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.