They Call Me Teddy: (Enemies to Lovers Horror Romance)

by Ella Burns

  After a few months, I lost it and tried to kill myself again thinking Teddy was dead, never coming back. Bud found me bleeding out downstairs and, unfortunately, saved me. By the time I came to, he’d had enough time to tell me that Jane would hurt Mia if I tried that again. I sat in my room chained up and alone while I healed for the coming weeks. I didn’t try to kill myself again.

  After that, though, Bud actually brought me a few more books and a small TV. I spent days and weeks pouring over that little TV, despite its static and the fact it only gets a few channels. For the first time, I got to learn a bit more of the world outside these walls.

  The one benefit of living outside of the cage for so long is my body is finally filling out, turning from a young boy into a man. I’m still skinny, a result of so little food, but I’m strong. I’ve made sure of that.

  My room is small, but big enough that I can exercise. And I do, every day. I can do over a hundred pushups now without breaking a sweat.

  I hear another set of footsteps from above and feel the corner of my mouth twitch. Those are Jane’s steps. Which can only mean one thing.

  They’re home.

  ✽✽✽

  It’s another day before Bud comes to get me. I know better than to bother asking him anything. Instead, I follow him down the gallery I haven’t been through in a long time. I want to ask a million things about Amelia—and fuck, even Jane—but I stay silent. I don’t even object when he puts me back in the same damn tiny cage from when I was a kid, even though I can barely get my body in. He grunts at this and mutters something about a bigger one before lumbering off.

  Despite my discomfort, the familiarity of all of it actually makes me feel at ease.

  Even when Bud brings a young man down and places him on the table, I don’t care. Even when I realize he’s alive.

  Nothing can faze me.

  Mia’s home.

  ✽✽✽

  It’s a few hours later when he wakes on the table with a start and I sigh, waiting for the inevitable freak out. It’s been so long since I’ve been here, but I remember well enough how it all works. I can't see their faces from my cage, but I can always tell when they lift their head, look around. The shouting comes soon after usually. It's almost clockwork, even after all this time.

  I frown when his head drops after a moment and he says nothing. I wait another minute before I can’t contain it.

  "Why aren't you freaking out?" I ask him bluntly. His head swivels until he twists around enough to lock eyes with mine. Small cuts already cover his face and chest and my brow knits into a frown. Some of them look cauterized already, black instead of red. He looks at my cage for a moment before turning and laying back down on the metal slab.

  "I figure she ain't through with me," he says, his voice flat and resigned.

  I let out a small humorless laugh.

  "Yeah, you're probably right," I agree because really, what else is there.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. I’m not as comfortable with change as I thought. I’m uneasy with this change of demeanor of Jane’s victim and wonder what’s changed the last few years.

  “How long have you been here?” he asks randomly. I dart my eyes back over to the table for a moment, thinking about if I should answer before deciding there’s no harm.

  “About fourteen years,” I tell him. At that, he snaps his head toward me, abject fear in his eyes. The contrast to a moment ago is startling.

  “What did she do to you?” I ask in a whisper. It's the first time someone has acted more scared of being where I am than being on that table. I empathize, but wonder what the fuck Jane did to him if he’s already figured that out.

  He looks at me a minute longer before turning back around. I get the sense he’s thinking of how to answer so I stay quiet.

  “I-I woke up in her bed,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just down at the Subway hanging around with friends and went to take a piss and woke up there. At first when I woke up and saw her, I actually laughed.”

  “Laughed?”

  “Well, I wasn’t afraid when I saw it was a girl.”

  A foreboding shiver runs up my spine.

  “Girl?”

  He ignores me, apparently lost in recollection. “She didn’t like when I laughed. Sh-she cut me and then…”

  “And then?” I urge him on, needing to hear it as much as I dread it.

  “Fuck, she started dancing and shit and then cutting me. Sh-she got mad when I couldn’t... get h-hard and she… she….”

  I interrupt, swallowing deeply. “This girl,” I ask, “Was she young?”

  “She was barely more than a child,” he says, though I don’t think he’s answering my question or even listening to me. My heart crashes at his words. Mia did this. No, Teddy.

  “She practically fucking raped me!” he cries out suddenly. “I couldn’t help it. She just kept rubbing blood on me. I couldn’t help it! Then when I couldn’t do it anymore, she cut me and sent this crazy fucker to take me away!” He’s frantic by the time he finishes, and I regret asking. I feel myself pale as a wave of nausea rises. The cuts all over his body make infinitely more sense now.

  “Did….”

  Before I can finish, a voice carries down the gallery corridor. My eyes widen.

  “Ring-a-ring-a-rosies,” she sings, “Pocket full of posies!”

  The door slams open and Amelia steps in. I can’t breathe, taking her in for the first time in years. She’s so grown up. So… beautiful.

  The homeliness of her as a child has fallen away to reveal a beautiful young woman, though she’s still wearing a ridiculous frilly dress, much like when she was younger. Long blonde hair falls around her face and she looks at the boy on the table with a manic grin. My heart beats fast as I watch her, willing her to look at me.

  “A-tishoo, a-tishoo we alllll falllll down!” She finishes on a shout, jumping and falling flat like a rag to the ground in front of my cage. Her eyes are closed for a moment before they open wide and the grin reappears.

  “Just kidding!” she shouts, jumping up with a ‘ta-da’ motion. “Y’all can’t get rid of me that easy!”

  When neither of us respond, she scoffs.

  “You guys are boring,” she says. “Let’s have some fun.”

  She walks over to the cupboard and starts rifling through, and my voice finally comes back to me.

  “Mia?” I manage to croak out, trying to come to terms with this crazy young woman in front of me, so at odds with the girl I knew. Her back straightens and she turns slowly, a scalpel in her hand as she makes her way over to the cage in front of me.

  My hands grip the bars, my body wanting to be as close to her as possible. Her smile is soft as she kneels in front of me, her green eyes staring into mine.

  I don’t register the way her smile changes from sweet to evil, only the pain as the blade slices across my knuckles. Hissing, I pull my hands back and look up at her as she laughs.

  “You can call me Teddy,” she says, winking at me before turning back to the table.

  My eyes are wide, jaw dropped, as I watch Ameli—no, Teddy—turn back to the boy at the table. I feel cold inside and my own heart is deafening to my ears. Gone is the sweet girl I knew, twisted by the years Jane kept us apart. My hands are bleeding steadily but I don’t notice until Teddy pops back in front of my cage, placing her hand under the blood that's dripping to the floor to catch it.

  She watches my face, her big green eyes searching for a reaction. I glance down at her hand, coated in my blood, and swallow deeply. It looks so red against her skin. I can’t help but wonder what her blood would look like on me.

  Keeping her eyes on me, she slowly lifts her hand until it’s just out of reach of her mouth. A slow smile curves her lips and a small pink tongue darts out to lick her fingertip. My eyes practically bug out of my head when she lets out a small hum then giggles, flicking her hand at me and splattering blood everywhere. I don’t react when it covers my c
hest and face.

  “Yum,” she says before winking at me and jumping up and back over to the table.

  “Well, well, my pretty plaything,” she sings at the boy on the table, the tone reminding me so much of Jane. “How are we doing? Did my pet keep you good company while I was gone?”

  The boy doesn’t respond and I’m too in shock to even move, much less say anything. Teddy sighs, putting her hands on her hips.

  “Well, you’re no fun either,” she pouts. “Won’t even talk to me anymore. Can’t fuck, can’t talk. Guess I’ll just keep coloring.”

  “No!” he shouts, straining against his bonds, “I’ll talk to you! I’m sorry, I’ll talk.”

  With her back to me, I can’t see what she’s grabbing and can’t for the life of me figure out why he wouldn’t want her to color. Unease fills me even before she turns around.

  “Now I don’t want to,” she replies as she turns around holding something I don’t recognize in her hand. It looks like a fat pen with cords coming from it.

  “Please!” the boy starts crying, the sound of his piss hitting the floor only barely audible over his screams. Teddy grins, moving closer as she clicks a small button and turns the device in her hand, holding it just like a pen. It emits a small buzzing sound.

  The boy's cries continue and all I can do is sit and watch as she brings the pen down on his shin. The scream rises in pitch just as the smell of burning fills my nostrils, a combination of meat and burnt hair. She steps back after a moment and the boy’s sobs continue. And then I see her creation.

  The tool is something that burns deeply, leaving the marks of small flowers with angry red and black. My eyebrows rise, and as morbid as it is, I’m actually a bit impressed with her drawing skills, especially considering the medium.

  “Pretty!” she exclaims, leaning forward to continue her drawing.

  She keeps going until most of his body is covered in small burnt flowers. Jane never comes, and the screams don’t stop. Neither do her laughs. My headache rages on.

  I’m not even surprised when she pitches me into darkness and locks the door behind her. My mind is racing, trying to comprehend what I just saw, what she’s become. What Jane’s turned her into.

  A steady drip is the only sound keeping me company.

  Chapter Three

  Teddy

  By the time I’m finished my ‘drawing’, my boy-toy is no good for bringing upstairs any longer. No matter, though. Jane said now that we’re home, we can get Bud to do it for us. No more nights in the alleys getting victims for us or disposing of them in random—and sometimes disgusting—ways. Not that I minded all that much. Those considered to be the scum of the city fascinate me.

  I ignore Branson in the cage behind me while I finish up. I haven’t quite decided what to do with him yet or how best to fuck with him. I can tell my little show unnerved him earlier, but that’s only the beginning. Jane taught me the truth and made me see.

  The boy on my table is finally unconscious, his breathing shallow. I could leave him to suffer and die, keep Branson company. The thought is appealing because I know how much Branson would hate it, though he’ll be cleaning it up either way.

  Sighing, I look down one more time before shrugging and dragging the scalpel across his throat. The boy's eyes open and I stare down smiling, cocking my head as the light rapidly fades from his eyes. Unlike Jane, there is no more appeal to me once they’re dead. I make art sometimes for fun or to please her, but it’s the pain I want and crave.

  “Bye bye, little toy,” I whisper, hopping off the table. I look down at my dress, now covered in blood and small burn marks. “Oh, dear.”

  “What the fuck happened to you?” I hear Branson croak and I perk up. I wondered if it might take him longer to accept that ‘Teddy’ is here to stay. The scalpel twists in my finger, stabbing the tip until I feel a sharp prick and I bite my lip in pleasure. Blood drips down. Turning to him, I put my bloody finger to my chin.

  “Hmmm,” I say, slowly moving closer as I rub my chin. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’m the same ol’ Teddy!” I spread my arms out, grinning. His eyes look fucking dead as they watch me, and I let out a high-pitched laugh.

  “Oh, Branson! I missed you so much! We’re going to have so much fun now that I’m home!”

  I do a little twist in front of him, reveling in the look of misery on his face. I anticipated that he’d be expecting his little Mia when I walked in. He doesn’t realize that Amelia has been gone a long time. They all call me Teddy now.

  “Now, don’t you go anywhere,” I say with a wink before turning off the light.

  I close the door behind me with a giggle.

  I’m so glad I’m home.

  ✽✽✽

  I make my way upstairs to go look for Jane, finding her in the living room talking quietly with Bud who has his back to me. I look at the big man with disgust. We did well enough on the road when I got our victims. I get that she doesn’t want to expose herself, but using such a repulsive man makes no sense to me. At least she could get herself a young, hot one or something.

  Still, he handles the shit at the antique shop, from what I can tell, and does all the grunt bullshit for us outside the house.

  My black shoes click against the wooden floor and Bud turns around, his eyes widening as he sees me for the first time in years. I don’t fail to notice the familiar reaction to how I look, the one that tells me much about Bud’s preferences. Pig.

  I narrow my eyes, growling at him before letting off a small bark in his direction. His eyes get even wider before he drops his gaze. From the corner of my eye, I see Jane smirk.

  “You need something?” she asks. My gaze burns into Bud a moment longer before I turn to her, delivering my best smile.

  “Oh, not much. Just finished up the last one, that soldering pen is fantastic. Nothing to save, all for the garbage.”

  Jane frowns. “What a waste and much too fast. It’ll be another week before I can send Bud to get another one.”

  I shrug. I know she is all about the art, and while I try to please her to a degree, my time in the workroom is for me, not her.

  “Where’s Branson?” she asks. I feel her trying to read me, but I merely let a manic smile show through.

  “Still in his cage. He didn’t seem to like what I did with my toy.”

  Jane turns to Bud. “Did you get the item I asked?”

  He nods, lumbering over to the table and pulling out a bag to give to her. She pulls it out and hands it to me, and my smile grows.

  “It’ll be perfect for him.”

  Chapter Four

  Branson

  It’s a lot harder to judge the passing of time in the cage in the dark, but I imagine I’ve been in here for a few hours, otherwise I think it would already be starting to smell more. As it is, the scent of stale blood is almost like an old friend.

  I’ve had the time to think about it, but somehow the puzzle of Amelia—or the girl that was Amelia—is something I haven’t cracked. I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised. She was always a bit strange, and her fascination with death is nothing new. Maybe the difference is before I could almost convince myself she didn’t know what she was doing.

  Though she’s clearly fucking psychotic, it’s also clear that ‘Teddy’ knows exactly what she’s doing.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of familiar heavy footsteps coming toward me. Shifting my neck, I know I’m going to feel like hell when I get out of this stupid cage. My limbs have long since fallen asleep and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been in here. When I was a child, I spent days in here and while it wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t like this. But I was also much smaller then. It really is incredible what a few years not cramped into a tiny cage will do for one's growth.

  The light flicks on, effectively blinding me, and sure enough, Bud lumbers in and heads over to the table. He eyes the corpse critically before gruntin
g and pulling it off the table and into the waiting bin below. I say nothing, knowing that no amount of prompting or asking has ever gotten me out of here faster.

  Bud pushes the bin toward the door then stops in front of my cage, bringing his head down.

  “Miss your room? Gotten a bit small for ya, eh?” he mocks me, throwing his head back in laughter like he said the funniest thing. I say nothing, more than used to his idiot brand of harassment. There’s only one person who can cut me down with words.

  Once Bud sees he isn’t going to get a reaction out of me he scoffs, opening the door to the cage.

  “Well, come the fuck on then,” Bud says.

  I move as fast as I can, which isn’t fast, to untangle my long limbs from the tiny cage. As predicted, my arms and legs tingle as the blood rushes back into them and my head swims with dizziness for a moment. Bud’s hand grabs my arm and leads me down the gallery and I’m actually thankful, because I’m pretty sure I would fall over otherwise.

  We approach my room but instead of shoving me in, Bud pushes me toward the stairs. I hesitate a moment before he pushes me again.

  “Come the fuck on then. I haven’t got all day, and the missus wants to see ya,” he grumbles. Swallowing, I make my way up the stairs to Jane for the first time in over two years.

  ✽✽✽

  “Well, well,” Jane says as I enter, clapping her hands and standing from her desk, “Look at how you’ve grown!”

  I stand still and silent when she walks over to me, circling around. My skin burns with her eyes on me. I notice that I’m finally taller than her and I have to keep the corner of my mouth from turning up at the thought.

  My eyes stay downcast as she continues whatever inspection she thinks she’s doing. I flinch when her hand reaches out to my chin, lifting my eyes to look into hers. I suppress a shiver at the sight of their inky depths, the psychosis just below the surface. She looks older than I remember. Bits of grey line the edges of her face, the lines around her eyes and mouth more pronounced than before.