by M. C. Cerny
He finally stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the bed. Eddie’s eyes sliced me open with regret and emotions I couldn’t explain when I spoke the words that threatened to choke me.
“Everything is negotiable.” I reached for his hand. My voice wavered with the words. I was attempting to fix my own fuckup for once in my sorry life. I should’ve been home playing with dolls, or chatting on the telephone with girlfriends, or whatever it was that normal fourteen-year-old girls did. I shouldn’t have to be making life-altering decisions, but you grew up quick in the ward or you died there, and I was all about survival.
“Mr. Huntley, Adam, that is … the man I met outside. He’s offered to take care of things, Liz,” Eddie spoke, but I didn’t think he realized what all that entailed.
“I know, and I think we should do it.” I had no idea what the demon with dragon eyes offered, but I was willing to do it. If we were realistic, Eddie would’ve been stuck working the docks until I aged out of the system at eighteen. Seventeen if we lied. I couldn’t force him to wait three, almost four more years to live his life.
Eddie choked up, looking toward the doorway before hissing, “I can call that social worker.”
“I am not going into foster care!” I grabbed his hand, squeezing.
“No, I just meant, maybe she could help us, instead of him.” Somehow Eddie knew deep down this man couldn’t be trusted, and I wasn’t forthcoming with details.
“What? If you sleep with her again? No, Eddie. You have Fiona back, and you need to make a life with her,” I pleaded.
While I try not to kill myself making a life with the monster who holds salvation above my head with a pretty price tag costing my freedom.
“I can’t lose you.” His hands held mine, trembling together and fighting for the lesser of two evils.
“You won’t. I’ll just be doing what he wants; it can’t be that bad, can it?” I said.
Eddie frowned.
“He wants to file for guardianship.”
Heavy words and strong actions that made no sense for a man like Mr. Huntley. He treated me like a pesky fly he wanted to crush, not a cherished ward.
“Can he do that?” I asked.
“He has the money to buy this city, pay people off, and grease the wheels of whatever deal he wants. Shit, Liz, I don’t like this.”
“We don’t have to like it. All we have to do is get through it.”
“He said you’d be going to some fancy girl’s school in the middle of fucking nowhere. Vermont.” He said the state name like it was vile. “He wants to give you an opportunity to reform.” Eddie uttered reform with the same disdain as Vermont. At least they had ice cream, Ben and Jerry’s, so it couldn’t be all bad, could it?
The joke was on Huntley if Vermont was the worst he had to offer because you couldn’t reform someone who didn’t want to change. My only interest was in adapting for survival.
“So I have to wear a stupid dress in the woods and grow out my hair.” I made light of it, but Eddie didn’t buy it.
“This isn’t some fucking fairy tale,” Eddie barked.
I wanted the bedsheets to suck me up and pull me down a rabbit hole. “I know.” Girls like me didn’t get a happily ever after.
“It’s more than that, Liz. I don’t like the way he talks about you ... like he owns you.” Eddie resumed pacing. I hated to tell him there was no other choice.
He does own me, Eddie. He owns every part of me, and he isn’t letting go until he has his pound of flesh.
“He isn’t going to touch me. He’s gotta be what, like twice my age?” I said.
Eddie rubbed a hand over his tired and adult-looking seventeen-year-old face.
“Liz, you don’t understand men.” I hated his condescending tone.
“I know enough,” I snapped back.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, a fourteen-year-old-know-it-all.”
“Hey, you know what, I don’t need the dad tone of voice,” I mouthed off. I might actually end up with daddy issues after all of this.
He grabbed his hair, pulling. “What if … shit, Liz. I’m too young to be an uncle.”
“Eww, disgusting.” I pushed down the acidic, vile thoughts to the basement of my mind. My stomach rolled with fear, and I couldn’t look Eddie in the eye.
Stopping his frantic pacing, he growled low and leaned over my bed caging me in. “It can happen.”
I pushed him back with my good hand.
“I know, but it won’t.” Nothing was guaranteed the moment I left this hospital. This was the reason my brother and I fought so hard to stay together no matter what. If the system wasn’t pulling us apart, it was Adam Huntley.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
We stared each other down.
“I know it.” I knew it because I’d stab him with the closest sharp object I could get my hands on if he tried anything creepy-uncle-like. Awkwardly, we laughed, but we both knew it wasn’t funny.
Fuck fourteen.
I hadn’t felt like a kid in ages. We parented ourselves, and look at how well that worked out. Here I was going to sign my life away to the devil. I saw too many things that made me an adult long before childhood waned and logic ruled.
“I love you, and I’m not going to lose my only family. You can go to school, join the military like you wanted, and Fi can finish nursing school. When this is all over, we’ll get together over dinners in our fancy apartment in Hoboken filled with Ikea furniture, overlooking the Hudson like we talked about.”
“Elizabeth.” He choked up.
I shook my head.
“Listen to me. There’s a couple hundred bucks in the wall behind my bed.”
“No,” he said.
“Yes.” Our eyes connected, and Eddie knew how important this was. When family mattered most, you did what you had to do to make sure they survived. We were scrappy like that.
He struggled to find the words. “I hate how calm you’re being about this.”
“It’s for the best.” I smiled sadly, telling Eddie what he needed to hear. “I’m going to be okay.”
Little did I know the suffering that was guaranteed to follow the next several years would be as good as it got.
8
Adam
“Nelson!” I hopped down the staircase like a naughty child calling for my jack-of-all trades house manager. The man was old enough to be my father, and surly enough that I was half tempted to put a bullet through him when he gave me a side-eye. He came with the property when I bought it, and he could’ve molded into the walls like that creepy Oz movie with no one being the wiser.
My dogs barked and trotted up to me. Three hounds of hell, perfect for the prince of darkness as my last lover implied. She was a rotten fuck, but nice to look at once her mouth was occupied. My boys, however, Beauregard, Bear, and Gus were my one joy. They gave me unconditional love, whatever the fuck that was, mixed with a good cocktail of drugs and alcohol to keep me sane. Since I had the means, I spared no expense to maintain my health; sadly, it was my mental state I’d never mastered.
“Aus! Platz! Braver hund.” I gave them the commands to stop and lay at my feet while praising them. Each had his own personality. Beau the most watchful, Bear the aggressive one of the three, and poor Gus craved undivided attention. While they all heeded my commands, it was Gus who wiggled the most, whining. Relentless snuggler which was why I had them kenneled outside the kitchen at night. I couldn’t stand contact of any kind when my night sweats plagued me.
Nelson approached as I rubbed my boys down and sent them back to the kitchen. He could let them outside to run once we were done here.
“Mr. Huntley.” He deferred to me under his hawkish gaze and greasy hair.
Good man that he was, I kept him around, well-supplied in aged scotch and pay to put up with my shit. He only took exception to the screaming during the last—well, it didn’t matter now. Chap cleaned up the mess rather nicely and saved me from having to buy a new carpet
for the foyer to match the rest of the pretentious antiques in this mausoleum. Who knew he’d be a whiz at cleaning up blood?
Oxy Clean magic and we were good as new.
He pushed a new bottle of medication, a steaming green tea, and a packet of documents over the marble-topped side table between us. The pills were bullshit, and the documents could hold on for another day or so. I sipped my tea, hating the powdery taste as I chugged it down. I’d have given a year off my life for a cold soda. Something about antioxidants would prolong my suffering, and I needed all the time I could get right now.
I was bordering on giddy with my new acquisition just hours out of my reach. We didn’t speak about either item, and I preferred it that way. The pills would find a discrete way into the bathroom cabinet upstairs, and that suited me perfectly fine. The documents would be signed and delivered via courier tomorrow morning. Reminders of my mortality were not appreciated.
“Has the hospital called regarding my … ward?” I inquired.
Thinking about Elizabeth’s new role in my life excited me. Renewed the flagging sense that this would be over quicker than planned. Having drank my tea like a good boy, I switched to another one of my vices. I swirled the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler, watching it circle the cuts of glass. I loved alcohol. I loved the lads and ladies even more indiscriminately, but liquor was cheaper and quicker in taking the edge off my moods. It would certainly help while I waited for my ward to come of age.
If I had the time to wait that long.
Contingency plans be damned.
“Yes, sir. The hospital called, and she’s ready to be released.” Nelson clasped his hands over his middle, rocking back on his heels like he wanted to say more but held back.
I narrowed my gaze.
“The judge?” I took a slow draw of the scotch, letting it burn my esophagus pleasantly. It was a delicious heady feeling knowing I would be getting exactly what I wanted.
“Signed off on the guardianship papers which are on your desk.” He waved toward the office where the polished wood of my desktop faced the south lawn. It was where I did most of my thinking.
Plotting.
Planning.
Executing.
“And that green social worker who was making noise about it?”
“I believe Derrick took care of that. Something about the case being transferred,” Nelson added nonplussed.
I hummed my approval and finished the drink, letting the crystal clink on marble. I didn’t need the complication and she’d be a good distraction for my associate who pissed me off by laying his hands on Elizabeth without my permission. He still might lose a finger over it if my mood didn’t improve.
I grunted.
“Good. Petre should be arriving soon. He’ll take over Derrick’s duties, and I’ll leave in a moment to bring her home.” I didn’t want to hire more bodyguards, but Derrick was demoted for his recent behavior. I trusted Petre, and he’d finally get his chance to come to the US under legal means with a work visa I provided. That meant he’d also owe me, and it was good to have favors owed.
Nelson left me in peace, shutting the door to my office. The dark became my solitude as I contemplated the next steps in my plan. Every piece was slowly falling into place. Elizabeth had no idea how she fit into my puzzle, and I couldn’t have accounted for the strange perfection of her coming into my life. Another card in my stack I’d be able to use when the time was right.
I planned on teaching my ward what it was like to love someone and be unable to forgive them. Her brother was useless to me as was the girlfriend. Although, her nursing skills might prove handy down the road if I could get her to work for me. I was sure the right incentive could be found for a smart girl like Fiona. I would be the snake Elizabeth didn’t suspect, lurking in her garden and waiting to strike. I would fuel her anger and numb her with poison. Elizabeth would pay the consequences in full, with a pound of flesh.
The hospital was her temporary reprieve, the stay before her figurative execution of body and soul. Physically, she paid the consequences with the infection in her foot and the discomfort of the stitches. It seemed that stupidity, or at least bad decisions, could be painful after all. I visited her in her unmedicated delirium, crying out for her dead mother and pathetic father. She didn’t know I was there, watching her from the chair in her room, directing her care. My presence was known in every cringe she gifted me after. She would grow to see my touch like the plague. The GPS tracker implanted in her ankle would keep her tied to me. There was nowhere my lovely ward could go without my knowledge.
When her fever pitched, I watched her crawl on the floor to the bathroom nearly immobilized by the pain. I forbad the doctors from giving her any pain medication. I suspected she was skirting drug addiction from the pot in her system. I didn’t give a fuck about sloppy teenage recreational use, but I didn’t have time for someone who would medicate themselves from my punishments.
Frankly, it took the fun out of it.
Crutches were left in the closet, locked out of reach because the brat spit on me the second day. This was the beginning of teaching her valuable lessons of how her brave new world would operate with me at the helm. Shame and humiliation would complete the penance with a pretty red bow.
She would learn how insignificant she was to me. A pretty toy to be dressed up and ignored until it was time to take her off the shelf and out to play. A fragile doll fearing the crack in her porcelain shell. I wanted her to hate playtime. She could’ve been a squeaking dog in a purse for all I cared, lest she piss on my marble floors. If that was the game she wanted to play, I’d make her lick it up. I wanted her to crave hatred because it powered me as much as it depleted her. Her life was now ruled by my iron fist and her shiny new gilded cage. Pretty things had a cost, and consequences would become a new burden to bear.
It was so easy to fixate on my new obsession.
My drive to the hospital was quick, and my arrival was met with fanfare. Press photos blinding and shutters clicking with the savages looking for a story. Too bad it was only me; the poor boy from the ward who made it big with questionable riches. I was a fucking Barbara Walters special waiting to happen.
Ah, how we all hid behind our masks.
My beautiful Bentley was fixed and shiny to remind her of her recklessness. I showed her off like a show pony, glossy coat and ribbons. Nurses helped dress her in a sweet looking sundress with a pink poufy skirt and put a big, obnoxious matching bow in her shorn and styled curls. I hated bows, messy, complicated things that made her look like an overgrown ballerina or the next child bride of Jerry Lee Lewis. She didn’t need makeup because the shaming blush of her skin was enough to color my new pet project. Shame was my game, and I’d sell the media tickets like the goddamn Super Bowl.
She swung her legs on the edge of the bed, waiting for my arrival, and I wasn’t disappointed. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
She ignored me and kept her eyes focused on the wall behind me. Her silence would be dealt with later. Compliance was all I wanted until I could dump her ass at her new home far out of my reach until she reached an appropriate age for my plans. A racking shudder ripping through her body was the only response I got. She wasn’t mute. I knew that for a fact, and I wasn’t about to let her disrespect start.
I took in her bandaged hand, half mad and half alright with it. I didn’t like the conflicting emotions because she was a means to an end. Feelings weren’t supposed to surface; they had no part in this. I might have been weak from the cancer, but I refused to let her become my weakness too.
“Ah, I see you’ve made friends with Derrick already.” I touched her hand, watching silent tears flow down her cheeks. Elizabeth was suitably cowed for now, and this pleased me.
“You’ll adapt quickly, my shining pearl, my beautiful little bird.” I tapped her cheek with my palm. Any harder and she’d feel the sting of my slap, which she hadn’t earned today. “You’re a smart girl.”
It wasn’t complimentary.
She was more like a problem I had yet to work out. Elizabeth didn’t want to be a problem, if she knew what was good for her. She probably didn’t want to be anything. Best yet, forgotten. Too bad I had other plans.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand, but she shrank away. “Tsk. Tsk. Already so defiant,” I said.
I picked her up, slinging her over my shoulder.
“No!” She tried to kick, and I slapped the back of her thighs hard.
“Defiance is not only punished; it’s crushed,” I reminded her.
“Let me go,” she whimpered, and I stopped short before exiting the room. I breathed in the acrid scent of hospital cleaner and lowered her into my arms.
“Do you yield?” I asked, indulging this last outburst.
Her lips trembled and she silently gave me an affirmative nod. I carried her easily to the car. The skirt poufed in candy lace layers, looking ridiculous, but that was her problem, not mine. No wheelchair despite the nurses’ protests. When the hospital doors opened up to show my shiny silver Bentley, I felt the heat of humiliation burning through her veins against my Italian wool suit.
“You’re an asshole,” she hissed in my ear.
Cameras flashed, taking our picture. I dumped her unceremoniously in the passenger seat before getting in on my side. One last benevolent smile for the cameras, and I buckled her in.
“So much better than having to carry you out kicking and screaming, huh?”
Gulping air and what I assumed was fear, she bowed her head and looked forward, avoiding the windows. I let my hand slip down to rest on her shaking knee, out of sight from the press. My hand slipped on her slick, sweaty skin. The gesture was innocent enough and appeared comforting to all those eyes watching us, but I was marking her with a twisted ownership unseen by the vultures of the paparazzi clicking and flashing in our faces.
“Relax, Elizabeth. I’m saving your spanking for when we get home,” I quipped humorlessly.
“Then what? You’ll try fucking me like a dirty uncle?”
