Feyness

by E. S. Carter

  She hesitates for a moment, as though she was expecting someone to greet us, and on hearing laughter echo out from further into the property, we make our way towards the sound, our footsteps echoing off the walls, announcing our arrival.

  The voices come from an open doorway that leads into an impressive study. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling; ladders placed around the room to aid you in reaching the top shelves.

  In the centre of the large space are a desk and an arrangement of armchairs.

  Behind the desk is a man both young Cole and I recognise as Alec Craven, and sitting in one of the chairs is another man I do not recognise.

  “Ah, you made it, come in, come in.” my father motions for the man in front of him to leave with a sweep of his hand and Mr. Anonymous gets up and strides from the room not sparing us a glance.

  I do not miss the flicker of annoyance in my father’s eyes as he takes in both boys’ presence.

  “Did Jack not tell you to come alone, Melinda?”

  I can feel apprehension overtake Melinda’s body; she did not expect this reception, she came to see her husband and is confused by his absence.

  “Our housekeeper’s new assistant passed on the message from Jack, and I didn’t think he’d mind if the boys came to meet him too. Is he around?”

  Her eyes scan the vast space even though it is evident that he isn’t here.

  Alec stands, slowly walking out from behind the desk, his eyes devouring the woman standing before him before landing on each of the boys. His sneer is evident, even though he attempts to mask it.

  “He’s been called out on an errand and asked for you to wait for him to return.” His fake smile lands on Cole, and I can feel his young heart skip a beat, because even in his innocence, he recognises evil.

  “Why don’t you take your brother to the games room? It’s just up the main stairs, first door on the right.” It isn’t a request and once spoken his eyes land back on Cole’s mother. “Perhaps, we could have a drink while we wait for Jack. I’m sure the boys would much rather play billiards than hang around here.”

  Again, everyone knows this isn’t a suggestion but an order, everyone except an eager and excited Luke, who is bouncing on his toes, looking over at me with his ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Releasing both our hands, Melinda kneels down, so she’s at our level, her unease written clearly on her face.

  Placing a hand on my cheek, she stares into the eyes of her firstborn and gently caresses his skin.

  “Take your brother and have fun. I’ll come and find you as soon as your father arrives. Okay?”

  When Cole nods in response, a shaky smile tips at her mouth and I feel every ounce of nerves that pour from her body.

  “You’re such a good boy, Cole.” She turns to Luke and ruffles his hair, addressing them both, “Just keep an eye on this little tinker for me, and you behave for your big brother. Stay in the games room, no exploring.”

  Alec interjects, “Bad things happen to boys who stick their noses where they don’t belong,” his tone is ominous and realising his error he laughs and adds, “but seeing as you’re both good lads, you’ll be just fine. Now run along and play. Your mother will come and get you shortly.”

  Luke immediately releases his mother’s hand and sprints from the room, unaware of the tension he is leaving behind. Cole hesitates and stays rooted to the spot, his eyes begging his mother not to make him go. With a shaky hand she lightly caresses his hair, a whispered. “Go, I’ll be right here” leaves her lips, her pale face betraying every one of her emotions.

  Reluctantly and with heavy feet, Cole turns and follows his brother up the grand staircase. When he looks back through the open door, his mother is no longer stood where he left her and his stomach churns with worry.

  I can feel the war inside him.

  Should he follow Luke and look after him, or to run back to his mother and refuse to leave her side?

  He doesn’t know what’s going on, but everything feels wrong.

  Everything feels bad.

  “I wanna explore.” A tug on his arm has him turning to look at his little brother, and just as he’s about to tell him off, the small boy runs away, straight past the room they were told to stay in, and off down the long, wide hallway.

  With no choice but to follow before Luke got them into serious trouble, he takes the last step on the stairs and bounds off in the direction of his sibling.

  He passes numerous closed doors until he catches up with the little boy who is surprisingly fast for his age and watches as he ducks into a dark room.

  Cole hesitates. “Luke, Luke, get back out here,” he whisper-yells around the crack of the door, not wanting to enter, not wanting to get them both into further trouble. But his brother doesn’t reply.

  Stamping his small foot, he tries again, slightly louder this time, “Luke, get out here, or I’m gonna tell Daddy when he comes that you’ve been naughty, again. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Still nothing. Silence.

  A whimper echoes in the darkness and all other thoughts leave Cole’s mind except for one. Make sure Luke is safe.

  Pushing the door wide, he steps into the gloom, his eyes adjusting to the loss of light enough to land on a sliver of brightness coming from the far end of the space. It’s another door.

  With quick steps he’s in front of it pushing it open, his eyes assessing the dimly lit space.

  The first thing his gaze lands on is his brother who is kneeling on the floor about a foot away, his face locked on the wall in front of him.

  Raising his head to look, Cole stumbles backward in shock, his back hitting the wall with a thud.

  Mounted on the wall is a man.

  He is emaciated, beaten and bloody. His naked body is strapped to a large X-shaped cross on the wall by cuffs laced with spikes. His head hangs low on his chest but the nail embedded ball gagging his mouth is clearly visible, and his face is contorted around it on a silent scream. Lash marks, like a macabre road map, mar his skin, and as my eyes sweep further down his body, I swallow my terror, unable to voice my revulsion while Cole’s small frame slumps to the floor seconds before he flings himself forward and vomits onto the bare floorboards.

  Protruding from the man’s penis is a thick needle which has been forced into his meatus, making the entire length rigid. The mutilated length is swollen and red, its shape distorted, blood dripping from the tip to form a river on the floor at his feet where it merges with other bodily fluids in a thick puddle.

  The man doesn’t move despite his breaths being evident by the crackle of his lungs with each weak inhale.

  When Cole lifts his head once more, his eyes take in the rest of the room, his body breaking into full blown quakes when the other bodies come into focus.

  A slender woman is strapped to a bench. Her naked breasts are sliced and diced, her nipples have been removed, and all manner of phallic instruments protrude from every orifice.

  A small girl, naked and bound in a tiny cage, her listless eyes fogged over with the stain of death betray every horror that she endured, her broken body evidence of extreme pain. And lastly, a teenage boy with the greenest of green eyes is strapped into a chair much like you sit in at the dentist.

  Cole closes his eyes, shutting out any more of the horror, refusing to take in any more details, his stomach heaving once more, threatening to expel his innards.

  He flinches when something touches his knees, his hands flailing as he attempts to shrink back into the wall, his gaze meeting little Luke’s tear stained face.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Luke sobs quietly, his tiny frame shaking at Cole’s feet.

  With more resolve than any small child should have to possess, Cole forces himself to stand, cocooning Luke in his embrace and quickly dragging the little boy out of the horror-filled room, into the darkness beyond.

  “We must go to the games room, Luke. We must forget this, f
orget all of this.” He shakes the smaller child firmly, “Are you listening to me? We haven’t seen anything; we were just playing pool.”

  The vision dissipates with the sound of Luke’s whispered and shaky agreement.

  My eyes come back into focus just as we enter the same marble-floored foyer that was in my vision.

  My body begins to shake uncontrollably, halting Cole’s urgent stride.

  “Faye, this isn’t the time for one of your episodes. I told you to eat. If you can’t get it together, you will stay in the car.”

  His tone warrants no arguing.

  Get your shit together.

  A pale, small body, no more than five or six, dark curly hair, hands bound behind her back, legs spread wide…

  Block it out.

  Green eyes, dark hair, legs in stirrups, arms strapped to the sides of the dentist chair, broken wine bottle rammed between his legs, blood pouring from the jagged glass…

  Breathe, Faye. Shut it down, lock it tight.

  A knitting needle, only an inch visible…

  No. Stop. Breathe.

  I prise my hand from Cole’s grasp and rub my sweaty palm down my trouser leg. Each unsteady breath is sticking in my throat.

  “Faye.”

  His voice is a warning. He will send me away, and I need to see this through until the very end. If my father is here, he needs to pay for more sins than I could ever imagine.

  Be the breeze.

  I close my eyes for a brief second, inhale deeply to shake off the residual images that are forever etched on my brain and turn to face my husband.

  “Make him pay.”

  There is no need to elaborate.

  Cole stands tall, his body towering over mine, his gaze assessing my ability not to pass out and cause him any more inconvenience.

  I hold my hand out, mimicking his usual stance.

  “I’m ready.”

  Whatever he sees in my face, he accepts it quickly and laces his fingers through mine, his large hand swallowing my much smaller one.

  We take the grand staircase in front of us, his swift steps never slowing for me to keep up. As we reach the top, he lowers his voice and stills, his eyes looking off down the hallway.

  “Whatever order I give you, you obey. If you fuck up in here, I won’t be able to protect you. We’ve only got this far because your father’s men and his security system were disabled. Our man on the inside took care of everything and dear old Daddy is not expecting visitors so I can guarantee he’s indulging in his favourite pastime.”

  His eyes meet mine, and amidst the burst of red that often flares around Cole, I catch a brief glimpse of dark green, worry. He’s worried for me, for what I’m about to see. Little does he know that I’ve already witnessed the depths of my father’s depravity. I am ready to face anything else we encounter, and I am more than willing to watch that bastard pay with his blood.

  I want to tell him.

  I want to explain all that I’ve seen and confess all my truths. I want to tell him that I know why he is this way. Why this beautiful man, one of good looks but a bad life, turned into a monster.

  It is because he was made by worse monsters and was forged in their acts of depravity. Tonight, I will watch him slay the worst of them all.

  My father.

  Instead of telling him this, I nod.

  A simple gesture that says nothing, despite it meaning everything.

  Tonight will be the finale.

  Despite everything I have done in the past, tonight I will seal my fate and forsake the broken pieces of my soul.

  Not because I am about to kill the man whose death has become my very reason for living but because I will force Faye to become a part of his sickness.

  Whereas forcing her to witness this act was initially supposed to be my final ‘Fuck You’ to Alec Craven. Now I see it for what it is.

  Another injustice.

  She is just another victim of the Craven reign, despite their blood flowing through her veins. What started as revenge for an act committed long ago, alongside acts committed in my lifetime, has now turned into revenge on an epic scale.

  Tonight a daughter will likely see what a father does to his enemies.

  And their families.

  Tonight she will have a taste of the fate that befell my mother, of the life that was forced upon both my brother and me.

  Tonight she will witness acts against small children, while their parents are helpless and forced to watch.

  She will see how her father picks off the youngest and the weakest, all while making the strongest endure their pain from the side lines.

  What must it be like for a man to watch as his tiny daughter gets violated again and again and again?

  What must it be like for a mother to watch her son get ripped apart from the inside out?

  What must it be like to pray that your loved ones would die soon, so they need not endure any more pain? To watch the life drain out of the eyes of the children that mother nature herself, bound you to protect. And all for what?

  Power.

  Money.

  Greed.

  And hunger that only the most abhorrent torture can sate.

  It’s not watching the death of her father that worries me.

  It’s absorbing his sins and making them her own.

  No sane person would ever survive.

  She’s already broken, despite being strong.

  She’s already experienced a small taste of the pain that is to come.

  But will she cope with the deluge that is about to engulf her?

  The bigger question is: why the fuck do I care?

  Cole guides me slowly down the wide passageway.

  The walls are covered in expensive gold-leaf wallpaper; the floors are a polished wood inset with a Persian runner. The whole house is reminiscent of Craven Hall, from the decoration to the costly furnishings. If I had any doubt about this place belonging to my father, the artwork on the walls would give it away. He’s always been a collector of fine art and the pieces that adorn the walls are just his style. Not that he’s a devotee; he just wants to own what other’s covet.

  As we get to the end of the grand hallway, we round the corner and come face to face with both Luke and Grim. The air around them ripples with excitement. Their auras vibrant, thick swirls of red and black pulsing in the air.

  I prepare myself to face Luke’s wrath, but neither man pays me a second glance. Both are fixated solely on my husband.

  One nod from Cole is all it takes for them both to draw their weapons.

  Luke palms a sleek looking handgun, while Grim favours a small handled axe and a vicious looking hunting knife. It doesn’t escape my notice that Cole doesn’t produce any weapons. He wants to use his hands. He wants to coat them in the sweet evidence of revenge.

  With a sweep of his arm, Grim slowly opens the door in front of us and steps into the room, closely followed by Luke.

  Cole walks through behind them, his hand never leaving mine, his posture relaxed despite the thrum of anticipation I can feel in his veins. The room we enter is dark and appears empty, just like my earlier vision and just like before we make our way quietly to the far end of it until we come to another door. Only, unlike my previous vision, the security has been updated, and a fingerprint lock blinks an eerie green from beside the frame.

  The two men part to allow Cole access and he uses his free hand to press his thumb to the scanner, the door clicking open immediately.

  In a burst of motion, Luke, and Grim erupt into the room beyond and stop dead.

  Cole pushes his way past the men leaving me alone in the doorway. An unholy roar erupts from his chest and the air in the room stills completely. Time seemingly stops in his wake, his anger a living being that takes over the space before me.

  “Get him fucking down, and get the Doc in here.”

  Luke rushes forward, his body still blocking my view, while Grim launches past me, his heavy feet pounding out of the room at
my back and disappearing into the hallway. I hear his call for the Doctor far off in the distance.

  Both Cole and Luke stand in an ocean of fresh blood, but their bodies still conceal the reason for it.

  I grip the doorway, not wanting to enter the room any further, my previous vision still clear in my mind.

  The room looks the same, the bench where the woman was diced up like a fresh carcass on a butcher’s block remains, as does the cage and dentist’s chair. It also has some new additions, including a Judas Cradle, a pyramid-shaped seat surrounded by ropes that are used to lower a person down onto it with the intent of slowly and painfully stretching the victim’s orifice, eventually impaling them. And a medieval rack, the stains of old blood thick on the floor beneath it, stretches across the length of the far wall.

  These new additions indicate the prolonged use of this room, the stench in the air evidence of its regular victims.

  How many men, women, and children have perished here?

  As I ask myself the question, I selfishly realise that I do not wish to know the answer.

  I take a ragged breath, relieved I cannot feel the presence of those who have passed, for if these walls held auras, I’m sure I would never survive the sight.

  A low grunt, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor pulls my attention back to Cole, Luke, and the bloody body at their feet.

  I can see the life ebbing away from this being, their faint aura dissipating into nothingness.

  I step forward, my breath held, wondering if I will come face to face with my father.

  “No.”

  The word slips free when I see the person’s face.

  It’s the man from my recent vision; the one who sat with my father in the study when Melinda and the boys first arrived here. He may be twenty years older, but it’s him. Only now, he’s about to take his last breath. Multiple knives protrude from his body, the red river on the floor rapidly growing as he bleeds out in front of us.

  He coughs; his unseeing eyes blink open and his is voice weak but clear. “He knows. He knows you’re coming for him.”

  Cole leans down just as the man coughs harshly, red spittle flying from his mouth and coating the side of my husband’s face.