A man sat in the easy-chair, adjacent to the couch. He dressed nicely, a pair of slacks with a white dress shirt. A tie hung loosely around his neck. He sat with his legs crossed, the morning paper stretched through his hands, like he completely belonged in her home. He had the look of a business executive, someone who sat in an office all day and flirted with the secretaries at his disposal.
Janet's mind raced for a rational explanation as to why the man was sitting in her living room. He wasn't familiar at all, and she was acquainted with most of the town. Mistaken identity was the only thing she could latch onto.
"Uh, sir, I think you have the wrong house."
The stranger looked up over the paper, their eyes meeting. A chill ran down her spine at the dark expression on his face. Whoever the man was, there was no rosiness in his cheeks, no friendliness in his eyes.
"Oh, no. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
She drew her foot back a step, simply wanting to be further away from him. Her eyes darted to the front door, but running wasn't an option. Her oldest daughter was fifty feet away in the opposite direction.
"Listen. There are no drugs here, and we don't have any money."
The stranger laughed, an unpleasant sound.
"Believe me, I can see that. This place looks like it was decorated by a retard. And I'm pretty sure I saw that same couch near a dumpster a few blocks over. Not even the town bum would sleep on it."
Janet's jaw dropped. She was oblivious to Elizabeth squirming in her arms. The stranger was dangerous. She knew this instantly. She took a step toward the dining room, and he did something that froze her completely still. He smiled. His body tensed, like he was ready to lunge, and he let out that terrible smile.
"That's not the best idea you've ever had," he said. "I'd be on you in two seconds. It's not easy to run with a fifty-pound bag of shit in your arms."
"Mommy," Elizabeth said. "Put me down."
"What are you waiting for there, Mommy? Put the brat down."
Janet lowered Elizabeth to the floor, keeping a hand on her neck to keep her close.
"What were you doing, kid? Cleaning up?"
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I was putting my toys away."
"Well, hop to it. Or no lunch, or supper, or whatever it is parents use to control you little bastards."
The child looked up to her mother. "Mommy, I don't think I like him."
Janet tensed at what the stranger might do, but he only chuckled. He folded the paper and rose to his feet. The man was probably an inch or two taller than her husband. Broad shoulders, very imposing.
"Very smart kid," he said, shaking the paper at her.
"Elizabeth, go upstairs. Get your toys together."
The stranger watched Elizabeth as she carried out her mother's word. Janet's gaze never left his face. There seemed to be a hidden anger under his calm demeanor. His cheek twitched slightly. She had to keep her composure, but was afraid for her children.
He flipped the newspaper around to show her the headline.
"Incident at Democratic National Committee headquarters," he quoted. "Wait until they find out what really happened there. That stupid son of a bitch."
He tossed the newspaper. Pages flew everywhere across the room she'd just cleaned. The stranger took a step toward her. Janet held her ground.
"Let's get down to business," he said. "I'm looking for your husband. Ed Fields."
"He's not here."
"Thank you for that amazing insight. Where is he?"
Janet pursed her lips. She said nothing as her body stiffened.
"That's okay. I'll just ask Elizabeth."
He tried to turn, but Janet reached out and snatched his wrist. He violently pulled away as his eyes widened, his expression a twisted mix of surprise and rage.
"He's working!" Janet said. "He got called into work today."
"On a Saturday? Ed doesn't work Saturdays."
"Well, he had to today."
The stranger's lip curled into a sneer. "Of course he did." He wiped at the spot Janet touched him. "That changes things a little, but we'll make it work. First things first. My name's Byron. And you are?"
Janet had the suspicion he already knew.
"Janet."
"Okay, Janet. Let's be clear on what's happening here. You and your family are in trouble. Your lives are in danger. From me. If you want to live through the day, the first thing you have to remember is…don't ever touch me again."
The back of Janet's head and neck broke out into a cold sweat at Byron's words. He spoke evenly, succinctly, and she didn't doubt a word he said. A tear ran down her cheek, but she refused to collapse and cry.
"I'm going to be your house guest," Byron continued. "We'll eat some food, sit at the table, just relax until old Ed gets home. Then he and I will have a talk."
"What do you want with my husband?"
"He stole something from me, and I'd like it back."
"Ed's never stolen anything in his life."
Byron laughed heartily, then stared into Janet's eyes. He looked her up and down, and she felt violated as he took her in. But there was no lust in his gaze.
"You really believe that, don't you?" he said. "Come now, he obviously stole something. Your heart, and your virginity."
Janet's mouth hung open as she stared at Byron in disbelief. A million questions ran through her. How could he know? Certainly Ed didn't discuss their intimacy with their friends, much less this horrible man in her living room. But he was right. They were each others' firsts.
"Hey, you want to live in a box, that's your business," Byron said. "I don't care. I can see from the nice, blank stare that you really have no idea what I'm looking for. But let's look anyway, shall we?"
Byron gestured toward the stairs, and waited. Janet understood, and took the lead. Rash ideas flashed through her mind as they walked up the stairs. She could throw her weight backwards, knocking him down. She could attack with all the fury in her, rip at his eyes, tear and bite. The sound of Elizabeth cleaning in her room kept her ideas from becoming reality. She wouldn't risk anything happening to them if she failed.
"Where are we going?"
"To your bedroom."
She trembled as she held her breath. Byron noticed and laughed shortly.
"Don't get your hopes up," he said. "You're not my type."
He grabbed her shoulder as they passed Elizabeth and Sarah's room. Elizabeth had put most of her toys away, but played with a horse in the middle of the floor.
"Hey, kid, get up off your ass and come here."
"No," Janet said, stopping just shy of grabbing Byron's arm. "Please, whatever you're doing, leave her out of it."
Byron ignored her. "Come on, kid—"
Janet invaded Byron's personal space, stepping toward him and stopping just an inch short from his face. An anger she'd never felt rose up within her, pushing the fear aside.
"If you hurt my family—"
"Oh, this should be good," Byron said, taking a step back. He grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Lay it on me. What will you do?"
Her eyes never left his.
"I'll kill you."
Janet was surprised at the simple fact that she meant what she said.
Silence followed as Byron regarded her. He blinked and raised an eyebrow.
"That's it? That's all you've got?"
"I'm not joking—"
"I give that a three out of ten. The tone was there, and you had a nice look in your eye, but that's it. Sorry, but I'm not scared, Janet. You just have to go a little deeper than that. Let me give it a shot. Did you know your children have ten fingers and toes, two ears and eyes? But they don't need any of them to live. If you don't stay in line, I'll take those little body parts, piece by piece, and leave them bleeding and crying in the corner. I'll make you watch. Your kids will be tiny, bloody stumps, just sitting there. Is that what you want?"
Tears streamed down her face as her lip quivered. Her fists opened and cl
osed. She wanted to lash out, kill Byron for simply entertaining the thought of hurting her children. But she could do nothing. At least not yet.
"Mommy?" Elizabeth said. "Are you okay?"
Elizabeth took a ginger step toward them from the middle of the room. Byron held up his hand to stop her.
"Hold on there, kid." He lifted Janet's chin with his finger and looked her in the eye. "All of this is in your hands. I don't want to kill anyone. Not because I have a conscience, but because it involves spending money, bribes, hiding evidence. But if you don't do exactly what I say, this entire house will be a bloodbath."
Janet said nothing as she composed herself. She didn't believe a word Byron said. He would kill her and her family. She had to think clearly, be patient.
"What did you say to my Mommy?" Elizabeth asked.
"Nothing. Just that time of the month, I guess." He looked down at the child. "You'll go through it soon. Hormones, bitchy moods, bleeding all over the place."
"Mommy," Elizabeth said. She walked to her mother and grabbed her hand. "What's he talking about? I don't want to bleed."
"You won't, sweetie. Just ignore him. He's trying to tell jokes."
"He's not very funny."
Byron shoved Janet just hard enough to get her moving. He trailed behind the two of them, Elizabeth holding her mother's hand.
"Kids," he said. "Like dealing with a wild animal that can talk. Ridiculous."
Janet turned into her bedroom. The bed was still a mess, where not long ago Ed held her in his arms as they made love. Through the bedroom window she caught a glimpse of Sarah and Mark still running through the yard. She was thankful for the small miracle that Sarah was safe. Did Byron even know about her? If she stayed outside until lunchtime, maybe Ed would come home to eat, and he could clear up whatever case of mistaken identity was happening. Sarah wouldn't even know.
She prayed for that outcome, for her family to be safe.
"Okay, ladies," Byron said, pushing Janet once again. "If you would just sit in the corner over there."
Janet moved slowly, her daughter next to her, looking over her shoulder at Byron. They'd barely made it halfway across the room when Byron pulled out a dresser drawer and turned it over, emptying bras and underwear onto the floor. He dropped the drawer carelessly, and it landed on the carpet with a thud. Elizabeth jumped in surprise. Janet pulled her close.
"There's nothing—"
"Nice panties," Byron said, scooping a random pair up with a finger. "Is this the style Ed peeled off you last night?"
Janet had no words. Humiliation crept in with her terror. Byron watched Janet and her husband in their most private moments the night before. How? Through the window? How long had he been spying on them?
Byron tried to pull out another drawer. It got stuck, and he violently shook the dresser from side to side until it worked free. Items on the dresser fell to the floor, and the display of anger and force made Elizabeth cling closer to her mother.
"Mommy, what's he doing?"
"What are you looking for?" Janet asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Please—"
She jumped as well as he flung another empty drawer across the room. It crashed into the wall, leaving a hole where the corner struck it. Elizabeth cried freely and hugged her mother's leg. Janet could do nothing.
"Your clothes are a joke," Byron said. "Do you actually go outside in this shit?"
He raided the closet next. He tossed their clothes behind him and searched every corner. Elizabeth bawled, and Janet dropped to one knee to hold her. The youngest daughter trembled as sobs racked her little body.
"It going to be okay," Janet said. "Don't be scared, sweetie. I'm right here."
Byron shook his head as he studied the mess he made. Their bedroom was in shambles. A few holes were in the walls, clothes scattered everywhere. He'd emptied the nightstands and flipped them on their sides. He even pulled the mattress off the frame and haphazardly threw it on the floor.
"Is that what being a parent is all about? Lying to the little shits? Hey, Elizabeth." The child looked at Byron through a hand over her eyes. He leaned down to speak directly to her. "It might not be okay. You might live until you're one-hundred, or you might die today. No one really knows, certainly not your Mommy—"
"Don't talk to my daughter," Janet said, turning Elizabeth away. "You just deal with me."
"Hey, that hurts," he said, sneering. "I was going to finish it off with some really cliche shit, like So live life to the fullest now, or something like that. But hey, whatever, if you want to be so negative, that's on you."
Byron clasped his hands together and stood upright, searching around him.
"Well, looks like it's not here."
"What?!" Janet snapped. "What do you want?"
"A nap would be nice. Let's go check the kids' room."
"No, please. Don't go in there. Leave that room alone."
Byron gestured for the door. When Janet didn't move, he forcefully grabbed her by the wrist.
"Like that room is clean now," he said sarcastically. "Destroying that room would probably improve it. Get moving."
Elizabeth had seen enough of a man other than her father touching and grabbing her mother. She stepped forward from behind Janet and punched Byron in the stomach, and followed her attack with a kick in the shin.
"Stop touching my Mom!"
"Elizabeth, don't!"
Janet grabbed her daughter and forced her to step behind her. She looked into Byron's eyes, fearing his reaction. His gaze was dark, angry, but a playful smile danced on his lips.
"I'm impressed," he said, speaking directly to Elizabeth. "That's good. You have to fight for what's yours, kid. But you have to be careful about getting pulled into a fight you can't win. Your mom understands that, which is why she's behaving, and you have to do the same thing." He leaned down and stared at her. Elizabeth didn't back away an inch. "If you do that again, I'll cut off your pinky. Got it?"
Byron followed them back into the hall. They walked the few feet to the girls' bedroom, and were ready to step inside when there was a noise downstairs. Janet recognized the sound of the sliding glass door in the kitchen opening and closing, and her heart sank when the quick, energetic footsteps made their way across the first floor.
"Mom!" Sarah shouted. "Where are you? Is it okay if me and Mark get our bikes and—"
She stopped talking when she made it to the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at her mother, and a slow frown of confusion spread across her face.
"Mom?" She pointed at Byron. "Who is that?"
"Well, if it isn't spawn number two," Byron said. "And it's Mark and I." He cast a sideways glance at Janet. "What kind of idiots are you raising?"
"It's okay, honey," Janet said, wiping at her eyes. "Just go outside and play."
"No, no," Byron said, wagging his finger. "The ladies of the house are all together now. Playtime is over."
"She can go outside," Janet said. "She won't do anything."
"Mom." Sarah grabbed the banister and took a single step. "What's going on?"
"Nothing! Just go outside."
Byron placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Sarah, I'm afraid you'll have to stay inside. Come upstairs, now, or I'll shove your sister and she can meet you down there."
The silence stretched. Janet wanted nothing more than to shout at Sarah to run, to get away. But Janet looked into Elizabeth's eyes and saw the horrific terror in them. Elizabeth had never truly been scared before. It was Janet's job to protect both of her daughters, tell them she would always take care of them. Guilt gnawed at her as she said nothing. If she told Sarah to run, Elizabeth would be hurt.
Sarah slowly walked up the stairs.
Janet had no words. She simply took Sarah in her arms and cried. The sight of her mother crying and her sister in distress brought out the tears in Sarah. The three hugged in the middle of the hallway at the top of the stairs. Byron shook his head as he looked down at them.
"How
touching," he said. "Now turn off the faucets. Watch me redecorate this room."
The Fields family huddled in the corner and cowered as Byron went to work. The girls cried as he invaded the one room in the house that was theirs. He emptied the drawers, rummaged through the closet. The girls shrieked as he tipped over their bunk beds. Elizabeth cried for her father. Janet pulled them close. That was all she could do.
Byron grabbed a stuffed animal of Winnie the Pooh from the toy bin. His face was full of disgust as he examined the toy.
"Of course you runts would like Winnie the Pooh. I've always hated that narcoleptic, honey-stealing son of a bitch. There's nothing like teaching kids it's okay to steal shit that doesn't belong to you." He held up the bear. "It's ironic, isn't it? He's a symbol of why we're all here today."
Janet was afraid to speak. If she wasn't certain before, the hatred in Byron's eyes as he held the children's doll convinced her he was insane.
"It's…a kid's toy."
"It's bullshit."
Byron tossed the toy, narrowing missing Sarah's head. Scanning the room, he seemed to admire the damage he'd done. The girls' room, the culmination of their likes, tastes, and personalities, was ruined. Items everywhere, their beds across the floor, the dresser on its side. Some of the drawers were broken from where Byron tossed them. Sarah kept picture frames with last year's vacation to the ocean next to her bed. They lay broken on the floor, the pictures torn.
"Look at it this way," Byron said. "If you live from this, at least you'll have plenty to keep you busy."
"Mom, is he going to kill us?" Sarah asked.
Janet's eyes met hers, and the fear in them assaulted her. She reached over and squeezed Sarah's hand. She forced a small smile as she wiped a tear from her daughter's cheek.
"We'll be fine."
Byron laughed with disdain. "There you go again with that lying shit. Parents should be politicians. Little girl, your mother is lying, and there isn't a Santa Claus—"
"I said…we'll be fine."
Byron stopped tormenting Sarah and stared at Janet. The fear was gone, at least for the moment. She visualized killing Byron in her head. Beating him, running him over with the car, stabbing him over and over with a knife. Those dark thoughts gave her strength.
Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home Page 2