The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  Misty crawled out of the bushes now. Wiping the leaves and mud from her face and hair, she stood up, brushing her clothes down.

  She looked a mess. Her top was ripped and her feet were bare.

  ‘I nearly impaled myself following you over that park fence. Girl, you can bloody run. I could barely keep up! What are you doing here anyway?’ Misty stared around the place, shivering. The place gave her the creeps. ‘I know it’s hard for you, babe, missing your dad and everything, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you here on your own in the middle of the night.’

  Saskia stared down at the ground then. She wanted to tell Misty the truth, the reason she was really here, but she still wasn’t sure that she could trust her.

  ‘You’re not here for your dad are you?’ Misty said as the truth finally dawned on her. ‘Joshua was right, wasn’t he? You know where Lena is, don’t you? But what was all that about earlier? When you saw Lena going into the underground station… I don’t understand. Why would you tell Vincent that you saw her, if really you were helping her get away?’

  Saskia could see that Misty looked genuinely hurt then.

  She obviously wanted Saskia to trust her and something in her eyes told Saskia that maybe she could. Misty was here wasn’t she? Trying to help her.

  Saskia relinquished then.

  ‘She wasn’t going into the underground station. She was behind us, going the opposite way down Wandsworth Road. I lied to throw him off, so that he wouldn’t see her. So that he’d think we were telling the truth too. It was a double bluff.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew where she was? You had me looking for her all day.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure that I could trust you; I thought you’d tell Vincent. You said we should stay out of it, but I just couldn’t, Misty. I just wanted to help her… ’ Saskia shrugged, feeling suddenly guilty about lying to Misty now.

  ‘I know what it’s like to have no one, Misty. That feeling of complete helplessness. Lena is just a young girl. A victim. I couldn’t make a promise to her and then just break it.’

  Misty nodded.

  ‘I wasn’t being a heartless bitch when I told you to stay out of it, Saskia. I was scared. You don’t know what Joshua Harper is capable of.’ Misty spoke softly now. ‘A while back, when I first started working at the club, one of the girls, Shanice, she was caught ripping Joshua off. She’d been taking money from the till, skimming a bit here and there from the punters. I don’t really know the ins and outs, but I know she was a single mum and that she was in a lot of debt. That’s why she worked at the club. She wasn’t really there by choice; but then I guess none of us are really are we? Anyway, Joshua found out about Shanice and, as you can imagine, he was livid. It had been going on for months apparently. Right under his nose. The girl turned up dead a week later. One of the others girls found her. Slumped in the toilets, with a needle sticking out of her arm.’

  ‘A heroin overdose?’ Saskia asked.

  ‘Apparently so.’ Misty shrugged

  ‘Apparently? What do you mean?’

  ‘Shanice was a good girl. I know she took the money, but she was desperate. Her little boy was autistic and she was trying to get as much money as she could as she’d found a special school for him. It was all she had spoken about for weeks. How she wanted to give him the best life she possibly could. How she was going to do everything she could to make it happen. She wasn’t into drugs. She’d told me how her parents were both addicts. Her mother an alcoholic, her father a junkie. She said she’d seen it fuck all their lives up and that she’d never do that to her own kids. Shit, the girl was so adamant not to turn out like her parents, she didn’t even drink. She was a teetotaller. Wouldn’t even have a nightcap with us girls after our shift at the end of the night. She only drank orange juice.’

  Misty shook her head.

  ‘We all knew that it wasn’t right, but none of us could prove anything, and even if we could have none of us voiced our suspicions. We were all too scared. Joshua had made it very clear what happened to people who crossed him.’

  Misty looked at Saskia now, tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘I was telling you to stay out of it for your own good. Joshua and Vincent are dangerous. They live by their own rules—’

  Before Saskia could respond, a shrill noise rang out behind the girls, rendering them both silent. They ducked back down to the ground.

  ‘Fuck. Is it Vincent?’ Misty asked now.

  Saskia peered over to the main gate, her eyes homing in on the figure as it removed the chain.

  ‘No. It’s the man from earlier,’ she whispered ‘He took Lena with him, but he’s back now and he’s on his own? Lena’s not with him?’

  Misty peered through the leaves to where Saskia had pointed. She saw him then too. Tall, broad, dressed all in black. Alone in the cemetery, in the dead of night.

  They watched in silence as the man made his way across the cemetery.

  ‘I’ve seen him before. He works here.’

  ‘What the fuck is he doing here at this time of night?’ Misty murmured quietly as they watched him drag the wheelie bin down the path behind him. ‘Brings a whole new meaning to moonlighting doesn’t it, gardening at this time of night. Bit fucking weird if you ask me.’

  He was so close now that Saskia could see his face clearly. She had a bad feeling.

  ‘Where’s Lena? We need to follow him, Misty. Find out where Lena is. I think she’s in trouble.’

  Watching, the man wheeled the bin out onto the street. Locking the gate behind him once more, before looking around to make sure that no one was watching him.

  He made his way along the pathway.

  ‘What the fuck do you think he’s got in there?’ Misty said with a shiver.

  Saskia shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the man as he walked. Dragging the bin behind him with force.

  Whatever it was it looked heavy.

  ‘I’ve got no idea, but something is telling me that, whatever it is, it isn’t going to be good.’

  44

  Lena’s fingers were red raw, the skin sore, peeling. Her short nails, chipped, broken.

  The door was loose now though. She wedged the metal bracket that she’d snapped from the struts underneath the bed back into the gap between the door frame and, prising the slip of steel through, she bent it towards her, putting pressure on the hinge.

  She almost had it. She’d already broken one, but this one was proving much harder. She wasn’t going to give up though.

  Digging the rod in further, she twisted her arm around, wincing as she caught her skin on the edge of the sharp metal. A trickle of blood slithered down her wrist. Ignoring the pain that shot through her, she bent the bar again. A little more leverage.

  Then the metal bar broke, slipping out of her hand. The door was still held up by the solitary, stubborn hinge at the top and the padlock that Colin had bolted on the other side.

  Determined, she couldn’t give up now. Sliding her fingers underneath the slim gap under the door she pulled with every bit of strength that she had. Yanking the wood backwards and forwards, she flinched as her fingers smashed against the rough grooves of the door bar beneath. She heard the crack as the wooden frame splintered, the hinge finally breaking, and the door flew open, launching Lena backwards into a heap on the floor.

  In pain but victorious, as she saw the door hanging crookedly from the single padlock, a gap now big enough for her to climb out of, she knew she didn’t have much time.

  Scrambling up from her knees, she swaddled Roza inside her blanket.

  Outside in the hallway she could hear the loud music blaring from the other room. Disorientated, panicked, she made her way to the front door, but she was too late. Stopping suddenly her eyes fixed on the pane of glass in the middle of the door and the dark shadow that lingered on the other side.

  Colin was back. He was at the other side of the door, searching for his keys.

  Alarmed, Lena turned around. Her mind raci
ng. She was five floors up. In a flat. The front door was her only way out. Colin’s mother!

  She remembered then. Lena would wake her up, beg her to help her. The woman wouldn’t want the girl kept against her will. She’d want to help.

  Grabbing the door handle, Lena rushed inside; closing it behind her to buy herself an extra few minutes.

  She heard the front door close.

  Colin was inside the flat.

  Lena stared, looking for somewhere to hide. Anywhere. Only, now she was in the lounge she realised something was very wrong.

  Her skin prickled. Her senses all seemed to come to life at once, overwhelming her, as her head began to spin.

  The smell in the room was so overpowering, so vile, it hit her like a physical blow. The sound of the TV was deafening.

  There were people here, she realised.

  All sitting at the table. Only they weren’t people at all.

  They were dolls.

  Dressed in funny-looking clothes. Bright dresses, hats and wigs. All of their painted-on expressions looking blankly ahead. Big, exaggerated, blue cartoon eyes, thick red smiling lips. Life-size dolls, all sitting at a party. A huge chocolate cake sat in the centre of the table. Surrounded by fancy cups and saucers. A teapot. The tea had long gone cold now though; Saskia could see a thick layer of scum floating on the surface of each one.

  She shuddered then as she noticed the flies. So many, a constant buzzing.

  She’d mistaken the sound for just the TV at first, but now she could see the room was full of the insects, all buzzing around. Swarming the room in a frenzy as they flitted from the food to the dolls.

  Then to the other armchair in front of the TV.

  Lena saw her then. A pair of thin mottled legs sticking out from the chair.

  The woman had her back to her. The chair’s high back obscuring her view.

  She was facing the TV, directly in front of it.

  ‘Please, help me,’ Lena cried, running over to the chair. Begging, pleading, but then she stopped, unable to comprehend the horror that greeted her.

  The old woman’s face was twisted, contorted. Her skin tinged a deathly grey.

  She was the only one in the room that didn’t have a big red smile painted onto her face.

  She was dead.

  Clutching her baby close to her, Lena buried Roza’s head into her chest, instinctively shielding her baby’s eyes from the gruesome sight in front of her.

  She turned as she heard the sound of the door behind her.

  ‘You should have stayed in the room like I told you.’ Colin was in the doorway. ‘That’s why I locked you in.’ He looked sad, his eyes full of pity.

  ‘I was scared. I’m sorry. I won’t say a word I swear… I’ll pretend that I haven’t seen any of this… ’ Lena was begging now.

  Colin shook his head. Staring at the table he looked over to his dolls; his face lighting up with affection.

  ‘They’ll take my dolls away from me. They won’t let me keep them. I’ll be all on my own again.’

  Lena followed his gaze. His dolls?

  She thought of tonight, in the cemetery. Alone, in the middle of the night. The mud. Covering his clothes, his boots, his hands. The smell in the flat, that rotten stench of sewage.

  Her ears started ringing, her eyes dark, peppered with shining white spots.

  She was going to pass out.

  The realisation hitting her with such force that her brain couldn’t take it in.

  The dolls.

  They were real.

  They were children.

  Mummified human remains.

  This freak had dug them up.

  Lena tried to speak, but her words were caught at the back of her throat. The room started spinning, round and round, whirling so fast she felt like she’d momentarily left her body.

  She could still feel Roza in her arms. Desperate to cling onto her, she held her daughter for dear life as her legs gave way and she fell to the floor.

  Lena knew nothing then.

  Only darkness.

  45

  Rubbing his hands down the front of his trousers, Colin Jeffries wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his palms. He felt sticky, dirty; he needed a shower. There would be time for that later though. Right now, he had better things to do. He had waited for this moment for days.

  Carefully plotting and playing and finally getting his mother out of the way, and then the girl, Lena, had almost ruined it all for him.

  Still, he’d dealt with her for now. Making his way towards the bed, Colin knelt down beside it. An excited thrill rippled through him as he took in the sight of his newest doll splayed out in the centre of his bed.

  This one was beautiful. By far the prettiest of them all. Exquisite. She looked like a sleeping angel. He even approved of her clothes; he couldn’t have picked better himself.

  A blue and white checked dress that sat just above her knees, finished off with frilly white ankle socks and pretty navy shoes adorned with a cute little bow. It was simple, but perfect. Not like some of the clothes that the dolls had been dressed in. Garish, immodest. The children these days dressed too old for their age. A heel on their shoe. The hemline of the skirts too short. Their faces painted with make-up.

  This was just perfect though.

  He stared at her face now in awe.

  Her eyes were closed; her thick, full lashes resting on her porcelain skin. Her hair was long, chestnut-brown, cascading down over her shoulders.

  With a trembling hand Colin reached out to touch her.

  Closing his eyes, he gasped loudly as his fingers caressed the soft, natural curls. Twisting the ringlets around his fingers, he opened his eyes; his nose wrinkled as he noted the stark contrast of his wrinkly, coarse hands against his new doll’s perfectly smooth waxy complexion. It only emphasised even more how perfect she was.

  They all were. Each dolly unique in its own way.

  There were seven in total in his beautiful collection. He knew every detail there was to know about them. Their birthdays, their favourite songs. He knew everything about them because he had saved them; he had brought them back to life.

  They were his. All his. No one could take them from him now. No one.

  Lying down on his bed next to the doll, Colin smiled over at her as he compared the differences in their forms.

  Mother always said he was like a big, stupid oaf. His large six-foot frame was cloddish, clumsy. The girl looked so tiny next to him. Colin scanned her fragile, delicate features and instantly he felt better.

  Oh yes, she was already his favourite by far.

  Burying his nose into the mass of wavy hair he inhaled her scent.

  No, no this simply wouldn’t do.

  Shaking his head, he drew back with a grimace. Sitting up sharply, screwing his face up, instantly repelled. Disgusted at the sharp, unforgiving smell of lavender that filled his nostrils, he felt his palms go clammy, his stomach churn. He hated the smell of lavender.

  His mother’s signature scent.

  He was going to have to bathe this one – wash that dreadful smell out of her hair.

  He was annoyed now – the thought of his mother agitating him.

  She ruined everything. Even now, after her death. Her cruel words, her wicked taunts still lived on inside him.

  He’d stood up to her in the end though. Wrapping his hands around her throat he had throttled the life out of her, strangled her last disgusting mouthful of air right out of her. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her while he did it, not once. Surprised in the moment that he’d actually enjoyed it. The power; the control of finally standing up to the woman who had done nothing but abuse him his whole life.

  A monster, that’s what she’d called him. Those were her last words to him. Her final insult.

  Even as she slipped away, as her life flashed before her very eyes, she still didn’t get it.

  She had done this.

  She had made him this way.

&
nbsp; If anyone was the monster it was her.

  Getting up, Colin left the room, returning just minutes later with a bowl of fresh water, a towel and some shampoo. He needed to get rid of that smell. To make his doll perfect once more.

  He would bathe his new doll, then he could comb her luscious long hair, before tucking her into bed next to him. His first night with his dolls was always Colin’s favourite. That was when they were at their best. They didn’t last long after the first night. A week at the most. It was such a shame.

  Colin had learned that the hard way with the first few dolls he’d brought back here.

  Despite the embalming process, despite the girl’s veins being flushed with formaldehyde, it only prolonged the inevitable. Exposed to the elements; the air, the moisture, their bodies soon started to decompose. He couldn’t bear how their skin would start to rot; their bodies shrinking as their fluids seeped out from them. Then the decay would set in. That smell, that godawful smell. He tried so hard to preserve his dolls the best way he knew how. Wrapping them in bandages, covering every inch of them, even, eventually, their beautiful faces.

  For him that was the saddest part, but deterioration was inevitable.

  Dead was dead. At least they were out of the cold ground now. Out from the dark.

  No longer alone. They didn’t need to be afraid anymore.

  He would look after them now, each and every one of his beautiful dolls.

  Singing to himself as he started combing the doll’s hair, Colin Jeffries smiled to himself.

  Today had turned out to be a great day.

  He had the most perfect addition to his growing collection.

  Violet Jackson was everything he had wished for and much, much more.

  Lena woke up. It was dark, cramped.

  Unable to stretch her legs out, she could barely move. The space around her was tight, restricted. Her knees were drawn up to her chest; her back against a cold, dark wall.

  The smell of rot was lessened now. Instead she could smell the overpowering dampness. The air was thick with the smell of mould.