Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home

by Bullion, Glenn

  "See?" Byron said. "Was that so hard?"

  He couldn't see her. A wall to her left separated the front door from the living room, forming a small foyer. The space was perfect for wiping muddy feet, or hanging coats on the rack sitting against the opposite wall.

  It was also perfect for hiding a concealed weapon.

  "Okay." Byron's voice was closer. He was moving away from the children, toward Janet. She closed her eyes, praying for strength. "That's taken care of. So now, we can finally—"

  Byron was just around the corner. She could almost see him in her mind. That arrogant, evil smirk.

  She gripped the candlestick tighter.

  Stepping around the corner, Janet swung as hard as she could. It was almost a blind swing. She kept her aim high, where she knew Byron's head would be.

  A part of her expected to fail. Just like the rat poison, and the attack with the drinking glass. Byron would duck, or he'd block. He'd make good on the threats to her family, and it would be Janet's fault for failing to protect them.

  She was almost surprised when the candlestick found its mark.

  The blunt weapon struck him on the temple. He let out a shocked cry of pain as he slumped against the wall. Janet swung again, aiming for the side of his head, but Byron had clumsily slouched along the wall just in time. All she did was leave a hole in the wall, missing his head by mere inches. But the third strike found its mark as he hit the floor. She caught him under the eye.

  Strikes four through nine were successful as well.

  Byron raised his hands to defend himself. Janet raised the candlestick, over and over, not caring what she hit. There was crying and shouting. Janet wasn't sure if the sounds were coming from the children, Byron, or herself.

  He stopped moving. His body was curled into a ball, pressed against the wall. His arms were resting over his head, still trying to protect himself. She struck him once more on the back of the neck.

  Her attention turned to the children. She started with Elizabeth. The duct tape was twisted from the struggling, and there was no way Janet would be able to simply peel the tape away. Running into the kitchen, her hands trembled as she grabbed a knife from the drawer. The children cried under their gags, begging to be free.

  Janet tried to will herself to calm down as she cut their bonds. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally cut one of them. The process was agonizingly slow. First the hands, then the feet, then move on to the next child. The quiet in the room turned to hysterics as the children removed their own gags.

  Elizabeth threw her arms around her mother's neck as soon as she was able.

  "Mommy!" was all she could say, over and over. "Mommy! Mommy!"

  "I know, baby," Janet said, streams running down her own face. "Give me a second, okay? I have to cut this tape."

  "Did you kill him?" Sarah asked when she removed her gag. She jumped down from the chair. "Mom? Did you?"

  Risking a look over her shoulder, she saw Byron was still where she left him. He wasn't moving. She tried the shake the thought from her mind. "I…think so." She finished cutting Mark's restraints. "Come on. We have to go to the police."

  "I want Daddy!" Elizabeth said.

  "Yeah. Me, too. Come on. We'll go to Mark's house. We'll call the police, borrow the car—"

  A hand grabbed the back of Janet's sweatpants. She squealed in surprise as she was pulled down to the floor. Craning her neck, she looked into the furious eyes of Byron.

  "That's a mean swing you got there, Janet."

  Elizabeth screamed first. Sarah ran forward to help her mother, but Mark pulled on her arm, holding her back.

  "Go!" Janet shouted. "Run!"

  "Let's go," Mark shouted. "We'll go get my Mom!"

  Janet felt another hand grab the middle of her shirt. Fear gripped her, but not at what Byron would do. She was afraid for her children, who refused to move. The indecision, the hesitance flashed across Sarah's face. Elizabeth joined Mark in pulling on Sarah's wrist.

  "Sarah!" Elizabeth shouted. "We can get help!"

  The children finally turned to run, and relief washed through Janet. That sensation was short-lived when Byron wrapped a hand through her hair and pulled back hard.

  "I'm going to kill you," he said. His voice was still calm, still even. Janet thought she might have been going crazy, as he didn't gasp for breath, didn't show any signs of being attacked violently with a candlestick. "I was on the fence, but now I've decided. I will kill you. I just don't know if I want you to watch your children die, or the other way around. What would be more painful for you?"

  Byron grabbed Janet's waistband and roughly flipped her on her back. Her head smacked the floor, knocking her senseless for a moment. Still holding her hair, he brought his other fist back, ready to inflict pain.

  Janet eyed his wrist, just inches away. She grabbed his arm and pulled herself forward, nearly ripping her own hair from the roots. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she sank her teeth into the flesh of Byron's arm.

  She'd never bitten anyone before. She dug her teeth in as far as they would go. The taste was salty, with a touch of sweat. Byron howled as he released his hold on her hair. He tried to pull his arm away, but Janet refused to let go. It took two smacks from Byron with an open hand before she spat his wrist from her mouth.

  He cradled his wrist as he rested on his knees. Janet tried to crawl away, to put any kind of distance between them. A hand brushed against her butt, as Byron swiped for her and missed. He did grab her ankle. She flattened against the floor as he yanked on her leg.

  "So much fight," he said. "I have to say, Janet, it's kind of—"

  His sentence was cut short when Janet kicked his chin with her free foot. The heel caught him square, knocking him back slightly. She kicked again, and again, the last time connecting directly on the nose. His grip loosened as he fell backward, bracing himself on the floor with his hands.

  A growl escaped from Byron that chilled her to the bone.

  Janet slipped once climbing to her feet. Her eyes locked on the open sliding glass door in the kitchen. Time seemed to slow down. She cleared the living room, and didn't dare risk a look behind her. Just a few more steps.

  She'd made it to the dining table when Byron wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. He steered her, forced her on a slightly different path. Byron's grip slid down further, pinning her arms, throwing her off balance. Her shoulder and cheek slammed into the wall, followed by Byron's crashing into her back.

  They both fell to the floor, with Byron twisting enough to land on top of her. Janet was dazed, winded. Her shoulder was on fire. Her vision cleared enough to see Byron straddling her, a clenched fist raised. He said nothing. No taunting, no words of rage. The look in his eyes told Janet exactly what he planned on doing.

  Janet didn't see the dining room chair next to her, but she knew it was there. She'd spent enough time in her home to know where every little thing was placed. When the kids were playing and knocked something over, she knew what it was just from the sound.

  Reaching out, her hand felt the leg of the chair. She pulled it on top of her, the solid back covering her face and chest. Byron's fist crashed into the wood. Her nose and cheek ached as the chair pressed into her face, but it was better than the alternative.

  Mustering every last bit of strength she had left, she thrust forward with her arms. Byron, shaking his throbbing fist, fell backward off of Janet. He landed on his side, holding his arm as he winced.

  His disorientation didn't last long. He pulled himself to one knee.

  Janet climbed to her feet as her lungs burned. Byron was rising as well, using the table to support his weight.

  She regained her footing just a little faster.

  Her hand found the blender, sitting on the counter to her right. Ripping it from the wall, she shouted with a mix of rage and fear as she struck him in the head. Byron let out a rush of air as saliva sprayed from his mouth. He crumpled to the floor, a small line of blood
visible near his scalp.

  The next two minutes were a blur Janet would never completely remember. She struck him with the blender until the pain in her right arm wouldn't let her lift it. She tried to keep up the attack with only her left hand, but each blow was awkward and clumsy, with not much force behind them.

  As she gasped for breath, she stood upright on shaky legs and grabbed the meat tenderizer from the drawer. The utensil felt like an anvil in her hand. Nearly collapsing on Byron's motionless body, she pummeled him the first of many times. The sounds of the tenderizer meeting his skull reverberated through the kitchen.

  When she struck him the first time, an image of her children bound with duct tape flashed through her mind. Suddenly, the pain subsided and breathing came a little easier as fury pushed her forward.

  "Attack my family?" she shouted. "I'll fucking kill you!"

  Janet stood up as a sliver of sense returned to her, and she realized she was beating a dead body. She dropped the blood-covered tenderizer to the floor.

  Her children. She needed to get to Sarah and Elizabeth.

  She half stumbled, half walked through the kitchen door leading to the backyard. The late afternoon air had a different scent to it. Just a little sweeter. It felt as if she'd been trapped for days instead of hours. Not bothering to close the door behind her, she headed toward the fence separating their yard from Mary's. The crisp air took on a different scent, like rotting flesh, as she neared the kids' clubhouse. The scent left as quickly as it came, and Janet felt as if her leg weighed a hundred pounds as she struggled to lift it over the fence.

  She teetered on the fence a moment before throwing the other leg over. Her sweatpants caught the top and ripped as she fell to her side on the grass. The adrenaline from her fight with Byron was starting to pass, and she thought she'd collapse at any moment.

  It was only Mary's back door that kept her going. Her children were undoubtedly on the other side. Mary had probably already called the police. She needed to see them, make sure they were okay, somehow try to put this horrific nightmare behind them.

  "Mary!" Janet called, but her voice was a whisper. Her hand fell on the knob to the back door. "Mary, it's me. Janet."

  Janet gripped the knob and turned it. The hinges creaked as the door opened. Normally she'd never step foot uninvited into another's home, but she imagined Mary wouldn't mind, considering the circumstances.

  "Mary!" Janet said again. Her voice was finally returning to her, her breathing normal. The only thing still uneasy were her legs. She leaned on the counter for support. "Mary? Sarah? Elizabeth?"

  The house was eerily quiet, except for the clock above the sink, ticking the seconds away. She spent several minutes searching, calling out, looking inside every room. Janet almost couldn't believe it, but the house was empty.

  Pushing aside the curtain in the living room, she glanced out front to see Mary's car was gone. Did the children simply not go to Mary's house? Janet dismissed that idea, as Mary's home was exactly where Sarah and Elizabeth would go, especially with Mark with them. Did Janet not call the police, but instead drove the children to the station? That path seemed to make the most sense.

  Marching through the living room into the kitchen, Janet reached out for the phone. She nearly jumped out of her skin when it rang first. The incessant ringing echoed though the still house.

  She answered it. Before she could beg the person on the other end for help, a familiar voice spoke out.

  "Mary? Are you still home?"

  It was her husband, Ed.

  Janet dropped the phone. It bounced once off the kitchen floor and dangled from its cord, spinning in circles. Ed continued to speak.

  "We're going to start soon. Hurry up and get here."

  Her hand shook violently as she reached for the phone. She slowly lifted it to her ear.

  "Ed?"

  She could hear the genuine surprise in his voice.

  "Janet?"

  Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto Mary's floor. Janet was lost, confused, and for the first time in her life, hearing Ed's voice didn't soothe her.

  "What's going on? Where have you been?" A rush of anger overwhelmed her as the most important of the countless questions pushed its way to the front. "Where are Sarah and Elizabeth?"

  "The girls? What's wrong with the girls? What do you mean? I tried to call earlier, but the phone—"

  "What are you going to start with Mary?"

  "Look, it's not what you think. Just stay there. I'll be home soon, and we'll talk about it."

  The phone went dead.

  Janet didn't bother hanging it on the cradle. She let it drop and hang. A numbness settled over her as she sat at Mary's table. She'd murdered a man, her husband was keeping secrets, and a visit from him was supposed to explain everything away.

  She didn't believe he was coming home, and that realization brought with it a pain she'd never felt before. She thought her husband was lying.

  Thirty seconds had passed. Janet didn't move at all. It was only the thought of Sarah and Elizabeth that made her stand up. She needed to find them, make sure they were okay.

  Taking a deep breath, she'd nearly made it to the back door when something on the refrigerator caught her attention.

  Mary kept a calendar on the door, with notes detailing her appointments. Mark had to see the dentist in two weeks. Mary had a manicure on the fifth of the month. Her husband was scheduled to come back into town in another Saturday, although there was a question mark next to that.

  Under the current day was the letter X, just like Ed had marked on their own calendar. Under that was one word.

  Church.

  There was only one church in town. Whatever Ed and Mary were doing, were they doing it at the church? Is that where her children were?

  Janet was going to find out.

  EVENING

  The walk to the town church only took five minutes. Ed had the family car, so Janet didn't have a choice in the matter. She kept to the alleys and backyards, making sure she wasn't seen. Doubt crept in on her short journey. She'd cleaned up at Mary's house, but still wore torn sweatpants with dots of blood scattered across her shirt. The occasional rational thought that invaded her mind told her to get the police involved. Those ideas went as quickly as they came. She had nothing coherent to tell them. Only that there was a dead man in her kitchen, that she'd murdered, her children were missing, and her husband was keeping secrets. They'd lock her up forever.

  She watched the church from the back as she hid in a thicket of trees. The sun was slowly setting, giving way to evening, which helped her feel more at ease. Doug and Suzanne, a young couple Janet often chatted with while grocery shopping, made their way inside. Dana Little, Sarah's elementary school teacher, was only a minute behind them. Janet thought during her walk to the church that Ed was having an affair, but she couldn't imagine that.

  However, she did see the family car, parked in front of the church. Mary's car sat on the opposite side of the street. Her spirits fell as she thought about the man she'd been married to since high school. Did he even go to the garage at all?

  Keeping low, she crossed the grassy field in back of the church. The grass needed a mowing, and brushed against her bare leg. Her destination was the door in back. She'd only been inside the church a few times, but knew the back door led to an office, which then joined the main church hall.

  Janet felt silly as she pressed her back against the brick wall, next to the door. She wasn't exactly sure why she was employing stealth. Secrets or not, her husband wasn't dangerous. Certainly the few people she saw trickle inside the church weren't dangerous.

  The door to the office was locked. There was a window around the corner, providing a good view of the Smitt's family's bedroom next door. Keeping in her crouch, Janet moved past the door along the wall. She reached up for the window.

  Her hand barely touched the glass when someone grabbed her from behind. She never saw it coming. A hand clamped down across h
er mouth and an arm around her waist.

  "Shhhh," a familiar voice said. "You don't want them to know you're here."

  Janet's eyes shot open in panic as she was lifted to her feet. She was forced against the wall, her face pressed against the brick. Her left arm was pinned, so she reached back with her right hand and grabbed anything she could. Her fingers felt something warm, and she gripped as hard as she could.

  There was no shouting in pain as she squeezed the testicles for all she was worth. There wasn't even a moan of discomfort. There was simply breathing in her ear, followed by that voice.

  "Squeezing my dick isn't going to help you, Janet. Well, it helps me. But it won't help you. If you want to give me a nice, relaxing erection right out here in the open, knock yourself out."

  All she could think to do was squeeze harder. She wiggled her mouth in an attempt to bite him, and succeeded. Her teeth found the flesh under his thumb, and she bit down hard. Again, there was no cry of pain.

  "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," he said. "I'm going to take my hand away. We'll have us a nice talk. Understand?"

  Janet nodded, slowly releasing her grip on his testicles and hand. He let go, and she dropped to the grass, staying under the window. Her sanity felt like it was slipping away as she turned and looked up at her attacker.

  It was as if she were in a nightmare she couldn't awake from.

  Byron stood before her. He straightened his clothes and adjusted his underwear beneath his slacks. His clothes were wrinkled with a spot of blood here and there. Besides that, there was no evidence of the brutal beating Janet gave him in her kitchen with the blender and meat tenderizer. His face, his skull, were fine. He still wore that annoying smirk, with his smug look of condescension.

  "I killed you," Janet said, repeating herself three times. "I know I did. I killed you. This can't be real."

  "Oh, Janet," he said, as if talking to a child. "I'm afraid you didn't. You tried. You failed. But don't be too hard on yourself. It wasn't for a lack of effort on your part. I have to say, wow—" He shook his head. "If I was really trying to kill you, you might have actually slowed me down a bit."