The Cellar

by Natasha Preston

  “You can knit?” I was told that my grandmother was a skilled knitter, but Mother never took it up—not that I could remember, anyway.

  “Yes. My gran taught me from a young age. I used to make cardigans, scarfs, gloves, socks, anything really. It’s calming, relaxing, and I like that I can make something unique. There aren’t enough handmade things around anymore. Everything’s mass production now. ”

  I smiled. “You’re right, there’s not. I don’t know what I’m getting, though. Perhaps you could write a list for me?”

  Her eyes lit up, causing my heart to skip a beat. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll knit you a winter hat. ”

  “That would be lovely, Violet, thank you. Anyway, I need to leave for work. What is for dinner tonight?”

  “Lasagna and salad. Does that sound okay?”

  “That sounds perfect. ” I walked around the table and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for breakfast, and have a good day reading. ”

  “You’re welcome, and have a good day at work,” she replied, beaming at me. I nodded my head and left the room.

  Saturday, July 16th (2005)

  Parking in the small lot behind the self-storage place, I scanned the street opposite. Where are they? I frowned. Had I missed my chance? I hoped not. I hoped I hadn’t missed Rose and Lily simply because I hadn’t acted fast enough, but it wasn’t time before.

  “Come on,” I whispered. My heart was heavy. The thought of them alone somewhere out there was awful, especially when I had a safe home and a family waiting for them. Someone stepped in front of my view and tapped on the window.

  I jumped back in surprise and wound the window down. A young woman wearing very little leaned down. “Can I help you?” I asked. My voice was tighter than I intended, but I knew what she was.

  She smiled and tilted her head to the side. “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

  I felt sick to my stomach that she assumed I wanted anything to do with her—or any of them. Images of that woman and my father flashed through my mind. Dirty whore. “I have a wife,” I said, testing her morals.

  She shrugged. “And?”

  And? My lip curled and every nerve ending burst into angry flames. “Get in,” I said. There was no hesitation from her, even after my less than warm response. She strolled around the front of my car and got into the passenger side. Her cheap perfume turned my stomach.

  “The forest isn’t far if you take a left at the crossroads,” she said.

  I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “I know a place,” I replied.

  As I drove home, I thought about Mother. Would she feel proud that I hadn’t given up? Since her death I hadn’t been as dedicated to her cause as I should have been. I didn’t particularly want to be; this was my time to have a family and a fresh start. It was selfish of me. I was desperately unhappy being alone and wanted a family more than anything, but I couldn’t help the reaction women like her gave me. I couldn’t help the uncontrollable urge to fix it.

  I pulled into my driveway ten minutes later and turned off the engine. My heart fluttered and stomach turned. I didn’t think I would be back here so soon. This wasn’t supposed to be my life now. I wasn’t so naïve that I thought that I could turn my back on everything Mother and I had built, but I wanted something that was just for me too.

  “We’re at your place?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I have a room. ”

  She giggled. “Sounds kinky. That’s extra, you know?”

  I ignored her and got out. Where was her self-respect? She had lost it along the way. I wondered at what age she turned into a whore. More and more teenage girls were making little tarts out of themselves. It was hardly surprising why some lose their morals; it seemed to disappear with their innocence.

  Leading her into the house, I pulled back the bookcase and opened the door. “Wow, you got a sex room down there? BDSM?” Ignoring her again, I gestured with my head for her to go down first, and she walked ahead without hesitation.

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  At the bottom of the stairs, she turned fully and saw the girls. “What the…?”

  “Stand against the wall,” I ordered.

  She jumped back and pressed herself into the concrete wall. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “And who are they? I don’t do that sort of thing. ”

  “You do not ask the questions. Close your eyes. Now. ”

  “No. Look, I just want to go, okay? I won’t mention whatever you’ve got going on here; it’s none of my business. ”

  “Close. Your. Eyes. ” To my surprise, she did. “Good-bye,” I whispered and pulled the penknife out of my pocket. Her eyes flew open, and I leaped forward, plunging the knife into her gut.

  An ear-piercing scream echoed through the room as one of the girls cried out. I kept my eyes on the whore, watching her slump to the floor. Letting out a sigh of relief, I turned around. “It’s done. It’s over. ” My blood was singing in my veins and my body relaxed.

  Violet stared at me in horror. “What did you do?”

  “What I had to. Don’t worry, Violet, it’s over now. She’s won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. I took care of it. I will always take care of it. ” I couldn’t help it.

  “B-but what? Clover, it’s…wrong,” Violet whispered. Her eyes were wide, scared, and her hands trembled with shock. Wrong, I repeated in my head. No, what the whore did was wrong. I’d prevented her from hurting anyone else. No child would lose their family because of her now.

  My heart raced at a hundred miles an hour. How could she accuse me of being in the wrong? My hands clenched into fists of their own accord. I took a deep breath to clear my anger. She doesn’t understand what I’m doing, that’s all. “Violet, you don’t understand. ”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head slowly. “No, I really don’t. ”

  “I have done nothing wrong. You know what she is, don’t you?” Violet nodded her head, showing me she understood the whore was a prostitute. “Good. Do you think they should be allowed to rip families apart? To dress like a tart and give herself to anyone that has the money. Is that right, Violet?”

  “No,” she replied, a tear trickled down her cheek. Finally, she was starting to get it.

  “That’s right, it’s not. Poppy?” I looked over to where Poppy was sitting frozen on the sofa, shaking. “Do you think they should get away with it? After all, the police do nothing to prevent it. ” Poppy shook her head stiffly. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth was hung open. I smiled. “You see. What I’m doing is…righting a wrong. ” I scratched my head. “Now, we need to clean this up. ”

  “Clean it up?” Violet squeaked.

  “Yes. Fill a bucket with hot, soapy water, get bleach and garbage bags. ” Violet and Poppy stayed still. “Now,” I snapped. I knew there were still body bags in the cupboard under the stairs. I’d bought no more since Mother died, but I knew now I would have to.

  I returned to Violet with the body bag. She and Poppy had already made a start. I pressed my fist to my mouth and dropped the body bag beside them. “Put it in that,” I murmured against my fist. Blood seeped from the wound in her gut, making my stomach turn. My breathing became shallow and my skin crawled. I felt dirty, as if the whore’s germs were crawling over my body.

  Fleeing from the room and locking the door, I sprinted to the shower and got in with my clothes still on. Peeling my soaking clothes from my body, I grabbed the sponge and scrubbed until I my skin was red and raw.

  Sunday, July 17th (2005)

  I parked the car in the same spot as yesterday and got out. They were here tonight, huddled together on a bench. Closing my eyes, I sighed in deep happiness. Both of them were beautiful. Lily had long light blond hair, a golden veil, and Rose was the exact opposite with shoulder length jet-black hair. Neither was more attractive than the other, though; they were perfect.

  I got out, barely able to hide my joy. �
�Hello, ladies,” I said. They both jumped, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. ”

  “It’s okay. We didn’t see you coming, that’s all,” Rose said.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Um. ” Lily hesitated. “We’re trying to make our way to London. ” London? They were miles and miles away from the capital. “It’s taken us almost a week to get this far and we’ve only come fifty miles. We’re trying to earn money where we can, but it’s hard. ”

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  “Well, I don’t know if this would help, but I live about forty miles out of London. I’d be prepared to take you that far if you like?”

  Rose’s eyes lit up. “Really? That would be great. ”

  “Of course. I would quite enjoy the company on the long drive anyway. I’ve just stopped to get a drink and sandwich. Would you like one too?”

  “Yes, please,” Lily replied, grinning wide. “I’m Bree, and this is Sadie. ”

  I smiled tightly. “Bree, Sadie, shall we head off?” They nodded in unison, as if they had practiced, and walked with me to my car. I drove home and felt light, complete. Four flowers. Four perfect, innocent, beautiful women. My family was complete.

  15

  SUMMER

  Tuesday, December 14th (Present)

  Rose was cleaning the bathroom so I took the opportunity to speak to Poppy in private. It had been nearly five months since I was kidnapped and thrown down here, and I hadn’t given up hope—even after turning seventeen yesterday. No one knew and he didn’t mention a thing, although he would definitely have found out. I didn’t want to celebrate anyway.

  “Poppy,” I hissed under my breath when she didn’t look up from her book as I hovered over her. “When did you give up hope of getting out?” It was something I had wanted to ask thousands of times but didn’t dare. She was my only hope of doing something to escape, and I wasn’t ready to hear it if she didn’t want to. Five months was long enough. Five months was too close to the average of six to eight months it took for him to “fall in love” with his “flowers” and rape them. I couldn’t beg her to help me escape too soon—before I was sure I could trust her and knew she wanted to get out—but I was dangerously close to going into that room.

  She shifted on the sofa uncomfortably, as if I’d asked her something really personal. It’s a damn simple question and the answer is never. “It’s not about giving up, Lily; it’s about surviving,” she replied. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get out of here—alive—but going along with all this is the only chance we have. ” There had to be another way.

  “Do you think your family is looking for you?”

  She shook her head and dropped her eyes to the floor. I knew she didn’t have a great relationship with them, but surely no one would give up on their child, especially if that child was missing. “I know they’re not. We had a huge falling-out, and my parents said if I left I should never come back. I used to think my brother would look for me. He probably did for a while, but I doubt he would still be looking. ”

  “I’m sure they didn’t mean what they said. People say lots of things when they’re angry. ” I’d said some horrible things to my parents, especially in my early teens. I would give anything to take them all back now.

  “Maybe. ” She half smiled and looked so sad it made my eyes fill with tears. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to think your family didn’t care. “Your family will be, though. You never know, maybe they’ll find us all. ”

  I nodded. “Yeah, they’ll be looking. I know Lewis won’t give up until he finds me. ” He was definitely too stubborn to. Henry and Theo used to argue over which one of us was more stubborn and take bets on who would back down first in different situations. I used to win, but I still think Lewis is more stubborn. “We will get out of here,” I said to myself as much as her.

  She squeezed my hand. “We will. ” When? I had to get out before he touched me.

  “Why did you leave home?” Poppy swallowed hard, it was obviously still hard for her to think about. “Sorry, you don’t have to talk about it. ”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s just that I haven’t ever spoken about the details before; everyone else down here seems to respect each other’s privacy,” she teased and winked. I smiled apologetically.

  “When I hit my teenage years, I started going out a lot and got in with the wrong crowd. They took me to raves and shared their alcohol. I thought I was so cool at the time, and I loved how confident it made me. ” She smiled and shook her head at the memory. I could relate to that—minus the bad crowd thing. I wasn’t confident and was always more outgoing when I’d had a drink, although I only drank a little bit, until I got that warm, tipsy feeling.

  “Of course my parents didn’t like it. They tried grounding me, taking things away, getting other family members involved, but I wouldn’t listen to anyone. My new friends understood me, or so I thought. Every time I stumbled in drunk after midnight, my family became even more frustrated. I guess in the end, they’d had enough. We had a big argument and they were telling me I needed to get help and stop going out. I packed a bag and left. I can still remember my mum’s words, ‘You need help, Becca, so if you leave this house now, don’t even think about coming back. ’ Those words still haunt me now. I should have stayed. I wish I could turn back the clock and storm up to my bedroom that night rather than out of the front door. ” She sighed. “Now I’m here. ”

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  I didn’t want to admit it, but Poppy suited her better than Becca. Maybe that was just because I had only ever called her Poppy, though. Her family must be going through hell, especially after ending things like that. We had to get out; Poppy and her family deserved a second chance too.

  “Right,” Rose said as she closed the bathroom door behind her. “All done. Shall we watch a movie?”

  What else was there to do? We had already watched every film we had twice. He buys and sells DVDs online once a month. We had about forty movies, but with little else to do, we quickly went through them. I was starting to hate my favorite movies.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I replied and flopped back into the sofa, preparing myself for yet another night in front of the TV.

  Wednesday, December 15th (Present)

  I toweled myself dry as quickly as I could and pulled on the size-too-big clothes. I wondered if he would ever give in and buy clothes that actually fit me or if he was too determined that I should be a size ten. Not that it really mattered.

  As soon as I was ready I grabbed the door handle and ripped it open. We were running late and Rose still had to get ready. She darted in as soon as I was out. Her eyes were wide and face pale. Shit, what would he do if we weren’t ready? I didn’t know that—I’d never asked—and I didn’t ever want to find out.

  Poppy was frantically whisking eggs in a bowl. I was thankful that the psycho loved scrambled eggs on toast so much—it was quick and easy. I opened the loaf of bread and pulled out eight slices to toast.

  “You okay, Poppy?”

  She nodded her head; her hair flew about when she was trying too hard to convince us both that she was fine. “Pop the toast under the grill now, please. ”

  I did what she told me to do. My heart was working overtime. I didn’t like how nervous they were. They were usually so at ease with him. How could Rose be okay with things down here when she was clearly still scared?

  The cellar door unlocked at the same time Rose came out of the bathroom and we finished dishing up breakfast. I grabbed two places when I felt something lightly touch my back. From the faint smell of his woody aftershave, I knew it was him.

  “Breakfast smells incredible,” he said. I tensed and smiled over my shoulder, trying to pretend his touch didn’t make me feel ill. I turned and he stepped back, allowing me to move away and put the plates on the table.

  My heart rate slowed down as soon as I was away from him
. How much longer could I manage to keep away from the psycho? He sat down, followed by Rose and Poppy, and we started eating in silence. He chewed slowly, distracted.

  Finally he looked up and asked, “How was your evening last night?”

  Depressing and boring—the same as every other night. “Good. We watched a few feel-good movies,” Rose replied. “How was yours?” Feel-good movies down here were Saw and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Nothing could be worse than being locked up by the Clover freak.

  He half smiled, eyes darkened, and his eyebrow twitched. It was a sinister look that made my blood run cold. What had he done? Had he killed someone? Did he enjoy doing it, or did he just feel he had to? I didn’t think I would ever be able to understand his reasons, even if he explained them to me until the end of time. He was so intelligent, though. If Poppy and Rose were right and he wanted to change the world for the good, he could have done it the right way. Everything about the façade made you trust him. He looked normal, kind, trustworthy, and dependable. I didn’t understand why he was so fucked up.

  I shook my head. Why was I even trying to understand the creep? Shrinks would have a field day with him.

  “What happened?” he snapped. I jumped at his sudden outburst and looked over my shoulder to where he was looking. Oh no. The poppies were a dark, dull red and draped lifelessly over the vase. My heart started pounding. Neither the lilies or roses looked particularly good either; they had browned at the edges and started to droop. They were all dying—of course!

  He pushed his chair out roughly; it scraped along the tile, making me cringe, and slammed down on the floor. Rose and Poppy stood quickly but I was frozen, completely terrified of what I knew he was about to do. “What. Happened?” His eyes were wild and looked almost glazed over. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; his moods could flip in an instant. It was times like this I wondered how much control he had over the flower thing. After all this time he must know what was going to happen. Why did he continue to do it?

  “We’re very sorry, Clover. They died,” Rose said. Her voice was soft and soothing, begging him to understand something that she shouldn’t have to explain about and apologize for.

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