Forgive Me Page 8

  Part Two

  We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we

  realized that they were inside us.

  -Charles Darwin

  Chapter Eleven

  Summer 2017

  I lied. I told you I couldn't stay away. My knees creak with pain as I hide in the closet. I unpicked the back-door garden lock and in a small click, I walked into the kitchen. It was pretty easy, too easy in fact. You have chains on the front door, but not the back. Why not? Do you not think intruders will break in?

  Hello, I just have. I would’ve thought given your profession, what you’ve been through, you would’ve been extra careful. Plenty of thieves, robbers and all types like to gain access to a property from the back, where they can’t be seen. It’s ideal camouflage. I’m not saying this as a criticism, okay maybe I am, but it’s a thought for the future. You need to get better security on your home. You need to be more careful out there, especially with our child living in the world. Seriously. A novice could break in here.

  The cusp of your shirts stroke against my cheek. I can smell your perfume and the night we spent together floats into my mind, the hunger rises in me like waves. You know, for a while, after everything. I expected the police to show up at my door, standing outside my house with their guns and cold eyes, storming the office corridors, disturbing my colleagues, leading me off in chains. To be slapped with rape, kidnapping and murder charges but it never happened, no officers showed up at my home or my workplace. Why haven’t you told anybody? Are you scared about their reactions? Do you regret having a baby with a monster?

  You shut the bedroom window and your eyes glare around the room. I’ve seen those eyes before. Concern is plastered all over you. As you disappear into our daughter's room, my hand splays up the panelling of the door. I could be making one of the worst decisions of my life, yet a flicker of hope grows in me. My body answers and I rise to my feet, pushing the door open.

  I didn’t kill those girls and I know you think I'm responsible for it. I'm going to prove it to you.

  I move onto the landing. I can't see you. The staircase is empty. A thought catches me like a fish on a hook. I open the door and I see through the white wooden bars of the cot; our daughter is sleeping. I edge nearer, fear bubbling up from my core. She’s dressed in white with her arms slightly raised above her head. She's wrapped up in a yellow blanket with her name stitched onto the material. You've chosen a beautiful name for her. It’s better than the names I would’ve wanted.

  I wish this place could be my home too. The bed you share could be mine and...the woman inside.

  A dark thought slithers as I watch our baby. It says I don't deserve you, or her, or anything this place represents. I belong to the past and to the bloody monster I once was.

  I turn, keeping my footing quiet as I leave our daughter’s room.

  You’re clever though. I didn’t see you sneaking, creeping up behind me when I was watching Sofia sleep. Pain erupts at the back of my head, I fall to the ground, my back hitting the carpet. You stand over me, your eyes burning with anger. I remember very vividly; hands wrapping and clamping around my throat, when I unveiled the honest truth. I know you can’t forgive me for it.

  You hold a blue and yellow vase in your hands and you whisper my name, my real name. I try to speak, to explain why I'm here but the darkness is too strong and it welcomes me with open arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winter 2015

  You should’ve known better, Stripe thought. Why did you agree to this assignment? Why didn’t you meet this Isaac Payne in a safer location? Why did you follow your stupid fucking curiosity like an eager puppy?

  “What is this..?” she asked, her fingers stroking the curves of the chain around her ankle.

  “A precaution,” Isaac said.

  Stripe laughed, astonished. “For what?”

  “The truth.”

  The journalist in her would’ve danced for joy. Isaac Payne was turning into the ideal subject her writing was hungering for. He’s been hiding something. “The truth about what? Why the restraints? What the fuck is going on?”

  “Because you won’t like what I have to show you. The chains are to keep you safe.”

  Hahaha, he must be joking, right? “If this is because I questioned you earlier then I’m sorry. It was my mistake.” She indicated to the chain. “Clearly this proves it.”

  “It wasn't meant to be this way.” A douse of fear shot through her as Isaac spoke. “It was meant to be a simple meet up but... I failed, and I can’t keep it down anymore.”

  Now, she was frightened. Isaac could’ve been one of the freaks who hurt Charles Libby. His abusers were still out lurking in the silence, who were dangerous and extremely manipulative. What if Isaac Payne was a set up to lure her into some malicious trap?

  “Keep what down? Isaac, what are you talking about?” She stared at him. “Is there...something I should know?”

  His ice blue eyes shot to hers. “I told myself I wouldn't go down this road again...”

  “What road? Let me help you.” So I can beat the crap out of you and write about how much of a psycho you are. “I’m sorry I brought the whole Cameron Storms thing up. If you let me go, I promise I won’t tell a soul. I'll write the article for you, whatever you wish. We can forget about all of this. It’ll be our little secret, okay?”

  “That’s what he said...”

  “Who said? Isaac, you need to start talking sense cause I’m losing the plot here.”

  “You were right about Cameron, in a way.”

  Her heart palpitated at the sound of her name. “Is this about Cam? Is she okay...?”

  Isaac wiped his head in frustration. “She’s fine. I… can't just tell you. It will kill-” he watched her and her stomach tightened into thick knots. “I think I need to show you. It’s better than explaining.”

  “Show me what...?” she whispered with dread.

  Isaac marched out of the room, locking the door behind him. Stripe searched around for anything breakable or something to defend herself with but her client and kidnapper had baby proofed the room pretty well. I can’t kill the guy with books. It was strange, the bed she was shackled to was more comfortable than most hotels she'd stayed in and the view from outside was spectacular. A virtual oxymoron of circumstances. Even better, was the resident lunatic as her wonderful host. Overall, the aesthetic scored four stars, but an appealing atmosphere was the most important. Sadly, this place wouldn’t rate well on Trip Advisor. For reasons, of course.

  You should’ve been on your guard. You shouldn’t have dropped your shields just because he was flirting with you. She’d been swept up by the catch of a new story. She was sensing the wall of strength inside her was crumbling. It’s because you thought he was sexy. Stripe looked around the room feeling sick to her stomach. Cameron, are you here? Has he got you tied up somewhere?

  She heard something from outside and the door was opened. Stripe pulled her legs under herself ignoring the throb around her ankle and yanked the white duvet over her lap. Isaac wheeled in an old television; it was a dated model probably made in the late seventies or early eighties. From the back of the set, he brought out an old black VHS tape, it was dusty probably from age and use. Stripe felt the blood in her veins momentarily freeze.

  “Isaac, what is this?” she asked, trying her best not to cry.

  He tapped the cassette against his hip. “You're good at telling stories. But...do you know your own tale?”

  She shook her head as she watched him plug up the television. “I don’t understand.”

  Isaac placed the VHS into the tape player. “You’ve been lied to your entire life, Stripe.” He sighed; his gaze lingering. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this to you but... there’s something you need to see. It’ll answer your questions.”

  The television screen burst to life in a grainy picture. The scene on the tape showed a room with dark walls. In the centre, was a boy, it was the boy, the on
e with grey skin and blood red hands. Stripe stared at the creature who had haunted her nightmares ever since she spotted him when she was out playing by the cabin. The boy was tied up and his face morphed into a painful wince as he was fighting to get free. Stripe found it a little odd. In her memory, in that situation, the boy held the power card, on the video, someone else had it.

  “Enough!” a voice shouted off screen.

  I know that voice.

  She saw a figure move into shot. It was dressed in a white lab coat, tall like a tree, with blonde oily hair and glasses falling half way down his nose. No, that can’t be him.

  The boy shouted and she watched the man in the lab coat slap the child viciously across the face with the back of his hand.

  “You were very well behaved yesterday, Isaac. But if you keep acting this way, I’ll make these trials worse for you. Do you understand?”

  Stripe gasped and stared at her kidnapper who looked calm and almost ready for something. “Keep watching,” Isaac instructed.

  Stripe went back to the tape and heard the boy reply. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you know what we’re trying to achieve by these trials?” the man asked, there was a shard of ice outlining his vocal expression.

  “To make me strong,” the boy uttered.

  “Exactly. But not just to make you strong, to make you perfect. To make you indestructible.” He sat by the child and watched him. Stripe wasn’t liking the atmosphere between them at all. “Isn’t this what you want?”

  Sadness and despair was written all over the boy. “I… want to be free.”

  Isaac turned, watching Stripe, with ever increasing caution. “You can talk now...”

  “That is not my dad.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it's not. I knew him, you didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt anybody! He was harmless!”

  “He was a liar. A very cruel and sadistic human being.”

  Stripe tensed her fingers around the chain. “It’s a good thing you did tie me up, cause if I wasn’t. I’d be beating the shit out of you.”

  “I’m not surprised. Like father, like daughter.” Isaac smiled. “You've beaten me up before. Only slightly, I must say.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  The smile on his face died and he knelt by the bed, Stripe edged back as he grew closer. “You haven't figured it out yet, have you?” Isaac stared into her eyes. “You were so close before…”

  She shook her head, silence filling the room.

  “You know you’re gonna kill me. Remember?” Isaac asked, biting his down on his lower lip. “I said that when you rode me under the bleachers back in high school.” A brief smile gleamed with tears clouding his luminous gaze. “Do you know who I am now?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Winter 1987

  His heart was beating rapidly when they lowered him into the water. His body was haggard from the previous workout, press ups, sit ups, star jumps, circuits of cardio, he was cracking under the relentless pace of exertion. The cold water felt like a hundred daggers piercing his skin, he couldn’t hold his breath for very long. The beep of the heart monitor whirled in his ear, but the more frightened he became, the faster and louder the machine got. He didn’t understand this part of his trial. They said it was a test to make him stronger.

  Make me stronger for what? the boy thought.

  He heard their instructions through the device they’d clipped to his ears. They were telling him to calm down or the next step would be worse. They said his name, Peter said it the most. Not all of them used it. Sometimes, Sheila, Victoria and Paul called him by a number or something else. Gerald kept his distance; he wouldn’t address him by anything as if he was nothing.

  The water was seeping into his lungs when they pulled him out of the pool. The boy bit at Paul’s arms and kicked Victoria in the knees. She lashed him across the face with her hand, the diamond wedding ring cutting his cheek.

  They dragged him into the dark padded room gasping and spluttering for air. He hated being in there because he knew what was coming. They began the countdown. Each digit thundering in his ear.

  The boy wobbled to his feet, adrenaline filling his veins as the final number was called out. He smelt the warm salty blood staining the cut on his cheek. They ordered, shouted and muttered threats but the pain was too much. They constantly reassured him that their animosity was for the best, they were treating him this way because they cared for him. The tests, every syringe they plunged into his arm, sapping his blood, the aches he was feeling were for good reasons, for the greater purpose of the future.

  “You know what to do!” Paul barked. “Get to it!”

  The boy heard the heartbeat of the other entity in the room. An instinct made him crouch. He heard its rapid breath; four hooves shaking and scraping the floor, the sound made the boy’s ears ring. The fawn smelled its surroundings, its nostrils flaring. The boy slid his back up the wall, waiting ever so obediently. He saw the outline of the fawn in the darkness. He pushed his body into a stealth tactic, keeping his treading light on the ground.

  As the baby deer drew closer, he pounced, hooking his arm about its neck. It squealed painfully, squirming against him, kicking out until he applied pressure. He hated the noise; it was calling out for protection and their deaths always made him cry. Minutes trickled when the body convulsed in his arms. The lights flashed on above his head causing his eyes to burn wildly.

  “Stop weeping!” Paul yelled.

  “I don't want to do this anymore!” the boy shouted back.

  Paul whipped his face. The pain bloomed, throbbing in his cheek as he was hauled to his feet.

  The fawn laid on the floor, a baby, probably stolen from its mother. He cried even harder when they sluggishly shoved him out of the training room. The boy didn't want to kill, they made him do it. He protested, wailing and waving his arms but his shouts of anguish were ignored. They threw him into his cell, locking the door behind him. He wouldn't be eating for a while. The boy didn't understand. He was meant to be special, better than most but they were treating him like a monster.

  He laid on the cold floor, sobbing to himself and vowed to become what they wanted him to be. They were playing an insidious game, so he decided to hike up the stakes. He programmed himself to speak the way they wanted him to be, cold and empty. He taught himself not to bite back when they conducted their annual interviews, scribbling numbers on their clipboards. He stayed calm when they belittled his nature with his wrists and feet bound. He felt nothing when they squeezed glass into his skin as they tested his pain threshold.

  Eventually, he discovered the result in the eyes of the fear filled guard who was stationed outside his cell. His pupils jolted, dilating in seconds as his neck broke like a china cup. They knew how lethal he’d become over the years; they knew what was possible if his restraints were a fraction looser. They’d find out and realise soon enough, he was their deadliest mistake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Spring 1989

  After he stopped running, the boy indulged in the beauty circling him. It seemed like he’d been going for hours. Maybe he had. He had to get as far away as possible, more guards would have been on his tail with sniffer dogs to track his scent. The boy glanced up at the vivid blue sky, calculating the time, it was distance he needed in his favour.

  He lapped up the sumptuous clean air, enjoying the sensation swirling in his lungs. He paced himself as he walked through the acres of trees, enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping, splashing his face with cold water from the creaks. He even laughed when the flies started to swarm him, tasting his dirty sweaty skin. He knew there were several heartbeats watching him - bears, an alpha wolf, and they kept their distance.

  The boy didn’t feel anything when the branches cut into his bare feet like butter. He was used to pain. It had been a constant in his life. He wasn’t scared of it anymore. He wasn't alarmed when he saw the man in the green coat brandishing his gun. He didn’t care when
he wrapped his arms around his neck. His stomach didn't flip when the cracks from his skull dislodged. He didn't even hear the body fall as he continued to cross the wood.

  The boy kept heading through the forest. He took everything in. The lush colours of the world he wasn't allowed to see. He saw the clearing in the trees. Twigs and branches broke under his feet, sending the noises to scatter. When he drew closer, he saw a metal fence as high as the trees and perched discreetly behind was a wooden cabin. Then he saw something which made his heart bloom...

  It was entrancing and beautiful.

  A girl...

  He’d never seen one before, only in picture books.

  Her eyes stopped dead at the sight of him and the power in her gaze held him firmly to the spot. Her yellow milky mane was loose around her shoulders, leaves clung to her nightdress and the mud was swamping up her feet. What was she doing out here all by herself?

  “Do you need help?” the girl asked.

  There was something unsettling about her. She wasn't frightened of him.

  “I'm lost,” he replied truthfully.

  “I can get my momma to call someone to take you back home.”

  I’m not going back there, he wanted to say but instead other words answered for him. “I...don't have a home.”

  “Why are you so dirty? You’re not meant to be out there. It’s forbidden!” she yelled. Now she was scared. “The lumberjack will get you!”

  The boy knew about the romantic vigilante who stood up for justice, fighting against evil. But how did she know about it?

  “He doesn’t live out there. You wouldn’t want to be out here,” the boy said. “There are monsters everywhere.”