by Anna Willett
“Caitlin. It’s—I’m–” Eli’s eyes rolled in her direction, shiny with panic and shock.
The wound was on his side, just below his ribs—a mushy hole bubbling with dark blood. Caitlin, now on her knees beside him, felt his blood pooling around her calves. She held her hands above the wound, wanting to stop the bleeding but afraid to touch him.
“It’s okay. Lie still. It’s okay.” She pressed her fingers to his face. “Don’t move. It’s okay.” The words were meaningless but Eli responded to her voice, his eyes fixed on her and he nodded.
“I can’t… It… I’m cold.” His words were slurred and fading.
Caitlin looked around searching for help but knowing none would come. Felix stood to Eli’s right, gun in hand.
“You shot him!” She screamed the words as if he didn’t know what he’d done. “He’s… hurt.” Dying was what she wanted to say, but the terrified look in her husband’s eyes stopped her.
Felix shrugged. His gaze hovered on Eli for a few seconds as if puzzled by what was happening to him. When he finally looked at her, Caitlin couldn’t believe what she saw. Even with the bruises and swelling, there was no mistaking the indifference on the man’s face. He watched Eli as if he were nothing more than a fly buzzing on the window sill.
“Get up.” He waved the gun in Eli’s direction. “Do it or the next one goes in his head.”
Caitlin shook her head. “Didn’t you hear me? He needs help. We’ve got–”
“Get. Up.” Felix’s voice remained calm. He pointed the gun at Eli’s head.
“Okay. Okay.” Caitlin touched her husband’s shoulder. His skin felt devoid of warmth as if he’d been bathed in ice. She stumbled to her feet, almost slipping on the blood pooling around her.
Felix fixed his gaze on her. “Take off your dress.”
The words filled her head, but didn’t compute. “What?” She knew what he’d said but couldn’t understand his meaning.
“Take off your dress.” His face was emotionless, one brown eye regarded her.
Caitlin looked down at her husband. His eyes were wide, blinking rapidly. Could he hear what was happening? In spite of everything that had happened between them, she hoped not. If these were his last moments, better they be empty than filled with horror.
“I—I don’t understand.” She stuttered out the words, playing for time.
“I think you do.” Felix moved the gun between her and Eli. “I don’t want to shoot you.” He pointed the gun at her husband. “But him.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“All right.” Caitlin held her hands up palms facing him. “Okay, but not here. Not in front of my husband.” Her voice shook. “Please.”
Felix’s eyes flicked from her to the door. He seemed to be thinking. It had been only moments since Eli was shot, but Caitlin’s mind started working again. She forced herself to focus, not on the blood but on how she was going to get the two of them out—alive.
“You want some privacy?” Felix gave a half grin that made Caitlin’s stomach lurch. “Let’s go back to where all this started.” He held out his arm gesturing towards the kitchen. There were bruises, dark purple like an over-ripe plum dotted on his upper arm. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
He meant to take her to the cellar. The wall, spattered with blood flashed in her mind. If she let him get her in that room… An image formed in her mind. The mouth of a cave… Her thoughts faltered. She wouldn’t go in there, he’d have to kill her first. “Okay.”
She took a step and something caught her ankle. “No… No, don’t.” Eli’s fingers clamped around her leg, shaking as if he were having a seizure. His eyes pleading with her. “Caitlin. No.”
“Huh.” Felix frowned down at Eli. “From what I heard, you didn’t have much regard for your wife. It’s a bit late to play the hero now, don’t you think?”
Eli’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He raised his right arm and tried to grab Felix’s torn trouser leg, but Felix was too quick. He stepped back and shot out a bare foot, kicking Eli in the shoulder.
“No.” Caitlin reached out to Felix, but was too late to stop another kick from landing. This time in Eli’s side.
Eli’s body rocked slightly and his grip on her ankle released. He groaned, a weak sound, little more than a deep breath. Caitlin’s vision blurred with tears.
“Let’s get going.” Felix spoke in a cheerful upbeat way as if they were late for a dinner date.
Caitlin stumbled towards the kitchen, tennis shoes squeaking with blood as they slid over the stone floor. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. Not because of Felix, but so she wouldn’t have to see her husband’s pleading eyes follow her progress.
When they reached the kitchen, Felix stepped around her and stood beside the cellar door. The lights were still on, she could see the same wedge of stairs that had so intrigued her when they first opened the door. Now they only made her shudder.
“You’re older than I usually like.” He held the gun down at his side. “Pretty but older.” He sighed. “But beggars can’t be choosers.” He laughed, a porcine noise that made her want to clutch her head and scream. “After you.” He jerked his chin, motioning for her to go ahead of him down the stairs. “You should be thanking me, he wasn’t much of a husband. A bit of a weak character really, he would have turned me over to Blyte to save his sad skin.”
She forced her feet to move, legs wet with Eli’s blood. When she reached the doorway, Felix turned slightly half blocking the entrance. He wasn’t a big man, no taller than about 5’ 8”, and wiry, yet somehow he managed to fill the space giving her no choice but to slide between his chest and the frame.
Up close, the smell of him was inescapable, thick and earthy. Caitlin held her breath and turned so her back was to him as she slipped through the opening. Closing her eyes, she wedged her body towards the stairs. For the briefest of moments, his breath touched her shoulders, hot and damp. In spite of her best efforts, she let go of the breath and gasped. Felix snorted out another laugh and made a wet kissing noise as she pulled away and scrambled onto the stairs.
When they first found him in the hidden room, he seemed badly injured. She remembered the way he clutched his side begging them for help, letting Jace half carry him to the study. Had it all been an act? The bruises and the dirt were real, those he couldn’t fake, but the rest of the story had to be lies. Blyte warned them, but they hadn’t listened.
“That’s it.” Felix spoke over her shoulder. “Keep going.”
Caitlin descended the steps, knees locking, resisting each bend. Halfway down, something touched her shoulder making her jump and almost lose her balance. She turned her head coming face to face with the barrel of the gun. Felix chuckled and pushed the gun into her shoulder. “Get moving, we’ve lots to do.”
She didn’t want to ponder the meaning behind his words. If she didn’t think of a way out soon, they’d be in the secret room, with the smell and the blood. The saliva in her mouth evaporated making it difficult for her to swallow. The panicky desire to escape at all cost snatched her breath away. She tried to control her breathing and think. With each stride, she heard the sound of the gun firing and saw the blood gushing out of Eli’s shredded flesh.
They were almost at the bottom of the stairs. Her focus narrowed to the concrete floor, her black tennis shoes. She had to act, do something—stop it happening to her again. She wasn’t a frightened little girl anymore. I’d rather die than go back.
She rounded the foot of the stairs, heart pounding at a sickening rate. The sour smell of spilled wine filled her mouth and nose. Shards of smashed wine bottle littered the floor turning the area between the stairs and hidden room into a mine field. With the gun pointed at her back, Caitlin knew her chances of escaping were almost nil. Now less than eight metres between her and the room, she took her chance.
Falling on already quivering legs wasn’t a challenge. She let her knees fold and hit the concrete. A splinter of glass pierced her calf m
aking her cry out, adding believability to the fall. Behind her, Felix cursed and landed a bare-footed kick on her rear end. The blow hard enough to send her sprawling forward to where a hunk of thick green glass glittered under the light.
Caitlin’s palms slapped the floor, coming down on a carpet of tiny shards. She lurched right and snatched the large piece of jagged glass, praying Felix’s view of her hands was blocked by her head and back.
“You really are losing appeal.” There was irritation in his voice but no sign of alarm.
She pulled her hand back, holding the glass close to her chest. He was expecting her to stand. Instead, she pulled herself onto one knee drawing out the moment by swaying off balance.
“Get on your fucking feet.” The mocking playfulness vanished, replaced by vicious anger.
Caitlin’s heart jittered, missed a beat. If she failed, he’d kill her. He’ll kill me anyway—when he’s done. His hand snaked under her left arm and clamped her flesh like a vice. Yanking, he pulled her to her feet. She let herself be positioned, limp like a doll filled with sawdust. He dragged her along.
His chest only centimetres from her back, Caitlin swung around and faced him. Taken by surprise, Felix stared into her face, not noticing her hand. She brought the glass up and jammed the jagged shaft into his left shoulder.
He shrieked, mouth open and nose wrinkled with pain. Caitlin held onto the glass, twisting and pushing it into his flesh. Her hand stung as if too close to a flame. Felix let go of her other arm and stumbled back a few steps.
She let go of the piece of broken bottle and for a second stood frozen, staring at what she’d done. The glass buried in his shoulder protruded like a hideous transparent tentacle.
“You bitch,” spittle flew from his mouth. He reached for her and screamed as the shard sticking out of his flesh moved up and down.
Caitlin drew her knee up and stamped on his bare foot, turning her heel back and forth as if stubbing out a cigarette. The gun hit the floor with a heavy clunk. Felix tried to raise his injured foot, but stumbled to his left. It was the best chance she’d get. Caitlin shoved him and ran for the stairs.
Not daring to waste precious seconds looking back, she took the steps two at a time. At the top, she skidded into the kitchen pulling the door closed behind her with a thwack that rattled the hinges. There was no lock. For a second, she held the knob, eyes dancing over the room in search of any way of securing the door. Almost instantly, she spotted the long black extension cord Jace and Eli had pulled from the fridge.
Hands shaking, she darted for the cord. Snatching it up and sliding back to the door just as the sound of feet thumping the stairs came below. With time running out, she wound the cord around the knob. Barely noticing the blood on her hands, Caitlin raced to the fridge. Wedged against the back door, the twin handles faced front. She tied the black cord around the handle on the left, securing the knot just as the cellar door rattled.
The knob turned. With a jerk, the door pulled inwards then stopped. Caitlin pressed her back against the fridge, palms flat on the cold metal. Her heart rate slowed slightly, but still beat at an unnatural pace.
“What the hell,” Felix’s voice came from the five-centimetre gap between the door and the frame. To Caitlin’s relief, the cord held allowing the door to only open a fraction.
His fingers curled through the gap, searching for the obstruction. The grubby appendages reminded Caitlin of earth worms squirming in the soil. She eased herself away from the fridge trying to move as silently as possible. The door shuddered then slammed shut. She froze half-way between the fridge and the island bench almost directly ahead of the door.
Long strands of damp hair clung to her face. She pressed her lips together and stared at the door, trying to guess what he might be doing on the other side. The cellar door opened with a jolt, violent and sudden. Caitlin pressed her hands to the sides of her face and watched as if hypnotised. The door opened and slammed over and over like it was caught in cyclonic winds.
With each yank, the black extension cord twanged. It wouldn’t hold forever. She had to move. As if sensing her thoughts, the slamming stopped. The door hung open a fraction revealing nothing but pale light.
“Please?” Felix’s swollen lips appeared in the gap. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything.” Two fingers curled around the door. “I know I scared you, but I panicked. You’ve got to believe me.”
The change in his voice, from fury to pleading was almost as frightening as the sight of his fleshy mouth in the gap of the door. A disconnect between her brain and legs made it difficult for her to move.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you were going to leave me here.” He sniffed. “I’ll give you the gun, please just let me out.” If she hadn’t seen what he did to Eli with her own eyes, she would have thought his regret sincere, pathetic almost. “You hurt me, it’s bad. I’m bleeding… I just want to go home. I’m so sorry.”
She let her hands drop from her face. Nothing he said could block the memory of his half-smile and snorting laugh. You’re older than I usually like.
“You’re a liar,” her voice shook so violently, she barely recognised it as her own. “I know what you are, I’ve met your sort before.” She should have been running, trying to help her husband, but something uncurled in the pit of her stomach. Something small and clenched, wrapped in years of secrets, shame, and anger. “You’re an animal. We should have let Blyte torture you.” She could feel tears running down her cheeks, wet globs plopping onto her chest.
“Open the door,” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “What did that big dumb brother-in-law of yours call you?” He giggled, the sound reminded her of a hungry pig. “Oh, I remember, Cat. Come here Kitty Cat. Come and let me out.”
She spun away and sprinted out of the kitchen just as the cellar door started banging again.
Eli lay where he fell, near the front door. Caitlin belted across the room, skidding to a halt a few metres from her husband’s unmoving body. His arms were at his sides. What if he’s dead? The rush of adrenalin that gave her enough strength to escape Felix ebbed, leaving her limbs trembling.
She approached him slowly, terrified of touching him but desperate to help. A coppery sweet smell surrounded him as did a pool of blood. Her gut clenched and bile rose in her throat.
“Eli?” the word came out around a breathy whisper.
His skin was the colour of wet paper. She knelt and touched his face, startled by the lack of warmth. “Eli, wake up,” her voice broke. “Please, Eli?”
His eyes opened and rolled towards her. Caitlin pressed her hand to his cheek, her hair brushing his skin. Tears blurred her vision turning his face into a bleary mask. “I’m going to get something to cover you.”
“Where… did?” His eyelids fluttered and then flew open. “Did he…”
She let go of his face long enough to swipe the tears away. “No. No, I’m fine. I locked him in the cellar. Eli grimaced and let out a groan. She wasn’t sure if he was responding to her words or fighting the pain. “I’ll be back, okay?”
She started to stand but he stopped her. His hand on her arm cold and clammy. “Can he get out?”
The sound of the cellar door slamming continued from the kitchen. She had no doubt Felix would work his way out. What she didn’t know was how long she had before he came looking for her.
“No, I don’t think so,” she lied. “I’ll be back.”
Caitlin raced to the study and snatched up the yellow blanket they’d used to cover Felix. She caught a whiff of something rotten and dirty. The smell might have been her imagination, she wasn’t sure. But if there were anything else, she would have flung the rug aside. Unless she took the time to go upstairs, it was all she had so she tucked it under her arm.
Eli was losing blood—fast. She needed something to press on the wound and slow down the loss. The study was little more than a bare room, dressed carefully but without the things people usually dot around their home. Now that
she thought about it, the whole house was just like the study. At first glance, a holiday home, but really a carefully staged façade. The real heart of this home was the cellar, everything else was part of the disguise. The realisation sent a chill down her spine.
With the rug under her arm, she returned to her husband. In the background, the sound of Felix opening and closing the door continued—every bang bringing closer the moment when the evil creature in the cellar would be set free. She wished she could cover her ears and block out the dreadful pounding.
Caitlin covered her husband with the yellow blanket taking care to tuck it around his feet. She pulled the rug up to his chin, but couldn’t help noticing the circle of blood already soaking through the woollen fabric. He was losing too much blood, and judging by the way he was shivering, going into shock. If she didn’t get him help soon, he’d die. The very least she could do to slow things down, was find something to press on his wound.
“Eli.” At the sound of his name, his lids fluttered, but didn’t open. “I’m going to the kitchen, I’ll be right back.” She wanted to say more. “Hang on, please.”
He made no response.
The kitchen was the last place in the house Caitlin wanted to be. She entered as silently as possible hoping Felix wouldn’t hear her approach. No sooner had she reached the bench than the banging ceased. The door stood ajar. Caitlin held her breath. The two tea towels she and Jace had fooled around with that afternoon were folded and stacked on the bench top beside the oven.
“Is that you, Kitty Cat?” The voice hissed out of the gap in the cellar door.
“Shut up.” She should have ignored him, but the sound of his voice gnawed at her jangling nerves.
She edged her way to the stove making sure she kept clear of the cellar door and the extension cord. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the bloody handprints she’d left on the doors of the fridge. The blood looked almost unreal, so bright and stark against the white. Without thinking, she rubbed her hands on her dress.