Torn

by Natasha Knight

  “That we want it. Like this. That I want you. Still. After everything, I want you.”

  He kisses my mouth and I open to him and I feel my fingernails break skin, feel the warmth of blood on my fingertips.

  “Fuck, Helena.”

  “I think we all have this sickness. The Willow Girl sickness.”

  He draws back a little and I wrap my hand around the back of his head and pull him closer, kiss him hard, use my teeth. His cock grows thicker inside me.

  He shoves my legs wider and I fist his short hair, tug to hurt because I’m coming. I’m coming again, and he feels me and he’s watching me.

  We’re both sick, I guess. Our families are sick.

  He fists a handful of my hair and forces me to look at him and I hear myself moan, and his cock feels so good.

  I ride the orgasm to its last, and he’s still fucking me, still watching me.

  “No matter what,” I say, taking his final thrusts as he begins to throb inside me, filling me up, bruising me inside and out. “No matter what, we want the Scafoni bastards.”

  15

  Helena

  After breakfast the next morning, I get the chance to slip away. Sebastian is in his study with the door closed and Gregory’s off the island. I take Lucinda’s letter opener with me as I head to the mausoleum. I tell myself it’s just in case I need to pick a lock.

  I take the same path as last time except that today, I’m wearing jeans, a sweater and sneakers so even though it’s warm, my arms and legs are protected.

  The same feeling passes over me as I near the dark, gray building, and I only allow myself to slow my steps when I meet the angel’s watchful eye.

  I give her the finger and stand up straighter as I push the gate open and enter.

  The sudden cold makes me shudder. I hate it here.

  The red lantern burns and the way the sunlight inches in, the space is almost creepier today.

  But I don’t have to be here long.

  I just need to find that door and go downstairs—which is sure to be even more creepy—and find out what they did to Aunt Helena. Find out what she thought would free her even though she was terrified of whatever it was.

  At first sight, I don’t see it. It takes me two full turns around the place to realize there’s a small opening between two of the walls. It’s narrow and covered over with cobwebs.

  I pull my sweater down into my hand and sweep them away and nearly jump when I feel what I am sure is a spider scurry across the back of my hand. I peek into the dark space, but this can’t be anything. It’s too narrow. I could barely fit through myself. No way a man could slip through here. Neither Sebastian nor Gregory could.

  I shake my head, wipe off the cobwebs step outside into the sunlight to rethink this. I take a deep breath in through my nose, realizing I only breathe in gasps when I’m in there. It’s like you can taste the dead.

  The angel is still watching, but I swear she’s mocking me now.

  That’s when I notice the path around the mausoleum. It’s overgrown with weeds which explains why I haven’t seen it before.

  I begin the walk around the building, studying the walls. I don’t know why I’m expecting some hidden entrance or secret door or something because almost at the very back of the building is another entrance, gates like the ones at the front. It’s not hidden at all. There’s a heavy, rusted chain weaving through the bars, but the lock is hanging open.

  Rust flakes when I touch it, pull the chain through the bars, trying to make as little noise as possible, but making too much. I’m far enough from the house that they shouldn’t hear, though, and it doesn’t take too long because it looks like someone’s been here recently.

  Once I have it loose, I push the gate open. It creaks even louder than those at the main entrance and stone stairs lead straight down into blackness.

  I take a step down and feel in my pocket for the letter opener and keep telling myself ghosts aren’t real even though I know they are.

  The ring on my finger burns. I swear it’s searing itself into my skin.

  Maybe it’s Cain Scafoni.

  Maybe he wants his finger back.

  The thought gives me strength and I take another step.

  The smell of decay is strong here. It’s just leaves though, and earth and damp. Not that I’ve ever smelled decaying human bodies, although I imagine that must be worse.

  But I can’t go too much farther. It’s not practical. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  I’ll need a flashlight. It’s pitch black.

  When I turn, I run back up the uneven stairs, tripping once and smashing my knee against unforgiving stone, hurrying, ignoring the pain, because all of a sudden, it’s like when I was a kid at home and my sisters and I would dare each other to go down to the old cellar—it was off limits to us—and I was the only one ever brave enough to do it. I remember running back up once I was all the way down and swearing I felt something try to grab at my ankles, try to drag me down into the darkness.

  I shudder at the memory.

  I’m sure it’s my imagination but that’s how I feel now, and my heart is racing by the time I get back outside in the sun, on the dead grass.

  As quickly as I can, I shove the gate closed and weave the chain through it and run back around to the path that will lead me away from here. Away from this haunted place even though I know I’ll have to come back.

  My breath is just back to normal when I near the house, but when I find Gregory leaning against the wall watching me, my heart starts to pound again.

  “I thought you were gone,” I say as casually as possible, not looking at him as I try to slip past into the house because I’m sure he can see the guilt on my face.

  He grabs my wrist, stops me. I look at where he’s looking then watch him pick off some of the cobwebs still clinging to my sleeve.

  “Where were you, Willow Girl?” he asks, looking down over me, down at where my jeans must have torn when I stumbled on the stairs. I didn’t realize my knee was bleeding.

  I clear my throat, try to hold his gaze. “I fell.” It’s true.

  “I see that. Where did you fall?”

  “Oh, just out and about. On the grounds.” Of course, I’d be on the grounds. Where else? It’s an island and I need to shut up.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “I’d better go change. Put a bandage on my knee.”

  He nods. No way he believes that I’ve just been out and about.

  I take a step away.

  “I’ll help,” he says.

  He falls into step with me and I stop to look up at him. “What?”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Why?”

  He looks down at me, smiles a smile that says he’s up to something—as if I didn’t know—and gestures for me to go up the stairs ahead of him.

  I go, and once I’m in my room, he closes the door and looks at me.

  “Pants off so we can get a look at that knee.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of—”

  “Relax, Helena, I’m just fucking with you. I actually came to give you something.”

  “Give me something?”

  He steps toward me. “Well, more like loan it to you.” He reaches into his pocket and, to my surprise, takes out a cell phone. He holds it out to me.

  I look cautiously on. I’m sure he’s still fucking with me.

  “What’s that for?” I ask.

  “Thought you’d want to call home. You haven’t talked to your family since you’ve been here.”

  I’m almost salivating at the prospect, but with him, I know to be cautious.

  “But if you don’t want to…” He starts to put it away.

  “Wait.”

  He looks up at me, gives me a grin. Raises an eyebrow.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “You’re not a very trusting person, are you, Helena?”

  I shift my weight to one foot and set my hands on my hips. “I know you, Gre
gory.”

  “You think you know me, Helena.”

  “What’s the catch?” I repeat.

  He holds the phone out to me. “No catch. You’ve got ten minutes. Oh, wait, one thing. I don’t want you calling a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend and you know it.” I take it from him, taking care not to touch skin to skin. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why not?” he asks, but when I think he’s going to leave to give me privacy, he instead parks himself on my bed, stretches out his legs, puts his hands behind his head and starts to whistle some tune.

  I open my mouth but as if he expects what I’m going to say, he speaks first.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, Helena.” He checks his watch. “Nine minutes.”

  I go into the bathroom and close the door. I don’t have to think about who I’m going to call.

  I have no interest in wasting my time by calling my parents. Instead, sitting on the edge of the tub, I dial Amy, my youngest sister. I’ve almost given up hope when, on the fifth ring, just before the call goes to voicemail, she picks up.

  My eyes well up at the familiar sound of her voice and I can’t speak right away. It takes her two times of asking who it is for me to answer.

  “It’s me, Amy. It’s Helena.”

  “Helena?”

  Tears stream down my face and I’m nodding like an idiot. “Yes. It’s me.”

  “Helena. Oh my God, Helena! I didn’t think I’d hear from you.” She pauses. “Not while you were…there.”

  “Oh, Amy it’s so good to just hear your voice. How are you?”

  She pauses. “Helena, you know about…you received my letter?”

  “The obituary. Yes.” I nod to no one. “Yes, I know. I didn’t find out until two weeks later, but I know now.”

  “I wish I could have called.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay, Amy. I’m grateful you sent the letter.”

  There’s an awkward silence.

  “How is he?” she finally asks. “How are they?”

  “He’s okay.” I leave the ‘they’ out.

  “Are they…hurting you?”

  “I’m okay. Sebastian is okay.”

  “I know why they did it. Why mom and dad did this, I mean. They told me, finally, after they were fed up of me. I know where the money is coming from. I know why we’re making repairs on the house. Why dad bought a new car.”

  Hearing this, I want to cry. This is what my life is worth.

  Things.

  Material things.

  “I’ve even been enrolled at St. Joe’s.”

  “Oh, Amy, that’s great.” My heart is sinking and the optimism in my voice is forced. She must hear it.

  “No, Helena, it’s not. You’re paying for it with...with…skin.”

  I can’t help the sniffle and she hears it.

  “I’m leaving. I won’t be part of this,” she says.

  “It could as easily have been you, Amy.”

  “And you’d have stayed? Knowing the truth?”

  “No.” I don’t need to think about my answer. I know I wouldn’t.

  “Besides, I knew it would be you. The instant he saw you, I knew it. It was in his eyes. It was only ever you, Helena.”

  Why does her saying that make me stop?

  A knock on my door and Gregory peeks his head in, taps his watch, and I’m back in the present.

  “I don’t have much time to talk, Amy.”

  “You have to go?”

  I nod even though I know she can’t see it. “Just please don’t do anything rash. Take the money and go to school. You’ll still be away from the house, from them. It’s important. You have to think about your future.”

  “I can’t do that, Helena. Besides, what about your future? What happens to you after? The same thing that happened to Aunt Libby or even Aunt Helena?”

  “Aunt Helena was fine.”

  “She wasn’t fine. Not really.”

  I think about what Sebastian said about her, how she wasn’t all there, not by the end. I think about what happened to her. About the ring on my finger.

  “What will you do otherwise, Amy, if you don’t go to school?”

  “Live with integrity. Besides, I didn’t say I wouldn’t go to school. I just won’t go on these terms. It’s blood money, Helena, no matter how okay you say he is to you.” I hear her sniffle and I know she’s trying to hide her tears.

  Gregory steps into the room now. “Time.”

  “Amy,” I start.

  Gregory holds out his hand.

  “Can I call you again?” she asks. “I’ll store the number.”

  I look at up Gregory and I realize the catch. He’ll now have access to the one person I chose to call, the one sister I’m close with.

  And maybe he’ll decide to take his own Willow Girl.

  “Delete it, Amy. And block it. I’ll find another way to call you.”

  Gregory watches me, his expression unreadable. Not angry, just level.

  “Helena—”

  But she’s cut off because he takes the phone and disconnects. He tucks it into his pocket.

  “Who’s Amy?”

  I try to grab the phone back. “Give me that.” I want to delete his history, delete her number. Not that it matters. He knows it’s Amy. He’ll find some way to get access to her if that’s what he wants.

  He catches my arm easily.

  “What do you think I’m going to do with the number exactly? Call her? Ask her out on a date? Or are you afraid I’ll take my own Willow Girl maybe?”

  “She’s not yours. You can’t touch her. I’ll kill you if you touch her!”

  “Kill me?” He pauses, feigns being hurt. “I was only doing you a kindness. I won’t make that mistake again.” He turns to go.

  “Wait.”

  He stops.

  “I am grateful. I just…”

  He turns back to me.

  “You’re not going to do anything to her.” I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement of fact or what.

  “I’m glad you could talk to her, Helena,” he says rather than answering my question.

  “Can I call her again soon?”

  “We’ll see. Go get that cleaned up.”

  With that, he walks out of my room and I’m left watching the door, confused by his motives, worried for my sister, not liking this new secret between Gregory and myself.

  16

  Sebastian

  “You’re chipper,” I say to Gregory as he digs into his second serving of pasta.

  “I’m always chipper,” he says. “You’re the broody one. You should lighten up, brother.”

  He’s normally about as chipper as Lucinda, and Helena is quieter than usual, studying my brother whenever he isn’t studying her. I can almost see the gears of her mind working.

  “What did you do today, Helena?”

  Gregory takes his last bite of food, lays his utensils diagonally across his plate and sits back, wiping his mouth and watching Helena.

  “Just walked a little. Swam and read.”

  “How’s your knee?” Gregory asks.

  Helena flushes. “It’s fine.”

  “What happened to your knee?” I ask.

  “Nothing. I just fell and scraped it up. It looked worse than it was when you saw it,” she says, directing the last part at Greg.

  “How’s your sister?” I ask.

  Helena coughs, choking on the bite she was just swallowing, and drops her fork. She covers her mouth with her napkin.

  When the coughing fit passes, she pushes her chair back to pick up the fork.

  “Leave it,” I say.

  She straightens as a girl comes to replace her fork with a new one.

  I take my time swallowing my food. What did I expect from this test? Did I think she’d tell me? No. I didn’t. Maybe I hoped she would. But this is more than that.

  I glance to my brother who’s watching her. I don’t like how he watches her, bu
t I have to be careful and measured.

  Helena’s waiting for my reaction. I chew on another bite of food before focusing my gaze on her.

  “That call must have been a more pivotal part of your day than your walk. Did it slip your mind?”

  She shifts her gaze to Gregory then back to me. “You knew?”

  “I asked Gregory to give you the phone to make the call,” I answer her.

  “Was it a test?” she asks.

  I shrug a shoulder.

  “Just for me or for him too?”

  “Oh, it was for me too, Helena. Have no doubt,” Gregory says.

  Helena pushes her chair back. Stands. “Well, then I guess I owe you a thanks.”

  “Sit down.”

  “I’m done. I don’t like being played with.”

  She walks past my chair, but I grab hold of her wrist and push my chair back to tug her down onto my lap.

  Gregory gets up, disappears inside for a moment, I assume to dismiss the staff. He returns and resumes his seat, smiling wide.

  I keep Helena’s wrists in my hands behind her.

  “When I say sit, you sit,” I tell her.

  She doesn’t say anything back but squirms a little. She won’t be moving away, not until I allow it. She knows it, too. And I know in a fucked-up kind of way, she likes it. I wonder if there’s security in it for her. I wonder if she knows, maybe on a subconscious level, that she’s safe with me, even when I punish her.

  “What did Amy have to say?” I ask at her neck.

  Gregory crosses one ankle over his other knee and drinks the last of his wine. He gives Helena a wink.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were just being your brother’s errand boy?” she asks him.

  I see him chafe at that.

  “You didn’t ask,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “What did Amy say?” I ask again. I’ll let them hash that other part out later. That was part of the point of this exercise, after all.

  “My parents told her about the money. They enrolled her in school.”

  “What else?”

  “She’s leaving home. She won’t accept the money.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she has integrity, Sebastian,” Helena snaps, turning her head just enough to see me from the corner of one eye. “Something that the Scafoni brothers lack. I don’t like being played with.”