Chapter Twelve
Marshall
We still had a bit of time before the kids come home from school so we went to our local Home Depot to pick out paint and all the equipment to go with it. By the time we were done it was close to school ending. Once we got home we started to get to work. Margret changed out of her dress and into her sweat pants and tee shirt she would wear when she was pregnant. I changed as well into some old pajama pants and tee shirt before we started to move furniture and put down the tarp and get the paint ready.
By that time Mason and Morgan had come home, everything was set up. Mason was the first to speak. “Guess we should get ready to paint?” I nodded, pouring some paint into the container. “Yep. Make sure to wear cloths you don’t care about.” Once they went upstairs to change I sent a text to Charles and Beth, telling them to entertain him for a few hours while we paint the living room.
I still think he may be a little young to be helping paint. Once they came back down Margret and I shared a look before looking to Morgan. I spoke up. “Would you like to be the first to paint over his chaos Morgan?” Morgan gave Margret and I a look before giving a sad smile before taking the paint brush and looking at the wall a moment before putting the first stroke of taupe paint on the once light, powder blue wall.
With work and a few sleepless nights during the week we got the living room, hallway and Morgan’s bedroom looking like nothing happened with the exception of the new paint color. We got a new sectional couch, new TV, plate set. Anything he broke or destroyed, we got brand new. As the week went on I tried to keep Brent to the back of my mind. His behavior was so polite. The total opposite of what I was expecting.
On Thursday I checked the kill room to check the meat. Only enough for about one or two plates. Looks like I’m going out this weekend. I hated being so low.
During the week Morgan has been getting gradually better. She’s had nightmares nearly every night but Mason would help her through them. He was a light sleeper and with his room next to hers he could easily hear her cries but school is getting better, she’s starting to gain her friends back, telling them the honest truth about why she was withdrawing from them.
Which was great with their homecoming dance in less than a month. The kids were in the living room watching TV while Margret and I washed the dishes tonight. They earned some free time this week. They worked so hard. I spoke quietly, scrubbing one of the dishes used in dinner. My sleeves rolled up to my elbows.
“I’m going to have to go out this weekend. We only have about two plates left of weekend meat.”
She nodded. “I can take the kids to see your mom. I’m sure she would love to hear how Morgan is doing in school.”
“Won’t they ask why I’m not going with you guys?”
“True.”
I’ve made sure my children never see the monster.
While there is chicken or pork on their plate there would be a kidney from Joe on mine. I’ve tried to make the kill room as soundproof as possible. Margret was the only one who has seen the monster and welcomes it. “I can go out tonight. It’s Thursday. It’ll be less people, less attention.” Not to mention it’s the really despite- low-on life-won’t-be-missed-types that come out on weekdays.
She sighed, sounding worried. “Sure. Just tell them something convincing” I nodded, kissing her head. “I’ll be fine love. I know what I’m doing.” She gave a worried smile. “I know. I just worry. They're still my babies.” I smiled softly, kissing her. “They're mine too. Don’t worry. I’ll protect them with every fiber of my being.” I placed the last dish in the rack before kissing her again and walked into the living room where they were transfixed at our new TV, watching some cartoon of sorts. “I’ll be going out for a while so listen to your mom while I’m gone.” Morgan spoke first, barely looking away from the TV.
“Ok.”
Mason shrugged. “Sure thing.”
Mikey just watched the TV. I looked back at Margret with an amused smile before I got my coat and keys and wallet.
I kissed Margret goodbye one more time before going down to the garage and starting the car before driving down the road. I drove for about an hour, just outside of Long Island going to one of the dive bars. It was a little hole in the wall type bar. I parked and sighed.
I left around 6PM; it’s going on 7:30. Prime hours and not too many people. Good. I was never a fan of crowds.
I got out a bat. It was small, blunt and made of solid wood. I felt unsafe using chemicals like chloroform. There was too much possibility it could end up in the meat and I wasn't risking that. Blunt is the way to go. Simple, no chemicals, and because what I have is small I can easily fit it into my jacket pocket and if found out I can claim it’s for self-defense.
I loosened my tie to look like I got off work, untucked my shirt a little, ruffled my hair then walked in with a hunch. Like I’ve had the worst day of work. This part of getting the meat was always exciting. I normally act like a guy getting off the worst workday of his life but with a horrible, verbally abusive wife and kids that don’t give a shit if I live or die. It was a good lie.
And if that didn't work I’d move to faking an injury and needing help. That was an easy one.
I put a frown on my face as I walked inside. Rock music playing from the jukebox as a few bickers and losers watched me walk in. I slumped up to the bar, sitting on the stole, and my head in my hands. The bar keep walked up to me. His voice sounding like he smoked twelve packs a day. “Bad day bud?”
I groaned. “The worst. You would not believe the day I’m having. Do you have any whiskey?”
“Shot?”
“Make it two.”
“Coming up.”
It wasn't long before someone came up to me. A woman, late 20’s with black hair and the sluttiest outfit I had ever seen in a while. Nothing but a tube top showing off her belly button ring with a mini skirt with fish nets and little black boots. “Rough day sweetie?” She said, chewing her gum obnoxiously.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just awful. And I don’t even want to go home.”
She frowned. “Oh? Why’s that?” I shook my head, faking like I don’t want to talk about anything. Playing hard to get.
And she took the bait beautifully. “I don’t like going home either. It’s lonesome.”
I smirked weakly. “Beautiful girl like you, bet you got all the guys coming after you.” She smirked but there was sadness to it. “Who says they stay?” My two shots of whiskey were put in front of me.
I handed her one. “My wife. She’s...she’s not very nice. I can never do anything right for her, according to her. We got into a fight and she told me she’d rather me die on the street than come home.”
She sighed, lifting the whiskey shot into he air. “To never going home.” We clinked our shot glasses together before taking the shot. It burned going down but it felt so good.
I made sure to seem eager, kissing her like a man dying of thirst. She tasted like wax and lipstick and whiskey. She was thin but not to the point it was dangerous. I pinned her against the brick wall of the bar outside, cupping her breast and grinding against her. It would be a lie to say the situation itself didn't turn me on. If this had been Margret we would already be in the car rutting like rabbits with a second round.
The only thing I was eager for was her blood on my blade. She moaned and smirked and once I pulled away I lead her to my car at the far end of the parking lot where nobody else parked. She giggled. “Ooh a little privacy.” I smirked, holding her hips.
“Let’s make my day a little better. Pull your skirt and fish nets down and bend over the car.” She seemed to love the dominance, doing as she was told. I was painfully hard but I would resit what was so graciously being offered. I would wait until I got home and ravage Margret like it was our wedding night.
I did slip in two fingers inside her for show, making sure to keep her nice and distracted. She moaned against the car, gripping it. I was getting my bat out of my jacket pocket. I kept going until I felt her come on my fingers, clenching down, nearly screaming in pleasure.
Once the orgasm was over she looked dazed and confused and high. I took a quick look around, seeing nobody around for miles then lifted the bat, quickly bringing it down on her head. She jumped but it was a good hit, she was nearly unconscious but nearly isn't good enough. She mumbled, unable to crawl away with her world literally spinning around her. “Baby?”
I ignored her, bringing the bat down again, this time she was out cold. I place her skirt and fishnets where they should be before opening my car trunk and lifting her into it and onto the tarp that was always in there. It was just easier always having it and easier to excuse if police caught it.
I drove the hour home where it was going on midnight. The house lights were turned off with the exception of Margret’s bedroom and Morgan’s. I vaguely wondered if she had a nightmare and if Mason was helping. No time to waste. If I wanted to ravage Margret tonight I had to take the body to the kill room. She was still out cold which was good. I hated when they woke. It was a struggle to get them unconscious again. I easily carried her to the kill room, laying her on the metal table. I strapped her down, cut off her clothes to be burned.
I sent a text to Margret that I was back with the meat if she wanted to check it out in the basement before turning on my music. Classical. Mozart was my favorite. A few minutes later there was the click, click of heels coming down the stairs. I turned to see her. She almost frowned. “Oh. Poor girl. She looks young.” She walked over, inspecting her.
I spoke. “She is. 28, going on 29. Her parents disowned her for her being Bisexual and before that barely had any family to speak of. No brothers or sisters. No aunts or uncles. Lives by herself. No pets. No close friends. Barely makes ends meet. Normally resorts to protrusion but gets regular checkups. She clean.”
“Sounds more like a mercy then a murder.”
I turned to Margret, kissing her hard and holding her close. She melted into me I pulled away. “I’m sorry. I had to do some things with her I didn't like. It was a good distraction while I hit her with the bat.”
Margret just gently shushed me, her slim fingers trialing over my jaw and lips. “You can reclaim me later but right now you don’t have any food for the weekend. Text me when you’re almost done and I’ll have myself ready.” I kissed her again before she pulled away, walking back up the stairs, closing the door. I got in my gear. It consisted of a large black, full body, faux leather coat with full sleeves with gloves with a plastic head visor to keep any blood splatter away from my face.
I looked over to see the girl looking around or attempting to, she still seemed woozy. “Wha..? Where?” I walked over, gently shushing her just as Margret shushed me. “Hey, don’t fret. I’m here to help you. What’s your name?”
She looked terrified. “T-Tiffany.”
“That’s a beautiful name Tiffany and I’m so sorry.” Her eyes watered over, her head shaking no. Her black hair swaying back and forth with her head. “No. No. I don’t want to die.” I ignored her plea, getting a meat clever from the wall. She was crying but trying to speak, her voice thick and cracking. “What are you going to do to me? Why? ” I positioned myself at her head, the knife over her neck with a feathers touch. “I’m going to eat you.” I sliced her head clean off her body in one swift chop. Made her death as painless as possible. Her head thudding into a wide bucket below the table.
I started to skin her body, starting with her arm. I made an incision down her shoulder, doing it in parts, seeing the meat of her muscles show through. Once all the skin was off her arm I threw it into the bucket with her clothes to be burned. There really isn't any nutritional value in the skin; it’s the muscles and organs that have the protein.
I started taking the muscles off carefully, cutting it off the bone with a smaller knife and place it in a bucket that will be food. It was near 3AM. Three hours of cutting and skinning and blood draining and harvesting organs. Another hour of burning was needed to be burned in the incinerator I had installed as well. The room soon became red with her blood. Dripping off the table, pooling. Her head still lying in the basket at the head of the table. I cut off all the meat and tissue, cleaning it down to the bone.
I set all the meat aside in their own bags so I could clean the blood with the large shower hose and a bit of bleach. I took off the coat and gloves and goggles and mask and sprayed them down as well, leaving them hanging to dry. I took the scraps, her head and cloths to the incinerator. I placed everything that was in the bucket in there then closing the door, pressing the button, starting the fire inside. I set the meat into bags and into the freezer before going up the stairs but not before looking back, making sure everything was clean as when I came down here at midnight.
Once I made it upstairs, just awake enough to ravage Margret, I walked in our bedroom, seeing her lay out on the bed, naked as the day she was born and fast asleep. I closed our door. I walked slowly, not wanting to wake her. It didn't seem to work as she moved, waking, seeing me as I took my tie off. She sat up, looking at me worriedly.
“You have meat for the weekend?” I nodded, throwing my tie to the desk. “Yeah.”
She got up, bringing the sheet with her, holding it around herself. She never liked walking around naked. “You ok?”
I let out a breath, looking away. “How could parents just disown their child for being who they are? I could never do that to any of our kids. I don’t care if Mason would want a boyfriend or Morgan wants a girlfriend or if Mikey grew up to be a ballerina. I just want them happy.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around me, holding me close. “I know sweetie.”
I held her, kissing her head. She looked up at me with a small smirk. “So about that claiming?” Then it softened. “Another night?”
I nodded. She smiled, kissing me before going back to sit on the bed while I finished undressing. Once I was done and got my teeth brushed I climbed into bed, holding her close and inhaling the smell of apples and home.
Chapter Eleven
1979
Marshall Age four
The knife my Uncle Jed held went over the woman’s neck, showing where to cut with the point. The woman on the table was breathing really hard, mouth was taped shut and she was shaking real bad. I could barely see over her body when he put the knife in my hand. I was shaking and terrified and so hungry.
I hadn’t eaten in days. They wouldn't let me. Said I had to get food like Uncle Jed does and learn. Then I could eat. The handle of the knife was put into my hand, his own hands wrapping around mine so tightly. “Now, cut where I showed you and once you get her meat we can start and you can eat.” I my tears well in my eyes. I didn't want to do this but I wanted to eat so badly.
I raised the knife like he showed me, just barely able to see where I was cutting. It was hard with my hands shaking but I managed to cut through the skin, the blood flowing. I ignored the woman's sounds. Focusing on the blood dripping down and pooling on the floor. He smiled, petting my hair. “Good boy. Very good. Now it won’t be more than a few hours before you can eat.” I wanted to run upstairs and pretend like I didn't do anything, that I didn't just cut into a body but he forced me to stay and watch him work.
I watched the blood drip and drain into the bucket, I watched how he cut and skinned the lady on the table, some strips going into a burning bucket and another for cooking. Then he stripped the meaty looking muscle and gathered a few organs and it might have been the hunger but I couldn't help but be fascinated at it all and that frightened me so badly I wanted to cry. Within an hour and a half we had the meat we needed for cooking.
He talked through it all, as if he were killing and skinning a deer. He even took some of her insides out, chopping them up into smaller pieces and throwing it with the cooking bucket. The rest to be burned or buried. He handed me the two buckets for cooking. “Take these up to your mother so she can start cooking while I start cleaning.” I nodded, struggling with the weight of the buckets and trying to rush them upstairs. I could feel the blood drying on my face and cloths.
I heard my mom yelling at my Uncle Beau from behind the door. “Let me through Beau or I swear I will-”
“Will what?! Kill me? Go ahead bitch, like you would stand a chance!”
“He’s just a baby! He shouldn't be learnin this until he’s older.”
“You can’t protect him forever! Dad thinks he’s ready then he’s ready!” I knocked on the door best I could with the two buckets. I could feel tears steadily falling. I was so scared but so hungry and desperate. The door was opened quickly to see my Uncle Beau and mom. My mom pushed him out of the way, dragging me into the living room.
“Oh God what has he done? Look at you. There’s blood all over you.” My uncle Beau took the buckets with a grunt as my mother hugged me close, wiping away my tears. “Oh God baby I’m sorry!" She was crying against me, holding me so close. I didn't feel like crying. I was so hungry.
I was no longer shaking from fear. I looked at my mom, frowning. “Why are you crying? Uncle Jed was nice.” She just looked at me, crying harder, holding me so close. After she calmed and wiped her eyes she walked away to the kitchen, telling me to be a good boy while she cooked. Once it was quiet I could hear humming from the basement. I walked closer, leaning into the open door. Then I heard it.
“Somewhere over the rainbow...skies are blue...” I didn't know what song it was. It sounded like it might have been a pretty song. My stomach was hurting so bad that I nearly fell down the stairs. I caught myself on the frame then turning to walk to the couch to lie down and hoping the ache goes away. I crawled onto the couch, avoiding any springs that were sticking out and curled around my stomach. I just wanted to feel better. I just wanted to eat. It hurt so badly.
I jerked awake, my Uncle Beau glaring down at me. “Food’s done you little shit. Get in the kitchen.” I nodded before getting off the couch and rushing to the kitchen where I could smell the food we just sliced up. I quickly went to my mom who was getting plates together with the mixture of meat and slop. She gave me a sad smile, knowing I hadn’t eaten in days. She gave me the plate. “Here you go sweetie.” I nearly grabbed the plate out of her hand, going to the table where the silverware was.
I got the fork and quickly started eating. My mom rushed over, lowering my fork. “Baby, not so fast. You'll make yourself sick. Slow down, alright?” I nodded, swallowing the food that was in my mouth.
I was so happy to eat, the ache in my tummy turning to being full. Once dinner was done I helped my mom clean up and put the uncooked meat in bags to put in the fridge or freezer. Suddenly Uncle Beau shouted from the living room. “Bitch! Your guy is here again! Fuckin whore.” She swallowed, before ruffling my hair. “Go to your room and play with the toys I got you baby. I’ll be up to tuck you in.” I nodded, going upstairs as she went to the front door, walking outside.
I rushed upstairs, looking out the window, watching them.
The guy seemed annoyed but had some kind of large paper bag. He looked like the police I’ve been told about by Uncle Jed. My mom seemed happy but didn't like taking the bag. What was in it? Who was he? Why was he able to make my mom so happy but so sad. He kissed her before turning and leaving. I wanted to run down to my mom and ask her who it was but I didn't want to make her sad.
She almost never smiles so I didn't want to take that away. She walked inside the house. She and Uncle Beau arguing again but I heard footsteps coming upstairs, the wooden stairs creaking. I rushed to my toys, taking them out. I didn't want to get in trouble for not doing what I was told.
I was playing with them when she came in. “Baby, look what fairy godmother got you.” She knelled next to me, showing me the various contents of the bag. Some bottles with nice smelling soaps and lotions and medicines. A few more toys and a few books.
She stood up, holding her hand out. “Com’on baby. I’ll read you a story.” She got out a book. It was a white book with a black creature on it. She leaned against the wall while on my bed. I snuggled close, listening to her speak so nicely. “Where the sidewalk ends...” She read me almost the entire book. I was sleepy from dinner. I just wanted to stay snuggled so close to my mom and fall asleep there in her comfort and warmth.
Chapter Ten
Marshall Crawford
After the kids swept up all they could we made them go to sleep at Charles and Beth’s house. Their rooms were still a war zone and they still had school. Finally the floor swept and mopped we could walk without worry of glass. There was still nothing to eat on but paper plates which isn't a problem. We got three large pizzas mostly just to have to grab while we clean. We decided we were going to repaint the walls, it would be easier than trying to clean it all off. With everything swept we went up to bed, exhausted from the day.
The next day Margret chose to stay behind, calling off work for the week. I frowned. “Why don’t you let me handle this?” She looked up at me after she got done on the phone. The smell of coffee from the maker behind her floated in the air. “Because you shouldn't have to do this alone. This is my home too. It’s our home. Plus with an extra pair of hands we’ll get it fixed up faster.”
I nodded. “You’re right.” I smiled, continuing, going holding her around her waist. “You’re always right.” She smiled, kissing me before moving and pouring coffee in the few remaining mugs that were hidden in the back of the cabinet.
While we were discussing new room colors my phone rang and I knew the phone number as the police station. I picked up. “Hello? Yes this is he. Oh. Of course. We’ll be right there.” I hung up, feeling anxiety prickle at the back of my neck. Margret was looking worried. I looked at her. “They have Brent.” She paused for a second, letting it sink in before speaking. “Guess we should go then.” I nodded, going to get ready to go. Before I could go up the stairs Margret held my arm. I turned and she looked worried. “You going to be ok?”
I sighed, wrapping my arms around her. “With you there, always.” After a few seconds I let go of her, heading upstairs to change out of my pajamas. Margret not far behind me.
We drove down to the police station. Once inside we met Officer Angel who shook our hands and led us to the two way mirror room. Once inside I could see into the interrogation room. Without a doubt this is Brent. Brown hair spiked up into a small Mohawk, red and black plaid flannel shirt with a white under-shirt underneath but his attitude seems aloof. Like he doesn't care. Like theres a million other things he'd rather be doing.
Like he doesn't care his future is about to be ruined. He didn't care that he hurt a fifteen year old girl, nearly ruining her life. I didn't realize I was shaking until Margret held my hand. I looked to her, forcing myself to remain calm. “I’m fine Margret. Just...odd finally seeing his face in person.”
“You never met him before this Mr. Crawford?” Officer Angel said. I shook my head. “No.”
He nodded. “I’m going to start the interrogation. If at any time it’s too much, you can leave the room and I can inform you when were done.” Then he closed the door. I swallowed my nerves. This was it. This was the man that held whether or not my little girl would get justice for what he has done. I saw Officer Angel walk in the room and start speaking. Me and my wife watched with undivided attention.
“Mr. Brent Mitchel.” He said as he sat in front of him. Brent nodded, leaning back in his chair as if this was nothing. A casual conversation. “Yes sir.”
“Do you understand why you are here?”
He shrugged. “Not entirely but I’m willing to cooperate.” The officer nodded. “Do you know Morgan Crawford?”
Brent seemed to tense up just the slightest, sitting straighter. “Yeah. Is she ok?” I almost laughed hearing him say that. The officer spread out some papers. “What exactly is Morgan Crawford to you Mr. Mitchell? A friend? Girlfriend?”
Brent sighed, looking around the room. God I had a bad feeling. He spoke. “She’s just a friend.”
“You seem pretty aggressive toward someone that’s your friend.”
“Those are just texts and…” He sighed before continuing. “I have some anger issues, behavior issues that I’ve been working on since childhood. It should be in my medical file.”
The officer got the file from the table, opening it, flipping through the many papers before grabbing one. “Yes. It is. Anti-Social Personality disorder.”
“Yes sir.”
“You’ve had this since childhood?”
“It made school difficult as you can imagine.”
“But you overcome that.”
“Highest grade point average in every school I've been too.”
The officer nodded. “Now your texts to Morgan, they seem very aggressive toward someone who is your friend. Why is that?”
He sighed, looking over to the side. “I may have had a crush on her since I met her and it may have shown in the aggressiveness of the texts but I never made a move. She was underage and I did not want to end up in prison.”
“So on the night of September 22nd, were you or were you not at the Crawford's house uninvited?”
“I was...”
“Was there a reason?”
“I wanted to talk to Morgan. She had been ignoring me the entire day. That’s never happened. And I guess even with the medication I’m on, I lost it.”
“So you admit to the breaking and entering and property damage of their home?”
Brent looked like he was thinking. I hated him. He was too calm. He continued. “Yeah. I do.”
“And what about the accusations of sexual assault?” His eyes got wide, like it was the worst thing to hear. “The what?” He said.
The officer continued. “The Crawford's seem to think that you at several points in being in contact with Morgan that you sexually assaulted her. Is there anything you have to say about that?”
Brent seemed in shock. “Look. Morgan is a great girl, smart as a whip and gorgeous. She could have any guy she wants but I didn't do anything. I didn't make a move, no matter how big a crush I had on her, she’s just simply too young for me. And yeah I was pretty upset she was ignoring me these last few days but all I did was mess up their house. And I confessed to that.”
The officer got up. “I’ll get your papers.” Then he left the room, leaving a relived look on Brent's face. The Officer came into the room, signaling us out and into the lobby before speaking.
“At most we can charge him for the breaking and entering, property damage, maybe harassment if we’re lucky but there’s no evidence but your word and hers about the sexual assault. He’s saying he didn't do anything along and with her medical records which show no sign of rape.”
I shook my head. “But he did. There were bruises on her at the hospital, the doctor even found a Roofie in her system.” I felt my wife put her arm around me, holding me back gently, and a signal to calm down. The officer spoke. “And for all we know those could have been any of the guys at the drug house but there’s no evidence pointing to him. I’m sorry, there isn't more we can do. I’m going to get his papers in order along with the charges so please stay here while we get things in order.”
I swallowed my growing anger down. He walked away.
Margret told them we would be outside getting some air. I was a bundle of nerves and rage and hopelessness. I was shaking like a leaf. Margret gently escorted me outside the building. Once outside I breathed in gulps of air, as if I were a drowning man coming up to the water surface... Margret backed away, letting me have my space. I felt so stifled and restrained in there.
Outside I can breathe and show everything I’m feeling. Just the thought of him, of Brent not going to prison for everything he’s done to my daughter. Before I knew it I was punching the wall. I heard Margret trying to stop me, that we were at a police station but I barely heard her. I barely heard anything other than the blood rushing in my ears and the officer saying he won’t be facing jail time. That my little girl won’t get the justice she deserves.
I felt my knuckles bleed and scrape the wall. It calmed me and I started to stop. Catching my breath, still gently using the wall as a support. I felt Margret wrap her arms around my waist, bringing me away from the wall. I spoke, nearly a whisper to her. “I’m sorry... I didn't mean to react like that.” She grabbed my hand, looking at the bloodied knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. I‘m glad it was just punching the wall.” I nodded. She gently led me inside to get my knuckles cleaned.
In total Brent was paying $7,067.76 for the damage done to the house. Once Brent was out of custody he walked over to me and Margret. I had my arm around her protectively. “Mr. Crawford, Mrs. Crawford. I want to apologize for the damage my condition's has done to your family. I know that won’t ever be enough but here’s the money plus a little extra.” Margret and I were taken aback by the polite behavior. He held a check out to us that he must have just written. I gently took it, staring him in the eye, trying to will out the monster that lay beneath his polite surface. “Thank you.” I said to him, quietly.
I looked at the check. It as for $10,000 even. He nodded his goodbye and left the station. I watched as he got in his bright red Porsche and drove off. Now we were left to wonder was he really the monster we made him out to be or was he a young man with legitimate mental problems that he can’t help. I let out a heavy sigh, looking to Margret. It seemed a very anti-climactic end to this awful situation. Margret let out a breath of her own. “Well, let’s go get lunch so we can start working on the house.”
Prometheus
I wasn't sure what I was feeling anymore.
life wasn't going well for me lately.
It didn't feel like it should be this heavy, they felt more like an inconvenience.
A series of inconveniences that kept piling from a molehill into my grave, feeling like I was buried six feet under. if it wasn't the car breaking down it was terrible customers and if it's not terrible customers it was fighting with my spouse more often. One bad day after another.
I sighed as I approached my manager, two-week notice in hand. "Sir, I'd like to talk to you." He turned around to face me from his desk. "Yes, come in."
I walked inside and steeled myself. "Sir, I'm handing in my two-week notice. I'm glad for the opportunities you have given me-"
What opportunities? this job was a dead end unless you knew someone.
"But unfortunately-"
"I'm going to stop you right there." My manager said. I looked at him confused.
"Excuse me?"
My manager nearly smiled. "I can't accept your two weeks, we're too short-staffed, you'll just have to stick to your regular schedule."
I couldn't believe the audacity. I was in shock, I nearly walked out of the room but I was done. I glared down at him, taking my name tag off and throwing it at him. "In that case, I quit. You and this place can get fucked."
I walked out, slamming the door.
it wasn't until I was outside, feeling the salty breeze from the local sea.
I could feel the lump growing in my throat, the anxiety making my heart pound. I looked at my car, it made me feel like I could be trapped. God, I need a walk.
I made my way toward the ocean. when I finally made it to the boardwalk, walking onto it. it was slow, for once and I was thankful for that.
Seeing the ocean, calmed me, even if I went from depressed to numb, it was better.
I ended up staring at the ocean, longer than I thought. movement next to me on the bench caught my eye.
A homeless man, with no legs, holding a cup. I went to him, getting some spare change. Instead of it making a thud or metallic sound of hitting other coins, it sounded like it dropped into the ocean, realizing it was a cup of coffee.
Another inconvenience. I was so embarrassed. I went fast, trying to dig out the coin. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I thought you were homeless, I was trying to help, God I'm probably not helping am I? Assuming you're homeless-"
He suddenly grabbed my arm, nearly bringing me nose-to-nose with him. "Show us then."
I was so confused and a little scared. "What? show you what?" He let me go and I nearly fell, catching myself, stumbling before seeing the white void of nothing.
There was no ocean, no salty air, no cawing of seagulls, no wood of the boardwalk, and no legless man.
I closed my eyes, my voice shaking as I spoke. "Please be a dream, please be a dream.. it isn't real..it isn't real." I opened my eyes and the boardwalk was back.
Just the wooden boardwalk. I was thinking of it, did...did I make it appear? I swallowed my fear and thought of a coffee cup in my hand, I outstretched it and it appeared. steaming, dark, in my favorite mug.
It made me think of my parent's house before they passed away.
As I thought of their house everything around me changed. fields of grass appeared and popped from the ground, wildflowers followed, sprinkled, before a house was put together quickly, piece by piece, brick by brick. then I heard a sound I hadn't heard in five years.
The bark of my childhood dog, he died five years ago. it's a wound that never healed over. The tears I was holding back fell down my face as I saw him run at me, golden fur flowing with him as he ran, tongue hanging out of his mouth gleefully.
I kneeled down, sniffling my tears back as he licked my face, my hands gripping his soft fur.
"Hello Pumpkin, I missed you so much." I was petting Pumpkin for so long that I heard more voices I hadn't heard in four years.
"Here you are dear, honestly you'd sleep out here if I let you."
I just stared at my mom.
She didn't look mid-fifties like when she died, she looked young and vibrant. I sobbed, seeing her. She immediately kneeled down, wiping them away. "Oh no, did I say something wrong? Are you ok?"
I smiled weakly through the tears. "I just missed you."
she smiled back. "Well no need now, I'm right here. And I have your favorite ready for dinner, let's get inside."
Chapter Nine
Marshall
Margret wanted to call in work to stay home and help but it would do her more good if she were at work. I called into the bank, telling them what happened and that the next week or so I won’t be in due to the break-in and all the legal problems that come with it. My assistant manager, Carol, will take over until I am back. Once Margret left for work I called the police. They had left a card with the officer who was called to the scene and a number.
I couldn't sit. Even if I wanted to the couch was ruined. I saw the police cruiser pull up to my house. I went to the door and greeting the officer. “Hello Officer.” I held my hand out for a friendly shake. He shook my hand, nodding. He looked around my age, early 40’s with salt and pepper hair that’s covered by his police cap. “Mr. Crawford, I’m Officer Angel, I was the officer on scene last night when your neighbors called. Can you tell me why you were out of town?” I nodded. “We had a family emergency at my mother’s house. She lives in New Jersey so we spent the day there.”
He nodded. “May I see the rest of the house?” I let him inside. As he inspected, he started writing everything down. He spoke while he did so. “Mr. Crawford, do you have any idea of who would want to do this to you and your family?”
“I have a very good idea. There’s this not so good college kid that’s been harassing my daughter.” He stood up from kneeling, looking at the ruined couch, looking at me. “Have a name?” I nodded, getting my daughters phone from my pocket, showing him Brent’s Facebook. “Brent Mitchel.”
He took the phone, looking through the Facebook. “Are there texts on here?”
“Many and most of them are not so good. That was a family emergency. Once we found out about this guy and Morgan, she didn't want to tell us but she opens up to her grandmother easily. We thought it would be a good idea to go up there for the day, get everything sorted out.” The officer nodded.
“I’ll check the place for finger prints; see if any texts match to the crime then we can start pressing charges.”
“Of course.” He called for backup for evidence and clean up and protection in the chance Brent came back to the crime scene. Within twenty minutes two other officers were in my house, all walking around, getting what prints they could. One of them found an empty spray paint can thrown behind the couch. There was some prints on the doorknob. Then they took in the damage. Asking more questions and I complying with them in the inventory of the chaos and property damage.
Seven windows broken. Two plate sets and glassware sets. One sectional couch. One flat screen TV. Four outdoor cushions. A stuffed bear, pig and stuffed peter rabbit. Sheet set. Picture frames, not to mention all the legal cost Brent will no doubt have to pay. They took her phone as evidence as well. “Mr. Crawford, would you be willing to come down to the station for some questioning?”
I frowned. “Am I in some sort of trouble?”
“No. Not at all. Just some questions about your daughter and her relation to this Brent. Texts can only tell so much.”
“Of course.” I saw them putting up police tape over the door and around the outside of the house. I ran my hands through my hair. This was too much. My house has become a crime scene.
Once at the station they offered me some tea and led me to an interrogation room. Officer Angel came a little while later with pictures, no doubt printed from her phone. “Mr. Crawford, How old is your daughter?” He asked as he sat down. I swallowed my tea. “Turned fifteen in April.”
He nodded. “Were you aware of her relationship with Brent during that time?”
“No sir. I only knew that she changed. I just thought it was a typical rebelous phase."
“What do you mean by changed?”
I sighed. “She used to be in the science club, and won lots of contests and school tournaments. She used to crack jokes a lot too, she had a lot of fire. But during this year she stopped the science club, she started to withdraw from us, and her friends, and started misbehaving, getting quiet, and acting out and we didn't know why or what was causing it. Every time we tried to talk to her, she would talk around it or get on the defensive. And now that we do know, it’s awful. I’ve never felt so helpless.” He nodded.
“Brent, has he had any sexual relations with your daughter?”
“That I’m aware of... Yes. And it wasn't consensual.”
“You think he sexually assaulted her?”
“Without a doubt. The other day while I was at work she snuck out and Mason, my son found her at this drug house about an hour or so away from here. She was beaten black and blue and nearly unconscious. We got her to the hospital and found out she was roofied not too long before.”
“Was Brent there at the house?”
“From what Mason has told me, no, he wasn't. He must have been in class.”
“You said your son, Mason found her?”
“Yes. He’s seventeen.”
“Is he in school now?”
“Yes.”
“Would it be ok if I spoke with him and your daughter after school?”
“Of course. I can have my wife pick them up.” The officer sighed. “Now Mr. Crawford, you realize the accusations you saying are very serious? Especially for a college kid. It could ruin his possible career.”
I gave him a look. “Of course why wouldn't they be serious? He hurt my daughter. I want justice.”
“Of course, I understand but it’s going to require some investigation so it might be a while until we have some actual answers. Are you alright with that?” I nodded. “Whatever it takes.” “Good. I’ll go check on the lab results of the paint can and get back to you. Make yourself comfortable.” He walked out. I sighed, calling Margret, letting her know everything.
It was hours later, once school let out. I paced, waiting for them. Margret had sent a text about thirty minutes ago that they were on their way. Suddenly the door opened, it was Officer Angel. “Mr. Crawford, your family is here if you would like to see them.” I quickly left the room, seeing them in the hall. Margret hugged me before speaking. “How is it going?”
“I think it’s going pretty well but they do have to investigate the accusations.”
“Of course.” The officer cleared his throat. We all looked. He continued. “May I speak to Mason?” Mason frowned. “Am I in trouble?” The officer shook his head. “Just a few questions, please step inside.”
We watched from the two-way mirror as Mason was questioned, telling them what happened when he found her, the address, and the hospital she went to. Guess they have to pull some medical records. Margret was holding Mikey so he could see. He frowned. “Is Mason in trouble? Did he do something bad?”
Margret smiled. “No sweetie, he’s just telling the officer about Morgan’s not-so-nice boyfriend so that way they can catch him.” I saw Morgan, looking scared and small. I wrapped my arm around her. “Hey, it’ll be ok. You'll get justice.” She sighed. “I just want him to leave me alone.” I held her close as we watched them question Mason before he was let out, shaking the officer's hand. Mason then came into the room with us, the officer speaking. “Morgan?” I felt her tense, she nodded, looking at the officer and following him into the interrogation room.
Morgan
God, I was so terrified. What if the officer thinks I’m faking? What if I say the wrong thing? Will I be put in jail? I sat down and he offered me some water. “Water? You look nervous.” I swallowed. “I am.”
“You’re not in any trouble, you know that right?” I just nodded. The officer frowned. “Look, this guy isn't a good apple and we want to bring him to justice, that’s all. Now, how long have you known this Brent Mitchel?”
“About a year.”
“Was he controlling or abusive in the beginning?” My palms were sweaty; I kept rubbing them on my jeans. “A little but I thought he was just like... OCD or something. But then it got worse. He didn't want me in the science club, he didn't want me talking to my friends, I could only hang with his friends, and if I did something wrong or that he didn't like he would hurt me.”
“Your father and Mason both claim that he has sexually assaulted you.” I nodded, feeling my eyes water, remembering the horrible experiences. “Yes. Most of the time I put up a fight so he started drugging me a lot, wanted me relaxed and not able to fight.”
“Now when your brother found you, this was only about two days ago, are the bruises still present?”
“I believe so, I haven't really checked.”
“Would you mind if we had a doctor check you over?”
I nodded. “That’s fine.”
“Good. I think we’re all done here.” Once he stood up and opened the door, I almost bolted out of it. I needed air.
I ran out into the hall, trying not to hyperventilate but God it felt like everything was closing in, I was breathing fast and shallow. I nearly jumped when I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder, turning me around. He always knew how to calm me down. He held my arms, keeping me still. “Hey, sweetie, it’s ok. Just breathe with me, ok? Can you do that? In and out...”
We breathed in a few times then I started to calm, wiping at my face. I sniffled. “Sorry, I kind of lost my head.” He hugged me. “It’s ok. Let’s just go get to the doctor of theirs.”
The doctor checked me over, checking the process of the bruises that were still on me. They even did a rape kit, which wasn't a surprise but it was awful. The doctor was nice. He was young and very sweet and had so much patience. I know I wasn't helping with my anxiety. Once he was done I went to my mom who was sitting on the couch in the main office, if you call it that.
The doctor talking to my dad and going by their faces, it didn't seem likely Brent would be put away for sexual assault which is what I feared and what I knew. Brent might have been a monster but he was a smart monster. He always used a condom. Said he didn't want another me running around, he can barely tolerate the one but it’s also a way of hiding evidence of any kind. Damn smart bastard.
My dad walked over to us, the doctor following. The doctor sighed as my dad moved over to stand with us. Then the doctor spoke. “Everything looks good. No signs of pregnancy or miscarriage. Bruises are healing nicely, no broken bones or bruised muscle but there wasn't any evidence of rape. No semen sample or traces of it could be found. We talked to the hospital and got the same answer.” I swallowed my nerves, speaking up. “In the times I could remember, when I wasn't drugged. He used a condom. I think he used them a lot.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll put it in the file. I’m sorry there wasn't more I could do.” “Are we able to go home now? Can we start cleaning our house?” My dad said, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. The doctor nodded. “Just check with the Officer first.”
Finally we were able to go home. The police said they would let us know once they had Brent in custody and cleaning could start when we wanted.
Marshall
I felt like another panic attack was creeping up on me. There was so much to think of and to clean. So much to replace. Just when will we have our house back? Margret was holding Mikey’s hand, who was looking tired and miserable. Poor thing is probably hungry and missed his normal nap time after school. As we all walked out to the car, I spoke up. “Well, we have alot of cleaning ahead of us. Why don’t you kids stay at Charles and Beth’s again-”
“No Dad, I want to help.” Morgan suddenly said.
We all looked to her and she seemed nervous. “I mean it’s not fair making just you two clean. And I’m partly responsible for it and I don’t care what you say. We should all help. It’s our home.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. What she said.”
Margret smiled, now holding Mikey in her arms, asleep. “We can drop Mikey off once we go out for dinner at Charles and Beth’s place and start cleaning. Poor thing has had a long day.” I nodded, feeling a little tension leave, knowing I had the help and support of my family. “Sounds like a great idea. Let’s go find a nice sit down place.”
After dinner, we dropped Mikey off at Charles and Beth’s place across the street. He was already asleep before we got there. As we headed inside, past the police tape that was still up. Guess it’s safe to take it down now but I can call Officer Angel tomorrow to find out for sure. Morgan spoke up. “Guess this means I’m getting a new phone?” I stopped, thinking. “That would probably be for the best, that way he can’t contact you. We can do that tomorrow after school.” She nodded as I unlocked the door, going into the chaos that is now our house.
We all stopped, taking it in a moment. Then Margret spoke up quietly. “I’ll go get the cleaning supplies.” I nodded to her then saw Morgan and Mason looking around, finally getting a good look at everything. Before everything seemed to happen so fast and so emotional it was hard for everything to sink in. Morgan seemed transfixed on the spray paint on the wall and leading up the hallway stairs. Mason was looking around at the chaos on the ground.
I nearly jumped when Margret touched my shoulder. She found the cleaning supplies. Brooms, boxes of garbage bags, cleaning solutions, gloves. She sighed. “Well, let’s get to work. We should focus on the mess on the floor before we figure out what to do with the walls." I nodded. “One mess at a time.” Morgan walked over. “I can start sweeping up the glass.”
Mason raised his hand. “I’ll help. I can hold the bag open.” Sometimes I’m reminded how proud I am of my kids. They're o smart and mature. Much more well behaved then most other kids today. This only proves that more. Margret and I made sure they weren't spoiled rotten and knew the meaning of hard work and valuing and managing money and looking out for your fellow man as well as a good education. All the things I never had until I ran away.
It took about an hour to clean up the general mess of glass and couch stuffing then I heard Mason from the dining room, trying to stop Morgan from going upstairs to clean her room. I went out to look. Morgan spoke loudly. “Mason, stop. I know it’s bad up there, I’m not stupid.”
“You really don’t. It’s bad, like really bad.”
I went to them. “Mason, let your sister go. If she says she can handle it, she can handle it.” Mason let go of her arm reluctantly and Morgan went right upstairs. I nudged Mason. “Follow her but don’t smother her, she needs to overcome this herself. Only help when she needs it.” He nodded, going upstairs. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. I just wanted this entire mess to be over.
Morgan
I swallowed as I saw my bedroom door. DIE BITCH sprayed painted in neon green across it... I felt my hands shaking but I had to do this. I gently pushed it open, walking carefully inside. I gasped, inhaling as I saw the destruction. So many horrible and harsh words spray painted across my walls. My bed turned over and comforter set shredded in Brent’s rage. I saw my desk. Thankfully I keep my laptop hidden so there’s a good chance its safe.
I walked over to a broken picture frame of me and my family. Glass was all over the rug, bits falling from the frame. I sucked in my lip, trying so hard to be strong.
But it was so hard.
I jumped when I heard footsteps. I tried to calm when I saw it was only Mason, checking on me. “Hey, you doing ok?” I wanted to say yes, to lie and have him go back downstairs but a sob came out instead. He took three long strides over to me, wrapping his arms around me, letting me sob into his shoulder. I felt like I was five years old with my big brother protecting me from whatever hurt me. I might be weak right now but I’m going to get past this. I will grow stronger.
Chapter Eight
Mason
After we got our ice cream we told Jennie and Jane a slightly edited version of why we’re here. Once both had left to serve customers, Mikey had fallen asleep from his two ice cream cones. He always fell asleep when he was full. Made it easy when he was a baby.
Then my phone rang. I picked it up, seeing it was dad. “Hey...”
“Where in the world are you? We looked all over for you. Are Mikey and Morgan with you?” I sighed. “Yes dad, they’re with me. I took them to get ice cream.”
“Ice cream?”
“Yeah. The house was getting a bit tense. It was upsetting Mikey and Morgan so I thought it was best to leave you guys to your fighting while we got ice cream.” Dad sighed through the phone. “Don’t move, we’ll be there soon. Love you son.” I rolled my eyes. He was too nice sometimes. “Love you too, dad.” I hung up, putting my phone back in my pocket.
Morgan sighed. “Busted.” I nodded. “Yep. They’re coming to pick us up soon.” I gently smoothed back some hair on Mikey's head. Still asleep against the window. Morgan cleared her throat before she spoke. “So? You think he called more?” I shrugged. “Maybe. Hopefully he gave up.”
“I hope so.”
She paused, looking like she wanted to say something. “I...I want my life back Mason.” I frowned, unable to comfort her from my side of the table. “You will. It’ll take time.” I saw her eyes water over before she spoke. “I've lost my friends; I doubt the science club will take me back.”
“You can’t think like that. Things will turn out fine. You just...gotta have a little faith.”
I went up to the counter to get us some drinks to go when I saw Jane waving me over from the far wall. I went over to her, smiled. “Hey Jane.” She moved some hair away from her face. “Hi. How’s Morgan doing? I only heard a little bit.” Her voice was so soft.
We’ve known Jane since we were little but it was hard to really connect with her on account of her shyness. I always tried to talk to her, even a little when we came up. I sighed. “She got herself an asshole of a boyfriend that’s been abusing her. That’s putting it lightly.” Jane gasped lightly. Her tiny hands going to her mouth. “Oh no. What did he do to her? Is she ok?” I frowned, feeling more than a little bitter. “Roofied. Raped. Beat. He’s names Brent; he’s some sophomore in collage. Met at some science after party. He found her at the right time and took advantage.”
Jane frowned. “Is she ok?”
“Getting there. She still has a while to go before she’s ok.” She nodded. “I’m sorry, for you. It must be awful to go thorough. Are you doing ok?” I was a little surprised at the question. “Uh yeah. Fine. Just...wish I wasn't so helpless you know? Wish I could make her happy, make her laugh and enjoy life again. Wish I could have Brent’s head on a stick as a warning to others.”
She gave an amused smile. “Do you have my number?” I looked through my phone. “No. Weird. Guess I didn't get it last time.”
She smiled weakly. “I can give you my number and that way if you ever need someone to talk to you can text me.” I nodded and smiled. “Ok but why?”
She seemed to hide into herself a bit as she answered. “Just seems like you could use a friend. Everyone’s going to ask if she’s ok and if she needs a shoulder to cry on or talk. And I’m here for her to, if she wants my number but you seemed lonely.” She hit the nail on the head, making my chest ache the slightest. I was bottling my own emotions up while trying to protect my sister. “You have a point.” I told her.
I heard my name being called and looked back, seeing my parents arrived. I frowned. “Sorry to cut this short, parents are here.” She nodded. “It’s fine. I have to get back to work. Bye.” She ran off, going behind the counter to work. Morgan and Mikey were already by Mom and Dad. Jennie talking to them. My dad chuckled, speaking. “It’s so nice seeing you again. It’s a shame we can’t stay longer.”
Mikey yawned and mom saw, smiling, picking him up. I noticed they wore different clothes since their fight. I didn't think much of it other than a shower. She held him close. “Have too much ice cream?” He nodded against her shoulder. My dad looked between me and Morgan. “Everything ok?” Morgan shrugged. “As much as it’s going to be.”
I spoke next. “Dad, please don’t be mad at them. It was my fault, I snuck them out-” “Stop.” My dad said, holding his hand up. We were silent for a moment before he smiled. “It’s perfectly fine. I understand the house was a bit...tense and that wasn't good for her anxiety. But grandma is worried sick and wants us home for dinner.” Morgan spoke up with a huff. “By dinner she means heart attack on a plate.”
There was a moment before my mom started laughing along with my dad. I couldn't help the chuckle. Dad kissed her head, speaking. “That’s my girl.”
When we got back to grandma’s house she hugged us all so tightly. Apologizing for my parents. I chuckled. “It’s ok grandma, really.” I could smell dinner in the crock pot. It was her famous pot roast and it smelled amazing. We watched cartoons the rest of the day before we had to help with dinner. I helped mash the potatoes while Morgan and Mikey set up the table.
Once we all sat down we all started to fill our plates when grandma spoke up. “Hey! Did your parents raise you in a barn? We say grace in this house.” I saw grandma give my dad a look as she spread her arms for her hands to be held. We complied, holding hands while grandma lead grace. She concluded. “Amen.” She then gave dad a look. “Can’t believe you don’t say grace Marshall.” He sighed. “Mom, please we’ve all had a rough day.” Dinner was amazing and before I knew it we had to go home if we wanted to be up for school. Mom helped buckle Mikey in while we all said our goodbyes.
Marshall
After my mom hugged her goodbyes, Margret leaned into me, whispering. “Do you have her phone?” I nodded. “Yeah. I put it on silent so it wouldn't bother us.” She nodded. “Good.”
“I’ll go to the police tomorrow.” We got in, I started the car, waving goodbye to my mom as we drove away. We didn't get into town until eight and once we started pulling up to our house we saw neighbors standing around it, Charles and Beth. What the hell was going on? Margret looked just as worried. “Marshall...”
“Stay here. I’ll go check it out.” I parked, getting out of the car. Charles and Beth saw me, walking over. They were sweet and lived across the street and were regulars at church. They watched our kids semi-often. “Hello Charles, Beth, what’s going on?” Beth shook her head. “Oh it’s terrible.”
Charles started speaking. “We called the police but they couldn't do much without you here. Some punks broke in and ransacked the place, once the police were on scene they ran off. We told the police what we saw but there wasn't much more they could do until they talk to you.” My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I started walking to the door, opening it.
I wasn't sure if I saw red or if my face paled. Our TV was shattered; our sectional couch stabbed and turned over. The stuffing was all over the floor. Spray paint littered the side wall spelling out “WHORE” in bright green. I felt my temper rising but I couldn't release it, not now. I had to stay in control. I had to be strong for my family. I inspected it more, walking into the kitchen, seeing all of our plates and most of our glassware broken, piled on the floor in shatters. The windows broken.
I walked into the dining room to the table flipped, and two more windows broken.
I turned, going back in the living room, going upstairs, catching a glimpse of Charles and Beth talking to Margret outside. On the wall going up the stairs was “SLUT” sprayed painted on the wall. I walked further into the hall. The hall seemed untouched along with our master bedroom. I saw Morgan’s door. “DIE BITCH” spray painted across it.
I swallowed down my rage and looked inside. Spray paint covered the walls, pictures. Every threat and name he could think of. Her sheets were utterly destroyed. Her pictures and awards were ripped and sprayed and shattered. I walked out, breathing even and controlled. I couldn't lose my temper now. I looked in Mason’s room, his bed was turned over and draws were open. Mikey's room was just as bad. His bed overturned, toys stabbed and thrown, a lamp broken. How can I explain this to little Mikey? He’s five years old for god’s sake! I wanted to be sick.
I suddenly thought of my kill room. The sub-basement. I nearly ran down the stairs. Turning sharply into the kitchen and into the basement. I looked at it closely. Everything on the secret door seemed fine. Nothing was out of place-wait...the corner of the rug was flipped. It wasn't like that when I left. My breathing got faster and heavier. I leaned against the cement support beam, trying not to have an anxiety attack. He knows. He has to.
He was down there. At least it looks like it. For all I know one of his friends may have just tripped over the rug. I breathed out a few times, getting my composure. Charles voice startled me. “Everything ok? Saw you running like the dickens down there.” I swallowed a growing lump of anxiety before speaking. “Y-yeah. Everything s ok. Just suddenly thought of something. That’s all. Everything’s good down here.” At least I hoped it was.
I made my way up the stairs, Meeting Charles and Beth's worried looks. I gave them a reassuring smile. Even if it was forced. “Everything’s fine down there. Really. Just a bit of anxiety.” Beth nodded, frowning. “I understand. This would make anyone anxious. If you like the kids can stay over our place until everything is-”
“Dad. What happened?”
I turned, seeing Mason in the entrance way of the kitchen. The rest were in the living room, looking around in defeat and horror. Margret was holding Mikey, trying to protect him best she could with her free arm around Morgan who was inconsolable, crying into her mother’s shirt.
I frowned, looking at Charles and Beth. “That would be lovely. Thank you. We were away at my mom’s house for a family emergency.”
Charles shook his head. “Shame. I wonder about the poor bastard that would do this to you. You're good folk. I can’t think of anyone that would want to cause you harm.”
I Could.
I nodded in agreement with them before speaking. “Why don’t you go set the rooms up? I’ll send them over when they get their things together.” Charles put his arm around his wife and she spoke with a sad smile.“Sounds grand. I’ll make sure to make a pot of hot cocoa. Com’on Charles.” They walked out of the house, giving my wife their sympathy for what’s happened before walking out the door.
I gently pulled Mason aside who already looked serious and ready to help. He frowned, speaking. “It was Brent, wasn't it?” I sighed. “Yeah. They unfortunately didn't catch him in the act. He ran off as soon as the police were on the street. Now, Charles and Beth are going to take you three in for the night or until this house looks...well like a house again. So gather some things of yours and theirs for the night. I don’t want Morgan to see any more than she has. Or Mikey for that matter.”
He nodded. “Got it.” Mason went through the living room and up the stairs. I went to Margret who was still in the same spot. Still in the same shock and horror. I gently pulled Morgan from her. She looked in the middle of a panic attack. Crying so hard and breathing so fast. I held her shoulders. “Sweetie. Please calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick.” She kept hyperventilating, staring at the wall. Not wanting to look me in the eye. “No...This is all my fault.” I gently stroked her hair.
She always found it comforting. “No. No it isn't. It’s Brent’s fault. He’s the reason you’re hurting and can’t live your life. He’s the one ruining your life. Not you. None of this is your fault.” She seemed to be calming, sniffling. “I’m sorry Dad. Mom.”
She looked back at Margret, looking between us. “I should have come to you when this started...I was just... Really scared.” She wiped her tears away with her hoodie sleeve.
I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her head. “Shh sweetheart, shh. It’s ok. We love you no matter what happens. You know you can talk to us about anything.” She sniffled, looking at the ground. “I didn't want you to be disappointed in me.” I got to her level, lifting her head to look me in the eye. “We could never be disappointed in you. Ok?” She nodded, sniffling.
“Now, Mason is getting stuff for you and Mikey and himself. You three will be staying with Charles and Beth for tonight.” She nodded. “Ok.”
Mikey sniffled, wiping away tears. “Why was someone so mean to us?” Margret shushed him, wiping his tears away. “Some people just are sweetheart. But you like Charles and Beth; you’re going to have a big sleepover at their house.”
“Can I bring Mr. Piggy?”
I tensed. Mr. Piggy was upstairs in tatters. How am I supposed to break this to him? I spoke up. “Of course. I’ll go get him.” Maybe I could find a toy that wasn't destroyed. I went upstairs to Mikey’s room. All were destroyed. I looked to his books, grabbing a few favorites, hoping these would be a good substitute.
Well, he didn't handle it well but he wasn't as bad as I thought. He cried into his mother’s shoulder for a few moments before accepting the books. Holding them close to his chest. Mason came back down with the three bags for their overnight stay.
We walked them across the street, thanking Charles and Beth again for their hospitality.
Once the door closed and we walked halfway across the street, Margret broke. Her strong facade crumpled into tears. I wrapped my arms around her while we walked across the street. Once we got to our yard I stopped, holding her close. She cried so hard against my shoulder. hiccupping a few times. I felt my own eyes water, kissing her head.
I hated that Morgan had to go through this and see what she did. Not to mention our entire house needed so much work. I hadn't even inspected the outside. “Let’s go, Margret. Our room is untouched so we can go right to sleep.”
She shook her head, sniffling. “No. I need to clean up. At least a little. I mean...” Her lip trembled. “This is our home Marshall.” I rubbed her back, trying in vain to comfort her. She continued, her voice catching every now and then. “I mean, we worked so hard for it, to get here. To make a life for ourselves. To have it just destroyed like that.” “It’s not.” She looked at me.
Her eyes broke my heart. I haven't seen her so lost since we were just starting out—just a couple of kids. I took in a breath. “It’s just a little broken. But we can fix it.” She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. Let’s go inside. We can call the police back in the morning. I suppose I can’t clean. They need it...” I nodded in agreement.
I thought she was done speaking but once we got through the front door is when she spoke. “I think I’ll call my mom. They should know.” I tensed. She always does this when there’s a family crisis. And every time she gets the same response. But I knew there was no stopping her. Even when we fought about it in our early years. I nodded, going along with her. “Of course.” It was best to play along, almost like a form of therapy.
She used the landline that was in the kitchen, being careful of the glass.
I stood in the living room, leaning against the wall to hear but to give her privacy. I heard her dial the phone. The phone was loud enough that I could hear the phone on the other side ringing.
They picked up. “Hello?” Margret spoke, sounding so small. Like she had gone from a successful thirty-something-year-old woman to a scared ten-year-old in an instant.
“Mom? It’s me.” The line was silent. Margret spoke again. “I called because... well... Morgan is in a really bad situation. Because of it, our house got broken into. They broke so much.”
“Why are you calling me?” Margret sniffled.
“Because...because I...”
“You what? Decided to waste our time? Whatever that little whore got herself into is her own damn fault. What she brought upon you is deserved.”
“Mom, please. I need you.”
“You decided you didn't need us when you married that filth.” Margret was crying now, into the phone.
Her mother continued. “You’re a weak, little, sniveling girl that not even your own parents love.” Her mother continued to spew insults at her.
I couldn't take it. I walked in, took the phone from her hand and hung it up. Margret barely noticed as she cried into her hands. I held her close, kissing her head. Sometimes it was better for her to shatter her own dreams than to attempt to convince her they’re already broken.
I don’t know if it was luck that our room was nearly untouched. Just some clothes were thrown and a broken lamp. We changed into comfy pajamas. Doing our nightly routine of brushing our teeth and getting into bed. I could feel how tense she still was as I held her close. I held her as we laid down, her head resting just under my chin so I could smell her hair. A few tears fell from her eyes but she was quiet about it.
I could feel the tears hit my chest. I gently shushed her, petting her hair. “Shh. It’ll be ok.” She sniffled. “I know. I just hate this. I can only imagine how Morgan is feeling.” “And we’ll help her but right now worrying isn't going to do any good. Sleep and in the morning we’ll call the police. Ok?”
She nodded. “Ok.” I thought she was going to fall asleep before she spoke up, nearly making me jump. “I love you.” I smiled sadly, kissing her head. “I love you too, my earth angel.” She smiled at the old nickname I gave her when we were teens. “Shut up.” I chuckled, holding her closer.
I didn't sleep that night. Couldn't sleep. While Margret slept peacefully I gently pulled out of her embrace and walked down to the basement, being mindful of all the broken glass on the kitchen floor. I opened the basement door, walking down and turning on the light at the bottom of the stairs. I swallowed my nerves as I went to the rug that covered the kill room. I moved the rug out of the way, turning the lock that was on the steel door, opening it, and going down the stairs slowly.
I looked at the whole thing. A large steel table was in the middle of the room, lights above it. The desks held my knives and saws needed to cut through a person with ease. I looked through each steel drawer and each metal cabinet. Nothing was out of place. Each knife and instrument was exactly as it was. I looked in the small walk-in freezer. I noticed the weekend meat was low but nothing was out of place or added. I walked out with a sigh of relief and headed back up to the room to fall asleep.
Chapter Seven
Morgan
Trigger warning: abuse and death of an animal
This was all too much. I don’t even want to think of what my parents think of me. I didn't mean for this relationship with Brent to even happen but I couldn't escape him and it got harder and harder to hide the bruises. The more I tried to escape, the more he hurt me and it started to feel like fighting an uphill battle. I gave into his demands and did what he wanted.
I hated myself for it. He didn't want me in the science club anymore because he didn't want to run the risk of me competing against him (because he knows he’d lose) so I did. But in doing so I lost my friends. They were all in the science club and I withdrew myself away from them or drove them away. He said they were a bad influence on me, giving me thoughts I shouldn't have. And before I knew it, they were gone. His friends replacing them.
Mason spoke up, startling me. “So who is this Brent guy? How exactly did you meet him?” I sighed, walking along the street with him. Mikey on his shoulders, enjoying the scenery. He wasn't paying attention to us. “There was this science competition; if you’re advanced enough you’re allowed to compete against colleges. It was kind of a big deal.” Mason nodded. “Yeah, I remember that.” He chuckled before continuing. “Dad even made one of those obnoxious glittery signs that had some lame science joke on it.”
I gave him a look. “It wasn't lame, it was clever but anyway. There was an after party at a frat house and everyone was going, I couldn't be the only one not going. Well I was going to tell this one guy in the club, Jake, that I’ve really liked him for a long time but Kristen went to him, telling him how she felt even though she knew how I felt for months-”
“Can we fast forward the girl talk?”
I gave him a look “It’s important. Anyway I was going to tell him how I've felt but Kristen got to him, throwing herself on him and bottom line is that it was embarrassing and horrible and she stole him and I ran out crying and I guess Brent saw and he tried to cheer me up but I kind of just wanted to be alone. He gave me a drink but there was something in it.”
Mason frowned. “A Roofie.” I nodded. “Yeah. You can kind of guess what happened from there and here we are.”
“What college does he go to? He has to be close by if you can keep seeing him.”
“Yeah. Connecticut College. Majoring in Physics and minoring...everything else that’s science related there. But he also has friends in our area that can come pick me up when he tells them to.”
Carvel Ice cream and Bakery.
It’s been open since 1934 and there’s many all around the U.S. The only one I know is the one my grandma would always take us to when we were little and things were simpler and not so horrible but then as high school started we visited a little less with each passing year. Mason too busy with football, I had science club not to mention mom and dad had to work.
Luckily grandma is able to come down to our place for Christmas or any other family event we have if we can’t make it. Even more so now since grandpa passed away two years ago from complications of pneumonia. He was the total opposite of her. Soft spoken, always feeding animals in the backyard and to this day they still wonder in for food. Grandma can’t bring herself not to feed them, continuing his will. Keeping his affectionate spirit alive.
Maybe that’s why dad is such a softie. Before I knew it we were at the ice cream shop. It was a small thing, run with only a few people. Right now it was the owner and her granddaughter, Jane. Jane was small, short, had gorgeous brown hair that went down to her waist. It was always loosely held back, some hair always covering her face. She was so shy but we got along. She was a big book nerd and so much smarter than me. She just hides it.
The owner of this spot was Jennie Smith but because of her apple perfumes she wears all the time we always called her Granny Smith. She was in her 80’s with a large, curly gray fro with too much make up and everything about her was round but she was so sweet but she could be strict to her employees. She was a no-nonsense type. Mason gently placed Mikey on the ground, holding his hand.
We walked up to the counter. Jennie saw us, gasping. We sort of grew up with her when we would come up here with grandma. “Is that the Crawford kids? Come here and give granny Smith a hug!” She waddled around the counter to give Mason a tight hug then Mikey was next then she worked to me. “Oh I haven’t seen you kids in so long. What brings you here? Where’s the rest of the family?” I sighed. “At home. We kind of snuck out.”
Mason continued. “We had a family emergency to come up here, then they all started fighting so we snuck out. It was upsetting us.” She frowned, shaking her head. “Well hopefully they’ll get their heads on straight and make up. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the emergency you had to come up here for?” Mason looked at me for an answer. I shrugged. “We can talk when we get our ice cream. It’s kind of a long story. And private.”
She nodded. “Of course sweetie. What do you guys want?”
Mason looked at Mikey. “Bud, what do you want?” Mikey brightened up at Granny Smith. “Chocolate ice cream cone! With sprinkles!” She smiled, writing it down. “And you two? What will it be?” Mason shrugged. “An ice cream cone is fine for me. Surprise me.” Finally, my turn. “A milkshake. Oreo. Please.” She nodded. “You kids take a seat and we will be over with your orders.”
We took a window seat. I couldn't help but stare out at the people walking by, cars passing. A sudden thought occurred to me. Anxiety prickling again at the back of my mind. “What if people from church find out what happened?” Mason sighed, handing over the crayons for Mikey to color the paper mat with. He looked over. “They are not going to know.”
“How do you know that? You know how they are.” I leaned over the table, closer to him, whispering. “What if they find out I’m not a virgin? You know how some of them are. We could be banned-”
“Were not going to be banned.”
“But-” Mason nearly glared. “No buts. They are not going to know and if they do somehow find out and have a problem with it then they gotta go through me, got it?” I felt my eyes watering over quickly.
I wiped a few tears away. “Do you think mom and dad are disappointed in me?” Mason gave me a look. “I don’t think dad has the ability to be disappointed or angry at us. Mom...I think she just feels helpless. We all kind of do at this point.” I hid in my hoodie, leaning down into the booth. “I just feel like everyone I know is judging me or is disappointed in me in some way.” Mason frowned. “Wish there was something I could do to help.” I wiped a few more tears away. “We’re here. Getting ice cream. That’s a pretty good start.” I gave a weak smile.
A few silent and awkward minutes later our ice cream came. I felt horrible at this distance between me and the rest of the family. It’s like I’ve been separated by a canyon with my family on the other side. They have the tools to get to me but with no way of knowing how use them.
Marshall
I threw open the backyard door, nearly knocking the cheap screen door off its hinges. God the things I wanted to do to her if I hadn't walked away. I wanted to shake her until her head lolled off her shoulders. I wanted to slap her until her face was black and blue. I wanted to hurt her, bad. I had to get away. I punched the cement wall with a grunt, mumbling to myself as I continued to punch the rough wall. “Fucking bitch... thinks she knows everything...” My knuckles were quickly becoming a bloody mess, leaving a smear of red on the gray wall. “Who fucking provides for this family”...another punch. My temper flaring into something manic. I knew I was going into an episode and I couldn't stop myself.
I continued punching the wall, grunting and growling. “That’s right...bitch will learn her place...” My hand slipped on the next punch, making the side of my hand scrape against the wall. I nearly fell. Growling I kicked a metal bucket before picking it up and throwing it on the ground. Followed by a shovel and other miscellaneous gardening supplies. I didn't care about the mess I was making. During this I tripped and fell into the grass, catching myself with my hands, gripping it tightly, watching my knuckles bleed. I glared at the grass. “What fucking good am I huh? Can’t protect your family Marshall, what good are ya?” I got the knife that I always carried on me and started stabbing it into the dirt with each word. “What fucking good are you?! Piece of shit!”
I was crazed and I couldn't stop. Muttering to myself. “Nothing boy! You’re nothing! You’re just a whore, like your mom...” I heard movement to the side of me, stopping dead, seeing a rabbit on my left, eating away at some grass. Then it started talking to me. It sounded like Brent. “You know the things I did to your daughter? She let me do whatever I wanted. I fucked her so hard-” I brought my hands to my ears, knife still in hand. “Shut up. Shut up. You’re not real.” I tried in vain to keep his voice out but he kept talking and talking.
“Oh I’m real and there’s nothing you can do. Not that you did anything before. You let your daughter get raped. Drugged. Beat. You’re a coward. Always have been. Your wife knows it. Your children know-”
“Shut up! I said shut the fuck up!”
“And you can only keep your dirty secret for so long. How long until they find out you’re a monster?”
I quickly reached out, grabbing the rabbit, wanting it to be silent. It needs to be silent. It can’t go talking to them. I stabbed it. I kept stabbing it until blood was pouring over my hands. It can’t go talking. They can’t know. They can’t ever know. I barely heard myself muttering. “They can’t...they can’t, they can’t.” I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I already knew who it was.
It was calm and brought me back, if only for a moment. I swallowed, staring down at the bloody mess of a rabbit in my hands. “He...He wouldn't stop talking Margret. He wouldn't stop talking...I told him...I told him to shut up. I told him to be quiet...He...He wouldn't listen.” She kneeled down, frowning softly. She took the knife from my hand gently, folding it up then putting both her perfectly clean, porcelain hands over the top of my bloody red ones, softly getting me to let go of the rabbit.
Then she wrapped her arms around me, kissing my head, gently shushing me. I inhaled her scent. It brought me back. Made me realize what I’ve done. I cried. I couldn't help it. I cried into her shoulder like a child. Too scared to wrap my arms around her, not wanting to taint her more than she had been. She kissed my head, rocking me. “Shh baby, I got you...it’s ok. I got you.” Once I came back to myself fully I looked down and saw what I’ve done.
My lip trembled. “Oh God...Margret...what have I done...oh god.” The poor rabbit was nothing but blood and skin; barely any fur could be seen through the red. She forced my head to look at her. Her green eyes were full of acceptance. “Hey, don’t focus on that ok? Let’s focus on getting you inside and getting cleaned up.” She stood up, helping me up as well. Hiding the rabbit was easy enough. It was enough to say a hawk got a hold of it.
She helped me through the back door and luckily my mom wasn't in our way (most likely out front for a smoke) so we made our way upstairs to the bathroom. She sat me down on the toilet while she started the shower. While she was testing the temp I got up to look in the mirror. I had to see the monster that hid beneath a suit and tie. I had to bite my lip to stifle my shock. I was expecting pale skin from horror, hair askew, and blood everywhere. No. What I saw was normal skin; it hadn't lost any color except for a bit of sweat from the heat. My brown hair messed up the slightest. The only thing keeping it looking like I went for a quick run was the blood that was on my hands and splattered on my shirt and a bit on my face.
I didn't look like a monster. Why didn't I look like a monster? When I kill it’s in the privacy of my kill room with a hazmat suit of leather and lights with precision and anticipation of the finished product. This was manic. Psychotic. The heat of the moment lost within a hallucination. I know now that the rabbit wasn't talking, he was just eating grass but him speaking was so real and raw. I didn't realize I was shaking until I felt hands come over my shoulders, gently rubbing tension out of my body before unbuttoning my shirt.
I leaned against her gently as she took my shirt off carefully, rolling it up into a ball and into a towel. She came back, running her hands up and down my chest, kissing my back. I was melting into her. All thoughts of fear and murder slowly leaving, at least for the moment. She started to unbuckle my belt, moving to the zipper. When she leaned up to kiss my neck was when I realized she was naked. Her bare breasts touched my back with her movements. I swallowed down my nerves and fear. My hands still had blood covering them. I wanted to hold her so bad but I didn't want to taint her.
She must have sensed my turmoil, kissing my shoulder and neck. “Shh, I got you.” She said so softly. My pants hit the ground, she gently led me into the shower. Once under the warm spray, I grabbed the bottle of flowery-smelling body wash, starting with my hands I lathered the soap up quickly. She got the bottle, washing the rest of me.
Once my hands were cleaned I turned to her, tangling my hands in her blonde hair. It stuck to her face, parts of her hair wet and sticking and beautiful. She looked into my eyes for a moment before kissing me. I held her closer, deepening the kiss. Our tongues in a battle of dominance.
She broke away, getting the bar soap, and using it to clean my chest, and shoulders, gently massaging, and working her way down to my aching cock. She put the bar soap down, starting to stroke me, steady and sure. I reached out, holding her closer, kissing her neck. She moaned softly, stroking me faster. She spoke softly. “You’re so good baby....so good. I love you. I love you so much.” I closed my eyes, melting against her with the praise, my forehead resting on hers as I gasped and whimpered with her hand.
I never wanted to leave this shower. Everything was beautiful here and felt so good and safe. Nothing can hurt me here. All too quickly it ended. I gasped, feeling my climax on the edge. “Margret...”
“Shh, I got you...Let yourself go.” And I did. Nearly collapsing against her as she worked my release out of me. She melted against me, holding me close. I was surrounded by her. I held her close, hiding my face in her neck.
Soon we had to leave the shower, turning it off, and finding clothes from the dresser we had here. She came back with some clean clothes, dressed, and made ourselves presentable. Before we left the bathroom she stood in front of the door, frowning softly. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I hate fighting but stupid me doesn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.” I let out a breath, reaching out and holding her hands. “I’m sorry too. I didn't mean to speak so...rudely to you.” She smiled, looking up at me; worry clear in her green eyes.“You ok now? You haven’t had an episode like that for a while.”
A while was a few years ago When Mason nearly died from pneumonia. I nodded. “A little shaken up but nothing some comfort food can’t fix. Let’s go see the kids and apologize for our horrible behavior.” She nodded before opening the door and leading the way.
Margret snuck the blood-stained clothes to our car while I walked around the house, looking for my mother. I found her in the living room, sipping coffee and watching Jerry Springer. She saw me at the entrance way then got up, looking worried. “Marshall, you alright?” She held my hands, she spoke softer. “Did you have...you know? A panic attack?” I smiled sadly, just a bit amused. My mom never really got the hang of dealing with my anxiety and PTSD but she tries. “Yes, mom. I did but I’m ok now. Just...everything was a little too much. I needed some sir.”
She nodded. “Oh. Good. Good then. I think you should check on Morgan now. It’s been very quiet up there. Mikey and Mason went to check on her an hour ago.” I nodded. “I’ll go check.”
I started to walk back up the stairs, going to the bedrooms, looking and calling out their names. “Morgan? You here? Mason? Mikey?” I frowned, looking through the bedrooms. They weren't anywhere. I went back downstairs to my mom and Margret. I frowned, speaking. “They're not up there.” Margret sighed. “They probably snuck out while we were distracted.” I agreed. “Sounds like something they would do. Mason is with them so at least we know they’re protected but where in the world are they?” I got my phone out, calling Mason.
Chapter Six
Marshall
Lunch was done with and boy was I a nervous wreck. I think Margret could tell. My hands were shaking while being hidden underneath the table. My mom stood up. “Morgan, why don’t you help me clean up? It’s been forever since we had some girl time.” My mom looked over my way. I knew that was her signal. I cleared my throat. “I can take the boys, we can watch TV. Com’on boys.” Morgan looked a little scared but seemed happy to have time with grandma. She started helping to clean up the table.
The boys went into the living room, I followed along with Margret. We sat down for a minute before I made up some kind of excuse to get up, signaling Margret to follow. I got up; she followed me, standing behind the kitchen wall to listen in. Margret let out a small sigh. Whispering. “I don’t like this. Spying, on our daughter?”
“I know but she won’t talk outright to us, pushing her to talk will only drive her away.”
She looked down. “I guess. When are we supposed to...walk in?”
“After she confesses.” I heard my mom talking over the sound of running water.
“So how’s school? Your father says you’re not in science club anymore.”
“No. Not for a while.”
“Why is that? You love science.”
There was a pause between them before Morgan spoke again. The water stopped running. “Just...didn't want to.”
“Is it maybe friends don’t think it’s cool? A boy?”
There was another pause before Morgan spoke again, sounding nervous. “A boy.”
“Oh? What’s his name?”
“Brent. He’s a little older.”
“How much older?” I wanted so badly to look in, to see if she looked terrified or nervous.
I could only go by her voice. “Please don’t tell mom or dad?”
“As long as he’s good to you. Now tell me.”
Morgan let out a breath. “He’s a sophomore in college. We met last year after an all-school science competition. Both high school and college competed. There was an after party and my friends were invited and everyone was going. I was upset at the party cause one of my friends went after someone they knew I liked. Brent came and tried to cheer me up. He gave me a drink-” I tensed hearing Morgan cut herself off.
Margret held my hand a little tighter. My mother spoke, softly. “What kind of drink sweetie?”
I could practically feel the fear coming off of my daughter in waves. She continued, sounding so small and scared. “Please don’t be mad?”
“Baby, of course not. I want to make sure everything is ok in your life.”
“It’s really not.”
I heard a chair move. My mother speaking. “Let’s sit down, ok?” There was a pause before Morgan spoke, her voice wobbling.
“I was upset and he tried to cheer me up but it wasn't working. I kind of just wanted to be alone but he got me a drink but...but I think something was in it because everything after that was really fuzzy and I could barely move...” Her voice got thicker, cracking as she spoke low. “Grandma...he took my virginity...I couldn't do anything.”
Morgan was crying now and it was so hard to stay hidden. Margret held my hand in a vice grip, wanting to go in just as badly. My mother continued. “Shh it’s alright sweetie. Are you still seeing him?”
“Yes. I don’t know what to do. Somehow no matter what I do I’m always in the way and I always make him mad. If I don’t do something he wants he hurts me. I’ve tried to break things off but it just makes him worse.”
I signaled to Margret to move in, slowly, faking shock. I started. “Morgan, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” My mother was hugging Morgan close. And Morgan saw us, gasping, and sitting up from my mother’s hold. “Oh God. Mom...dad...” She wiped some tears away.
Margret frowned, going over to the two. “What’s going on?” My mother sighed. “She’s dating someone not so nice.” Morgan looked up at us. “Please don’t be mad, I’m sorry.” I frowned, moving closer to her. “You have nothing to be sorry for-” Before she could hear my words she stood up, breathing fast and tears never stopping. “God, I’m such a failure!”
She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs and into one of the rooms. I only knew by the slam of a door.
Margret spoke first. “I told you this was a bad idea. Ambushing someone in this delicate of a situation is never a good idea.” I gave her a look. “And talking to her has worked out so well thus far.”
“She was starting to make small talk.”
“And small talk goes nowhere. It’s a way around her problems.” Margret glared at me. “Oh you’re one to talk around problems. If you weren't such a coward to confront your own children then she would be getting help right now, not having a panic attack because she thinks she’s a failure.”
I saw my mother move, glaring at Margret. “Marge, I understand you two are in a disagreement but I will not tolerate you calling my son names in this house.” Margret sighed. I ignored the stab of pain her comment made, reminding myself bigger things were going on more than my guilt. Margret spoke to my mother. “I’m sorry Rose but right now this is between me and my husband...”
My mother glared. “Then keep your voice down, there are children in the house.” She walked out of the room, going into the living room and turned the volume of their cartoons up to mask the argument.
I swallowed down my temper. I had to if I didn't want to hurt Margret. I spoke, trying to stay quiet. “I don’t want to confront them because I don’t want to scare them. I want them to know they can come to me with anything.”
“So you make me the bad guy?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“It sure sounds like it from over here.” I looked around the room, feeling my anger bubbling up, trying to keep it from exploding. “Why are you attacking me like this? We finally know what’s going on; she would have never told us half of what happened had we not ambushed her. We would have been pushing her away from us.” Margret shook her head, her hand pinching the bridge of her nose. “Because you saw what happened. She knows we heard and we ambushed her at her weakest moment and triggered a panic attack and right now she’s upstairs crying her eyes out thinking she’s a failure.”
I wanted to shake her. I wanted to slap her, punch her. Whatever I could, to get it through her head that a normal talking to Mom or Dad wasn't going to work for her. She’s’ too stubborn and proud for that to work. I balled my fists, walking out of the room, wanting to end this fight but I should have known better. Margret continued. “That’s it, run away like you do all your other problems.” I tensed, turning to her, glaring. She knows she hit a nerve. She mocked shock. “Oh, I’m sorry? Did I hit a nerve?”
I sometimes forget where Morgan got that fire and stubbornness. I turned, growling, facing her. “Fuck you.” She responded with just as much venom. “I would but you can’t even do that right.” I had to keep myself from reaching out and grabbing her. Instead I just got face to face, nearly breathing each other’s air, speaking low. “Oh I can fuck you right. Want me to show you right here?” She glared, not at all scared that I could kill her easily if I had an episode. “I would but you’re too much of pussy for that. I’m sorry, I prefer cock.” I felt my temper reach its peak. I had to get away. I stomped past her, not wanting to upset the kids if they saw how pissed off I was.
Mason
I could hear my parents arguing in the kitchen, trying to keep their voices down. But it was harsh and I knew Mikey could sense it, even with grandma turning up the cartoons and trying to make idle talk. My grandma sighed. “Your parents, God bless them but they couldn't be more different,” I spoke up. “The ambush didn't go well?”
“Yes and no. I got your sister to talk and vent everything this horrible Brent has done to her but when they came in I think it might have triggered a panic attack because she didn't want them to know.”
Mikey walked over from his spot in front of the TV, frowning. “Is this because Morgan has a bad boyfriend?” My grandma smiled sadly. “Yes sweetie, it is. We’re trying to help her.” Mikey frowned. “But she ran upstairs crying. How is that helping?” I stood up. “Well Mikey why don’t you and I go try and cheer her up? Com’on.” He started following me up the stairs.
I wanted him out of there before he started asking too many questions.
We got up the creaky stairs. I heard heavy breathing and crying from the bathroom. It worried me. I knocked on the door. “Hey, it’s just me and Mikey. Can we come in?” It was a few moments. I thought she wasn't going to let us in but soon the door knob turned. I gently pushed it, looking in first before Mikey could. I opened it more once I saw it was safe.
My sister was sitting by the bathtub, knees up to her chin with tears steadily going down her face. Mikey was the first to go over to her. “Mason said that grandma and mom and dad were just trying to help you.” She sniffled. “I know.”
“Then why are you so sad?” She let out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around Mikey, and bringing him into her lap. “I’m not sad because they’re trying to help, Mikey, it’s...” Her lip trembled. “It’s because they know I’m a weak, pathetic, failure. They never should have had me.”
Mikey frowned, speaking to her. “You’re not weak. You saved me from the bully down the street and when my bike broke you fixed it. You’re really smart and strong.” I smiled. “Yeah Morgan. You shouldn't think about yourself like that.” She gave me a look. “Why are you guys really here? Mom and Dad send you?”
Mikey shook his head. “No. They’re fighting.” Morgan looked away. “Because of me.” I moved closer to her, sitting next to her. “No. Not because of you. Because they’re idiots. I say we let them fight and have it out while we go out and get some ice cream. Remember that place down the street Grandma always took us to when we came up?” She nodded, I smiled. “Get your shoes. We’re getting out of here.”
Mikey smiled. “Ice cream!” I shushed him, putting a finger to my mouth to signal to be quiet. He yell-whispered. “Ice cream!” Morgan laughed weakly, wiping her tears away. She spoke. “Are we sneaking out? Won’t they be mad when they find out?” I shrugged. “They’re off in their own world fighting. I doubt they'll notice.”
I went down the stairs first, seeing if the coast was clear. I didn't see Grandma in the living room and heard talking in the kitchen from my mom and grandma but not dad. He must be out back getting some air. I signaled them to follow, getting my jacket which had my wallet in it with an emergency credit card my dad set up for when I started driving. No one would hire me with football, not with my hectic practice schedule.
I signaled them to wait while I went to the kitchen; I needed to know where Mom and Dad were before we did this. I went into the kitchen. I sighed before making my way around the corner, catching the tail end of grandma’s conversation with my mom.”-Boy was sometimes too nice for his own good. Oh, Mason.”
I smiled weakly, going over to the cabinet, and grabbing a glass. I saw my mom, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. I felt bad. It looked like a nasty fight. They fought so rarely. I started filling my cup with water. “So ambush didn't go well?” My mom sniffled. “Yes and no. We found out everything, I just hate the way we did. She ran away crying.” I sipped my water, nodding at the conversation. “I understand but she is stubborn.” My mom almost glared at me. “You’re taking his side?” I bit my lip before making my way out, slowly. “No. No sides, just stating facts. Where is Dad exactly?” She huffed. “Out back probably stabbing the grass.” I nodded before leaving the kitchen and taking a breather.
I saw Mikey nearly bouncing with excitement with Morgan trying to keep him quiet. I put the glass of water down on a corner table before signaling to follow me out the front door.
Finally, freedom from all the chaos in the house. And time for ice cream.
Chapter Five
Marshall Crawford
“Grandma’s house! Grandma’s house! We’re going to grandma’s house!” Mikey sang from the back seat, excited to see his grandmother. She lived about two hours away from us. Mason grumbled, arms crossed, his head leaning against the window. It was 7AM and I wanted us there the entire day, a getaway of sorts.
A needed one. If one person could ground me and Morgan, it was my mom. Well, my adoptive mom. Margret chuckled weakly from the passenger seat of our Land Rover. “We’ll stop for coffee, we promise Mason.” Morgan was staring out the window, looking a mixture of terrified and lost. She doesn't have her cell phone; Mason explained to her why she doesn’t have it so she knows what’s going on but not everything.
It was in my pocket, still vibrating every so often.
I called my mom around 6AM and told her what was going on with Morgan, and why we were making an emergency trip to which I got a lecture on visiting more often, not just because of family emergencies that went for a good fifteen minutes. I started the car and drove out of the garage, heading to the highway, waving to fellow churchgoers as we passed them.
Margret spoke up. “Kids, make sure to wave to our neighbors.” Mason gave a half wave and I thought Mikey's hand was going to fly off his wrist. And Morgan looked like she wanted the seat to swallow her up.
After we stopped for gas, snacks, and coffee, Mason much happier now that he had his caffeine, we drove. And didn't stop until we hit traffic lights in New Jersey. We were a half hour away now. Mikey was asleep, having tired himself out. Morgan looked like she was getting some sleep too. No doubt bored with the trip without her phone. Mason was still wide awake after his large coffee. I finally turned onto Carlton Street, NJ. My mom’s house is not that far now. I drove more and saw her cream-colored, odd-looking house.
It had cement stairs, bay windows, and potholes everywhere in the driveway, all lined with a chin-linked fence that had to be older than me. And there was mom, outside on her chair, cat in her lap and cigarette in her hand, coffee on the table next to her while she read a gossip magazine with her free hand. I sighed; feeling more relaxed now that I was at Mom’s house. I honked my horn gently to get her attention.
She hadn't done her hair yet. It was everywhere. Thick, curly, and attempted to be kept back with a do-rag around her head while wearing pajamas I remembered her wearing when I was sixteen wrapped in an aged bathrobe with polka dots and bunny slippers.
I went over a pothole, unable to avoid them all. Mikey grumbled and Morgan woke up.
I parked the car as Mom stood up, letting the cat inside before walking down to us. The limp was new, it worried me but I put it in the back of my mind and even if I wanted to address that I didn't have time to visit randomly she started yelling. “There’s my grandbabies! Come give grandma a hug!” Mikey was first out, running to her. “Grandma!” She hugged him close, kissing his head and ruffling his hair.
“I think there’s a certain kitty that has been missing you like crazy, get in there!” He laughed, running up the cement stairs. “Son, don’t run!” I yelled but it went unheard as he ran inside. My mom shrugged with a smile. “He’s gotta learn somehow bublah now give your mother that-you-haven’t-seen-in-three months a hug.”
I rolled my eyes, walking over to her, hugging her tightly, and inhaling the familiar scent of roses. She held my face and kissed both cheeks, making me feel like I was ten. But this time I towered over her 5’3 frame with my own of 6’6. She pulled back then looked at my face, inspecting it before licking her thumb, going to town, rubbing something off my face.
I struggled away but she was relentless. She spoke. “You have something on your face; do you want it there all day?” I heard Margret laughing behind me. I managed to grab my mom’s hand. “Mom! Mom, stop!” She then laughed kindheartedly. “Get inside will ya? I’d like to drink my coffee while it’s hot.” I rolled my eyes, walking up the stairs.
Mikey and Mason were both watching Saturday morning cartoons with bowls of cereal in hand, sitting on the faded floral carpet that took over most of the house.
The exception is the kitchen and bathrooms. Morgan was there too, curled on the couch corner. Going between watching the TV and watching out the window. Most of the rooms were pretty squared off, nothing really different. But she still has the couch that she’s had for over 20 years; pretty sure most of the cushioning is gone. Her cat was in Morgan’s lap. Cats always made me nervous. Always gave me a look like they could see what I really was.
Not even my mom knows about my diet and my children will never know. When I was adopted she knew I came from an abusive, crazy home and knew almost nothing of the outside world. She doesn’t know exactly what kind of crazy they were or that I still practice it on weekends. I don’t think I could take her knowing.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me nearly jump. I turned; Margret was there, her hand a gentle anchor in my storm. “Sweetie? Are you alright? You looked like you were gone.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I zoned out for a moment.” She smiled softly before sighing. “Why don’t you go talk to your mother about this while the kids are busy? Get yourself some tea.” I smiled, kissing her, holding her hands gently. “Yes ma’am”
Margret went into the living room, picked up my mother’s tabby cat up off the couch, and sat next to Morgan, trying to get a conversation out of her.
I walked into the squared-off kitchen, being mindful of the shelves on the wall that held various ceramic and blown glass frogs. She loves frogs. I’m not sure why and I probably never will.
I sighed, walking in. “So what are you making?”
“Preparing lunch. Just chicken sandwiches. You caught me on such short notice; someone’s going to have to go to the store to get something for dinner.” She answered. I gave her a look, looking at the clock. “It’s not even eleven yet.”
“Well, I’m making pork roast for dinner, that takes time bublah. Now are you going to tell me what the family emergency is or stand there making small talk? Not that I don’t love seeing you guys more than twice a year.” I gave her a look before going over to the tea kettle, giving my nervous hands something to do. “It’s Morgan. You know how this past year she’s been hanging with the wrong crowd?”
“Yes son, I do.” She looked over, giving me that get-to-the-point look. “Well, we’ve found out why. She’s...Oh how do I say this?”
My hands fidgeted, going between running through my hair and in my pockets. My mom was starting to look very concerned, reaching out, and holding one of my shaking hands. “Marshall, is she ok? Is she hurt?” I sighed, letting the words come out in a breath. “Mason rescued her from this drug house, supposed to meet a Brent there.” I held my mom’s hand tighter, just thinking about this was too much. I continued.
“She was roofied. Covered in bruises and...Mom...I don’t know what to do. She’s fifteen mom. Lord knows what this Brent did to her.” I saw a protective rage fill my mom’s eyes but she kept her calm, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be ok, in time. She just needs to realize that’s not how she should be treated.”
I swallowed. Keeping my own anger in check. “Mason took her phone when she was at the hospital; I looked at the messages, just in case this guy was planning something.” I paused. Collecting myself. “The messages he left. They were awful. He called her everything in the book.”
“She doesn't have her phone now does she?”
I shook my head. “No. I have it and it stopped vibrating around 8:30 on the way here. I don’t want to look at them. I already know what they’re going to say.” I felt my eyes water, feeling guilt wash over me like a dark cloud. “Did I fail her mom? Did I fail my daughter?”
I felt my mother’s soft hand hold the side of my face. Wiping away a few tears. She smiled sadly. “You haven’t failed bublah. Not at all. It’s easy to mistake this for a rebellious phase.” She sighed, looking away. “I remember when I and your father first adopted you, God rest his soul. You were so shy, so terrified. When you would burst into tears or hyperventilate or just wake up screaming. I never had nightmares myself so I barely knew how to help you. But with your upbringing, that would be normal. But darling I was so scared I was failing you and do you think I failed you?”
I frowned. “No. Not at all. You were a new mother, it’s understandable.”
My mother smiled. “Exactly. No parent is perfect. We’ll get through this.” I nodded, feeling better, and lighter. I hugged her close, inhaling the scent of roses. I smiled sadly. “Thanks.” She smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “We can talk after lunch. Together. Ok?” I nodded. It felt so light to know I didn’t have to carry this cross on my own. That I have help all around me for me and my daughter.
I went outside for some air, taking a few lungfuls of the late summer breeze. I couldn't stand the temptation anymore. I took her cell phone out of my pocket and unlocked it. I did my best to ignore the texts messages, for now. I wanted to see a picture of the young man hurting my daughter. Did he look as evil as I imagined him? I looked through some family photos and school photos. I looked for faces I didn't know. I knew who her old friends were.
I knew some new ones. I knew most of the teachers. Then I saw it. I knew it was Brent. He looked built, even under the Black hoodie and wolf tee shirt. At least a little older. College age and he had an arm wrapped around Morgan, over her chest holding her shoulder with wrapped blunts in their mouths and noticeably high.
I looked through a few more photos. All the pictures on here either made him look like a normal, honor roll student at college or a nobody getting high and drunk. I looked through the messages, going through past ones when I stopped dead. Eyes wide. They sent nudes to each other. And they were graphic. I quickly turned the phone off, taking in a breath, feeling all the rage and fear well up like lava in a volcano. Will Morgan accept help? What’s this Brent guy doing right now? Plotting revenge? Murder? I had to stop thinking. I wanted to throw the phone against the cement wall of my mother’s house but there’s evidence on there, the police needed it. I took a few calming breaths before heading inside.
I helped my mom prepare the chicken for lunch, putting the spices on it and cutting it up. That I could do. Cut tissue up into small bits. Large bits. Cleaning off fat, tendon, and bone. Getting lost in the smooth motion as the blade cuts through tissue and flesh. It’s surprisingly calming. Maybe it was because I couldn't help imagining it was Brent under my knife.
Once all the chicken was cut into small pieces my mom mixed the various spices into it with a few good dollops of mayo to marinate for an hour or so. I let out a breath. “Do you think you and Morgan should talk alone or should Margret and I be there as well?” My mom looked over at me from washing her hands.
She stopped the sink. I continued. “I don’t want to overwhelm her.” She sighed. “You have a point there. Why don’t you two stay close, just outside the room, look like you walked out. Then me and her can have some girl time.” I nodded. It was better than no plan.
Finally, lunchtime rolled around, mom cooked the chicken we prepared then mixed in more mayo and let it cool in the fridge before calling everyone in. Mikey came running in, Mason close behind with Margret who looked drained. I went to her, and she frowned. “She refuses to talk. She says we wouldn't understand and wants to be left alone but I did get some small talk out of her.”
I nodded before speaking. “I’ll tell mom. Go get something to eat, I’ll get her.” Margret kissed me quickly before walking into the kitchen to join the rest of the family.
Morgan was still in the same spot on the couch, my mother’s tabby curled into her lap and she was holding it close. I walked closer. “Morgan, lunch is ready. You really should eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.” She said flatly.
She seemed so withdrawn and small and defeated. She used to be so bright, like a flame. Her attitude was flowing and smart but it felt like that flame had been extinguished. I walked closer, daring to sit on the couch with her. “What’s wrong?” Trying to pretend like I knew nothing of the situation, hoping it would spur her to talk even a little. It was difficult. I wanted to reach out and hold her. Tell her everything will be ok, that no one will ever hurt her again and Brent will never bother her again.
But I couldn't do that. I had to play safe. She let out an unsteady breath and right away I knew just how terrified she was. “What’s wrong is I don’t have my phone and Brent-” She stopped herself before correcting. “My friends will be worried.” I gave her a look. “Do you know what you were in the hospital for?” She seemed to curl more in on herself. Her dark blonde hair covered most of her face. “No. I don’t remember anything.”
I took in a breath. “You were drugged. When you snuck out of the house and went to this drug house, whoever was there gave you a Roofie. It was a date rape drug sweetie. These friends of yours, they are not good people.”
“You don’t even know them.”
“No, I don’t but I do know real friends wouldn't bring this kind of harm on you. These aren’t friends.” She seemed thoughtful for a moment. I pushed. “Please, eat some lunch with us? You know Grandma missed you guys like crazy.”
She was still for a few seconds before nodding. I could see the anxiety and fear ebb away a little but not completely. Not until this Brent was out of her life. She always seemed to open up to me and my mother more than Margret, unless it was girl things and I can certifiably say that is not an area I neither understand nor know. We walked into the kitchen together.
My mom smiled, going over to Morgan. “Here’s the one that tried to get away from me. Hiding away on the couch.” She quickly hugged Morgan who looked reluctant but accepted it. “Hi, grandma. I missed you too.”
They let go and my mother started filling plates with food. Handing one to Morgan. “Eat up sweetie, you could use it. Do you guys feed this girl? You’re a stick.” Morgan blushed and sat down. Margret looked over at my mom and Mikey. “Is this bread gluten-free?”
“Of course not! Do you think I would have that in my house?”
Margret then quickly got Mikey's sandwich away before he could eat it. “Mikey no! It’ll hurt your stomach.” Mikey pouted and Margret sighed. “Rosie, you know Mikey is gluten-free. He has wheat allergies.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t keep it stocked. It’s not like I see you every month.” Margret sighed as she put the chicken on Mikey’s plate. “A warning would be nice.” The poor guy did have quite a few allergies. My mom gave me a look. I wasn't sure what to make of it. “This is why you guys are so thin. None of you eat your bread!” Mason raised a hand. “I eat bread.” I heard Morgan chuckle. It was a beautiful sound I hadn't heard in so long I forgot I missed it.
Chapter Four
Marshall
The doctor released her to go home. They warned us she may be out of it for the rest of the day due to the after-effects of the drug. I thanked them and hated that this conversation had to be postponed any longer. I wanted her 100% sober for this.
She has to realize the trouble not only she’s in but this boyfriend of hers as well. Not to mention the gut-wrenching worry of hearing she was in the hospital after she had been missing for hours. I thanked God she was alright.
She was half asleep from the hospital. My wife's eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted. I could tell she was emotionally shot. I was too but I had to be strong. I had to be strong for Margret, for Mason, and most importantly, for Morgan. Margret called the family that was watching Mikey. I texted Mason we were on our way home.
I hope he was doing ok. I know he hates hospitals. I could tell his anxiety about them was getting higher and higher the more we were there.
Charles and Beth are an older couple from church, lovely people with grandchildren of their own. They’re always happy to watch Mikey. I parked in the garage with a sigh. Margret started walking across the street, going to pick up Mikey from the neighbors.
Mason came down to the garage and helped Morgan up to her room. (She could walk but not very well, swaying and walking into walls.) “You go get something to eat Dad; I’ll get her to her room.” I nodded, too exhausted for words. I needed something to drink. I walked into the kitchen and started to tea kettle.
I got my mug out with an Earl Grey tea bag. My comfort drink. I went in and sat in the living room, waiting for the tea kettle. Everything seemed to settle down all at once. The bank robbery, the man’s horribly familiar face, getting the call Morgan was in the hospital after she had been missing for hours and then finding out she has an abusive boyfriend. I felt numb to everything. At least for now. I knew it would crash down eventually.
I heard my son's footsteps come down the stairs. I looked over and saw my son, looking grimy and dirty from not having a chance to shower, worn around the edges, and wanting to punch something. “You doing ok son?” He let out a breath. “Now that she’s home, yeah.” He rustled with his pocket, showing her cell phone. “I have her cell phone so she doesn't contact anyone until this is all sorted.”
I held my hand out for the cell phone, he handed it over and I put it in my pocket.
Mason sighed. “You doing ok Dad? I know this must have been a rough day for you too.” I shrugged, nodding. “A rough day for everyone. Why don’t you go take a shower? Looks like you face-planted the ground, several times.”
“That’s cause I sorta did.” He chuckled weakly.
“If you guys need me I’ll be upstairs.” I nodded. “Night son.” He waved before going back upstairs. At that moment the tea kettle went off. I nearly jumped and rushed in, turning off the kettle and pouring the water into the mug. I relaxed slightly at the smell of Bergamont flowing through the air. I heard the front door open. Margret was home with Mikey in tow.
Mikey looked sad, walking over to me. I kneeled down to him. “Hey, buddy...” “What’s wrong with Morgan? Mommy says that I’ll understand when I’m older but I’m scared.”
Margret had already walked away, going upstairs. I could tell why she didn't tell Mikey. She just couldn't. She couldn't talk about it without bursting into tears or using colorful words. I grabbed my tea and held his hand, leading him into the living room. “Come ’on, we’ll talk. Mommy is just tired.”
I sat on the couch, bringing Mikey to my knees, holding him protectively. He seemed even more scared. “Is she dying?” He blurted out. I smiled weakly. “No. Nothing like that. She...” How do I explain abuse to a five-and-a-half-year-old? I didn't want him in the black, he should know a little of why she’s so upset and possibly distant now.
“Well son, Morgan has a boyfriend but he’s not very nice, you understand?”
He nodded. “Does that mean she kisses and hugs him like you and Mommy?”
“That’s right but the big difference is that he’s very mean to her, he’s not a good person and he hurt her badly. That’s why she was in the hospital.”
“Why did he hurt her? Aren’t boyfriends and girlfriends supposed to love each other like you and mommy?”
My eyes watered at his innocence. It broke my heart while melting it. “Some people aren’t so nice. Her boyfriend isn't a good person.”
He pouted, and I continued, holding him close. “Morgan doesn’t know that we know about her boyfriend, understand? That means no talking to her about it.”
He nodded. I hugged him close. “Why don’t you get up to bed, it’s late, I’ll be up to read you a bedtime story soon.” He yawned, nodding and scooting off of my lap and going up the stairs. I sighed, drinking my tea. I think if my head hit a pillow I’d be out like a light.
I finished my tea and turned off the lights as I made my way to Mikey's room where he was dressed in pajamas and had a book ready. Guess how much I love you. One of his favorites and he had a lot. He loved to read. I smiled. “Brush your teeth?” He nodded. “Yep! All clean, see?” He opened his mouth wide. I chuckled, sitting on the bed. “I see.”
By the time I finished the book, he was out. I smiled, kissing his head, laying him down carefully as he was snuggled against me then putting his Star Wars covers on him. I turned off his light and closed the door, checking Mason’s room.
He was passed out as well. I closed the door; I went to Morgan’s door and entered quietly. She was asleep as well. I didn't want to accidentally wake her so I walked back out, just glad she was home. I felt her phone vibrate in my pocket as I walked into my room.
My wife was under the covers, curled into a ball of blankets and pajamas. I was too curious, too worried. What if this Brent guy planned to break in here? I had to know. I closed the door, got her phone out of my pocket, and sat on the bed. There were several text messages and five missed phone calls and three voicemails. I know some of those are Masons and our own but what are the others? I swiped my thumb across the screen to open it. There was no password, surprisingly. I went to the texts, seeing the newest one from moments ago.
Don’t think we’re done bitch.
It made my blood boil. I looked at the others.
Where you at? Chad said you were here.
Tell me where you are cunt.
Whore.
This is how you thank me? For picking up the
Pieces of your fucking heart, for taking care of you
When you needed me most. Fucking bitch
You ungrateful cunt.
I wanted to throw the cell phone against the wall but I checked the voice mail. The little voice spoke first. “You have three voice messages. First one.” It was Mason, asking where she was and to call when she got it. The next was Brent
Brent.
That name echoed in my mind. Wishing I could put a face to it. Wishing I could put a knife through him. Wishing he was on my table. The last message was Brent and most of it didn't make sense. He was in such a rage, such a temper tantrum that nothing he said made sense and I got the feeling he was a naturally violent person, possibly a bully in his youth, never got told no.
I pressed the end voice mail, placing the phone on the desk carefully so I didn’t throw it and break all evidence.
My blood was boiling, my hand trembling and my body shaking with no release in sight. I jumped, feeling something touch me, nearly throwing a punch when Margret jumped back as well. “Marshall. It’s just me.”
I breathed out heavily. “Sorry.”
I calmed but I felt my eyes water. Today was just too much. She saw Morgan’s phone on the desk by the bed then looked back to me. “You went through her phone didn't you?” I swallowed my anger down. “I had to. I felt it vibrate on the way up here. What if this guy was planning a break-in? Or worse?” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Shh. I know. It’s ok.”
I held her arms around my shoulders, wanting to cry, to sob, to tear my hands into something, to get rid of this anger. This was the kind of anger I used on my victims. That tiny, animalistic side that never quite came out of the woods. That side enjoys inflicting pain and making blood flow.
I couldn't move, glued to her. She held me close, her hands tangling into my hair. Gently shushing in my ear that everything will be ok. That strength that I had to keep up all day finally broke. Finally crumbled.
A sob escaped me and she only held me tighter as I sobbed like a child into her shoulder. I felt so helpless to help my family, to help my daughter. How long has this been going on? How many bruises did he give her? How many drugs? How many times has he violated her? I wasn't sure how long it was before I finally fell asleep, feeling the safety of Margret’s arms around me. I didn't mind being the small spoon. I fell asleep fast.
1979
Marshall, age four
My mom was great. She got me these toy cars to play with. I didn't really have any toys. Not where we live anyway. We lived in the middle of the woods, a big forest I was never allowed in. My mom says it’s dangerous. I wasn't sure it could be more dangerous than my own house.
The sun was out and it made the forest outside so pretty and colorful. I wish I could go outside. I didn’t want to be here. I heard stomping in the house and knew it was my cousin Beau. He was always angry. He was yelling at mommy. I started picking up my cars so I could get out of his way.
“Beau, he just a baby, he shouldn't be learin about that!”
“Boy’s gotta grow up sometime! What happens when we're gone? Boys gotta eat, gotta hunt, and gotta learn how to put food on the fuckin table!”
I jumped when his voice got louder. I wasn't fast enough to pick up all my toys when he stepped on a car. I jumped back, looking up in fear. He yelled in pain. “Fuckin piece of shit!” He kicked my cars away, hitting the wall. I was already shaking. He liked to hurt things when he was angry. He saw me. I tried to get away but he grabbed me by my arm.
I could hear my mom yelling but I was crying too much to hear her.
“What is all this!? Why am I stepping on your shit!? I know your mom says you’re a big boy but big boys don’t play with toys! They don’t cry like little pussies!” I was thrown to the ground. It hurt but not as much as his punches did.
I curled into a ball, begging him to stop, trying to protect myself from his hits. My mom was crying and yelling. I wished I could run away into the woods.
“Beau! Beau stop! He’s just a baby!” He stopped for a moment, slapping my mom, making her fall into the dirty wall. “Shut up bitch! He wouldn't even be here if you kept your fuckin legs shut!” My mom was so scared, crying against the wall. I wondered where my Uncle Jed was.
Everyone listened to him, he never hurt me and they listened to him. He was never angry. Suddenly Cousin Beau picked me up by my arm, dragging me. I hiccupped when I tried to calm down. The tears wouldn't stop and everything hurt. He dragged me to the basement, throwing me down the stairs. It was so cold. I was never allowed down here and suddenly I’m thrown into it.
I was shaking, looking around. “What?” There was a table, it was old and fridges and freezers were lined along the side of the wall, the other side wall had so many knives. Then I saw Uncle Jed, standing over the table, cutting into a person. Blood was pooling and dripping on the ground from the table. A whimper came from the body.
I swallowed, feeling like I was going to be sick. There was so much blood on the ground, on him. Everything was red. Flowing like water.
He put down his knife, sighing. “Beau, why did you bring him down here? You know the small one isn't old enough to be down here.”
“Fuck being old enough, he’s going to learn sooner or later.” My mom spoke up next. I wanted to run to her but I was too scared to move. “I tried to stop him but you know how Beau’s temper is.”
My Uncle Jed tisked before walking over to me. My Cousin Beau was short and kind of chubby with short arms. My mom was really thin and her clothes never seemed to fit but she was taller than Beau.
My Uncle Jed was tall and thin and his fingers were really long but he was always so calm and nice to me. I jumped when Uncle Jed touched my face; the smell of blood was everywhere now, smeared on my face. He made a face, getting a handkerchief. “Oops. Got some red on you. Shame I have to wipe it away. Red is a lovely color on you.”
Present 2015
I was startled awake from the flashback...or nightmare. I wasn't sure which it was. But I could feel the blood, smell it. I felt like I was covered in it. Suddenly my stomach started to rise and I quickly got to the private bathroom, turning the light on and dry heaving into the toilet.
I wasn't sure how long I had been in there when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped, looking up. “It’s ok, it’s just me.” It was just Margret. I breathed out, running my hand through my hair. “Sorry to wake you.” She frowned, kneeling down with me.
“What was it this time?”
“Nothing in particular. Just a flashback more than a nightmare.”
“They can be just as bad. Want me to make you some tea and we can talk about it?” I nodded. “Yeah, might as well. Not getting back to sleep.”
“It’s five in the morning, might as well stay up.” She stood, holding her hands out to me. I took them, letting her help me up.
We made our way down the stairs. I sat at the kitchen table, Margret soon followed after she turned the tea kettle on. She sat next to me, her hand holding mine, a steadying weight to my nerves. “So what was it this time? Was any of them...touching you?”
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “No. Just...I was playing with the toy cars my mom managed to get for me but I didn't clean up fast enough and my cousin Beau was coming in the room. He stepped on them and he was already mad, stepping on the cars just made him worse. He beat me then my mom tried to stop him and he slapped her.” I hadn't realized I was shaking, my eyes watering.
I continued, swallowing down the growing lump in my throat. Her grip on my hand tightened. “He took me to the basement. Up until this point, I wasn't allowed down there. He nearly threw me down the stairs and Uncle Jed was cutting into a person. He was covered in blood. Didn't even wash his hands before he touched my face.”
My breathing was getting faster. I knew I was going headfirst into a panic attack. Margret held my face, forcing me to focus on her. “Shh breathe...it’s ok.” I followed her instructions, breathing in and out, keeping my focus on her. I calmed, holding my head in my hands as she got up, pouring the tea. Once she came back and sat down I spoke. “Make sure to call the church, and tell them we can’t make it today because of a family emergency. I....” I let out a breath. “I think we should go to Mom's.” Margret nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”