Wraith

by Lawson, Angel

  I struggled to open my eyes and when I did, the raging racket in my brain disappeared and my confusion fell away to horror.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

  It was dark. My eyes battled to adjust in the pitch black. The room smelled of gasoline and oil. It was difficult to breathe.

  Where was I?

  The last thing I remembered was being at the shelter. It had been daylight, but now it was so dark. I shifted my hands and my fingers scratched against the solid, dirty floor. I was inside, that I knew, but it was cold. Was I in a basement? Or a warehouse?

  At the far end of the room I saw a faint light, and I turned my head in that direction. A terrifying thought entered my mind. If I was in the basement then there could be mice in here. Or rats? Oh my God, rats. I shivered again, this time not from the cold.

  I attempted to move my head. Using my hands for leverage, I grappled on the hard, dirty floor and finally lifted myself.

  “Ugh,” I gripped my head, feeling around a little. There was a soft spot at the base of my head, where the ends of my hair met my neck. The spot was tender and swollen and sensitive to touch. “Ouch.” I said to the empty room. Other than stacks of boxes and dark shadows, there wasn’t much to see.

  I heard a shuffle in the dark and tensed. Maybe it was a ghost. That I could handle. They can’t touch nor do they have nasty tails and beady eyes. Those were the things I couldn’t handle and I pushed the rest out of my mind.

  In the dark I heard a switch flip and a low hum from above and soon fluorescent lights flickered to life. The room filled with a greenish glow and I was finally able to see my surroundings. Tall cardboard boxes lined the walls. Terrified, I looked around and saw a washer and dryer and several other pieces of machinery. A wide, white wall made of inset squares was behind me. Not a wall. A door. A garage door.

  I tried to stand.

  “You need to sit still,” came a familiar harsh voice.

  I twisted my neck and saw him, but stayed seated. He looked disheveled and mean as he appeared from behind some of the boxes. I would have been scared of him even if I didn’t know he was capable of murder.

  “Explain to me how you know my family.”

  I gulped. The threat behind his words was unmistakable. “Evan. I know Evan.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Know?”

  “K…K…knew.” I swallowed. “I knew him.”

  “How?”

  “School.”

  “I found Evan’s year book. You’re not in it, Jane.” My name rolled off his tongue and I recoiled.

  “How do you know my name?”

  John nudged a large box with his shoe and sat down, using it as a seat. “I followed you and your boyfriend the day you came here. I don’t like people in my business, Jane, and you coming around here asking questions? That didn’t sit right with me.”

  The way he said my name was disturbing. Controlling. His tone was clipped and short and I knew I needed to get out of there. Fast. I thought about my phone and touched my back pockets but it wasn’t there. Connor. He was waiting for my call. And my mom, she would come looking for me. Someone would find me.

  “So tell me, Jane, how do you know Evan?”

  I pushed my back against the objects behind me and pulled in my knees. I was conflicted. Should I tell him and make him just think I was crazy or lie? I studied the weird look on John’s face and decided to go with crazy.

  “He visits me.”

  “What?” He moved forward. He was so big.

  “He visits me—his ghost.”

  I said it. It was out there and he would decide I was a lunatic and let me go. What harm could a crazy girl inflict?

  John snorted and looked at me sideways. “His ghost.”

  I nodded. “He wanted me to tell his mother he was okay. If you let me talk to her he’ll leave, but until then he won’t go.”

  “So the little punk haunts you?” I wasn’t sure if he believed me or not. I wasn’t sure if I cared.

  “Yes. All the time. I want it to stop. So I came to find his mother, hoping it would be enough for him to go away. If you let me talk to her…”

  He eyed me. “What did his ‘ghost’ tell you? About me?”

  “Nothing.” I shifted in my seat, the lie obvious to the both of us.

  “Something…”

  I shook my head. “No…nothing. I promise. I just need him to go.” I lifted my chin in a lame attempt of confidence.

  “I don’t care if that little twit is haunting you or not. Dead is dead, but I do care about you lurking around my family, stirring up trouble for the ones still here.” He stood up and then sat back down, his motions erratic. “Why were you at the shelter?”

  “For school.”

  “School?”

  “We volunteer there. It was a coincidence.”

  His eyes locked with mine and I wrapped my arms tighter around my legs, drawing them closer. “Coincidence,” he repeated. “Did you talk to her there?”

  No need to explain who ‘she’ was. I shook my head.

  “I found her. Because of you. You led me right to her.”

  Bile ran up my throat. I swallowed the bitter taste. “I didn’t know she was there. It was a c…coincidence.”

  “You think you’re smart.” He snarled. His graying, brown hair shone in the light. “So did he. I wanted to take them all out, but I only got him. Didn’t matter. I got her back.”

  His words confused me. How could he confess to this crime? That he caused that accident on purpose, and that he had planned to kill them all at the time. I had no idea what to do, and was afraid I would possibly vomit if I said something, but I had to know.

  “Why? Why did you do it?”

  He stared at me, his expression incredulous. “Why? Because she’s mine. And no one comes between me and Ellen. No one. I knew he was the reason she left. She always worried about him. Such a mama’s boy.” He stood and I scrambled to my feet, afraid of what he would do. He walked to the door that led back to the house.

  “Wait!” I caught his arm. He shrugged me off easily, flinging my arm back. I stepped forward again and this time he blocked me by placing a wide, flat hand across my shoulder. He pushed against me, and I stumbled backwards, hitting the washing machine with my back.

  “Ugh.” I heard a pop and a searing pain shot down my arm.

  Closing my eyes in pain, I heard the door shut, followed by a loud lock from the other side. I crawled over a pile of newspapers on the floor to get to the door and pressed my ear to the wood. The only noise I heard was the faint sound of a television or radio. I tried the knob, but it didn’t budge. It was locked tight.

  Feeling dizzy from the sudden movement, and the massive pain in my arm, I rested my back on the door, sliding down until my behind hit the floor. The sensitive part of my head touched the door and I winced, stifling a cry at the pain.

  There was an admitted abuser and murderer on the other side of the door. I didn’t know how long I had been here or if anyone knew I was missing. Surely Connor was worried. Surely someone would find me.

  I was tired and my head hurt. I pushed my fingers under my shirt, grimacing from the pain in my arm. My hands were raw, which was only exasperated by the cold temperatures. Exhausted, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and wished it away.

  I WOKE TO THE sound of arguing. Loud voices bounced off the door and in my confused state, I tried to understand the words from the other room. It didn’t take long for me to realize from the angry volume it was John. I could also hear a woman’s voice. I could only assume the woman was Ellen. Through choked-up sobs, she pled against his rage. One thing, though, became increasingly clear.

  I needed to get out of there.

  Pressed against the wall, I cradled my throbbing arm. I tested it and found my arm and hand basically useless and every time I put pressure on it the pain increased.

  “Argh,” I grunted and used my good arm and the door knob to lever myself off the ground. It hurt like hell.

/>   I wandered around the garage with my elbow supported by my hand, searching for a way out of here. There was a box for the door opener, but it was ripped from the wall, its wires poking out uselessly. There was a door to one side, covered with cardboard boxes. I managed to squeeze through and test the knob, but it was locked and needed a key to open. I had to find that key.

  The voices rose from the other room and I rushed back over, pressing my ear to the door to hear more of what Ellen and John shouted at one another.

  “Why did you bring her here?” Ellen said, her voice muffled.

  There was a loud scraping, like a chair across the floor. “You know why.”

  “I don’t. I don’t know her.”

  John laughed deep and throaty. “Liar. Always such a filthy liar.”

  “I’m not lying.” Her voice pitched at the end. “I promise. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She says she knows Evan or something.” I could hear the mocking in his voice. “I think she’s just a nosy little girl with too much time on her hands.”

  “Evan?”

  “Yeah, your precious Evan.”

  I heard some movement behind the door. “What about him? Did she know him? Can I talk to her?”

  “You wish. He’s gone Ellen, let it go.”

  “What will it hurt then?” she said. “John! I need to talk to her! Let me talk to her!”

  The response came loud and sharp, flesh against flesh and my stomach lurched when Ellen cried out in pain. “You don’t tell me what to do. Ever. And you’re not talking to anyone. She wants to cause trouble. I don’t need any more trouble.”

  “Trouble? You can’t keep her here! They’ll come for her. She was here before and that boy too! She has parents and then the shelter! They’ll look for me…”

  “You think anyone cares that you’re gone? They’ll just think that you ran back again. They think you’re weak, Ellen. You are weak. You’re the most pathetic person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe I stuck around this long. I’ll be gone and anyone wondering about you will think you came with me. Again.” There was more shuffling I couldn’t identify and then he said, “Don’t worry about the girl. I’ll take care of her.”

  I heard footsteps and a disturbing quiet. After a moment she spoke again. Calmer this time.

  “No, no John…we can work this out. We can.” Her voice lowered and I had to press my ear harder against the door to listen. “I love you. I do. And the girls love you. Just…let’s go. Leave this house and go. Let that girl out and go. She won’t tell. I’ll talk to her and tell her not to. Please?” Ellen sounded terrified. I realized with horror that she was bargaining for her life and mine.

  There was a scuffle of some kind on the other side of the door and a loud thump against it. I moved as fast as I could on my injured arm and hid behind the tower of boxes. The door opened and Ellen was thrust into view, the bruises from the other day now covered with fresh red welts. Dried blood crusted over her lip and her eyes were wild and frightened, like an animal.

  “You know what?” he bellowed from inside the house. “Talk all you want. It doesn’t matter to me. None of this matters.” He slammed the door so hard, the walls shook.

  I heard, more than saw, Ellen break down into tears. She dropped to the floor, out of view, but from my hiding spot I could hear her gasping for breath. I peered around the boxes, terrified John would come back and what he might do. But I couldn’t just ignore her. She was Evan’s mother.

  “What’s he going to do to us?” I asked, moving into view. I could have asked her if she was okay or if she needed help. All the things I should have said, but the answers were obvious, and it seemed more and more apparent that we were running out of time.

  Ellen wiped her face with the back of her hand, flinching when her sleeve touched the wound on her mouth. “I don’t know.”

  I took a deep breath and moved closer, dropping down on my knees. “We have to get out of here. Tell me what to do.”

  She looked clueless, as though the thought never occurred to her. “We can’t. He’ll catch us.”

  I shook my head and winced from pain that shot down my arm. “He might, but we have to do something.” I studied her battered face and body. “Evan doesn’t want this. Please don’t do this to him.”

  “Evan?”

  I sighed. “Yes, Evan. He…” I looked down, feeling idiotic again, “…he’s been coming to me. I’m supposed to help him, by helping you, I think.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I know. John killed him.” I didn’t have time to beat around the bush, and Ellen seemed like someone who needed direct information.

  She recoiled, my bluntness alarming her. “I tried to pretend it was an accident.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  “I know.”

  “Neither is this,” I said. She touched her puffy lip and sighed. She had no argument, nothing to say. Anger welled in my chest. “No one knows where I am, which means we have to fix this on our own.” Again, I moved closer, carrying my arm. The pain was searing. I lowered my voice further. “How do we get out of here? Is there a key to that door over there?”

  “I don’t know…maybe in the bottom drawer of the tool box. We hid the spare there for a while, but it’s been a long time since I used it.”

  I struggled to my feet, off balance and wobbling since I couldn’t use my arm. “Where is it?”

  Ellen pointed across the room. “Over there, next to the worktable. He’s going to come back, hurry.”

  I ran over to the worktable, pushing junk out of my way and found the tool box. It was large, with a total of six drawers, and I bent down to open the bottom one. The deep drawer was filled with tools, hardware and loose objects. There was no way I could get through this with one hand.

  “The bottom drawer?” I called in a half-whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Come help me. I’ll never find it.”

  I dropped down on my knees again and rummaged through the drawer. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Tiny metal nuts and washers, nails and bolts covering the bottom of the drawer. Ellen kneeled and searched next to me. Her hands shook and I noticed smears of blood on her pale skin.

  “Why does Evan come to you?” she asked.

  “What?” I asked, sorting through the objects as fast as I could. A difficult task since my hands were so cold.

  “Evan. Why doesn’t he come to me?”

  I glanced up and sighed. “He would if he could. He does even. He comes here, but he can’t communicate with you.”

  “But he can talk to you?”

  I nodded, focusing back on the drawer.

  “What does he say?”

  This was painful. But it was my chance, the opportunity I’d been waiting for, regardless of the circumstances. “He loves you and he wants more for you. What John has done to you isn’t okay. Evan is so scared John will kill you or the girls.”

  “He told you this?”

  “Yeah, after some prompting. He worries about me, too.” I sat back on my heels. “He was so angry that day I came here.” I stared at Ellen and her puffy, swollen face. “He was terrified John would hurt me or you. And he was right. He did hurt you. I’m so sorry. I never should have come.”

  “You shouldn’t have, but in a way I’m glad you did. I’d shut that part out—the bad stuff with Evan. We pretended he never existed. Saying his name made John angry so we avoided it. All of us. The girls were forced to pretend they had no brother. I denied him too. It was easier. Safer.” She stopped for a second, catching her breath. “But you came to the door like an angel, reminding us, no, reminding me, of my loss. His death was the worst thing I’ve ever been involved in. I can’t believe I ever let it go so far. I can’t believe I let him take Evan from me.” She choked back a sob. “I deserve this.”

  I took her hand. “No, Ellen. No one deserves this. But don’t make it worse.”

  She nodded, tears filling her swollen eyes. “It�
��s why I came back after the car accident. If I let this happen to him, then I shouldn’t be happy either.”

  “Don’t say that.” I couldn’t believe she said that. “That means Evan died for no reason. That his life was a waste!”

  “His life was a waste! I wasted it!”

  I started to argue again but she cut me off. “He was such a good boy, so sweet and protective over his sisters and me. When his father left, he helped me keep it together. I had no idea letting John into our lives would cause such destruction.”

  She was on the verge of hysterics and I realized this wasn’t a path I could understand or even try to figure out at this time. Ellen was damaged. Badly. She thought she deserved the pain and abuse from John.

  Right now though, we needed to get out of this house.

  I leaned over so I could see her face, which was hidden from me. “Ellen, we have to get out of here. I know you think this is your penance or something, but it’s not mine. I want out of here, and your children, the ones that are alive, want you back.”

  Ellen wiped her nose and looked up at me—signs of clarity and understanding in them. “What if it’s too late? If he finds us…”

  “If he finds us, we’re dead. If we stay, I’m pretty sure that may happen, too. Ellen, help me.”

  “I’ll try. For the girls. For you.”

  “Are able to leave with me? Can you do it?” I asked.

  “Yes. I can do it. I was doing it at the shelter. I was ready to leave for good. You showing up at the house was a catalyst for me. John was furious. Threatened I suppose. He lost control.” She diverted her eyes. “But the memory of Evan was strong. It gave me the courage to leave.”

  “What happened?”

  “After you came that day, he beat me. Maybe the worst ever. It was hard, but I packed the girls up and left. But when he found me on my way home from work and brought me here, I knew I wasn’t getting out alive. This was it. He…” she paused and swallowed, “he attacked me the minute I stepped in the door, and at some point I guess I lost consciousness. That’s when he must have gone to get you. I had no idea he would involve someone else. I think he’s lost it for real this time.”