by Park, J. R.
‘Vacuum packed,’ Cassie giggled, ‘no smell, no rotting, no suspicion. I’ve been very lazy though and let all this mess build up. It won’t do. Still, a woman’s work is never done.’
Eyeing the sealed hand with satisfaction for a moment, Cassie tossed it into a black bin bag, bulging with similarly sealed pieces from other pretty corpses, before tying the ends of the refuge sack into a knot.
Cassie opened a new bag, got to her knees and began sawing at the corpse’s leg. Its flesh had already been severely hacked and some of its bones broken. A piece of splintered bone had torn a hole through the flesh and jutted out at a right angle to the shin. The vile killer took hold of the snapped fragment and pulled it back, opening the wound up further and tearing it from the rest of the leg.
Seizing another opportunity, whilst Cassie was engrossed in her repugnant work, Charlotte took to her feet again, not sure of her escape route but desperate to be clear of this foul scene. This time she didn’t even make it to the door by the time Cassie caught her. Taking hold of Charlotte’s bound wrists, she pulled the girl towards her then tossed her to the ground. The captive girl turned on her heel as she fell, twisting in the air and landing on the corpse Cassie had been working on.
Her head crashed against the bloodied torso, splattering her in the partially congealed, scarlet liquid. In disgust she kicked her legs out, knocking the full bin bag of body parts on its side. The weight of the contents strained against the plastic sack, stretching the knot, and threatening to tear a hole.
Cassie gripped Charlotte by the chin and held her face in direct line with her own.
‘Look at you,’ Cassie said, as she regarded Charlotte’s face, splashed with blood, ‘you’ve made a mess of yourself. That won’t do. I won’t have my Fi looking a mess.’
Taking Charlotte by the wrists once more, Cassie began to drag her to the bathroom. The girl kicked and screamed in protest, but her captor’s might was too strong to over power. The carpet of the landing burned on her thighs as she was pulled across its surface and into the bathroom. Placing her on the edge of the bath, Cassie took the chain round her wrists and secured it to the towel rail, closing a padlock round the rusty links.
‘Let’s not have you running away again,’ Cassie spoke tenderly as she moistened a sponge with warm water and gently dabbed Charlotte’s face, kneeling beside her. ‘There, there,’ she said, reassuringly, ‘let’s make you pretty.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Charlotte sobbed. ‘Why do you make me watch this?’
‘Come now,’ Cassie continued to speak like a mother to her cherished daughter, ‘you brought this on yourself. I make you watch these things because you deserve it. They deserve it. All those times you hurt me Fi, you made me feel a fool.’
‘I’m not Fi, my name’s Charlotte. Please, let me go,’ Charlotte looked into her eyes and begged.
‘Oh hush my sweet thing,’ Cassie continued, softly stroking Charlotte’s long, dark hair, ‘this is your life now. You are here with me.’
The big lady held her crying prisoner against her bosom and rocked slowly as Charlotte broke down into an uncontrollable sob.
‘Why don’t you stay here for a while,’ Cassie cooed, ‘you’ve had quite a day. Stretch your legs out and go to the toilet if you need. You’ve been tied up in that wardrobe for quite some time now. I’ll be back later, and when you’re done I’ll take you back to the wardrobe. It’s your home now. It’s where you belong.’ She stopped her reassuring gestures and rose to her feet, wiping the blood from her cleavage as she looked into the mirror. ‘Someone has to keep this house clean,’ she suddenly snapped.
Charlotte didn’t watch Cassie leave, but kept her gaze fixed to the ground, her vision blurred with tears, her thoughts lost to despair.
Charlotte remained sat on the cold bathroom floor in a trance-like state of catatonia. She paid no attention as Cassie walked back in and changed out of her rubber dress, stripped herself naked and washed the rest of the boy’s blood from her skin. She didn’t hear Cassie curse from her bedroom when she couldn’t find the dress she was looking for, screaming that all her favourite clothes had blood on them.
It was only on hearing the noise of the backdoor creaking open that Charlotte stood up, excited by the possibility of freedom.
She pulled at the chain against the towel rail, but heavy screws held it securely to the wall. Looking out the window she watched as Cassie walked along the path of her front garden to the side fence where she opened her big, black dustbin and placed the bin bag full of body parts into the receptacle. A bald headed man with a friendly face approached the fence from next door, he smiled at Cassie and the two began to talk.
In a bid to gain his attention Charlotte banged her fists loudly on the glass, but they paid no attention to her calls of distress. The toughened glass blocked all noise, and despite her straining to hear the conversation from outside, she couldn’t make out a single word.
The man pointed to the window and held his other hand out, jabbing it downward in a stabbing fashion. The neighbours laughed with each other at his gesture.
Good god, thought Charlotte, they’re all in on it.
Was there any possible way to escape?
How long had she been here?
It could have been days, but it felt like weeks. Forced to endure the terrible torture of those poor young souls by the evil and murderous Cassie.
She had tried so many times to escape, and as her bruises showed, so many times she had failed. Charlotte shuddered at the sights she had seen, her stomach tightened and bile began to sting her throat as it rose in disgust from her gut.
She opened the bathroom cabinet and rifled through its contents, desperate to find an object sharp enough to pierce her skin. If she could not leave the house then she would find another way to exit this horror.
Her fingers flicked through tubes of toothpaste and bottles of mouthwash, but found nothing sharp, nothing metal.
Slumping to the floor in defeat she began to sob again. Was there no way out of this torture? Was there no way to stop her being a forced witness to such sadistic sights?
Her tears rolled down her cheeks, dripped from her chin and landed in her upturned, open palm, collecting into a small pool. As she watched the tiny puddle of sorrow in her hand ripple with each drop an idea flashed through her mind.
Gritting her teeth, Charlotte brought her hands to her face, stretched out her fingers, and with a shrieking howl she dug them deep into her eye sockets. Water streamed from her tear ducts as her fingertips forced her eyeballs back into her head. Driving her digits further in she managed to find purchase and gripped the back of the slimy, slippery orbs.
Half screaming, half insanely laughing, Charlotte pulled until she felt her eyeballs come free of her skull. Squeezing them tight in her fists she choked on the pain as she yanked in short jerks, severing the optic nerves and eventually ripping through the connecting cord.
Her body spasmed as she collapsed on the floor. Her eye sockets were now two big, black holes that oozed blood down her face. Shrieks of pain merged with a hysterical babble resembling both words and laughter but not quite being either. Charlotte opened her fists, letting her crushed eyeballs slide from her hands. Her head hit the tiled floor with a sickening crack as she passed out, lost amid a world of darkness.
The flip top plastic bin lid thudded against the wooden fence and woke David from his lazy afternoon slumber. As he stirred in his deck chair he heard the slopping sound of rubbish bags being thrown on top of each other, drowning out the gentle bird song emanating from the treetops that bordered his front garden.
It had been a satisfying snooze, one that David was aggrieved to be parted from. The sun shone with a seasonal enthusiasm that blinded him temporarily as his eyes adjusted to the vibrant light of this summer afternoon. Taking a sip of beer he watched the insects fly amongst the flowerbed and listened to the noise of his neighbour’s chores.
Bless her; he thought as he heard
her huff and puff in the heat, she was always on the go. A nice, friendly lady, and an easy neighbour to have, although perhaps a little too talkative. David preferred to keep himself to his own thoughts, especially on the weekends. After five days of intense pressure that came with leading a strong sales team he didn’t find the need to hold much conversation on his days off. Still, he didn’t like to be rude, that was an inexcusable crime against manners and polite society. Spending so much time in an environment dominated by the hard sell and pushy personalities, he found manners were things that could so easily appear redundant, but without them he feared the world would disintegrate into a barbaric hell. A balance needed to be struck.
‘Yoo hoo,’ he heard Cassandra call out over the fence.
David’s heart sank a little as he heard the friendly greeting, but he rose from his chair with a smile.
‘Hello Cassandra,’ he beamed as he walked towards the border between their front gardens and leant against the wooden panels, ‘how are you today?’
‘Oh you know,’ she blushed, ‘keeping busy.’
‘I can see,’ David eyed the full rubbish bin, ‘you’re always throwing things away.’
‘I’m taking advantage of the warm weather,’ she replied, ‘having another sort out. I still have loads of possessions from years of hording. Old lives that I need disposing of.’
‘Likewise, I’m enjoying the glorious afternoon, but in a very different way.’
‘Careful not to burn,’ Cassie advised with sincerity to her concern, ‘you should keep your head covered.’
‘Oh don’t worry about me,’ David said rubbing his bald scalp, ‘since I lost my hair the factor thirty sunscreen comes out the moment the sun does. Although it’s a rarity these days to enjoy such a beautiful day.’
‘That it is,’ Cassie’s broad grin flashed a set of crooked teeth.
‘You ought to open your windows if you’re cleaning,’ David remarked, ‘get some fresh air blowing through the place.’
‘Oh no,’ she retorted, ‘I don’t like leaving the windows or doors open for any length of time. There are so many strange people about now-a-days. If God intended us to air out our houses he wouldn’t have invented room odourisers.’
They both laughed at her quip.
From the corner of his eye David thought he saw a flash of movement. Turning his head to the direction of the distraction he found himself looking at Cassie’s bathroom window. An unsettling feeling of urgency fluttered through him. Adrenalin seeped into his bloodstream, and although he could practically taste it on the back of his suddenly dry tongue, he could not account for why.
‘Do you have visitors?’ he asked, frowning against the summer glare.
‘No,’ Cassie replied, following his eye line to the house.
David looked up at the window again but the bright sunlight had cast a reflection of the trees against the darkened glass, masking any views of the interior. He studied it for a moment, but was unable to see through the image on the pane to the inside. Perhaps it was just the reflection of a flying bird, zipping past overhead.
He could feel Cassie’s large, brown eyes staring at him through her bushy, unkempt eyebrows.
‘You should really get someone to look at your guttering before we have another storm,’ he said, pointing to the roof’s edge, his body relaxing as the conversation returned to domestic tedium. ‘I noticed it spilling out water last time. I think it might be blocked. You need to get someone up there and really rake it out.’
David gripped his fists and made a vigourous raking action to really emphasize the point.
‘Do you think?’ Cassie asked.
‘Yeah, that should do the trick,’ he assured her, ‘I’d be happy to help out one day. I’ll bring my ladder round.’
‘That would be so kind. The only ladders I have are the ones in my stockings,’ she ended with a small wink whilst subtly running her tongue across her top lip.
This didn’t go unnoticed and David felt slightly queasy at the thought of Cassie’s flabby, white thigh poking out over the top of a stocking. He swallowed back a throatful of bile as the pair politely chuckled at her joke. His cheeks grew warm as he blushed with embarrassment; the unwanted attention and surprisingly forward flirtation had derailed his train of thought. A moment of awkward silence grew between the pair whilst his brain raced for the most appropriate way to respond.
‘Well I best be getting back on with my cleaning,’ it was Cassie that resurrected the faltering interaction, ‘it’s a never ending task!’
David watched her large frame as she ungainly plodded up the garden path back to her house. Her legs uncomfortably shuffled her bulk up the small slope, whilst she panted at the effort it took in the midday sun.
He sat back down in his deck chair, letting the fabric seat take the strain of his weight. He closed his eyes and gave a little feeling of sympathy to the poor lady that had been born with such ugly features.
What a sweet lady, he thought as his head sank back into the chair. His thoughts dissolved into a peaceful nothingness whilst the birds overhead sang him the softest of lullabies.
She drifted back into consciousness as softly as she had left it, but as her eyes caught sight of the large framed lady walking back up the pathway to her front door Kathryn’s brain caught up and she sat forward with a start.
Shit!
What did she miss?
Kathryn rubbed her hand over her chin and shoulder, wiping away the saliva that had dribbled from her open mouth. She’d been sat in her car across the road watching the house of Cassandra Brown. Keeping surveillance for anything suspicious.
How could she have fallen asleep?
She pulled out her phone and looked at the display, checking the time. She’d only been here for an hour, must have dozed off for no more than fifteen minutes. In that time her phone had registered three missed calls. All from Gary Fields.
Kathryn couldn’t blame him for his over eagerness, but it was still a pain in the ass. He’d hired her to find his missing son, Henry, a few days ago, and despite her keeping him up to date he still hassled her frequently with calls.
Poor bastard, the grief must be tearing him apart.
Henry had gone missing a little under a week ago and the police had seemingly done very little to investigate it. She was aware of what their attitude would be and could hear the speech they must have given Gary in her mind:
We get these early twenty somethings disappear all the time. People are entitled to do what they want. If they decide to go off without telling their folks, well that’s their business.
We’ll keep a watch out, make a few enquiries, but the problem is: no ransom, no kidnap. No body, no murder.
Insensitive bastards. It was that kind of attitude that led Kathryn to quit the force and set herself up as a Private Investigator. She was a bloody good one too.
Gary Fields did not look like a poor man, but also certainly he didn’t look like a rich man either. Her services did not come cheap, and hiring her showed just how much he cared for his only son.
But the longer the search went on the less chance Henry was going to be found alive.
Speaking to his housemates, no one seemed to know anything about where he was going on the night of his disappearance, except the fact that he was going out, and he looked smart.
Kathryn had a variety of - as she liked to say - contacts in all manner of industries. They came in very helpful for her line of work. It helped to make her one of the best, but also ensured that prices had to stay high. There was no chance of doing a freebie for a bleeding heart. Everyone had to get paid.
Using one of these contacts she was able to trace the approximate area of Henry’s last mobile signal. That trace showed this street.
This was miles from anywhere Henry would normally frequent. It didn’t make much sense but it was the only lead she had.
Checking the backgrounds to the residents of the street didn’t uncover much.
No d
irt on anyone to speak of.
This really was comfortable, suburban heaven, or hell, depending on your outlook of things. The lack of any other evidence forced the investigator’s hand, giving her no choice but to look around, to approach people she was unsure about and hunt for clues.
Emily Bell had been one such potential. Her love life was a mess; a web that could easily have a young lad unwittingly entangled in and then have him confronted by a jealous ex-lover. A quick chat on her doorstep had demonstrated what a weak character she was; there was no way she would have held such a dark secret without cracking. Emily didn’t have it in her, simply didn’t fit the profile. Kathryn could get a lot of information out of someone with a simple, and sometimes awkward, conversation. She could study their face and see straight through to the truth.
For her, all suspicions about Emily had been eradicated.
Cassandra Brown was a different matter altogether.
Miss Brown was not even on Kathryn’s radar until she found herself with nowhere else to look. To be thorough she called on her this afternoon and explained that she needed some water for a dodgy car radiator. It worked every time.
Cassandra seemed confident despite being a little awkward. She invited her in and filled the bottle whilst they chatted, even gave the undercover investigator a glass of orange juice whilst she did it. Kathryn remembered the taste of the juice on her lips. It was fresh and good. She regretted not having more but when things got a little strange she decided not to hang around.
It started off innocently enough. Cassandra wasn’t afraid of having a stranger in her house; she seemed strong in both body and mind. The house itself seemed clean and immaculate, the kitchen and sitting room looked as spotless as showrooms.