Into the Night

by Marin Montgomery

  My eyes widen.

  “I don’t want to have to do that to you, but I will. I had to do it to her.”

  “The other punishments could be the box, being tied up again, maybe in a more uncomfortable position then you were, and branding.”

  “Branding?”

  His eyes narrow. A darkness clouds over his blue eyes. He grips my chin firmly in his palm. “What did I tell you about interrupting?” Spittle flies onto my nose as he closes the gap between our faces.

  “Sorry,” I manage to moan.

  “I’ll ask you after if you have questions. You’re lucky I’m so happy to see you today.” He drops my chin and pushes my face away with the front of his palm.

  “You might be more trouble than you’re worth,” he snarls. “Now, getting to the part about being a child. You’ll respect me. You’ll raise your hand to ask a question, and I’ll decide if and when I answer it. Typically I allow five questions a day.”

  “The bathroom is the red pail over there.” He points to the corner. “Today is an off day, so tomorrow we will start bright and early with your bath. I want you on a schedule, then you won’t be so fussy.” He caresses my cheek as I try not to vomit.

  “Also, no spilling. If you do, automatic loss of a privilege. Or privileges. So don’t do it. I’m trying to teach you manners and etiquette.”

  I start to open my mouth but shut it.

  “Good girl. See, you’re already getting the hang of it, thinking before you speak.” He stares at me, his eyes burn into mine, and I’m forced to look down, his gaze undressing me.

  I squirm, uncomfortable. Focusing on my hands,

  the pink nail polish that’s chipped off.

  “Okay, now you can ask your questions.” He holds up one hand and wiggles his fingers. “But only five.”

  Pausing, I consider what I want to ask.

  Or what I want to know. It might be dangerous to ask certain questions.

  Wearily, I ask, “Where’s my sister?”

  “Who?”

  “Blair.”

  He shrugs. “No idea.”

  “Is Leslie Billings the girl you were close to?”

  “Pass.”

  “How can you skip questions, that’s not fair…” My voice trails off.

  His mouth twists into a grimace. “Is that so?”

  I realize I’m on shaky ground, but there’s no backing down. “Yes,” I say.

  “Hmm… I’ll think about it.” He taps his nose three times.

  “Can I call my parents?” I ask hopefully. “Let them know I’m alive.”

  “No.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Where do you think we are?”

  “You mentioned the underground. But where underground?”

  “You’re still in Hawaii.”

  “How old am I?”

  “How old are you or how old do I think you are?”

  “Yes, how old am I to you?”

  “Twelve.”

  I start to ask another question, but he raises a hand to stop me. “That’s five.”

  “But you didn’t answer one of the questions,” I argue.

  “I’m warning you.” He snaps a finger. “Tone.”

  I hurry on with my question, ignoring him. “Whose clothes are these? They look like they came from my grandma’s closet.”

  His face turns beet red and the single hair stands on edge, like it’s standing at attention. “Did you just do what I think you did?”

  I narrow my eyes in confusion, tilting my head.

  “Insulting my clothing choices and disrespecting me when I remind you of the rules?” He angrily pulls a chunk of my hair towards him. “Do you want to repeat what you just said?”

  “I just want to know who they belong to,” I whisper.

  He ignores me, yanking the hair from my scalp. “Ouch.” I try and pull back, it just infuriates him more.

  Or maybe excites him.

  It’s hard to tell.

  Pushing me over on my stomach, he shoves my head into the mattress and lifts my shift dress up and the frilly bottoms down. My necklace comes out from underneath the collar and I watch the ‘B’ as it moves against my clavicle.

  “Do you want this?” I hear a belt being unbuckled under his shirt with his free hand.

  Oh God, he’s going to hit me with the leather strap.

  “Noooo….” I raise my voice. “Please stop. Please please please,” I moan into the scratchy sheets.

  “What did I tell you about yelling?” His elbow balances in the hollow of my back, painfully holding me in place.

  I hear a zipper being yanked down.

  What the…

  Before I can make sense of it, I feel a searing pain as a hard object pushes into my thighs.

  The pink satin bow is soaked with my tears as it flutters against my cheek in rhythm with his movements up and down.

  He grunts. I bawl into the pillow as he finishes, a wet mess between my legs.

  “Look what you made me do,” he chants over and over.

  I say nothing, my eyes shut tight against his monotonous voice and the deadness I feel inside.

  “Guess bath time will come early tonight, little girl.”

  Unresponsive, he pulls my head back to grip the nape of my neck, pinching my shoulder blades, his fingers digging into my back. Holding my head under the pillow, he chokes me until I’m gasping for air, the ‘B’ pressed so tightly into my skin that it becomes a purple bruise.

  Oxygen deprived, I pass out.

  15

  Blair

  The rest of the afternoon, I pace the room, wearing down the carpet as I pad over it, from one side to the other and back again. The dullness of the beige carpet matches my mood –depressed and bored.

  Willing the phone to ring, I stare at it incessantly.

  It doesn’t.

  Around noon, I call the surf shack again.

  On the fifth ring, I hear a click.

  “Hello?”

  “Aloha. This is Drew.”

  “Hey Drew, this is Blair Bellamy. I took a lesson yesterday. Are Will or Nicholas around?”

  “Nicholas isn’t, he was filling in for me, and Will isn’t slated to be in, but he usually stops by regardless.”

  “By any chance I can get Will’s cell number?”

  “Uh, we typically don’t give that out to customers.”

  “Understandable, it’s just that I think I left my phone in his car last night.”

  “He doesn’t have a car.”

  Thinking on my feet, I say, “Yeah, not his – one of his friend’s.” I plead. “I really need my cell. I don’t live on the island and I have to call my parents or they’ll kill me.”

  The word hangs in the air.

  When I only hear silence, I assume he’s hung up.

  “Umm…here, got something to write it down with?”

  “Yep.”

  He reads Will’s cell off to me and I scribble the numbers down.

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, mahalo.”

  Hanging up, I take a deep breath, picking the receiver back up. My hands tremble and I punch the wrong numbers.

  I hang up, try again, forcing myself to slow down, pressing one digit at a time.

  Straight to voicemail.

  I call the surf shack again. “He’s not around, any chance I can get Nicholas’s number?” He seems annoyed but still gives me his cell.

  What if he doesn’t pick up?

  “Hello?” A tired voice answers.

  “Hey, Nicholas, it’s Blair.”

  There’s a pause.

  “Yeah, hey, Blair, how’s it goin’? You feeling better?”

  “Nah.” I say. “Last night was rough.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Why did you leave me on the beach?”

  “You were fighting me pretty hard, making a scene.” He's contrite. “I didn’t want drama or the cops to get involved.”

  I’m annoyed by this, b
ut it’s not why I’m calling. I shove my emotions in the back of my throat.

  “Have you talked to Will today?”

  “No. Thought he was at your hotel. He didn't come home last night.”

  So Will’s missing too?

  Bristol and him have to be together.

  My voice borders on hysteria. “What do you mean? She never came back to the room last night.”

  “I’m pretty sure they did." He laughs. “He didn’t even bother charging his phone. It’s dead, went straight to voicemail when I called.”

  “Well, they aren’t here.”

  “Maybe they got their own room? Did you even think about that?”

  “You don’t get it...” I’m riled up.

  “No, you don’t. Geez, Blair, calm down, they’re probably just having fun together. You should try it sometime.” He speaks to a woman in the background. “I’m busy, gotta go. Mahalo.”

  I stay in the room the rest of the afternoon, my nails bitten to the quick as I switch between pacing the floor, staring at the phone, drilling holes in the wall with my eyes, and glaring at the television.

  When I try and focus, my mind continually races, drifting back to last night.

  My stomach growls, testing my limits, angry that I’ve ignored it for hours and left it hungover and empty.

  At 4 P.M. I can no longer stand being cooped up in the room, helpless. I grab the key card and decide to retrace my steps.

  I pause at the door.

  What if Bristol comes back to the room and I’m not here?

  Would a message help?

  It seems futile, a gut feeling tells me deep down that evil’s lurking. Bristol would never not find a way to call the hotel, and for all our differences, she’s an annoying younger sister, not a mean, vindictive one.

  But maybe her phone’s dead too.

  Jotting a quick note, I fold it so it’s half sticking under our door in case she comes back. I don’t give my whereabouts, I just tell her to ask the front desk for a key.

  Walking out the lobby, I hope the sight of the beach and the umbrella I collapsed under will jog something in my memory.

  Wearing a pair of flip-flops, the earlier absence of people has been replaced with the sounds of tourists and locals, sunbathing and drinking, surfing and boating, laughter a constant as I walk towards The Ocean Club.

  If anything untoward happened here, the sunshine and salty air cover it like concealer over a beauty flaw.

  Hawaii – it’s difficult to imagine this place as anything but vivid and lively…and safe.

  The bar from last night is about fifty yards away, strange-looking and lonely, opposite from the clamor of the beach. It’s empty, primarily a night club and bar, it hits its stride after 9 P.M.

  I leave the sand and walk up the wooden steps. A covered patio with light strands straddling the palm trees and tiki torches, shaded cabanas line the other side of the entrance, unobstructed views of the Pacific stretching for miles.

  How could anything bad happen here?

  It feels ominous to step inside during broad daylight, the dance floor and DJ booth empty, a janitor sweeping the concrete floors and mopping them.

  There’s a young woman, probably a year older than me, who’s dressed in black shorts and a white tank standing at the hostess stand.

  I walk up, almost shy. “Hi, did you happen to be working last night?”

  She eyes me curiously. “No, I was off,” she grins, “I had a hot date last night.”

  “Is anyone here that was working last night? I misplaced an item.” I want to add, “It’s big, huge, actually, and it’s my sister.”

  “David should be in shortly, he’s always late but his shift started five minutes ago. Also, Dylan and Kylie.” She sees another girl, this one covered in tattoos and piercings. She motions her over.

  “Hey Kylie, this girl has some questions about last night.”

  “You the girl that left your phone behind?”

  My phone is here?

  I stammer, “Yeah, I probably did.”

  “Some nice patron found it in the sand near the front entrance, stepped on it, but it’s not broken. At least I don’t think so.”

  There’s a chance it could be hers…or mine. Or someone else’s.

  Think good thoughts, think good thoughts, I order my mind.

  “Let me grab it, it’s behind the bar.”

  The hostess smiles at me as I follow Kat Von D’s dead ringer to the middle of the bar. A guy walks in, blond, blue-eyed, and dressed in black pants, black shirt, and a black belt. Clearly the dress code is consistent.

  Bingo. The bartender from last night.

  Kylie reaches behind a shelf and pulls out a white LG phone.

  It’s mine.

  Thank God, what if Bristol called it?

  I try not to snatch it out of her hand, cradling it carefully in my palm.

  Quickly, I press the ON button and power it up. Battery’s at ten percent.

  “Thank you.” I smile at her, clicking on the voicemail button. I have two from Daddy – one from last night, one from early this morning.

  A text message from my roommate Shay.

  My heart sinks. None from Bristol or Will.

  “No prob.” She busies herself with refilling the straw holder. “There’s David if you want to talk to him.” The dirty blond thirty-something strolls to the bar, the same attire he wore last night – all black except for his gold wedding ring and chain.

  “What’s up?” he says to Kylie, giving her a peck on the cheek. “You talk to Steve?”

  “Yeah, we broke up again.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s a piece of shit and tried to lie about...” She notices me watching them and stops mid-sentence. “Hey, this girl wants to talk to you about last night.”

  “About?” He turns and looks at me. “What’s up?” He drums his fingers on the counter. “Aww...yes, the one with the unique middle name. I remember you.”

  I smile. “Yep, Haley E., that’s me.”

  “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” He twists the cross on the gold chain.

  “You got me,” I nervously titter. “Actually, I’m missing something.”

  “Oh yeah, what is it?” He starts to reach under the bar. “We always have items found by the cleaning crew.”

  His jaw drops when I say, “My sister.”

  “Oh shit.” He leans on the counter. “Was that the other chick here with you?”

  “Yeah, we came with two guys.” I describe them. “One is tall, dark eyes and hair, the other blond and blue-eyed. My sister is strawberry blonde, green eyes.”

  “Oh yeah, I know Will Loomis. You were all pretty trashed.”

  “Did you see her leave, my sister – the blonde?”

  “Yeah, she left with Will.” He grimaces. “He didn’t even pay the tab.”

  “Oh shit, what happens when someone doesn’t pay?”

  “We have Will’s card on file, so no biggie.” He smirks. “Between you and me, I’m giving myself a big tip.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  “Not really, he’s not the type I associate with.”

  “You mean because he’s a surf instructor?”

  “No, because he’s trash. Total lowlife.” He grips the edge of the bar, his voice stilted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind… I’m surprised we haven’t permanently kicked him out. Him and some of his friends.”

  “The other guy in here?” I ask. “Nicholas Mercer?”

  “Nah, I’ve never seen that guy cause problems. Will usually comes in with a red-haired dude and leaves with whatever chick he picks up that night.” He notices my face turn crimson and he murmurs, “Sorry, didn’t mean to make it awkward if you guys have something going on.”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  He nods. “Let me guess, you took a ‘lesson’ from him?” He says with air quotes.

  “Yeah, my sister and I did, but she didn’t come home last night.
”

  “Everyone has a mobile device these days, where’s her phone?”

  I shrug. “No idea. I assume with her.” I continue. “Did you by any chance notice the time they left? I saw her at 1:17 A.M.”

  “Um… no, I don’t. Probably shortly after because the DJ quits at 1:30. Last half-hour is just radio.”

  “You said we were trashed. Like out of the norm?”

  “Odd question.” He smirks. “This is a bar. You were all pretty intoxicated, stumbling around like idiots. The usual.” He shrugs. “You included.”

  “I know.” I run a hand through my hair, whispering, “I just don’t know what happened last night…”

  “Sit down, let me buy you a drink.” He points at a stool.

  Shit, he assumes I’m of age because I had a fake last night.

  “Actually, a water would be great. I need to hydrate.”

  “You were that bad, huh?”

  “No, it’s weird.” I slide onto the stool. “It was more than that.”

  He sprays water from the nozzle into a glass, sliding it across to me. “What do you mean?”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know how to describe it other than an out-of-body experience last night, and then today I woke up with zero recollection, like an alien had scooped out twelve hours of brain function.”

  “Do you think he drugged you?”

  “Who?” I chug a sip of water. “Will?”

  He leans his elbows on the bar top. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not twenty-one, are you?”

  My face flames. Looking down, I shake my head.

  “Neither is your sister?”

  “No.”

  A pudgy man, balding and wearing a shrunken t-shirt three sizes too small, walks up. “We need to talk, David.” His fat fingers shove a toothpick in his mouth. “Tardies. Your shitty attendance.”

  “Sure thing, George.” He grabs my water glass. “You better scoot. If you’re caught in here underage, we’ll both be in trouble.”

  Slowly, I stand, watching the middle-aged man with a heavy gold pinky ring stand at the cash register, counting bills. “Kylie said a bunch of young girls came in the other day underage. You know anything about this?”