The Window

by Glenn Rolfe

  “What the hell?”

  “Boys?”

  “We’re all right, ma.” Kevin said.

  She opened the door and peeked her head in.

  “You sure? Sounded pretty frightening.”

  Oh God. James wondered how much she’d heard.

  “James just had a bad dream. Probably from the movie we saw the other night.”

  “I don’t know how you kids watch all that horror stuff. It’s a wonder you don’t wake up screaming every other night.”

  She rubbed her eyes and looked at James.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” James said.

  “I think we’re gonna get up for a bit. Grab a snack.”

  “Just don’t stay up too late. Make sure you shut the lights off before you go back to bed.”

  “We will, ma.”

  He followed Kevin out the door and downstairs. Kevin said he’d been moaning and calling out Alison’s name. He wished he could remember that. He started to get hard just thinking about the dream. He pushed down on the front of his pajama pants as he followed Kevin into the kitchen.

  “Want a Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  Kevin grabbed two Cokes and a bag of potato chips from above the fridge. As he made his way to the island counter with the snacks, James noticed two simmering red dots on the window next to the door. His spine slipped.

  Kevin put the snack down and looked back over his shoulder toward the window. “What? What is it?”

  The spots dissipated as Kevin turned to look. James shook his head. I’m losing’ it.

  The loud scrunching noise of Kevin opening the bag of chips brought James back. He accepted the soda and the chips Kevin placed before him. He popped the top of the can and sipped the cola. The cool bite of carbonation was brilliant, considering his dry mouth.

  “Damn, man. That dream must’ve messed you up.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember a thing.”

  “That’s a jip. If I had a dream about humping your dad’s girlfriend I’d be pissed if I couldn’t remember it.”

  James gave a half smile. He couldn’t stop glancing over Kevin’s shoulder. The window remained normal. No red dots, no red eyes–just the reflection of the room from the light over the island. “Sorry I woke you up, man.”

  “Whatever. But I’ll tell you what. I’m sleeping until noon tomorrow.”

  “Cheers to that.” James raised his can and tapped it against his friend’s.

  “Since we’re awake…you want to tell me why you freaked out earlier?”

  He didn’t. He didn’t want to remember it, but the sight was scorched into his damn data base like a virus from a porn site.

  “C’mon, man. You looked like…like that night when we tried to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You remember that?”

  “Yeah, what were we, like ten?”

  “I think so. Shit, man. You were terrified.”

  “We were ten.”

  “No, I mean tonight.”

  He had been. That face in the window…had he dreamed about it? About those eyes?

  James took a deep breath and let it out. “If I tell you what I saw, or what I think I saw, do you promise to keep it between us?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean it. No telling Eric and definitely no telling Carrie.”

  “Yeah, man. What is it?”

  “It’s kind of embarrassing.” He surveyed his friend. Kevin munched on Lays and waited. “I looked in the kitchen window and saw my dad. He had his back to the window, but I’m pretty sure he was jerking off or something.”

  “In the kitchen?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he was doing.”

  “Well, Jamey Boy, that’s fucked up, but I wouldn’t exactly consider that terrifying.”

  “That wasn’t what freaked me out.”

  “What then?”

  “It was…there was something in the room with him.”

  “Something? Like someone?”

  “No.”

  “Shit, Jamey Boy, what the hell did you see?”

  “I saw a face. In the window. Well, not so much a face, as a….it looked like…like a skull. There was flesh hanging in patches from it.”

  “Shut up, man. You trying to freak me out?”

  “And there were these eyes…” James saw them, clear as day, burning from his memory. “They looked like black holes…with this fire behind them.”

  “Jamey Boy, you–”

  James grabbed his hand. “I…I don’t know what was in there with my dad, but…”

  Kevin visibly shivered. “Shit, you’re giving me the hee bee jee bees.”

  “What if it’s a demon?”

  Kevin pulled his hand free and slid off his stool. “Whoa, I mean, whoa.” Kevin got up and looked at him sideways. “Now you’re entering the creep zone.”

  “I told you, man. It was freaking weird. And my dad’s been...” he thought of his father in the hotel room. “He hasn’t been acting like himself.”

  “So, what? You think your dad’s possessed or something?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just trying to get this figured out.”

  Kevin began to pace. “Maybe Hank did give you a concussion.”

  James hoped the same thing, but he knew, deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. His dad at the hotel, then at the rest stop, and then tonight… and Alison had said they’d had an argument this morning. Had she caught him doing this, whatever this was? It was too much to cast off as the result of getting punched in the head by Hank Jacobs. He certainly hadn’t been concussed in Boston or Yarmouth. Suddenly his skin felt clammy. He wanted to climb out of it and be free.

  Kevin came back to his stool. “We should go to bed.”

  “Yeah.”

  James followed Kevin back up to the bunk beds. He thought he’d be awake until dawn, but his eyes fell shut almost as quick as his head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You don’t have to come with me,” Alison said, sipping a coffee Edna had made for her.

  “You’re kidding, right? Jason said. “What if instead of cooling down, you staying here last night only succeeded in pissing him off more? Nope, no way I’m letting you go alone.”

  Richie probably paced a hole in the floor imagining her and Jason going at it. Truth was, after some drunk star-gazing, they shared one last kiss on the sofa in the living room before she woke up this morning to find herself in her bed upstairs, tucked in with a glass of water at her bedside.

  “I’ll leave you two kids to it,” Edna said, getting up and excusing herself from the room. “I do believe I have a load of wash in the machine. If I don’t get it done today, we’ll be smelling ol’ Dalton for days.”

  She watched Edna glide out of the room.

  “Fine,” she finally acquiesced. “You can come, but you promise you’ll stay in the car?”

  He poured his own mug of coffee and leaned on the counter next to her. “Deal, but if I hear anything, I’m coming in.” After a moment of quiet between them, he said, “Figured out what you’re going to say?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to tell him it’s over.”

  “That simple, huh?”

  “The less complicated I make it the better. I really don’t want to go back, but he deserves to know, you know?”

  “You don’t owe him shit, Ally,” Jason said.

  She wasn’t sure he truly deserved an explanation, but she wouldn’t feel right not telling him. She did feel bad for James. She’d miss him. He was a really good kid. Tears snuck up on her.

  Jason set down his coffee and wrapped her in his arms.

  “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, no one does.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

  She took a step back and wiped the tear from her cheek.

  “Listen,” he said. “If he looks out and sees me, just t
ell him I insisted on coming because of the way he acted at Target. I hope he’s a rational, normal fucking human again. I’d much rather be wrong.”

  “I hope so too,” she said, setting her cup in the sink and picking her keys up from the counter.

  “You have to promise me something, too,” he said. “You have to let me know somehow within like ten or fifteen minutes that it’s going well. Otherwise, I’m going to assume there’s a problem.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  “I mean it, Ally,” he said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Alison pulled the Grand Am into the trailer’s driveway and noticed the curtains were wide open. She hoped it was a good omen; maybe Richie was feeling better and was up already.

  “All right, I’m going in.”

  “I’m on record as saying I don’t like this, right?” Jason said.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  She pushed the door open, stepped from the vehicle, and eased the door closed.

  The sunshine of the past few days hid behind a sky of gray clouds. The radio personalities had mentioned the heat would finally be broken by thundershowers later today. She just hoped she wasn’t walking into a storm.

  She climbed the stairs, peaked in through the living room window, and saw that the TV was on. She took a deep breath and turned the door knob.

  The living room was empty. Peeking around the corner into the kitchen, her mind slammed into a brick wall. Her keys fell to the floor.

  There was blood all over the kitchen sink, running down the front of the cabinets and pooled on the linoleum. Backing away, she glanced over her shoulder. Jason looked back from the car puzzled.

  “Richie?” she said. “Are you home?”

  Something terrible had happened. What if he’d done something to himself?

  “Ally,” Jason said.

  The car door slammed, but she hurried down the hall.

  “Richie, are you here? Are you okay?” Her voice was swallowed by the eerie silence in the trailer.

  “Ally?” Jason’s voice drifted down the hall. “Jesus, Ally, where are you?”

  She eased the bedroom door open and wished to hell it didn’t squeak like something out of one of James’s freaky horror movies.

  “Richie?” she said again stepping in. The bed was empty, but there was a bloody handprint on her lavender pillowcase. She took two tentative steps into the bedroom when she heard Jason.

  “Richie, what the fuck are you doing?”

  She heard grunts and oomphs, the sounds of struggle as she rushed back out.

  Richie, naked with blood on his face and hands, sat perched upon Jason’s chest and held a knife to Jason’s throat.

  “Richie…” Alison said.

  “Shut your mouth, hon. This is between me and your new boy-toy.”

  “Richie, don’t be stu––”

  “One more goddamn word out of you and I’ll slide this blade across that cock-sucking mouth of yours.” Coiled like a snake ready to strike, the man with the knife was only Richie by way of looks. This person was someone she didn’t recognize.

  “This isn’t about him, Richie. It’s me your upset with.” Alison stepped forward. Richie’s eyes could have burned a hole through her, and something fluid-like weaved through them. She sucked in a breath. All too aware of how terrified she was of this man.

  “Save your lies for the fire,” he seethed.

  She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was damn sure effective.

  Richie turned his attention to Jason.

  “Tell me,” he growled. “Did you get to fuck her? Hmm?” He clenched the handle of the six-inch blade and brought his knuckles up, pressing it under Jason’s chin. “You have permission to open that filthy mouth of yours. Answer me.”

  “He didn’t–”

  “Not you, bitch.” His eyes never left Jason. “You don’t move. You don’t speak until I’m through with your boyfriend.”

  Alison saw Jason clench his right hand into a fist. She knew he was going to make a move. She couldn’t stop him. She would have to be ready when he did.

  “Ally, get out of–”

  The knife jabbed the side of Jason’s neck enough to draw blood.

  Jason groaned.

  “You’re done sweet talking’ my bitch, you hear me?” Richie said.

  “Richie, no!” Alison said, stepping toward the two men.

  “One more step and he’s dead.”

  Jason came up swinging his right fist, but Richie craned his chin to the left avoiding any real contact.

  Alison screamed as Richie ran the blade across Jason’s throat.

  Jason’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish, his hand reaching for the seeping cut across his throat. Richie roared back in his face. Alison charged at him hoping she wasn’t too late.

  “This is what you get for fucking my girlfriend,” Richie said as he plunged the knife under Jason’s chin.

  “You bastard,” Alison screamed. “You fucking bastard.”

  Riche left the knife buried in Jason as he spun and caught her in the face with his fist, knocking her to the floor.

  Richie freed the blade from under Jason’s chin and lunged for her as she tried to get up. He snagged her kicking leg and slammed the knife into the meat of her thigh.

  She screamed as he pulled it out and brought it down again.

  “You like that, huh? A little in and out,” he said, pulling the knife out and letting her go.

  Waves of fire went through her leg as she felt the warm blood flowing freely. She refused to look at it as she tried to scuttle back toward the door.

  He stood and waved the crimson blade back and forth. “Oh no, no, no, no. You can’t leave so soon. Why, we haven’t even made up yet.”

  “Stay away from me, Richie. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but–”

  “This is the new me, baby. The better me. Take this in, sweetheart.” Richie raised his arms out to the side and grinned. “You should be happy. I can promise you a world of pleasure, if you just take my hand.”

  Alison used the wall for support as she managed to climb to her feet. The pain from her leg had her broken out in a sheen of cold sweat. Her head swooned.

  Can’t pass out. Can’t pass out or he’ll kill me, too.

  Richie reached over and grabbed a handful of her hair. She cried out as he pulled her to him, snatched her by the throat, and drove her against the wall.

  She could feel his erection poking at her as he squeezed until her eyes threatened to bulge from their sockets. Feeling his dick bobbing against her stomach, she did the first thing she could think to do. She brought the knee of her good leg up hard and fast into his balls.

  “Ugh”

  He released her and backed away with his hand between his legs. “You fucking bitch.”

  Alison’s wounded leg gave out. She hit the floor, gasping for air. Richie limped around in a circle and seemed to gather himself before approaching her again.

  “I guess I had that one coming.” He squatted down, keeping his distance. “That’s one of the many reasons I love you so much. You’re so fucking feisty.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” she cried.

  “I told you, I’ve changed.”

  “Please don’t kill me.”

  “Baby, I have no intentions of killing you,” he said, stepping over her and slamming his heel into her wound.

  “Arrgghhh,” she wailed.

  “You’ve suffered enough at the hands of a weak man.”

  He pressed down again, the pain bringing with a it a wave of nausea.

  “Lonely, heartbroken, not good enough to keep his wife and son. Not man enough to pleasure you the way you so deserve to be–.”

  “Richie, I love you.”

  She needed to slow him down, buy herself a minute to get out of here.

  He slapped her hard across the face. “Liar. You ran to that pretty boy over there because you love me?”

  �
�Richie, nothining….nthing ha- happened.”

  He struck her again. Blood ran from her nose. She tasted the coppery bite as it drooled past her top lip.

  “Come on. I’ve got someone I think you should meet.”

  He dropped his knife to the floor, sunk his hand into her hair, and lifted her back to her feet. Her torn thigh screamed out in response. She whimpered but refused to cry out.

  “Stop fucking hobbling.” He guided her in front of him and down the skinny hallway. “Go on,” he said, shoving her into the bathroom. She fell against the toilet and started to sit down.

  “Ah, no. Not there.” He clenched the back her neck and brought her to the vanity.

  She stared at her nose and the blood that had run down her mouth and chin and onto the front of her shirt, the red marks from where he’d stuck her. She looked like your typical beaten and broken trailer trash housewife. She didn’t want to feel the shame, but she couldn’t help it. She thought of Jason, and what this monster had done to him and broke into deep, heavy sobs.

  “It’s okay,” he said from behind her. She braced herself against the sink with the palms of her hands. Richie whispered in her ear as he petted her hair. “Go ahead, dear. Let it out. Let it all out.”

  She tried to hold it back but couldn’t.

  “You didn’t have to kill him,” she said.

  “You didn’t want him. You love projects, like me. Hurt and wounded. Someone you can save.”

  She felt him trace his hand down her side, to her hip, and stop on her leg. She cried out as he dug his finger into the top of the gash in her leg.

  “You feel it. This is what hurt and helpless feels like.” His finger probed the wound. The pain was excruciating. She tried to drop to the floor, but he pressed her hips against the sink and her face against the mirror.

  “Or do you want something more?” he whispered.

  “Why, why, why?” she cried.

  There, there, sweet Alison.

  The voice was hers, only, she hadn’t said anything. Alison looked into the mirror and drew in a breath. Her eyes were two black coals.

  Good. Now you see me.

  “I, I…”

  Shhh, I have so much to show you.

  Chapter Twenty-Two