “You want to find the light?” he yells, glancing back at me with wild eyes. “I know just the place.” He turns again, and my heart sinks deep into the churning depths of my stomach when I realize where he’s taking me.
I kick back, scream.
He pulls at me until I’m close, and then grabs me. Slaps a hand over my mouth. All the while still walking toward the door at the end of a long passage.
Hidden away like a nasty secret. Even the keypad beside the door is flat and discrete. You probably wouldn’t see it unless you were close.
Gabriel keys in a combination—so fast, I only catch the first two numbers, 4 and 2. When he opens the thick door, the smell of damp earth and crawling things slams into me.
He slaps a hand against the wall, and the basement light flickers on. It’s not much—a bare bulb that only seems to solidify the shadows into something more sinister than before.
