Three Divisions: Crescentwood 1

by R. A. Smyth

  The boys have been watching, assessing me all week, when they think I don’t notice them. I feel like they are trying to pick me apart, looking for weaknesses, and I’ll be damned if I give them one.

  Even Kurt has been watching me, although not with the same calculating stare as Preston and Barrett. No, his is more lewd, making my skin crawl every time I feel his eyes on me or catch his blatant stares.

  I also went to the school library this week and did some research on The Feral Beasts. I wasn’t able to find much, but I did come across numerous news articles about a criminal gang in Oregon that are notorious for drug running, gun smuggling, and various other illegal activities, but I couldn’t find any information on who runs the gang or any of its members. It’s all very hush-hush and I can’t work out what it has to do with my father and his plans in Crescentwood.

  I stop by my locker at the end of the day so I can grab the books I need for homework over the weekend. As the locker door swings open, I find a folded piece of paper perched on top of my pile of books. No one ever talks to me so I can’t imagine who would be leaving me notes.

  Lifting it out and unfolding it, I can feel the blood draining from my face as I read the words on the page…

  It’s only a matter of time until I get to tie you down and do whatever I want with you. Fuck your ass raw while I slice you open over and over again, watching the blood pool over your pearly skin as you scream out in pain.

  Snapping my head up, I quickly check my surroundings, looking to see if anyone is watching me. I can’t deny, whoever this is, has me totally creeped out. No one is paying me any attention though, everyone in the hall is too preoccupied with grabbing their own stuff and getting out of school as quickly as possible.

  There’s nothing I can do about this reprobate at the minute. I’m only one person, and I already have my hands full. Right now, Robert is a more imminent threat. I need to keep my attention firmly set on him.

  With that in mind, I decide I’m not going to think about these notes or Preston and Barrett, or anything to do with school all weekend. As far as I'm concerned, none of it exists.

  Shoving the note in my backpack, I close my locker door and stride out of the school with my head held high, leaving all my school issues behind as I climb into the car.

  Once I’m settled in the back seat, I turn my thoughts to Robert. I haven’t had any more run-ins with him. Thank God. He doesn't seem interested in spending much time with me, and I've definitely gone out of my way to avoid any interactions with him, hiding in my room and only sneaking down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, but I don't think I'm going to get away with avoiding him much longer. He hasn’t asked for an update all week and I’m pretty sure it's overdue.

  My assumption proves correct when I step into the house and Thomas greets me. "Ah, Miss Sophie, I hope you had a pleasant day at school. Your father has requested your presence at dinner this evening. Seven sharp," he informs me, smiling as though it’s great that my father is making time for me.

  I really am coming round to Thomas. He's a bit of a strange one, but it's hard not to respond to his pleasant and optimistic remarks with similar friendliness. He's also the only person who talks to me most days.

  "Hey Thomas, no worries I'll be there. Couldn't deny a request from dear old dad!” I respond with heavy sarcasm before making my way up to my bedroom to change before dinner.

  Not really wanting to start on the mountain of homework I have to do this weekend, I instead try to work out what my plan is going to be while I am living here.

  I’ll be eighteen in four months. I could run away then, it’s not like he could keep me here against my will once I’m a legal adult, but what would I do with myself? I would have no money to make it back home and I don’t fancy living homeless on the streets. It would be a struggle to get a job with no high school education.

  No, I’ll have to stay until I’ve at least graduated. That way, when I make a run for it, I’ll have a high school diploma to help me get some sort of a job to tie me over and help me build a life for myself.

  One thing I have learnt from my life so far is that I don’t want to just survive, scrounging for every penny and barely getting by. That is no way to live. Not that I need a life of opulence, like what I’m currently surrounded by. If anything, the sheer waste of money in this town sickens me. How many families could be fed, children clothed, homeless given shelter, with the money the people in this town spend on one-upping each other, each trying to prove they are the better, richest, more important family. It’s disgusting.

  No, all I want, all I need, is a little place of my own and not stressing about paying for food or bills. That shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

  Ok, so I won’t be going anywhere any time soon but when I do leave, I need to have money gathered together. Robert clearly only brought me here to use me for something, so why shouldn’t I take this opportunity to get something back in return.

  He’s filthy rich after all and trying to present this perfect, loving family image to the rest of the town. I don’t see how he could turn down a simple request for some spending money and a phone, if phrased the right way. I may as well use tonight's dinner to start working on him to get what I want.

  If all else fails, I can always fall back on my pickpocketing skills. Heck, I should probably keep my skills fresh in the meantime. God knows, there are plenty of people around here not hurting for a bit of cash. They probably wouldn’t even notice if the odd twenty-dollar bill went missing.

  ◆◆◆

  At seven p.m. on the dot, I am seated at the large dining room table, big enough to seat at least twelve people, yet there are only two place settings. Robert sits at the head of the table, barely even glancing my way as I take my seat. I haven't eaten in this room yet and I can't help but admire the large bay window overlooking a beautiful rose garden. Above the table is a large chandelier full of crystals that the light sparkles and reflects off, dancing across the surface and twinkling around the room. It's mesmerising to look at. In fact, the whole house is tastefully decorated.

  Other than the maids, I haven't seen any other women here and my father doesn't seem to have a wife or steady girlfriend. I wonder who chose the interior for this place.

  "How is school going? Have you settled in okay?”

  "Eh, yeah, school is going well. I'm a little behind in some subjects but I've been studying hard to catch up.”

  "Good. Good.” he responds absently, still not looking at me. “Have you made any further progress with the group of kids from school?”

  And there we go, right on time, the reason why we are having this dinner. I knew we were overdue for an update on my social status.

  “Remember how important I said it was to get along with the people here.” He reminds me, unnecessarily, the underlying threat in his tone is impossible to miss.

  "Yes, I'm making an effort with everyone. It's still early days, I don't really know anyone all that well yet, but there haven’t been any problems so far.” I respond vaguely.

  Choosing to use this situation to my advantage, “Actually, I was invited into town this weekend with some girls from my class, but I don’t have access to any money or a phone to get in touch with them.” I mention casually as a maid sets our main course of salmon and asparagus in front of us. I smile up at her in thanks before she moves away again.

  “Will the Williamson girl be there?”

  “Barb…eh, I mean, Meaghan? Yeah, I mean, I think so; she said she would try to make it,” I respond, ensuring the lie doesn’t show on my face all while providing an ‘out’ in case my father discovers I’m not actually hanging out with Meaghan or the other Barbies. “I could do with a phone though, so I can confirm with the girls, and some money for lunch tomorrow.” I push, knowing my father can’t refuse and risk raising questions about why I don’t have my own phone, or access to daddy’s money, like every other kid in this town.

  “Fine,” he agrees reluctantly, �
��I’ll get Thomas to order you a phone and set you up with a bank account with some money in it. There will be a limit on the account though; you are not to go spending it on whatever takes your fancy! Remember it is my money that I am allowing you to use.” He emphasises, ensuring he’s made it clear to me who has all the power and control. “Now, tell me more about Preston.”

  “Um, there isn’t much to tell. He keeps himself to himself, mostly just spending his time with Barrett.” I reply, keeping it vague until I can work out why he wants to know about Preston specifically.

  “What about Barrett?”

  “Oh, well he’s kinda the opposite of Preston. Loud and sociable, always flirting with girls”

  “Ha,” my father barks out, shocking me at his reaction. I wasn’t aware that my father knew how to laugh, not that it’s a nice laugh, no, it’s dark and full of malice. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t do it regularly though, and the sorts of things he would laugh at would send other people running for the hills in fear. “Sounds like he takes after his father.”

  Not understanding his meaning, I choose just to ignore him, digging back into my meal.

  “Preston’s father and I are business associates. He is currently a key player in the industry I am trying to expand into. That makes it especially important that our family and his remain on amicable terms,” he says to me sternly.

  Ha, if only he knew how his son viewed our family. It certainly isn’t amicable. Not that I’m going to share that tidbit with my father. Instead, I just nod in agreement, continuing to shovel food in to me in the hopes that I can leave the table as soon as I am done, and escape this weird and awkward conversation.

  “Barrett’s father is important too. I need him on board if I want to succeed. Not that I should have many issues encouraging him to help me, but, all the same, it can’t hurt if you are close with his son. In fact,” he goes on, mumbling more to himself now, “having the two Belmonts duking it out could be quite entertaining.” He alludes, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a cruel, conniving little smile at the thought of causing havoc between father and son.

  I don’t understand what he’s saying though. Duking it out? Over me? No, that doesn’t make any sense.

  Just as I’m about to ask him what he means by that – because if it means what I think it might, that Barrett’s dad is in some way interested in me, then what the actual fuck?! – my father stands up from the table, having finished his own meal. Before he leaves though, he stops beside my chair, “Oh, while I remember, we are hosting a party in a few weeks as a way to get to know everyone in the town,” he says, staring down at me from his superior height until I jerk my head in agreement. “This is a vitally important event, and a great opportunity to make alliances and forge connections. The consequences for you will be severe if you do anything to jeopardise this. Is that understood?” He demands in a threatening tone that has my heart thumping against my chest and sweat soaking my palms.

  I’ve met many intimidating men in my life, but never has one made me feel fear the way Robert Montgomery does. He is truly a terrifying person that I believe is capable of horrendous deeds. I don’t doubt for a second that he would cut down anyone standing in the way of whatever he wants.

  Not being able to talk without my voice breaking, I nod my head again, acting like a mute bobble-head at this point.

  My father gives me a menacing look for another minute or so before stalking off. He’s long gone by the time my heart rate returns to normal and I feel like I can finally breathe normally again.

  Having lost my appetite, I push my plate away. There is no way I could stomach eating any more after that little showdown, which is truly a shame given the delicious tower of profiteroles that were left in the middle of the table for dessert.

  Instead of staying to indulge myself in their creamy chocolatey yumminess, I stand on shaky legs and make my way back to my room. Pulling out my textbooks, I immerse myself in the monotonous task of homework, pushing away my thoughts about Robert and his latest threats at dinner.

  I pride myself in being a strong person. My life so far has definitely taught me to stand up for myself, but when it comes to my father, I feel like a weak, helpless girl, and I hate that feeling.

  I only emerge from my room later that night, once all my homework is done, to go to the kitchen and make myself a large bowl of sweet popcorn. Taking it back to my room, I get comfy in my bed and settle in for a night of binge-watching TV. I love that Netflix here has some of my favourite shows from back home, like 'Friday Night Dinner’. They just released a new season and it's been my go-to show every day this week after school.

  Chapter 11

  Afew hours later, I wake up to the taste of dead frog in my mouth. That’s what I get for eating a whole bowl of popcorn by myself, then falling asleep before brushing my teeth.

  The TV must have turned itself off while I was sleeping, bathing the bedroom in darkness when I open my eyes. The light from my bedside clock tells me it's one in the morning.

  Ugh, I’m dying for a glass of water, then I desperately need more sleep.

  Sneaking out of my room and heading down the stairs, all is quiet. Everyone must have turned in for the night. I slip quietly across the foyer into the kitchen, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence.

  Just as I'm downing my glass of water, I hear a noise coming from the back of the house. No one else is around, and I need to start doing my own investigating if I'm going to get any answers to what my father is up to, and what he’s dragging me into. Pushing away the thought of what happened last time I went snooping in the middle of the night, I head towards where the continued noises are coming from.

  As I’m creeping across the kitchen, I hear another noise that sounds like my father's raised voice. As I slowly move towards the back of the house and the voice gets louder, confirming that it was, in fact, my father shouting at someone in a room adjacent to his home office.

  Ducking into an alcove, where I am hidden behind a large pot plant, I notice the door is ajar, explaining why I could hear him in the first place. From where I am hiding I can make out part of the room, not that I can see much other than a large number of men gathered within.

  My father walks past the doorway, wiping at his hands with a cloth. As he removes the cloth, I notice huge rings on each of his fingers surrounded by a wet red substance. Is that blood on his hands?

  When my father shifts out of the way, I notice he was blocking my view of an unconscious man tied to a chair. What the actual fuck is going on here? The man’s right eye is swollen and blood is seeping from a cut to his forehead. His lip is split open and I’m guessing there are more injuries that I can’t see underneath his clothes.

  “There is no place for traitors here.” My father snarls out, sounding like a raging beast. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. I can only hope I am never on the receiving end of that level of his wrath. It is truly terrifying. His voice alone has chills spreading up my spine and my hands shaking.

  Robert comes back into my narrow field of view of the room. I hear something snap, and a sudden intake of breath, before my father speaks again.

  “Ah, good to have you back with us. Couldn’t have you missing out on all the fun now, could we?” He mocks cruelly to whoever is in the chair.

  My father shifts on his feet, enabling me to see the knife in his hands. I don’t even want to know what he’s going to do with that but I’m frozen solid, stuck hiding where I am, too afraid to move in case he notices me.

  Before I can prepare myself, my father slams the knife into the man’s thigh, all the way to the hilt. The man screams in agony, but the noise is dulled by the gag someone stuffed in his mouth.

  Pulling the knife out, blood spurts everywhere, covering my father and the floor. It’s then that I realise there are several large plastic sheets placed on the floor, covering the area under and around the man’s chair, presumably for this reason.

  “Trey, your turn,” Robert says, handing
the knife to one of the gathered men, who proceeds to stab the man in the other thigh, causing yet another scream of pain to erupt from the so-called traitor.

  Trey hands the knife off to someone else who repeats the process and on and on it goes until I’ve lost count of how many people have stabbed the man.

  Every time he goes unconscious someone snaps something beneath his nose and he regains consciousness before the process continues again.

  I repeatedly swallow down the bile in my throat, not daring to believe the scene I am watching. This shit just doesn’t happen in real life. I’ve seen some violent scenes growing up, but nothing like this, not to this extent, with this number of perpetrators, all set up in such a methodical and deliberate fashion. This looks more like organised crime.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, but has probably only been thirty minutes, everyone in the room seems to have had their go at stabbing the man. I have no idea how he is still alive. His blood is running all over the plastic sheeting on the floor and is splattered across the men’s clothing from when they had their turn with the knife.

  Once everyone has returned to their original place in the room, and my father has taken the knife back, he comes to stand in front of the man in the chair again.

  “You deserve a much worse death than this,” he says to the man, making me wonder what the hell could be a more painful, drawn out death than this, but not really wanting to ever find an answer to my question.

  “But you can die knowing the deaths of your children and your girl are on you,” he states brutally in a flat, almost bored tone, “once my men have had their fun with your girl first,” he adds on after a moment’s pause, with a malevolent glint in his eye, delivering one final blow to his victim.