Harrowing

by S. E. Amadis

  “Hey, you,” I whispered. “Where’d you come from? Who do you belong to?”

  The little poodle only leapt up and down, yipping away some more and wagging its tail furiously.

  “Pay attention to me, li’l bro,” Brionna said with annoyance. “I’m going to teach you how to shoot today. How’re you gonna learn anything if you don’t listen to me?”

  I glanced up at her and tried to show some interest. She seemed to be fixing her stare at that moment on a flock of colourful wild ducks. Their emerald green heads bobbed up and down, blissfully ignorant of the danger, as she aimed and fired a few rounds. I clapped my hands over my ears. After a few shots, she dropped her gun in disappointment.

  “Shit. How am I ever gonna teach you if I can’t even do this myself?”

  She gouged the tip of the rifle into the soft earth. The poodle licked at my hand again. I tumbled to my knees and started fooling around with it, forgetting about my sister. The wiggly animal jumped on me, lapping away at my cheeks and hands as if I were a lollipop or something. I giggled with delight. We rolled around in the dirt. I wrapped my arms about those solid flanks. I could feel the dog’s warmth and eager quivering underneath my fingers. The dog twisted about, trying to catch my face with its tongue.

  Suddenly, Brionna leaned over and seized my hair in her fist, tugging hard. Tears leapt into my eyes with the pain. It felt as if she were skinning my entire scalp off. She jerked my head backwards, nearly snapping my head from my neck.

  “I said, pay attention, moron,” she hissed.

  My eyes strayed towards her angry face in terror. She hurled me towards the ground. As I sprawled out at her feet, she aimed her rifle at the hapless poodle and fired. A pool of thick, sticky crimson spread out through the pristine white.

  I keeled onto my butt and stared at her, petrified. I didn’t dare move a muscle. Bending down with a grimace of satisfaction, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a knife. She held the knife towards me, handle down.

  “Take this knife. Skin and gut that beast, you fool.” She snarled. “I want to see how you handle all that blood.”

  I tried to raise my hand, but my muscles and nerves refused to obey me. All I could do was stare at her trembling from head to toe. She reached down and slapped me across my cheek.

  “I said, take this knife, Bruno,” she shrieked. “Do what I say. Or else.”

  She grabbed her rifle, pointed the muzzle at me again. A slow smile spread across her lips.

  “I won’t hesitate to use this.”

  I snapped to attention and slipped the knife into my hand with lax fingers. I didn’t know what to do. Brionna pointed at the dog.

  “I said, skin it. Go on.”

  My hand shook. I couldn’t move.

  “I don’t know how,” I whispered.

  Sighing, Brionna dropped down into the dirt next to me. She wrapped her hand about mine, raised it high into the air and slashed it down into the animal’s side in one swift stroke.

  “That’s how you skin it. Go on. Now it’s your turn.”

  When I still hesitated, she gouged away at the animal’s side with firm gestures herself, spewing matted white fur out in all directions. Then she shoved me with impatience.

  “Now you do it,” she said.

  I dug away half-heartedly at the rubbery flesh, still half frozen with terror. When fresh blood started pouring out, Brionna leaned forward with excitement and buried her hands in the entrails. Her hands made slimy, squishy sounds in the animal’s guts. She bent over, digging her arms anxiously into the dog’s sides up to her elbows, panting with pure pleasure, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

  “Mmmhh. Nothing feels better in all the world than warm, bubbling blood.” She glanced up at me and chuckled.

  She splashed through the blood some more with her hands, then smooshed her face into the still throbbing entrails. I heard a guttural groan in the back of her throat. She raised her head, dripping with blood, lunged forward and grabbed my arms.

  “Feel it, li’l bro,” she screamed. “Feel it for yourself. Feel its pain. Feel its death. Feel its life blood pouring all over you.”

  She shoved me against the animal and pressed my mouth into its gory side. I gagged, almost threw up into the dead thing. She pounded my head face down into the mangled flank. The warm, pulsating flesh reeked of rot and metal. She pulled me out, then wrapped her arms dripping with blood and guts all around me. She traced her palms up and down my arms, painting crimson patterns into my skin.

  She smiled at me. Her smile was a shiny white gash in the midst of glistening scarlet and slime green.

  “Next time we’ll go for something bigger. A hog, maybe. Don’t worry, li’l bro. After a few times you’ll get used to it.”

  I didn’t believe her then. But she was right.

  I did get used to it.

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t want to go anywhere. All I wanted was to hide in my bed for the rest of my life and pull the quilt over my head. But within one week it would be the first of the month and the rent was due.

  “If you want I’ll accompany you to work every day,” said Calvin, whispering into my hair. “It’s no prob for me. I work nearby anyways.”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m a big girl, Cals. I ought to be able to take care of myself.” I grimaced. “Just because I’m not doing a very good job at it, doesn’t mean...”

  Calvin nuzzled some more into my brown waves.

  “You’re doing stupendous, babes. Anyone in the same situation as you would be freaking out too.” He took his face out of my hair long enough to flash me a wry grin. “Well, anyone, unless they were a cop or a spy or something. Policemen have all sorts of protection. But you and me poor innocent waifs on the street, we don’t, babes. We’re left to our own devices, just thrown out on our own to the wolves.” He shook his head ruefully.

  We spun about the small space I called home, and I double and triple checked that all the windows were locked and closed all the blinds. A dismal darkness fell over the apartment.

  “Well, better dark but safe, I always say,” Calvin quipped.

  I cuffed him on the shoulder, lightly.

  “You’ve never said that before,” I said. But he was right.

  I hustled Dinky Head, aka Romeo, out the door before me and turned out the lights.

  “I probably won’t be in tonight,” Calvin said as we walked down the hallway of the building. “Gotta do overtime, so I’ll probably just bunk out in my own digs. Wouldn’t want to wake you guys up in the middle of the night.” He flashed a grin at me. “Besides which, you’d probably think I was an intruder or that... oh, I forget his name... sneaking in on you, and bop me with your radio clock or something.”

  I cuffed him on the shoulder again.

  “You’ve been doing lots of overtime lately.”

  Calvin nodded.

  “Yeah. Lars Herbert’s desperate to open his new shop as soon as possible.”

  I fiddled with his fingers.

  “I hope that means your association with that cursed firm will be ending soon?”

  Calvin turned to look at me.

  “I’ve told you, babes. ’S no need to worry. I have no relationship at all with that bastard that works for him.”

  I nodded, thoughtful.

  “So how did he find out where I live?”

  Calvin glared at me, surprise etched all over his face.

  “How’m I s’posed to know? You don’t think him finding that out has anything to do with me, do you? Creeps like that have their own way with things.”

  I nodded again. I supposed he was right. We strolled out the building and parted ways on the sidewalk, after Calvin quashed my lips in an eager, honey-filled kiss.

  “What am I gonna do without you, Calv, sweetie?” I murmured in dismay, ogling puppy eyes and batting mascara-laden lashes at him. “I won’t see you for two whole days.”

  Calvin cradled my chin
in his fingers and lifted my face so he was staring straight into my eyes.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” he said.

  A final peck, this time on the cheek, and Romeo and I were off on our usual school dash. Or rather, more like on our usual relay race. His school was several long blocks away, and we always left too late.

  The humming of computers at the office soothed me. Surrounded by the bustle and friendliness of my co-workers, I felt safe and sheltered. I could almost believe no one was after me, and I was living the idyllic, uneventful life of any other clerical worker in the world.

  At lunchtime, I found myself alone in the canteen with Ursula. I didn’t know much about her. Only that she was the Vice President’s personal secretary and she sat near his office at the edge of the clerical pool. She looked to be in her late thirties or perhaps her early forties, with fine, mousey hair cut in layers about her waifish face. Today she was dressed in a lilac-coloured sweater over denim leggings.

  “So, you’re that new temp girl, the one with the weird name,” she remarked as she munched away at her salad.

  I watched her stuffing her face with a white plastic fork. Pieces of shredded lettuce stained her yellowing teeth.

  “Yes. I’m Annasuya.” I popped a frozen lasagna into the microwave.

  “That all you having for lunch?”

  I glanced over her sparse salad.

  “More than you’re eating, it seems.” I tried to crack a cheery smile. “Unless you’ve got a second course hidden away somewhere I don’t know about.”

  Ursula patted her tummy. I could scarcely even see her tummy, hidden discreetly as it was beneath an enormous, stylish leather belt.

  “Nope. I’m on a diet. Sure need it. But you...” She studied me up and down critically. “You’re as skinny as a log. You could use a bit more weight.”

  I gazed at her quizzically.

  “Is that a compliment?” I finally managed to stammer out.

  Ursula burst out laughing. She slid off her stool and chucked her empty salad carton and plastic fork into a rubbish bin.

  “Sorry. We seem to’ve gotten off on the wrong foot there,” she said, much more amiably than before. She held her hand out to me.

  “Don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Ursula, Jeff Knowles’ secretary.”

  I glanced down at her hand, then grasped it gingerly.

  “Annasuya Adler.”

  She slid over to my side and wrapped her arm about my shoulders.

  “So, Annasuya. How long’ve you been doing this? Temping, I mean?”

  The microwave dinged. I used that as the excuse to slip out of her clingy grasp and occupy myself with my food.

  “More than ten years.”

  Ursula sucked in her breath.

  “Oh my. Then you must’ve begun when you were just a baby,” she squealed.

  I wondered if she really meant it, or if she was trying to get something from me. Unconsciously, I pushed a strand of hair from my face and raised my hands to tighten my chignon.

  “Yeah. Well. I did start fresh out of school.”

  Well, what else could I say? Nothing wittier than that occurred to me.

  Ursula picked up her skimpy handbag, twirling the shoulder chain around on one finger, then marched towards the door.

  “Well, see ya round... um... Anna-whatever.”

  I studied her retreating back, unsure what to make of her. Oh well. It wasn’t like we were going to become bosom buddies or anything like that.

  After work I noticed Ursula trailing me down the sidewalk towards the subway station. Or maybe she just happened to take the same subway as me.

  “You taking the subway, Ursula?” I said.

  She flashed me a disarming smile.

  “Nope. Just happen to have my car parked down that way.” She gifted me with an inquisitive gaze. “You don’t have a car, Anna-whatever?”

  I shook my head.

  “And it’s Annasuya. Not Anna-whatever.”

  She ran to my side and grasped my arm.

  “But since apparently we’re going in the same direction, why don’t we walk together up to the subway station?” she suggested brightly.

  I didn’t want this nosy snoop following me around.

  “I’m in a hurry.” I tried to evade her. “I have to pick up my son.”

  Ursula arched her eyebrows at me.

  “Oh, so you’ve got a son?”

  I wondered what ever in the world could that possibly have to do with her? I merely nodded. The subway station loomed up before me, and I dashed gratefully through the glass door, tossing a frivolous wave in Ursula’s direction.

  *

  It didn’t surprise Romeo in the least bit to see me preparing macaroni and cheese from a box again.

  “When I grow up, I’m gonna buy you a cookbook, Mimi,” he said.

  I ignored him.

  “Just feed the rats,” I said.

  A sudden loud bang at the door startled both of us.

  “You expecting friends to visit tonight?” I whispered to my son.

  Romeo shook his head, subdued.

  Whoever it was banged at the door again. Then battered around and began to rattle at the doorknob, twanging it up and down aggressively. I inched near the door and checked that it was locked and double bolted. Plastering myself against the wall, I reached out and slid the safety chain across without a sound. Another loud bang next to my ear nearly made me jump out of my skin.

  “Annasuya! Annasuya Rose! Open this fucking thing up right this very minute!” our unknown visitor shrieked at me just outside, just on the other side of that flimsy wooden board that constituted our door. “I’ve got a me-e-essage for you.”

  Obviously, I had no difficulty identifying that taunting voice. It was the same voice that still teased at me every night in my nightmares.

  Bruno continued to batter against the door some more, as he had done when I was trapped in the bathroom. I didn’t think any concerned neighbours were going to come and chase him away this time.

  I seized Romeo by the shoulders and shoved him into the bedroom.

  “Hide in the closet,” I hissed.

  Then I dashed to the open plan kitchen and grabbed the longest knife I could find. I returned to the door and crouched down against the wall behind it, near the hinges.

  “Annasuya Rose! Open up!” Bruno continued to scream. “Open up or I’ll fucking beat your bloody door down. There’s no way you’ll ever get away from me.”

  More violent banging followed. My heart grazed against my ribs. I clenched my fists about my knife and prayed the door would hold up.

  “You got away from me before. And I can’t stand that. I fucking swear you’ll pay for that, Annasuya Rose!” he shouted, barely inches from my head.

  He continued for about another half hour while I crumpled to a mass on the floor, trembling like an aspen. Wondering how much longer we would be able to hold up.

  Then. Sudden, blessed silence fell over us.

  I caught my breath, counting the seconds as they passed, scarcely daring to hope.

  What I estimated to be a minute went by, then two.

  After a short time more, I staggered to my feet, hugging the wall for strength, and stumbled out from behind the door. Even then, quaking next to the door with the knife still clasped in my sweaty palm, I couldn’t bring myself to move further away. What if he was still there, simply biding his time? Waiting for the right opportunity? What if he tried to burst in and catch us unawares?

  Romeo tiptoed out of the bedroom. I pressed my finger to my lips and he nodded.

  “Why don’t you call Calvin, Mimi?” he whispered.

  “I don’t want to bother him. He has a lot of work to do.”

  I pulled him close, wrapped my arms around him. We hugged tight together in the kitchen in silence, and we waited. And waited. And waited.

  At least an hour must have passed since he’d first shown up at the door. I felt my breath starting
to flow out more calmly now, no longer rasping against the back of my throat in short, frightened spurts anymore. My heartbeat began to ease up. At last, I stepped away from Romeo, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

  “Looks like he’s gone, sugar pops.”

  Romeo squirmed.

  “So why are we still whispering, Mimi?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  I smiled weakly at him.

  “Eat up your macaroni and cheese, li’l guy.” I forced myself to raise my voice to a normal conversational level.

  Romeo headed towards the dining table.

  A violent crash in the bedroom startled us again. My heart started racing at a hundred and fifty beats per minute. We nearly bumped into each other as we dashed for the bedroom together.

  Shattered glass lay in smithereens all over the bedroom, across the faded carpet and hardwood floor, strewn in chaotic mounds across the bed, glittering cold and hard in multi-hued sparkles in the beam from the fluorescent lightbulb. I raised my arm and held Romeo back.

  “Don’t go in there, love. I’ll get the broom.”

  I surprised even myself by how calmly I was acting all of a sudden. Without batting an eye, I shook the glass particles from the bedcovers to the floor, then swept it all away and threw the glass into the garbage, as cool and collected as if this sort of thing happened to me on a daily basis. Then I unhooked the broken, mangled Venetian blind and tossed it next to the bin, wondering idly, my mind somewhere in hyperspace, if it was the need to protect Romeo that was somehow keeping me sane.

  “What did they use to break the window?” Romeo asked from the doorway.

  I glanced up at him in a daze.

  “Huh?”

  My composure was starting to crack now, my thoughts all muddled. I had no idea what he was talking about. Suddenly I realized I was all wound up, taut and tight like a violin string about to snap at the slightest twang.

  “If they broke the window, they must’ve thrown something in,” Romeo commented in a rational voice. “So what was it?”