I didn't go back downstairs for fear that my dad wasn't really finished with me yet. It was the worst I had ever gone through. Skip was there to watch. And laugh. He always loved to see what new things my dad liked to try on me when my dad punished me. Shudders racked my body. I slumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.
Ashley was right. Freedom came at the cost of running away. Escape meant facing the world with the knowledge of my past. Not a day would go by that I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't there. Nowhere would be safe. Where would I go? With no money and no living relatives that I knew of, escape seemed almost pointless. But that didn't change the fact that I needed to get out.
My body still ached from my most recent session in the basement. I wanted to forget it all; the torture, the screaming, the pain. I wanted to forget the girls brought into my life by my dad. I wanted to forget my mother and what I did to her; what I almost did to Ashley. Everything around me was screwed up or twisted in one way or another.
Everything but Ashley.
Visions of my personal Hell melted away and Ashley's face replaced them. I thought back to the moment when she kissed me. I had been so shocked that I couldn't feel it at first, but when I recalled it to memory, I could almost feel everything again. The beat in my chest drummed harder against my ribs but it wasn't fear that fueled it; the thought of her lips on mine inspired something beautiful in me. Her body felt warm against me and her touch was soft enough to melt away the bad in the world, if only for a moment.
Stop being so dramatic, I scolded myself.
I sat with my back against the wall to brood. It seemed like an eternity had passed before I returned to her. Ashley looked up at me, startled at first.
"Okay," I said, "let's do it."
The straps hardly contained her sudden outburst of joy. She squealed quietly and excitement burned in her eyes while I undid her restraints with trembling hands. The moment they were free, her arms wrapped around my neck in a quick embrace.
"Let's go!" She grabbed my hand and started for the door.
"Are you nuts?" I tugged her away from the door and kept my voice low. "We can't just go now. They are still down there. If they see us they'll-." The end of that sentence didn't need to pass my lips. Whatever horrors those two men could cook up were best left to the imagination. Even then, the wildest nightmares might not compare to what they could think up. Capture meant a fate worse than death, worse than anything I had ever known. This girl knew nothing of pain.
Not yet.
Paranoia crept into the back of my mind and prodded my thoughts down a dark path. How could the two of us escape? Who were we to succeed where so many others had failed? With or without my help, the risk was too great to even consider taking. Regret twisted my stomach in cold knots. I should've said no.
I stepped away from her to think easier, but she didn't let go of my hand. I rubbed my forehead and grunted in frustration. Backing out wasn't an option. Once 'yes' passed my lips, my fate was sealed. Even if I did back out, the girl might feel vengeful and tell my dad that I even considered running.
I took my hand away from her and ran it through my hair. The moment I did, Ashley planted a soft kiss on my cheek and my breath hitched in my throat.
Despite all the risks, escape could mean a life with her.
Stop thinking that.
Her kiss left a phantom impression in my cheek that tingled pleasantly.
"You're making the right choice," she said. "You deserve this."
Guilt slapped me like a wet glove.
"No I don't," I told her severely. "But you do."
"What could you have done to deserve this?" Her eyebrows came together thoughtfully and she took a step closer to me. Innocence and life shone in her eyes as she searched my face. I couldn't deny her the information she sought.
"Four years ago, my mom died," I told her.
"That's not your fault." She reached out to touch me comfortingly but I turned my back to her.
"Yes, it is." My throat burned. "I killed her."
"What?" Her voice barely reached me.
"They got into a fight." Like a broken faucet, the words spilled out of my mouth freely. Memories played like a movie in my head as I recounted the gory details. "Believe it or not, my dad used to be normal.
"My mom was going to take me to my grandma's house because my dad wasn't being a suitable father. He got so angry that she was leaving him that he hit her. You could see it; once he hit her, he changed. His eyes went all wide, like he was shocked that he was even capable of doing it. But then he smiled. Like he found a purpose in life. She started yelling at him about how she was never coming back to him and he hit her again. By the time I could make myself move, my dad was dragging her into the garage by her hair. I don't know how he managed it, my mom was fighting him the entire time, but he strapped her to the hood of our van.
"I was so scared and confused. I didn't know what to do! I yelled at him to stop and I tried to tackle him- but a fourteen year old boy against a full grown man? The winner was clear before it even started. He duct taped me to his workbench chair and faced me toward my mother. He was breathing hard and he looked insane.
"He said, 'You're gonna be a good boy and watch daddy work.'
"I was so scared." The burning in my throat intensified and I had to blink back tears. "He started with his fists. He hit her until she stopped screaming, then he beat her with whatever he could get his hands on. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted from her he turned to me. The car battery was still in his hand and he took some wires and..." A tremor wracked my body and I took a deep breath to calm my heart. "There's a downside to living out here; even if a mother and son are screaming as loud as they can, no one is close enough to hear them. When I couldn't scream anymore he turned back to her. He ripped off her clothes with his pocket knife. He didn't care if he cut her. I had to look away, I couldn't- I just couldn't watch him do that to her.
"Then she started screaming." My trembling voice evened out and lost all inflection. A tear rolled down my cheek. "It was worse than anything I've ever heard. It went on forever, it seemed. Then they just stopped. She was so quiet I thought she was dead. Is it bad that I hoped that was the case?
'She began to cry. My dad walked over to me and forced me to look at him. His hand was bloody and left smudges on my face.' I touched my cheek, feeling the invisible brand left from my mother's blood.
"He said, 'Come help daddy.' The duct tape should've stung when he ripped it off of me, but I felt numb. He wanted me to-" I took a deep breath. "When I didn't move, he forced me to look at her and threatened to do the same to me. Blood was everywhere. But she wasn't dead. I was ashamed to see her like that. I wanted to cover her up, but I couldn't move." My already racing heart beat frantically in my chest as the memories cleared and the phantom sounds crescendoed in my head. Smells became sharper as the finale of the nightmare played through my head. "He told my mom that I was going to follow in his footsteps whether she liked it or not. Then he handed me a screwdriver and told me to finish her off."
Ashely gasped.
"It was horrific in every way possible. I was so scared so I just closed my eyes and waited for the screaming to stop so that I didn't have to hurt her anymore.
"When it was done, my dad made me help him drag her body out to the dogs." A quiet tear rolled down my face. "Now hundreds of girls have suffered the same fate, or even worse, because I was too much of a coward to let my dad kill me. This world would be a better place if I died that night."
Silence settled over the room. Something lifted from my heart and I felt like I could finally breathe again.
"That," Ashley's voice shook, "that's awful. That happened here?"
I nodded. "My dad cleaned up the garage that night and told everyone she left him for a salesman. Their relationship was so bad that no one questioned him. The police didn't even do an investigation because my dad forced me to tell them all the story. After all, I was home for every single one of their secret rendezvous. Dad was at work every time this salesman came over. My silence was bought with a new GameBoy game until she finally left. At least, that's the story."
I looked back at her. Suddenly she didn't seem so eager to escape with me. Her skin took on a ghostly pallor and she swallowed hard. She looked sick.
"That wasn't your fault," she said finally. "You were scared. You had no choice. You can't hold yourself accountable for what your dad made you do. He's a sick man and you were only fourteen."
Slowly, the door Ashely had been so eager to escape though opened slowly. Filling the threshold, the madman who called himself my father eyed me coolly.
"Well, isn't that precious?" My dad stepped into the room and Skip replaced his spot in the doorway, blocking any escape route. "You're so much like your mother, it's- disappointing."
Fear, my old friend, crashed into me, stealing away my breath. I felt the color drain from my face when he seized me. Skip went after Ashely, and she fought him hard. What she didn't know was there was no escape from my dad. If I learned one thing from my father, it was that there was no getting away from a determined madman. One way or another he would take us both to the basement and punish us. A chill so deep it pierced my marrow settled within me.
"I could see it." My dad said as he hauled me away by my shoulders. "Every time we would bring in a new girl, I could see that look in your eye that made you look just like your mother. Every night I brought home a part, your mother gave me that look right before she opened those fat lips." Down the stairs into Hell. "Since you're so soft on this one, I think I'll show you exactly what she's going to be used for once Demetri buys her.
"Skip." Confident in my fear-induced obedience, my dad let go of me, trading me for Ashely.
The lights were still on from my previous session. The overhead lights on the other end of the room dimly illuminated the corner that housed a single chair. The same chair Ashely found herself in a few days ago. Under the garish white bar lights, a metal table glistened menacingly. Twin to the one in the bedroom upstairs, its leather straps were newer, stronger. Only on special occasions did my dad strap a feisty girl to the table.
Ashley stopped screaming when my dad's fist crashed into her stomach. He lifted her into the air like she weighed nothing more than a feather. The metal table shuddered when she crashed onto it. The resulting bang seemed tangible and nearly blew me off my feet. She couldn't breathe and panic pinched her face. Acute pain sliced through the numbness in my chest as I watched my dad cinch the straps around Ashely's ankles.
I'd watched many girls suffer this same fate.
But I couldn't watch this one.
I found myself staring at the workbench against the wall; a hack saw, a hammer, a wrench, some loose rope. I had to do something! But how could I defeat someone whose cold glare was enough to make me shrink?
"What do you think, Skip," my dad called over his shoulder, "arms tied or free?"
"Dad, please!"
"She thinks she's tough." Skip gripped my shoulders to hold me in place. "Let's see her prove it."
"That's what I was thinking." That sick grin spread split my dad's face and he climbed onto the table. He straddled her.
"STOP IT!" I lunged forward but Skip caught me by my hair and pulled me back to him. Trapped against Skip's chest, I watched my dad wag his finger at me slowly.
"Now son," he said calmly, "if you can't behave, I'll have to tie you down too."
My stomach lurched.
Ashely finally sucked in a full breath and coughed. All eyes turned back to her. My dad leaned down, smiling like the Joker, menacing words dancing on the tip of his tongue. She spat in his face and punched the side of his head before he could open his mouth. Undaunted, my dad wiped the saliva from his face and laughed. She beat against him with her fists but nothing she did stopped him from tearing at her clothes.
Not this one.
Unable to watch, I cast my eyes back to the workbench.
The hammer.
A plan.
"I'm going to puke." I grimaced. Skip, who was lost in the excitement, glared down at me. "I'm serious." I dry heaved, feigning sickness. Skip shoved me away but didn't tear his eyes from the action on the table. My dad wrestled Ashely's shirt off and they were fighting for control over the button of her shorts. I lunged for the hammer. I spun around and swung the weapon in a wide arch. The blunt end crashed into Skip's head, cracking the bone and sinking deep into his brain tissue. As he dropped, I wrenched the hammer free and charged at my dad. My unexpected outburst gained me just enough time to tackle my shocked father off the table. We hit the concrete floor hard and wrestled for control of the hammer in my hand. I swung at his face feebly, but only managed to smack myself in the forehead with it. My dad laughed and slammed my head against the concrete. Pain blossomed at the back of my skull, followed by a quick, cool numbing sensation that poured down my body. In one swift motion, my dad removed his belt and wrapped it around my neck.
"The day you finally grow a pair is the day I have to kill you." A vein bulged from his forehead as he cinched the belt tight. "How ironic."
Feeling returned to my limbs and I clawed at the makeshift garrote. A red haze filtered my vision and parts of my lungs burned. Soon the red faded into black. With the last of my consciousness, I lashed out at my father, however my hands only found open air. His heavy breathing escorted me into quiet darkness. Quiet peace.
Ashley screamed.
With painful suddenness, air flooded my lungs. I started coughing, gulping down as much air as I could manage between each convulsion. With much effort, I rolled my head to the side and watched Ashely wrestle my father a few short feet away. The hammer rested only an inch from my fingertips. They twitched when I reached for it, but they didn't close around the handle. Numbness still dominated most of my body when I rolled onto my hands and knees. I struggled to lift the hammer off the ground.
I wondered briefly, why I even wanted to pick up the hammer. Death's sweet embrace almost had me. A different form of freedom nearly swept me away on quiet tides of peaceful nothingness.
Ashely screamed again and a wild rush shot through my body. Feeling slowly returned and I staggered to my feet. My dad's back was turned to me, Ashely between his knees, crying and pinned below him.
For such a small tool, the hammer seemed to weigh more than I could lift.
She screamed my name.
I stumbled forward and with a wild cry threw the hammer down onto the back of my father's head. He dropped onto Ashely like a dead man. She cried out and scampered out from under him. Blood trickled down her back from various scrapes that the rough floor dug into her tender skin. She backed away, hugging herself and sobbing. Her eyes seemed fixed on my dad's motionless body.
"He's dead," I croaked. "Let's go."