“No, no,” David says, “I love you… we’re going to get out of this place, get married and have a happy life.”
“No we are not David,” she says, “you are a nice guy and all, but I want more for myself… I want a man.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, “I am a man.” She shakes her head, tears running down her face.
“Even if I stayed here and we got married, do you think I would want someone like her around my children?” she asks.
“We can run away,” David says. Janet tries to leave, but David blocks her exit. She realizes that she has to be cruel at this point to get David to leave her alone.
“What about last night?” he gently asks.
“What about it?” she coldly asks.
“We made love for the first time,” David says, “and it was the most beautiful experience I have ever had.” She shakes her head at him and gives him an unemotional look.
“It didn’t mean anything to me David,” she says, “and even if it did it wouldn’t mean anything to me anymore.” David’s jaw drops as Janet pushes him out of the way and runs out of the house. David sits on the bed with his hands over his head. His mother returns with a baseball bat, cracking him across the side of the head with it. He falls off of the bed and winces in pain. She takes two more swings at his shoulders and connects strongly both times. David begins crying. She walks out of his room and quickly returns waving a Bible in her hand.
“I obviously have not done a proper job in raising you boy,” she says, “you won’t be going to school anytime soon, and if I ever see you so much as talk to that little harlot again you won’t see the light of day again.” She drags him to the basement where she turns the light on and shoves him down the stairs. She walks down the stairs towards him and throws the Bible in his lap.
“You’d better get to reading that,” she says, “because if the Good Lord won’t help in straightening you out, I’ll certainly be obliged to do so.”
David awakes from the dream to his cell phone alarm clock. He looks at the picture of his mother hanging on the wall and smiles. He gets up off the couch and slowly walks into the kitchen. He chugs down a glass of water and begins to take his clothes off. Once fully nude, he walks back into the living room and grabs his keys off of the coffee table. He makes his way back to the kitchen and stands in front of the same basement door, smiling. He slowly unlocks both of the deadbolts on the kitchen door and quietly opens it. The door leads to a staircase that leads down into the sound-proofed basement. He walks down into the basement where he finds Jane Mills, a woman in her sixties who vaguely resembles his mother. She is fully dressed, gagged and tied to a steel beam, located directly across from a bed, the same bed from David’s youth. In that bed is Erin Steele, a beautiful young girl that bears a striking resemblance to his high school love… his sweet, dear Janet. Erin’s wrists and feet are tied to the bedpost and she is gagged. She is only wearing her bra and panties and begins squirming as David approaches her.
He lies down next to Erin and whispers, “Hello.”
David gingerly slides into the bed and puts the sheet over the both of them. He gently kisses her neck as he caresses her inner thigh.
He looks over at Mrs. Mills and then back to Erin, “Don’t worry about her Janet,” he says, “she can’t stop us now.” David slowly undresses and the tension mounts. They have all been there for a week and this has been acted out several times before. A fully nude David pulls off Erin’s clothing and begins to gently have sex with her. Erin, with tears slowly running down her face, lies underneath him lifelessly, silently praying that all of this will end soon. Mrs. Mills begins moaning and attempting to scream, and although gagged, her terror is quite audible. The dried river of mascara on her face is evidence of her being there for quite some time.
“Shut the fuck up you old cunt!” David yells, “I am not going to let you ruin this again.” Mrs. Mills continues making noise and David becomes more violent with his assault. Erin begins to cry in pain and the situation explodes. David jumps off of Erin and cracks Mrs. Mills in the face with the backside of his fist, breaking her nose.
“Look what you made me do!” he screams, while pointing at Erin. He removes the gag from the mouth of Mrs. Mills and she lets out a blood-curdling scream.
David stands back and begins laughing at the terrified, hopeless woman, “Do you think someone is coming to save you fucking idiot?” he asks. “We are in the middle of NOWHERE!” he continues, “but believe me, you will be leaving soon.” Mrs. Mills stops screaming, trying to get herself under control and begins to plead with David.
“So you are going to let us go?” she asks, “Please let us go soon. I have a family that loves me and…”
“Soon enough,” David calmly interrupts, “I can assure that you will be leaving soon.”
“Oh, thank God,” Mrs. Mills says as her shoulders relax and she takes a deep breath. David makes his way behind her and grabs a bottle of anti-freeze with the label ripped off. He sticks a large needle through the opening of the bottle and slowly draws the anti-freeze into it. He makes his way to Erin with the needle.
“What is that for?” Mrs. Mills asks.
“It’s medicine to knock her out so when I release you all, you won’t be able to tell the police where I live,” David calmly explains. Mrs. Mills nods uncomfortably as David injects the antifreeze into Erin’s arm.
“It’s such a big needle,” Mrs. Mills says.
David smiles, “well, it needs to last a while.” Erin, in her final stages of renal failure looks at David as the light disappears from her eyes. He waits for a few minutes and then checks her pulse.
He looks at Mrs. Mills. “You don’t have to give any drug to me, I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened here,” she says.
David smiles, “I know you won’t,” he says. Mrs. Mill’s watches Erin’s chest and notices that it is not moving.
“It doesn’t look like she is breathing,” she says.
“She is fine,” David says, “can I trust you not to fight me if I let you loose.”
Mrs. Mills becomes excited, “yes, yes you can certainly trust me; I am a woman of honor.”
David walks behind her and grabs a knife and a trash bag. He makes his way over to her and slowly cuts through the rope. The second she is released he slams her against the front of the bedpost, quickly comes from behind her and wraps the plastic bag around her face. Although she is suffocating, she attempts to put forth a futile struggle. David leans into her and speaks loudly enough so she can hear him through the bag.
“It’s over for you now,” he says, “You haven’t done anything to stop me.” He releases the bag; allowing her to breathe some air back into her lungs. He immediately puts the bag back over her head and continues, “I have complete control,” he says, “Where is this God you love?” The look of rage on David’s face is purely orgasmic; he is truly savoring this moment. Mrs. Mills goes limp and labors to breathe, David checks her pulse to make sure that she is dead; he then pulls up her dress and has his way with her. As he finishes, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her head up next to his. He smiles as he looks into her lifeless eyes, imagining the circus that was to become. The news trucks, the coroner and most importantly his whipping boy Jim Flanigan and whatever “experts” that local and national newscasts would bring on that would try to make sense of his ghastly deeds.
Chapter 3
Ed leads the boys to the dining room. The group makes their way through a group of hallways similarly constructed to a cattle chute, each ending with a locked door which can only be opened by a member of the staff. Groups from other units quietly pass through like sheep being herded, nobody looking at one another. They finally make their way into the cafeteria. Everyone quietly works their way through the line, getting their food and sitting down at their designated tables. Once seated, Ed looks down the table at the boys and addresses them as a group. “You may now speak at a low volume,” he says. Other groups of people make their way
into the cafeteria and a quiet buzz of conversation fills the room. Tyrone looks down at his plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
“What the fuck is this shit?” he whispers to Kris.
“Umm… meatloaf dude,” Kris says, “it’s actually okay compared to some of the other shit that they try to pass off as food here. You should try it.”
Tyrone stares down at his green piece of meat, “I don’t know. I ain’t never seen meatloaf that color, and if I don’t know what’s in it, I ain’t eating it. You want it?”
“Sure,” Kris says as he pulls the meatloaf off of Tyrone’s tray, “thanks.”
Another group of boys pass them and sit at the adjacent table. Most of them have long hair and project an artsy misunderstood kind of look, they certainly look like a different crew than the folks in the adolescent unit. Tyrone looks at them and then digs into his mashed potatoes. “Who are those dudes?” Tyrone asks.
“Oh,” Kris says as he looks over at the table, “those are the kids from the drug unit. Sometimes they start in our unit if their unit has too many kids. Most of them that I met are pretty cool.”
Tyrone takes a bite of his mashed potatoes and shakes his head, “Man I never thought I would be in a place like this again,” he says, “but at least the food they served at the last place was decent and they even had a pool.”
“The food isn’t really that bad,” Kris says, “it tastes a lot better than it looks.”
“Does this place have a pool?” Tyrone asks.
“No man,” Kris says, “but it has a gym and it sure beats the hell out of juvie.”
“What the fuck do you know about juvie?” Tyrone asks, almost laughing.
“That’s where I was at before they sent me here,” Kris says.
“You’ve got to be playing with me man, what the fuck did your lil’ ass do to get put in juvie?” Tyrone asks.
“I got caught with a gun in school,” Kris responds.
Tyrone is taken aback, “Wow, never would’ve pictured your lil’ ass with a gun, how did you end up in here?” he asks.
“Suicidal ideation,” Kris answers.
“Me too,” Tyrone says with a laugh, “I be telling them fools up in juvie that all you have to do is tell em’ that you wanna kill yourself and it’s a free ticket to paradise.”
“Yeah,” Kris says, “a little cutting goes a long way.” Kris shows Tyrone a group of small cuts on his forearm that he made while in juvie. Tyrone shakes his head.
“White people are crazy,” Tyrone says with a grin, “got to be overdramatic with everything. You’d never see me doing that shit. All you got to do is tell em’ that you don’t want to live no more and they’ll send you here quicker than shit. You don’t have to be doing all of that crazy assed cutting bullshit.”
“Everyone in our unit right now came from juvie man,” Kris says, “stick with me and Drake and it will be smooth sailing the whole time you’re here.”
“Which one is Drake again?” Tyrone asks.
“That one right there,” Kris replies, pointing him out.
“Like the rapper huh?” Tyrone says.
“Yeah,” Kris says, “I wonder if he was named after him.” Tyrone smiles, not wanting to burst Kris’s bubble with the fact that the rapper hadn’t even become famous yet by the time Drake was born. Ed stands up and motions to the boys that it is time to leave. They each line up at the dishwashing window and hand the employees their silverware. The workers count the silverware to ensure that it doesn’t go missing and resurface at the scene of a suicide. After returning their trays, everyone walks to the door and slowly forms another single-filed line. “Alright everyone,” Ed says, “I will be turning you over to Mr. Kasabian now. And you all had better not give him any trouble, because if I find out that you did, you will lose privileges in the morning and I will do everything in my power to ensure a miserable day. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the boys collectively mumble.
“Alright,” Ed says, “let’s go then.” The group makes their way through the maze of hallways until they enter the gymnasium. Hiram bumps Tyrone in the shoulder intentionally, in an attempt to show him that he is the alpha-male on the unit. Ed approaches Jeff Kasabian, a very large and muscular gentleman in his mid-thirties with an upstate New York accent. Ed hands Jeff his clipboard, which has four individualized observation sheets, with initials every fifteen minutes on each to document visual observation of each individual patient.
“Jeff, they are all yours until lights out,” Ed says, “I need you to sign these observation sheets.”
“How’s the new kid?” Jeff asks as he puts his initials next to the eight o’ clock slot.
“Don’t know yet, seems kind of closed off, I’m sure you looked over his file,” Ed says as he watches the boys run into the equipment closet. “He doesn’t seem to want to talk, tough street kid, just like you were. Probably just a kid who had to do everything on his own; try and talk to him, would you? Maybe you could make him come around.”
“Yeah, if I can keep Kris and Drake in check I’ll see if I can talk to him for a few minutes,” Jeff says.
“That would be great,” Ed says. “Hey, do you and Amber wanna come over for our famous 4th of July barbecue? We have a ton of food and I stocked up on fireworks.”
“I can’t, we’re taking the kids to Cincinnati to catch a Reds game,” Jeff says.
“Great, well have fun,” Ed says with jealous envy. Ed motions his head over towards Drake to let Jeff know why he won’t be having an easy night.
“If he gives me any shit, I’ll just kill him,” Jeff jokes.
“If only it were that easy,” Ed whispers, “he’s already lost gaming privileges and has been warned today, so if he gives you any problems take away television.” Jeff looks over at Tyrone, who is sulking and has separated himself from the rest of the group.
“Another one from juvie,” Jeff says, “What in the hell are they doing at intake? We aren’t supposed to be taking any violent offenders, but it seems lately that’s all we’ve been getting.”
“You know how it is Jeff,” Ed says, “the lower the census, the lower the standards. It’s all about money. Wait until August, when school starts and it explodes. Enjoy only having this many while you can. I’m going to head out, you need anything?”
“Nope, have fun,” Jeff says.
“Later,” Ed says.
“Later,” Jeff says as Ed leaves the gym. Drake, Kris and Hiram are shooting basketballs. Kris isn’t even hitting the backboard. Tyrone walks over to Hiram and taps him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Tyrone says. Hiram doesn’t respond as Tyrone moves closer. “I’m talking to you mothafucka,” Tyrone says.
Hiram gives him an uninterested look, “Sorry, I don’t speak stupid nigger,” he says with cold indifference. Tyrone and Hiram begin walking towards each other, fists balled and ready to fight. Jeff senses trouble mounting and begins to jog over. Tyrone backs off of Hiram and cuts off the approaching Jeff.
“Excuse me sir,” Tyrone says.
“Yeah, Tyrone, isn’t it?” Jeff asks.
“Yes sir, I think it would be better if I can have my own room instead of rooming with that Hiram dude,” Tyrone suggests.
“Well Tyrone, we have no control over that, but the nurses do. Why don’t you wait until later and talk to them,” Jeff says, “what’s your problem with Hiram?”
“He was bumping into me in the hallway and making racial comments,” Tyrone says.
“Alright,” Jeff says, “make sure to tell the nurse that and I’m sure we can work something out. Did you want me to say something to Hiram right now? Is he bothering you?”
“Naw man, it’s all good,” Tyrone says. Jeff walks over to the equipment room and Tyrone slowly walks back over to the group of boys, standing next to the row of chairs. Hiram, who is closest to him, gives him another dirty look. The boys continue shooting. While Hiram’s back is turned, Tyrone picks up one of the chairs and smacks him
across the back, knocking him onto the ground. He begins to beat Hiram in the face, causing Hiram to go into the fetal position, protecting himself from the brunt of the blows.
“WHAT’S UP NOW MOTHERFUCKER?” Tyrone screams, “YOU WANNA KEEP TALKIN’ SHIT YOU LITTLE BITCH?” Jeff runs towards Tyrone in an attempt to subdue him, but Tyrone smacks him in the center of the temple with the base of the chair, knocking the massive man out cold with one swing. Jeff’s observation sheets fly from his clipboard and float through the air. Tyrone turns his attention back to Hiram, who is still in the fetal position. Hiram looks up at him, nose bloodied.
“It’s over man, I’m sorry,” Hiram cries.
“Is it?” Tyrone asks as he holds the chair up in the air, prepped to continue.
“Seriously, for real man,” Hiram says, waving his hands cautiously. Tyrone, still breathing heavily, drops the chair on the floor. The other boys make their way over to Jeff’s body. “Holy shit man, he is knocked the fuck out,” Drake says. The four boys stand over the motionless body, terrified.
“Is he dead?” Kris asks, “I mean he looks dead to me.”
Drake tries to take in the situation, “No, I don’t think he is dead, his chest is still moving up and down. Damn Tyrone, what the hell?”
Tyrone shrugs off the severity of his actions, “He’s a big dude… I just reacted bro.”
Hiram walks over to Drake and asks, “is my face messed up?”
Drake responds, “Really Hiram? You are the king of terrible timing. NO, OTHER THAN A LITTLE BLOOD ON YOUR LIP YOU LOOK FINE! I mean, LOOK AT HIM!” he yells pointing down to Jeff. What in the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Hiram looks at Jeff’s keys on his belt and raises his eyebrow.
“No, hell no, I might be out soon,” Drake says, “If we leave here and get caught by the cops we’ll be in jail forever. And if he is really fucked up we won’t be going back to juvie man, we’ll be going to county as adults.”
Hiram crawls over to Jeff and pokes him in the ribs to see if he moves. “He’s out,” Hiram says, “I really think that we all could get out of here pretty easy.”
The Light In the Dark Page 3