Chapter Twelve

Troy

“You little fuckup, what have I told you about going in that room?”

I look down and bite my lip. “I know I’m not a-sposed to go in there.” I twist my hands in front of me as I wait for the painful sting of the slap.

The large man narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his muscular chest. “That’s right, Troy. And what did you do, anyway?”

I swallow, willing him not to hit me. Willing myself not to fall over like a Weeble when he does. Taking a deep breath, I keep my body rigid.

“What did you do?” the man asks again. His deep voice contains a hard edge that makes me feel like I have to pee. “Tell me, Troy.”

Maybe if I’m honest, he won’t hurt me.

“I went into the room.” I shake as the words tumble out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really, really sorry.”

He raises his meaty fist high in the air. From experience, I know it will gain strength and velocity as it travels downward. “Fucking right you’re sorry!”

The slap across my face makes me see stars. I reel back, but the shame and embarrassment sting infinitely more than his callused hand.

“You’re lucky that’s all you’re getting right now,” the man says, every word landing in that place deep inside, infiltrating my soul and enveloping it in the darkness only betrayal can do. “Now, stay here and be a good boy, you little fuck.” He points to a small chair in the corner. “I’ve got to take care of some business, and when I get back, I expect to see your ass planted firmly in that chair. Or else.”

I nod. My cheek stings like a bastard, but I don’t want to make my dad even angrier.

“Now, move your ass, you worthless little piece of shit! I’ve got things to do!”

Breaking into a run, I scurry across the room and plant my butt in the wooden chair. It’s uncomfortable – there’s a rough nail sticking out of the back – but I don’t say a peep even as it pierces my skin because I’m afraid of the alternative. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what’s so bad about sneaking out of the room and looking around the warehouse. There’s nothing here, anyway – it’s all abandoned crates and wooden boxes.

I’m determined to be good, but as soon as my father leaves, I can’t help but get out of the chair and rub my back. The nail snags the back of my shirt, and I wince as I put my finger through the hole and feel a fresh cut across my skin.

That’s when I hear the sound. A hair-raising, chilling, high-pitched scream that twists my stomach into a painful knot. Again, I have the monstrous urge to urinate on myself. Taking a shaky breath, I swallow and step forward. My sneakers echo on the concrete floors and I just know I’m gonna be in a heap of trouble when that man, my dad’s friend, comes back…but I can’t help myself. Something really bad is going on, and I’m scared.

Petrified.

The screaming continues as I creep closer and closer to the edge of the room. At the doorway, I lean against the wall and push the door open. I can see my dad’s dogs, two big Rottweilers, curled up on the floor. There are thick chains around their necks, and even though my dad told me they’d never hurt me, the sight of them always makes me a little scared. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

There’s something new in the room, too. A large cage – almost like the cage we have at home for the Rottweilers – is in the middle of the room. That’s weird. Did Daddy get a new dog? There’s something inside the cage, small and shaking.

“A puppy,” I whisper under my breath, suddenly forgetting about my fear. “Daddy finally got me a puppy!”

Breaking into a run, I dart across the room and squat down by the cage. But when I see what’s inside, I gasp. It’s not a puppy – it’s a little girl. Her face is dirty and bruised, and her dark, curly hair is a mess of tangles.

“Hey.”

When she sees me, she gasps and covers her mouth with both hands. Then she looks at me more closely. “Hey.” Her voice is shaky. “What’s your name?” She crawls closer to the bars of the cage, and an unpleasant, sour odor fills my nostrils.

“I’m not a-sposed to say.”

“Please, please don’t hurt me,” the girl whispers. “Help me.”

I swallow. I’ve never talked to a girl before – especially not a girl in a cage. I’m frozen in place as she pleads. I can’t explain it – it’s like my feet are rooted to the ground, or I’m standing in concrete boots just like Wile E. Coyote on Saturday morning cartoons. I want to help her, but I’m trapped. And when I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

The girl begins to cry. Watching her breaks my heart. Fresh tears stream down her cheeks, and she buries her face in her hands. Her small shoulders quake with emotion.

“I’m afraid,” the girl says after a few moments. “They hurt me.” Her face takes on an even more pained expression. “Do you know why the bad men would do that?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s a pathetic answer, I know, but to add a little comfort, I put my hand on the bars of the cage and grip the girl’s fingers. Hers are shaking and I feel bad that I can’t do something more to help.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please help me get out of here. I want my daddy.”

I look into her eyes, see the pain there. The desperation. A desperation that matches mine.

“Please,” she repeats in a dry whisper. “Please, help me.”

I open my mouth to speak just as a wide door swings open, and I freeze. Oh no… no, no, no. I scramble to my feet, terror punching through my system. I have to run. I know the bad men are coming back – and I know I’m going to be in bad trouble. Trouble I might not survive this time.

She hears the sound too. She gasps and begins shaking violently, wrapping her tiny fingers around the bars until the knuckles turn white…then begin to bleed. Startled, I look into her face… and realize her eyes have been carved out. Blood streams down her cheeks, and when she opens her mouth, no sound emerges. Something warm and wet starts to flow down the side of my leg, and I realize that I’m peeing myself, but I’m powerless to stop as heavy footsteps approach the cage in the center of the room.

“You’re dead, little boy!”

Finally, I feel the hold on my body break just in time to look up and see the man. My father. He smiles, a terrifying, twisted sneer of evil.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen to me,” he growls. Then he pulls a knife from his belt and steps closer. Light flashes on the blade, and my body fills with tremendous, hot pain as he grabs me and pushes the sharp edge to my throat.

“This is what happens to little shits who don’t mind their elders.”

***

Bolting up in bed, I pant hard until my throat resembles coarse sandpaper. I can still feel it – the hot piss streaming down my leg and soaking my jeans, the blade of the knife against my throat. And worst of all, the sight of the mutilated little girl in the cage.

“Troy?”

The sound of my name causes me to jump, and I leap out of bed, grabbing a blanket and stumbling across an unfamiliar floor. As I crash into the wall, bright light floods the room.

Joslyn sits up in bed, wearing a cotton t-shirt and a worried expression. “Troy, what happened?” She wipes her brow with the back of her arm. Real alarm laces her voice with an unusual concern. “You were shaking and mumbling, and I kept trying to wake you up, but wherever you were, you didn’t want to come back.”

If she only knew the half of it.

I swallow. Joslyn takes a bottle of water from the nightstand and passes it over to me. It’s warm, but I don’t care. I drain the whole thing and inhale deeply to control my breathing, leaning against the wall and wrapping the blanket around my waist.

“Come on.” Joslyn pats the mattress beside her. “Come here. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, because mind-blowing sex notwithstanding, she’s the last person I’d spill my guts to about my sordid past. “Nothing.”

“That sure as hell didn’t sound like nothing.” She narrows her gorgeous blue eyes into slits, so they almost appear black. “Did you dream about spiders?”

I shudder, pushing the vivid dream into the back of my mind. I welcome her teasing. If I didn’t, I’d be tempted to melt into the comfort of her arms. And that could only result in one thing. Heartbreak. She’s not the one for me long-term. She’d never understand or accept my past, and the broken man those events have turned me into. Not this woman who makes it abundantly clear she has high expectations of herself and everyone around her.

“I wish,” I shake my head. “No. I…I have recurring nightmares, that’s all. Since I was a kid.”

Joslyn’s silent for a long moment, and I worry that she’s going to call me a stupid pussy and throw me out. But instead, she bites her lip.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah.” I sit down on the edge of the bed. The side of her bed where I’ve been sleeping is a tangled mess of sheets, and I wince. At least I didn’t piss myself in real life.

Joslyn sighs and snuggles closer. Heat radiates from her body. Heat I want to wrap myself around. “So, what are these nightmares about?”

I take a long time before responding. “Something really bad that happened to me when I was a little kid. I know it’s dumb. But I haven’t ever been able to shake it.”

Again, I think Joslyn’s about to jump in with a rude or cutting remark. But to my surprise, she nods her head once.

“Yeah. I know that feeling.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Joslyn whispers. “I…I was kidnapped when I was five years old. The same way that guy tried to snag me yesterday, with a bag over my head. The darkness overtook me. I don’t like being unable to see to this day. I felt so hopeless. So defenseless. I still don’t know why. This guy grabbed me from behind, put a bag over my head, and dragged me away. And when I woke up, I was locked in a dog crate. It’s why I’ve dedicated my entire life to women’s safety.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I feel it pounding in every cell in my body. I don’t say anything, even though her story sounds eerily familiar. It sounds…like mine.

I guess that she takes my silence for curiosity, so she keeps talking. “Yeah,” Joslyn repeats. She sticks her bare right foot from under the covers, and I realize for the first time that she’s missing her pinky toe. This is the first time I’ve seen her without her shoes. Well, maybe yesterday, but I hadn’t been inspecting her feet. “They…cut my toe off. I don’t know…probably to send it as some kind of gruesome ransom note.”

I shudder as realization begins to dawn, and I reach out and put my hand on her ankle. To comfort her. To comfort myself. “God, that’s horrible. I can’t believe someone would do that to a little kid. If it makes you feel any better, your feet are still beautiful. I would never have noticed it if you hadn’t told me.”

“The world’s a fucked-up place,” Joslyn whispers. “I’m just lucky they didn’t do anything worse.”

As Joslyn talks, a horrifying realization hits me in the gut. My nightmares aren’t just random nightmares…they’re real. And not only are they real, Joslyn’s the little girl from my dreams. The girl in the cage, the girl who always looks worse in a new, grotesque way with each dream. The girl who sobbed and begged and cried for help.

And the girl I abandoned in order to save myself.