Skully, Perdition Games

by L E Fraser

  Nina’s joy at discovering her daughter was alive morphed into terror over how she was going to take care of a child who had suffered such trauma. Things were moving too fast. “Isn’t there anything you need to discuss with us regarding her care?”

  He continued to scribble on the paper. “I’ve apprised a London child psychiatrist of the intricacies of her recovery. You have an appointment next week.” He stood, handed Quentin the piece of paper and shook their hands. Nina could tell he was mentally checking them off his to-do list.

  When they exited the office, a nurse was waiting outside the door with Gabriella. She was sleeping in a wheelchair. A large white Samoyed dog stood passively by her side.

  Nina fell on her knees and embraced her child. She leaned back and scrutinized her daughter’s face. Her hair still curled into natural ringlets but it was longer. Her face was pale. It looked a little gaunt. Nina gently squeezed Gabriella’s upper leg. Yes, she was thin. There was a tiny, tape-covered cotton ball in the crook of her arm and a small bruise on the back of her hand from an IV needle. Her poor baby. She must be so scared.

  “We gave her a strong sedative,” the nurse said. “She’ll sleep for several hours. When she wakes, don’t be alarmed if she doesn’t speak.”

  “We understand,” Quentin said.

  “Good. It’ll take time, but having Gana will help.” The nurse patted the dog’s head. “He’s a lovely, well-behaved animal and attached to your daughter.” She knelt and gave Gabriella a hug. “Have a safe trip home. You can take the wheelchair out to the car.”

  “No, I’ll carry her.”

  Nina moved aside so Quentin could pick up their daughter. He stood motionless, clutching Gabriella to his chest.

  “I’ll help you to the car.” Laura took Nina’s arm, leading her to the elevator.

  Once the children and their new dog were loaded into the backseat, Laura shook Quentin’s hand and turned to Nina. “Here is my card,” she said. “I’ll be in touch in a couple of weeks when Gabriella is settled. If you have any other questions, please call.” With that, she made her way back to the hospital.

  They stood beside the car and Quentin put his arm around her waist, smiling for the first time. “Do you want to find a hotel and drive back tomorrow?”

  She wanted to ask him if he was afraid. She needed him to reassure her they would figure everything out and take care of their daughter together. Instead, she shook her head. “I can drive. You can nap in the back seat between the girls.”

  The girls. The words sailed across her tongue. Finally, it was plural and would never again be singular. Nothing else mattered. They’d figure things out along the way. It didn’t matter how long it took or how hard it was. Gabriella was her daughter. Nina swore she would sacrifice anything to keep her safe.

  She rose on her tiptoes and lifted her face to kiss her husband. “Let’s take our girls home.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ten years later: London, Ontario

  Isabella

  “WHATCHA WANNA DO?” Isabella asked.

  “We could play skully,” Gabriella suggested.

  Isabella rolled her eyes. “That’s all you ever want to play.” She tumbled onto her back and pulled Gana into her arms.

  Her older sister flopped down on the grass beside her and studied the clouds. “That cloud,” she pointed at the sky, “looks like a man hanging from the gallows.”

  More like a giraffe, Isabella thought. “Wanna hang out at the mall?” she asked, hoping to distract her sister from being her usual creepy self.

  Gabriella snorted. “Right, like Mama would let us go to the mall alone.”

  “All my friends went on vacation this summer.” Isabella sighed. “Not us, we have to stay home and camp in the stupid backyard.”

  It was Gabriella’s fault. Something had happened when her sister was five, but Isabella didn’t know what. Every time she asked, her parents wouldn’t answer. She’d tried talking to her sister, but Gabriella claimed she didn’t remember.

  She rolled over and studied her sister. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “What happened when you were little, Gabby?”

  “I had an adventure.” Widening her eyes, she sucked in her cheeks and pulled her lips away from her teeth, a face that had terrified Isabella when she was little.

  “It creeps me out when you do that.” Isabella tugged a blade of grass from the yard and put it between her fingers to make a whistle. Gabriella wasn’t going to tell her, so she may as well drop it. “When am I going to get boobs?”

  Her sister sat up and ran her hands across her own full breasts. “You won’t like breasts. You’re a tomboy.” She brushed her long, dark ringlets over her shoulder and flicked a piece of grass off her yellow blouse.

  As usual, Gabriella was wearing a blouse with puffy sleeves and a blue skirt. Outdated and prudish. The red hair band with a bow was super-gross.

  “Boys like beautiful princesses, like Snow White,” Gabriella said.

  Isabella doubted a boy would think the gross outfit was hot, but she’d been on the receiving end of her sister’s bad temper plenty of times. She kept her opinion to herself, tossing the blade of grass aside. “Let’s put plastic on the yard and make a water slide with the hose,” she said. “I’m gonna get Joyce.”

  She tried to stand, but Gabriella clamped her hand on her shoulder and held her down. “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

  Isabella pushed against the weight of her sister and then lay still, hoping she’d let go. “You can play, if you want. Let go.”

  Lightning fast, Gabriella grabbed her forearm with both hands and gave her an Indian burn. “You don’t need Joyce. You have me.”

  “Let go. That hurts!”

  Gabriella dropped her arm, rolled over, and pinned her to the ground, sitting on her stomach. “Do you love me?”

  Isabella looked up at Gabriella straddling her and nodded. “Sure, you’re my sister.”

  Strong thighs dug into her waist. Fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezed.

  “Am I your best friend forever, no matter what?”

  Isabella couldn’t breathe. Grabbing her sister’s wrists, she tried to dislodge the long fingers from her neck. “Stop it,” she gasped, clawing at her with her nails.

  Gabriella released the pressure and Isabella swallowed hard. “Get off me.”

  “Answer the question, Isabella.”

  “S-sure,” she sputtered, “we’re BFFs.”

  Gabriella rolled off. “Remember our tea parties? Just you and me with our special friends? That was so much fun. I wish it could always be like that.”

  God, again with the stupid make-believe friend. “Gabby, they weren’t friends. We made them up. I stopped doing it when I was six. I don’t need an imaginary friend.” Isabella rubbed her sore neck and shuffled her butt across the grass. If she could scoot far enough away, she’d be able to stand before Gabriella pounced on her again.

  She wasn’t fast enough. Gabriella grasped her hand, holding tight. “That’s because you have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

  Isabella jerked away and stood, brushing grass off her shorts and sleeveless blouse. She desperately wanted to talk about something — anything — else.

  Her sister had spent her allowance on an ugly Disney princess figurine, but she could lend Gabby money. “Let’s go to the convenience store. I’ll treat.”

  Finally, an idea Gabriella seemed into. “That’s okay, I don’t need money,” she said. “If we go fast, Mama won’t know.” She skipped to the gate, spun the combination lock, and disappeared.

  Isabella threw a frustrated look after her sister and glanced at the house. Gabriella was right. They’d be back before Mama knew. With a twinge of guilt, she took off through the open gate and passed her sister before they were ten houses down.

  At the door of the corner store, Gabriella peeked through the window. “Good, there are lots of kids in there.”

  Isabella wondered why that
mattered but she skipped into the store and walked to the back. From the freezer, she selected a banana Popsicle, grabbed a Coke from the fridge, and took her items to the cash register. The boy behind the counter was cute and singing along with Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” playing from a radio behind him.

  He gave her a wink. “Bet you know how that feels.”

  She felt her cheeks flush, probably bright red. He rang up her purchases, handed her a plastic bag, and waved his hand for her money.

  Outside the store, kids were coming and going but Gana was gone, which meant Gabriella had left. She always ditched her. This time, Isabella was glad. She’d rather hang out with her own friends.

  She was about to cross the street to Joyce’s house when Gabriella popped out from behind a tree. Startled, Isabella jerked back and her sister shoved her hard, knocking her to the ground.

  “Why’d you do that?” she yelled, rubbing her skinned elbow before trying to pick up the scattered change spilling from her pocket.

  Gabriella laughed. “Stop being such a baby, and I’ll give you some of my candy.”

  “You didn’t get any. You spent all your allowance yesterday.”

  She smiled. “You don’t need money to get what you want.”

  “You stole?” Isabella was horrified.

  Gabriella held out her hand. “Come on, get up.”

  Isabella ignored her outstretched hand and stood on her own. “Leave me alone, I hate you. I’m going to hang out with Joyce.” She stuffed the handful of change into her plastic bag.

  Beside her sister, Gana whimpered. Gabriella hung her head and muttered something Isabella didn’t hear. Gana barked once and tugged on Gabriella’s skirt with his teeth.

  Gabriella glanced at her skirt with a snort of disgust and pulled the hair band off her hair. “Let’s play skully.” She undid the top two buttons of her blouse with a frown. “This colour is gross.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes. “Why do you wear it all the time?”

  Instead of answering, Gabriella said, “Come on, just one game of skully. We’ll get the tarp out of the shed and set up the sprinkler so you and Joyce can play on the water slide after the game.”

  Isabella hesitated. “I guess…” Joyce did enjoy playing skully and it was better with more players. “Fine, I’ll run over to her house and we’ll meet you at the driveway.” Before her sister could insist on going with her, Isabella sprinted across the street.

  At Joyce’s house, she jogged through the back gate and into the yard. No one was outside. The back door was open, so she stepped into the kitchen. “Joyce?” she called.

  Voices were coming from upstairs. Isabella walked to the staircase and was about to yell up when she heard her name.

  “It’s not Isabella,” Mrs. McNamara said. “It’s the other one.” She sounded angry, and Isabella froze at the base of the stairs.

  “Grace, that’s not fair.” It was Joyce’s dad.

  Isabella was scared of him because he was a police detective. He was nice to her, but he might not be if he caught her in his house without permission.

  “You’re going over to their house,” Mrs. McNamara yelled, “and telling Quentin to keep his psycho kid away from our daughter.”

  Why was Mrs. McNamara calling her a psycho? She thought her friend’s mother liked her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she held her breath, straining to hear.

  “Is it any wonder she has issues?” Detective McNamara asked. “She was five, Grace. Five.” His voice rose to a shout. “The pervert held her in a godforsaken cabin for six months. You said you didn’t want to live near them, and I agreed to transfer to Toronto Police Services. We’re moving at the end of the month. That’s all you get.”

  There was a scuffling sound but the shock over discovering a pervert had taken her sister paralyzed Isabella.

  “That’s right, walk away, coward,” Mrs. McNamara shouted. “Where are you going, Colin, or need I ask? Over to see Megan and that bastard child of hers. Funny how her husband killed himself a month after that baby was born. Why do you think he did that?”

  The answering voice was cold and scary. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Mrs. McNamara in a singsong voice. “Maybe it was the baby’s thick head of strawberry blond hair.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That baby boy is the spitting image of Sam when she was born. You remember Samantha, your legitimate child?”

  A door slammed, jolting Isabella into action. Heavy footsteps headed for the stairs. She sprinted through the house and out the back door. Her fingers shook and she fumbled with the gate. It wouldn’t open. He would catch her. It took forever to unlatch the bolt. Before she could escape, he called her name and she spun around to face her best friend’s father.

  “Are you looking for Joyce?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. Maybe he didn’t know she’d been in the house. His eyes drilled into hers. Could he arrest her for eavesdropping?

  “I gotta go,” she mumbled and wrenched open the gate.

  She sprinted across the street, not watching for cars, and ran home, stopping short at the end of her driveway. Joyce and her four-year-old sister, Sam, were talking with Gabriella.

  “What took you so long?” Gabriella asked when she saw her.

  Isabella couldn’t breathe. Mrs. McNamara thought Gabriella was a psycho. Her best friend’s mother hated her because of her sister. It was so unfair. How could she visit Joyce after they moved if Mrs. McNamara hated her family? She was so excited about spending a weekend in Toronto. Everything was ruined, and it was all Gabriella’s fault, again.

  Her sister was speaking to her but she couldn’t focus. Suddenly, little Sam was howling. Gana was growling at Joyce. Before she could move, Gabriella hit Joyce. Isabella watched in horror while her sister hurled little Sam to the ground and attacked Joyce. For the first time in her life, Isabella felt true rage.

  “I hate you, you ruin everything.” Isabella tackled her sister.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Quentin

  IGNORING THE ‘KEEP out when closed’ sign on the door, Quentin knocked and peeked inside Isabella’s bedroom.

  “Can we talk?” He picked his way through discarded clothing, crumpled papers, and books scattered across the shabby pink carpet.

  “I guess.” She buried her tear-streaked face in her pillow and then looked up at him with eyes ringed in red.

  Quentin sat on the edge of the twin bed. “Bella, are you ready to tell me what happened?”

  Her jaw tightened and she looked away. “I already told you. Gabriella and I had a fight.”

  “The McNamara girls say it was more than a disagreement. They claim Gabriella threw Sam and punched Joyce. They told their father you tried to defend them and your sister attacked you, beating you so badly your nose bled.”

  “Gabriella told you what happened. It was an accident,” she mumbled.

  “Where did you get that cut above your eye?”

  “It was an accident.”

  Quentin sighed. “If your sister threatened you, Isabella, you need to tell me.”

  “Papa, I’m tired.”

  It exasperated him that she wouldn’t talk to him. Something happened in the driveway but he couldn’t get to the truth.

  He decided to drop the subject of the fight and address the other issue. “Did you go inside Joyce’s house this afternoon?”

  “Why?” She refused to meet his eyes.

  “Did you hear Detective and Mrs. McNamara talking?”

  “No.”

  Quentin took her hand and poured some change into her palm. “You left it in the bag. They found it at the base of their stairs, Isabella.”

  Her eyes opened wide.

  “Detective McNamara thinks you overheard an unpleasant conversation.”

  “They were arguing. I left right away,” she said in a small voice. “Papa, am I in trouble for going into their house without permission?”

 
“No, honey. Detective McNamara is concerned you heard something you didn’t understand.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” she muttered.

  She was lying. He could always tell with her, but he didn’t know how to encourage her to open up to him. It was so frustrating. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead. “I love you more than the moon, the sun, and all the other stars. You can tell me anything.”

  “I want to go to sleep, Papa.”

  With a sigh, Quentin tucked the blankets around his precious girl and turned out the bedside lamp.

  Standing alone in the dark hallway, Quentin felt irritated and helpless. After Gabriella’s abduction, they’d worked closely with a therapist but it was pointless. She claimed she didn’t remember anything about those six months, and no amount of therapy broke the barrier. But she was obsessed with Snow White. She even sewed her clothes to resemble Snow White costumes. Quentin thought about the hideous cabin where the man had imprisoned his daughter. He thought about the police photos of the tiny princess bed in the pink cage, and bile rose in his throat. How much did she remember?

  He wandered down the hallway and stood outside his eldest daughter’s bedroom door. From inside, he could hear her voice. Talking to herself again. For a reason he didn’t want to think about too closely, he was afraid to enter. He dropped his hand from the knob and turned away.

  Nina put down her book when he entered their bedroom. “Did you check on Isabella?”

  He nodded and pulled off his T-shirt and shorts, tossing them on the wing chair by the window before climbing into bed in his underwear. “Gabriella attacked those girls this afternoon.”

  She removed her glasses. “Isabella told you that?”

  He shook his head. “No, but she was lying.”