Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Also by Robert Jeschonek
Title Page 2
CONTENT
About the Author
Author Newsletter
Novel Preview - Bloodliner
Daddy’s Little Girl
Robert Jeschonek
DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL
Copyright © 2013 by Robert Jeschonek
www.thefictioneer.com
Cover Art Copyright © 2013 by Ben Baldwin
www.benbaldwin.co.uk
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in November 2013 by arrangement with the author. All rights reserved by the author.
A Pie Press book
Published by Pie Press Publishing
411 Chancellor Street
Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904
www.piepresspublishing.com
Also by Robert Jeschonek
Bloodliner
Diary of a Maggot
Dionysus Dying
Fear of Rain
Road Rage
Daddy’s Little Girl
There they were again.
The Voices. Muffled, whispered, rhythmic, they rose and fell from somewhere beyond the bedroom wall. Unable to ignore them, unable to make out what they were saying, thirteen-year-old Bonnie Stasko shivered between the sheets of her bed and listened.
It was one thirty in the morning. In five hours, Bonnie would have to get ready for school; her eyes would be red, and she would feel incredibly tired, and she would probably fall asleep during her first period class...but she certainly couldn't go to sleep now. Sleep was impossible, as it had been for the past week, as it had been every night since the Voices had started.
Every night, they came at the same time. Every night, they came from the same place: the room next door, where her little sister slept.
Her little sister, Jenny, who was only five years old.
None of the Voices belonged to Jenny; Bonnie could tell that much, though she couldn't tell what they were saying. None of the Voices belonged to her parents, either. At first, that's what Bonnie had thought--that the Voices were those of her parents. On the second night, that theory had been squelched: Bonnie had gotten out of bed and gone to the room next door, and there had been no one in the room except Jenny. That second night of the Voices, Bonnie had then gone to her parents' room, and she had seen them both sleeping soundly in their bed.
Then, she had run back to her own room and thrown the door shut and turned on all the lights. She had buried herself in her bedsheets and blankets and quivered, her eyes wide as Easter eggs.
Whose Voices were they? What were they saying? What did they have to do with her sister?
The more she asked herself these questions, the more frightened she became.
Though it was warm that summer night, Bonnie clutched a sheet, a blanket and a quilt to her chin. She stared through the shadows at the opposite wall of her room, with the ducks in raincoats wallpaper. For months, she had griped about that wallpaper, telling her parents she was much too old for it; now, the thirteen year old didn't care about the ducks. All she worried about were the Voices.
The only light in her room came from a dim night light plugged into an electrical socket beside her bed. It wasn't enough to make her feel safe; all it did was cast weird shadows on her ceiling, shadows which she couldn't help imagining were the shifting, dark source of the Voices. She wanted all the lights on now, but she didn't dare turn them on. Her parents had already scolded her three times for leaving her lights on all night.
The Voices were still whispering now, rustling beyond the wall behind the head of Bonnie's bed. Involuntarily, she strained to hear them, tried to pick out some of the words they were uttering in the darkness. They eluded her, though, sifting just below the limits of clarity. Sometimes, they seemed to grow the tiniest bit louder, and Bonnie thought she could almost grasp a word...but then they would drift out of reach again, back into their unintelligible murmur.
Soon, Bonnie knew, they would start to fade away. As if they were growing fainter with distance, the Voices would fade and finally cease, the way they always did. Bonnie would be left in silence again, a stony silence broken only by her own rapid breathing.
A whimper fluttered from her throat as she cringed against her pillow, wondering what the Voices were saying. If only she could understand them, pinch out a word or a sentence, she might know what was happening, what threat she faced. If she could just fish out a little bit, she might be able to convince her mother or father that the menace was real.
She had told them both already, after the third night, but they hadn't believed her. Too many times before, they had rushed in when she was screaming, only to find that she was scared of imaginary monsters in her closet or under her bed or outside her window. “Bad dreams,” they'd told her with gentle smiles on their faces. “You're just having bad dreams.”
If there was one thing Bonnie knew about the Voices, it was that they were definitely not a bad dream. She didn't know what they were, but she knew they weren't nightmares. She wished that was all they were.
Glancing at the big red numbers that glowed on the face of her digital clock, Bonnie saw it was 1:39. In a minute, just a minute, the Voices would be gone, and she would cry and wait for sunrise. The Voices were always on time, never showing up early or leaving late, never lingering past 1:40 a.m.
Wincing, holding her breath, she leaned her head back and tried to hear what the Voices were saying. As always, she couldn't tell what words were spoken, or if there were any words at all. As always, the Voices slowly began to fade out.
And then, suddenly, she could hear them clearly.
All at once, she could hear them without any trouble, as if they were speaking from right behind the bed's headboard. There were several of them; though she couldn't tell the exact number, she could hear every word they said.
“Good girl,” they said in unison, sounding pleased. “Good girl,” they repeated distinctly, sluicing through the wall as if it wasn't even there.
Bonnie jolted from her pillow and scrambled away from the headboard. Terrified that the Voices had somehow entered her room, she flung herself to the foot of the bed and leaped to the floor.
“Good girl,” the Voices said again as Bonnie ran to the far corner of her room. “Good girl!” they said emphatically as she sank to her knees and sobbed.
And then, they were gone.
It was exactly 1:40 a.m.
*****
Later that morning, Bonnie shuffled downstairs to eat breakfast. Listless and exhausted, she fumbled to the kitchen and fell into her chair at the table.
Her mother was at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs in a pan. Though her hair was already neatly brushed and fluffed for work, she still wore her bathrobe and slippers.
Jenny was seated opposite Bonnie at the table, slurping cereal and milk from a bowl. She didn't look unusual, didn't seem to have been affected by the unearthly Voices which had haunted her room the night before. Dressed in bluejeans and a pink sweatshirt with a cartoon mutt on the chest, Jenny just looked the same as she always did, ready for another day at kindergarten.
“Good girl,” the Voices had said. “Good girl!” As she stared at her little sister, Bonnie wondered why the possessors of those awful Voices would claim that she was “good.”
Maybe...
Maybe they were trying to take control of her mind.
“Are you feeling okay, honey?” said Mom, lo
oking at Bonnie with a worried frown. “You look sick.”
“I'm okay,” Bonnie mumbled halfheartedly. “I'm just sort'a tired this morning.”
Turning off the burner on the stove, Mom walked to the table with the pan of scrambled eggs. “Are you sure?” she said, continuing to stare at Bonnie. “You really look pale. Do you have the chills or a fever or anything?”
“Nope,” muttered Bonnie, rubbing her left eye. “I'm okay.”
“You don't look okay,” said Mom, scooping the eggs onto a white plate in the center of the table. “Did you have a hard time getting to sleep last night, Bonnie?”
“A little.” Bonnie shrugged.
“Here,” said Mom, putting the empty frying pan back on the stove and wiping her hands with a dish towel. “Let me check your temperature.” She walked back to the table and touched her hand to Bonnie's forehead. “You don't feel warm,” she said, removing her hand. “Maybe you're just starting to come down with something.”
“I don't think so,” Bonnie said.
At that moment, Bonnie's father ambled in, carrying the newspaper. “Mornin', everybody,” he said, dropping the paper on the table and taking his seat.
“Jerry, I think Bonnie's coming down with something,” said Mom. “Look, she's all pale.”
Dad glanced at Bonnie and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don't think so,” he said, shaking his head. “She looks fine to me.”
“Maybe she's getting that flu that's going around,” said Mom. “Do you think we ought to take her to the doctor's to get checked?”
“No, no,” said Dad. “It's probably nothing. Let's just wait and keep an eye on her, okay?”
“I don't want her to miss any school, Jerry,” said Mom.
“Well, I don't want any more doctor bills this month, if we can help it,” said Dad, pouring milk into his coffee.
“God, Jerry,” said Mom, whisking around the table to the sink. “If it wasn't for me, these kids would never see a doctor.”
“You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Sue,” said Dad as he shoveled scrambled eggs onto his plate. “You know I always take them if I think I should.”
“Right,” said Mom, pitching a spoon into the sink. “Just like last year, when she had that terrible rash.”
“Whatever,” sighed Jerry, plucking a slice of toast from a pile in front of him. “I'm not going to fight with you this morning.”
There was a scratching noise at the back door, and Mom stepped over to open it wide. “I'm not looking for a fight,” she said, as Pepper, the family's poodle, skittered through the doorway. “I just don't want Bonnie to miss school because she gets the flu.”
Tail wagging, the little dog toddled over to the kitchen table. The bundle of white fur stopped beside Dad and whined, gaping up at him with moist, dark eyes. “All right, all right,” said Dad, lifting a hunk of scrambled eggs with his fork. “If she isn't any better by tomorrow morning, we'll take her to the doctor.” Lowering the fork toward Pepper, he let the dog tug off the egg with her tiny front teeth.
“Okay then,” Mom said warily, eyeing Bonnie again. “If you feel sick today, I want you to go straight to the nurse's office, honey. Okay?”
“Uh huh,” said Bonnie, though she really wasn't paying attention to what her mother was saying. Her mind was on only one thing, only the Voices and their mysterious purpose. As she stared at her cherubic little sister, all bright blonde hair and big blue eyes, she wondered if it was too late to save her from the sinister intruders.
As scared as she was, Bonnie decided she at least had to try. It was all up to her; no one else even believed anything was wrong.
“Mommy!” shouted Jenny then, glaring at her older sister, dribbling milk from the corner of her mouth. “Tell her to quit lookin' at me!”
“Calm down, Jenny,” said Mom. “Your sister isn't feeling well this morning.”
“She's lookin' at me!” howled Jenny, pointing a finger at Bonnie. “I don't want her lookin' at me no more!”
“I gotta' get the bus,” mumbled Bonnie, rising from her chair.
Tonight, she thought as she left the kitchen. Tonight, I'm going to get a look at them.
*****
Before long, it was 1:25 a.m. the next morning, and Bonnie was back in her shadowy bedroom, sweating under the sheet and blanket and quilt, shivering with fear and anticipation. As she waited and listened, the glowing red minutes switched past on her digital clock.
At 1:30, she heard the Voices begin their horrible serenade in her sister's room yet again.
They rippled through the wall, barely audible at first, and Bonnie froze. Slowly, they grew louder, then seemed to fade away...then suddenly rang out clearly.
“Good girl,” they said, and Bonnie jumped away from the bed's headboard. “Good girl! Good girl!”
Gasping, Bonnie knelt at the end of her bed and listened, too frightened to move.
“Good girl!” repeated the familiar litany...and then it changed. “Good little girl! You're learning!”
Shaking, eyes big as grapefruit, Bonnie got off the bed. Grabbing a yellow flashlight from the floor, she prepared to enter the room of the Voices.
“Kill!” they said, sounding terrible and gleeful at the same time. “Kill Mommy and Daddy!”
Shuddering as if she were about to fall apart, Bonnie forced herself to open her bedroom door.
“Good girl!” she heard the Voices croak behind her. “Good little girl!” they said as she crept the few feet down the hall to Jenny's room.
Through Jenny's door, she heard the Voices bubbling, but she could no longer hear what they were saying. Heart pounding like the surf at the beach, she considered abandoning her plan and turning back. They were telling Jenny to kill! They had to be some kind of demons or monsters! If she went in that room right now, she might be killed herself!
But Jenny was depending on her. Bonnie was her only hope. She had to try to save her sister, no matter what happened.
Gripping the flashlight in her fist, she reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it. She could still hear the Voices on the other side of the door; whatever evil creatures they belonged to were still in there!
Eyes wide as windows, ready to see the Devil himself in that room, Bonnie opened the door. Quickly, before she had time to run away, she swung the flashlight up and flicked it on.
“Good girl!” the Voices said. “Good girl!”
Ready to fly from the doorway at any second, Bonnie scanned the beam of light around the room. She saw a dresser, then a dollhouse, then a chair...
“Good girl!” growled the Voices. “Kill!”
Clutching the flashlight so tightly it almost hurt, she swung the beam further...saw a pair of shoes, saw Pepper curled up on the floor, saw the foot of Jenny's bed...
“Good little girl!”
The light continued to sweep along the length of the bed, over the hump of Jenny's body under the sheet...
“You're learning!”
And then the flashlight beam hit Jenny's face, and her eyes popped open, and she screamed as loud as she could...
And Bonnie fainted.
*****
When Bonnie finally swam back to consciousness, she heard her mother’s voice.
“Bonnie?” said Mom, her tone filled with concern. “Can you hear me? Please wake up, honey.”
As Mom’s hand smoothed the hair on her forehead, Bonnie let her eyes flicker open. Weakly, she gazed up at Mom and wondered where she was...then turned her head and saw that she was lying on her own bed.
“Are you okay, dear?” said Mom, gently stroking Bonnie's hair.
Still disoriented, Bonnie nodded...and then she remembered what had happened. She remembered the Voices in Jenny's room, and peeking in with the flashlight, and Jenny screaming; she didn't remember anything after that.
“Are you sure you're okay?” said Mom, frowning as she leaned c1oser.
“Uh huh,” said Bonnie, noticing her father and little sister standing behin
d Mom. “I'm just sleepy.”
“She's fine,” said Dad, gently but decisively. “She just fainted, that's all.”
“Why did you faint, honey?” said Mom. “Did you get really sick all of a sudden? Is it a fever?”
“No,” Bonnie mumbled, shaking her head. “I got scared when Jenny screamed at me.”
“She was lookin' at me!” hollered Jenny.
“Shhh!” said Mom, casting an angry glare at the five year old. “Why were you in her room so late?” she said, turning back to Bonnie. “You know you've got to get up for school in the morning.”
“Someone was talking in there,” said Bonnie, wincing fearfully. “It was those voices I told you about.” Too late, Bonnie realized she shouldn't have mentioned the Voices again, at least not with Jenny in the room. If Jenny was already under their control, the Voices might force her to take action against Bonnie.
“I see,” said Mom, feeling Bonnie's forehead with the back of her hand.
“There wasn't anybody in there except Jenny,” said Dad. “There's nobody in the whole house except us.”
“I heard them!” insisted Bonnie. “They said they were gonna' do bad things to you!”
“Nobody's going to do bad things to us,” Dad said with a reassuring smile. “I'll make sure, Bonnie.”
“She does have a fever,” said Mom, getting up from the bed. “She's practically burning up.”
“I'm not!” said Bonnie, exhausted and distraught.
“Honey,” said Dad, reaching down to hold her hand. “Sometimes, when you get a fever like this, you see things or hear things that aren't really there.”
“But they are!” shouted Bonnie, kicking at her mattress. “They are really there!”
“We'll take you to Doctor Mike's the first thing in the morning,” said Mom. “You can even have a whole day off from school, honey.”
“They're real!” said Bonnie. “They said they're gonna' hurt you!”
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