by Marie Wathen
“Anna, once we have it all hooked up, the boogie monster…” I get upset when he speaks his real name, “…can’t get in your room ever again without you hearing him first and then you can get away. We’ll always protect you.” Tristan ignores my whining and follows the other guys upstairs to my bedroom. I watch as they begin moving around my room, doing random things that really don’t make sense to me. A few minutes later they all glance around the large room, nodding their heads, happy with their work.
“Come here,” Marcus stands by my closet door, motioning me over. “There is a removable panel on the far end of your closet.” A little finger points toward the back. “See it?” Spotting a square about two-feet by two-feet at the back of my gigantic walk-in closet, I blink rapidly and nod. “Okay, if everything else doesn’t work and you have no other option, inside there is where you go hide. Got it?” Even though I’m scared about crawling into that dark hole, I smile sweetly at Marcus, looking so serious and sounding too grown up. Is he really eight? “I popped out the screws. It isn’t heavy, Anna. You can move it and then crawl inside. On the backside is a handle so that you can put it back on easy. The board sits flat against the wall, so it won’t look weird. Just hold it there until…” His look softens briefly, before he clears his throat and then confidently states, “Until it is okay to come out again. You’ll practice before we leave,” He nods at himself, satisfied, before glancing away from the small cubbyhole and back inside my room. “Morgan, show her what you did.” I spin around and find his mirror image kneeling at my bedroom door diligently tying something to the inside knob.
“This will make a jingling sound when the doorknob twists, even from the tiniest movement,” Morgan explains, demonstrating by turning it just the slightest. “Even with this locked.” He flicks the lock and jiggles the knob again. “And it needs to be locked every time you are in here alone,” he orders seriously, looking up at me and waiting for my acknowledgment that I’ll obey. Frowning because I don’t like being told what to do, I nod dramatically and he smiles at me. “Good, then this goes here.” He picks up a small triangle-shaped block of wood and slides it on the floor under the bottom edge of my door. “After you shut it, slide this in and kick it hard.” He grunts loudly, demonstrating by pulling on the unlocked doorknob to show me how it works. The door bends at his aggressive pulling, but it won’t open entirely. “Don’t forget to kick it real hard, Anna,’’ he reminds me and I nod again, nervously thinking about him finding that block and getting angry with me.
“If you need us, just say it,” Marcus says sympathetically and Morgan nods agreeably, standing beside his brother.
“Thank you,” I tell them, looking down at me with sad eyes.
There’s a soft tap on my shoulder, and I glance behind me to see Tristan holding something in his hands. “I asked Granddad for it yesterday. He got me two.” We all sit on the floor in a circle and he holds up a phone. He taps on a couple of buttons before turning it around and showing me. “My number is right here. You call it and my grandparents will bring me immediately.” My eyes burn with tears and I gulp hard. Tristan, my sweet Tristan, has always been my hero. At this very moment, I cling to his strength and determination to protect me, accepting all of these things the boys are doing just for me.
“Okay,” I whisper, keeping my eyes locked on the small cell phone, unable to really look at him. He knows the bad stuff and he doesn’t hate me, but I hate myself enough for both of us. “Thank you,” I tell all of them again as we leave my room after practicing the door, the closet and learning to call Tristan. Soon after, the doorbell rings and their grandparents arrive to take them home, and I’m alone again with my demon.
During dinner, Mommy tells us that she’s leaving after bedtime for another work trip. I hold back the tears because they make her sad. Fear automatically begins its journey into my body, starting with a clenching feeling deep inside my heart and stomach, and I can’t eat anymore. After dinner and my bath, I go to bed as my mom has instructed. She tucks me in, kisses me goodbye and makes me promise to be a good girl. Once she leaves my room, I check the panel, the doorknob and secure the block of wood into the tiny crack under the door before crawling under the covers with the cell phone lying next to my pillow. He’s here. He came just before dinner time and started drinking that stinky stuff from the bar. It won’t be long before he decides to come to my room, but this time I have hope that he can’t get me. I whisper my prayers into the darkness and after a while I drift off to sleep.
A heavy thud, sounding like something bumping against the wall in the hallway, wakes me. I sit upright in my bed and clutch my covers below my chin. Laughing and footsteps approaching the door are the next sounds I hear, followed by him calling my name.
“Anna Banana,” he chimes playfully, and I cringe at that disgusting nickname. “Are you asleep? I want to play.” A knock on my door, followed by a twist of the knob and then a cuss under his breath lets me know that he’s annoyed with me for locking him out. He bumps against it hard a couple of times before demanding with a louder voice, “Open the door, pretty girl. I won’t hurt you.” I tremble but remember that even if he can unlock it, the wedge should keep him out. I hope it works. “Dammit!” he grumbles and then it’s silent.
I stay still and quiet, knowing that he won’t give up that easily. Suddenly, I remember the cell phone Tristan gave me. I swish my hand around on top of the cool sheets and find it in the same spot I put it earlier. I slip off the bed and tiptoe into my closet. A loud bang startles me and I clamp my mouth shut, smothering the scream that will alert him of me being awake. I drop down onto my knees in front of the small hole in the far end of my closet and move the lightweight panel out of the way. Another loud bang follows a louder curse word. I really hate cussing. It reminds me of him and his sick instructions. I place the phone inside the small cubbyhole, climbing in quietly afterward. He bangs harder and grunts several more times before I hear a loud straining sound. The door bursts open. Reaching down for the panel lying on the floor, I hear him stumble into the room and then slam the door shut. I pull the panel flush against the wall, holding onto the handle for dear life. I glance down at the lit-up screen of the open flip-phone and debate on calling Tristan. If I make any sounds now, he’ll hear me, but if I wait and he finds me first, I won’t have another chance.
“Where are you, Anna Banana?” he singsongs, and I suck in a ragged breath while shaking wildly. He’s searching for me. Holding the handle tightly, I reach for the phone that has dimmed from sitting unused too long. “Aaah, ha! Found you!” he whoops, and the air I try to swallow lodges sideways in my throat. I freeze with one hand on the panel, the other on the phone and tears begin slipping from my eyes. He’s going to hurt me again. The tremors shake my body, the soft sobs ease from my tightly sealed lips and I make a wish that one day someone will slay the boogie monster for good.
“Shh, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay. Please wake up, Anna,” Tox coos against my hair. Fluttering my eyes open, I awaken to his face hovering closely to mine.
Checking out my surroundings, I become aware that I’m not hiding in my safe cubbyhole in the closet. I’m in a nasty dark hole that isn’t a form of protection. Because the one who put me in here is my current boogie monster, the bad guy who has locked me and Waverly in this terrible place deliberately. But why is he holding me so intimately now? His wide arms are wrapped snuggly around me and he’s pressing my face against his chest. One hand curves against the swell of my cheek while his fingers thread into my hair and his thumb strokes over the edge of my eyebrow.
“There you are.” He smiles sadly, his gray eyes filled with something odd for an evil monster, moving around my face and absorbing every detail. “Hi,” he whispers, slowing the movement of his thumb, but he doesn’t release me.
Looking at his gray eyes, identical to my best friend’s, something strange sticks out from that memory about Breesan and the twins. What is it that I need to remember?
“What happened?” Dismissing his unease and the odd dream, I glance across the room at Waverly sitting propped up against the wall with a grief-stricken look marking her expression. There are bags hanging from her wild eyes and she’s shivering. “Is she okay?” I turn my attention back to Tox.
“She’s worried about you,” he offers, still looking deeply into my eyes. “You’ve been screaming for a while. I couldn’t get you to wake up.”
“Sorry,” I accentuate surely. Completely uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me and our physical contact, I pull myself up and off of his lap. “I’m fine.” I smile at Waverly, but she just shakes her head at me, not believing a word. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles seriously, her head tilting slightly to the side from being so weak. She wraps both arms around her stomach and lowers her eyes. “Where am I?” Her question is so soft that we can barely hear it, even in the hollow room that echoes every breath we take.
“Do you remember asking me that the last time you were awake?” I move closer to her, but the fear growing in her eyes forces me to step back again. She’s more confused than the last time. “I explained what happened to us at the hospital.”
“No,” she moans softly, staring at me hard. Her throat moves rapidly up and down while she struggles to swallow and take in oxygen. Trembling violently, she’s barely holding herself together. “Who is he?” Her heavy eyelids lift lazily as her gaze travels over to Tox, sitting on the floor behind me.
“He’s Tox,” I offer only his name, knowing that she doesn’t remember him. She hasn’t remembered him since the night we woke up in this cave.
“Mattox,” he corrects politely. Directing my attention toward him, I nod and he keeps his eye locked on mine for another moment before turning toward her. “And, I’m here to help you, Waverly,” Mattox supplies, standing up and moving over to another new bag of provisions. “I have more food and water that you need to eat while you’re awake. There are clean clothes, too, okay?” I sit, hoping that she will feel less fearful. She nods weakly but remains completely frozen in place, staring at him as he approaches with the bag of goodies. “Here,” he hands her a water bottle and some fruit. “The apple should help wake you up a little bit.” He smiles and she takes his offer cautiously. After she begins eating, Mattox walks back over to me and kneels down. “She is getting worse.” Glancing down at my bare feet, he sighs heavily and whispers, “I’m sorry, Anna. I want to get you out of here, but it’s too dangerous right now. Bad things are happening that I have no control over. If you were to resurface now, your life could be in more danger, and I won’t risk that again.” His gaze lifts, meeting mine, and he discloses, “Waverly doesn’t remember you.” My heart stills and I pray that he’s lying. Reading my expression, he shakes his head. “When I came in she was weeping and begged me to let her out. She pointed toward you and said that girl won’t stop screaming. I asked her if she knew you and she said no.” He glances away from me again.
“No,” I beg, but I’m not begging him. I beseech the universe not to be this cruel and reject the possibility that her worst nightmare could be coming true so soon. No matter what I do, Waverly is losing every piece of her life that is important to her. She’s barely able to stay awake now for more than thirty minutes at a time, and it’s not every day anymore. I think all the extra sleep is what’s removing her memories. I’ve done everything to help, but if she doesn’t get medical attention soon, this could be permanent. We’re both suffering so much from this terrible drug they doped us with, but I’m afraid that this is just the beginning of me and her losing us.
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan
“Aaah,” I gasp, needing air desperately after losing my shit seeing Waverly among all the women for sale here in this human-trafficking brothel. “We have to get her out of there. Now, goddammit!” I shout, glancing over my shoulder and finding Tac and Jack watching me questioningly. “Did you hear what the fuck I said? Why are you still standing there?” My last question is directed to Jack specifically, allowing his sister to remain a prisoner among the other doomed women being sold for the right price in this hell on earth they call a mansion.
“Morgan…Mr. Walker,” Tac corrects when the door opens behind him, allowing one of Xavier’s employees, probably an armed guard, into the room. “Sir, can we assist you with choosing a playmate?” I flinch backward away from Tac’s crass words and eerily-calm reserve, wondering what the hell is wrong with these motherfuckers. Quickly turning back around toward the window, needing to find Waverly among the group of women, I search the line fervently, hoping for my sanity’s sake that I’ll see her perfect face again. “Big brother is watching,” Tac hisses through his clenched teeth, soft enough that our unwanted guest can’t hear.
“I really don’t give a fuck right now, Tac.” I rush all the breath out of my lungs while banging on the unwavering glass. “Get her out of there!” I demand, still smacking the window forcibly.
“Sir, if you’ll tell me which lady you’ve chosen, I will make arrangements to have her brought to you,” Claude offers, joining us, probably after being told of my shaken demeanor.
“Yes, Mr. Barclay, that would be an excellent idea,” Tac agrees, crossing the room and jerking me back down into the chair aggressively. “Mr. Walker is eager to take home his new purchase.” He points toward the front of the line, and I exhale loudly, relaxing a bit now that they finally get it.
After Claude exits and shuts the door soundly, Tac pounces, “Care to explain what the hell has your shit twisted, Morgan?”
“You’re fucking kidding me right now, right?” I boom, pulling up again and rising to my full height to stare him in the eyes. “If you don’t get the hell out of my way, I will kill you, Tac!”
“Easy, dammit.” He steps away, allowing me to retreat from the hyped-looking glass. My eyes drift over uncontrollably and I see Waverly again, this time in a different-colored gown and the ends of her hair are dark blue.
“He better bring her to me,” I command, narrowing my eyes on her and noticing a piercing over one eyebrow that I can’t remember seeing before. “What did they do to her?”
“Walker, what do you think you see?” Jack asks in a peculiar voice and I yank my head around to look at him incredulously.
“I see your damn sister, Jack. Why the hell would you ask me that?”
“Morgan,” Jack walks over, facing me and looking me directly in the eye, a large hand resting on my shoulder. “Waverly isn’t in that room.”
“The hell she isn’t!” I insist, shoving away from him.
“Seriously, Morgan,” Tac interjects. “As a matter of fact, none of the women look anything like her.” I spin around, glaring at the son of a bitch for mocking me.
“If she’s isn’t in this room with me in five minutes, I’m going to beat the living hell out of somebody,” I advise them, relaying with my rigid stance and fuck-with-me look that they are one of the lucky bastards who will be awarded appropriately.
“Morgan, turn around and look at them.” Tac demands, forcing a stiff hand on my arm and spinning me around. Pissed off, I want to argue and fight against this bullshit, but before I can utter a word I notice the women in the glass display are all lined up in front of my room waiting for my selection, and none of them look anything like Waverly. I jerk my head around, piercing Tac with bitter hatred.
I growl, “Where the fuck did they take her?”
“I think we need to leave,” Jack suggests to Tac who has his eyes latched onto mine. “Waverly isn’t here, and he has lost his shit!”
“Agreed,” Tac replies quickly.
“I am not leaving here without her,” I shout, pointing to Waverly, standing at the front of the line. Another employee, definitely a guard, waits with the door propped open for my confirmation before rushing out of the room to relay the information to Claude.
“Walker, that’s not…”
“I’ll collect her,” Tac cuts Jack of
f, raising a stiff hand at him before turning his attention toward me. “Your black card’s on file?” Starring Jack down, I nod. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.” With that, he leaves with the guard. Jack watches me closely, like he’s certain that I’ve lost my mind.
“Morgan, what is going on with you?”
“I just need…” Rolling my neck and popping out the tension, I take a deep breath, hoping to calm down a bit. “I’m just trying to help,” I glance toward the door. “She needs to be home, where she’s safe. Then everything will be fine.” I force a confident smile. Narrowing his eyes on me, he bobs his head slowly, like he isn’t buying the bullshit I’m selling. Clearly, I haven’t fully convinced myself that I’ll walk away from Waverly once we get her back home. But this must be an award-winning performance for her brother. “Everything is fine,” I reaffirm with a whisper to myself, knowing that once I see her for myself and hold her in my arms…no, no…I can’t do that. But seeing Jack hold her will make all of the bad shit from the past few weeks disappear…or at least it will be better. I sigh, feeling impatience building in my blood.
“Mr. Walker,” Claude calls, peering around the door frame. “We have everything ready for your departure. As I instructed your man, the valet has your car parked in the basement garage for security reasons.” I narrow my eyes at him speculatively. “We can’t have the neighbors with super-lenses on their camera’s acting like paparazzi, now can we?”
Even with his attempt to comfort me with his form of humor, something wild and possessive takes over. I rush past the disgusting lard-ass, not waiting to follow his slow gait to wherever they took my woman.
“Which way is the garage?” I shout, not bothering to look back.
“Continue ahead and then take the hallway to your right,” he chuckles from behind and I’m sure if I turned around, I’d get a flash of bouncing belly fat reminiscent of Old Saint Nick. Stupid fat fuck! Following his instructions to the letter, I round the corner, hustling down the corridor, and spot one closed door at the far end. I pick up my pace. So damn close.