by Rusk, Day
It wasn’t that sex was all bad. Throughout their years of wandering, her Daddy had taken the pleasure palace of many women. In these cases, he explained to her, he was just giving them what they rightly deserved. These women were like her Mother, vile and disgusting. They too would leave their loved ones and disappear if her Daddy didn’t deal with them. At first it had looked positively ridiculous what her Daddy was doing to them; she didn’t fully understand; often she was just distracted by their crying, attempts at yelling through duct tape, or the blood; many of them didn’t let her Daddy discipline them without putting up a fight. It was always useless and futile, but they did. Daddy always won.
Her Daddy liked sticking his thingy in these women and then after that taking his knife and sticking it in other parts of their bodies; sometimes after that he’d stick his thingy in them again, but usually at this time, they were quieter, more accepting. They’d just lay still, their eyes sometimes open in a blank stare. Daddy said they had to pay the price for what Mommy had done; as far as she was concerned, Daddy knew best.
Her Daddy knew a lot and taught her everything he knew. While the women he stuck his thingy in seemed to dislike it, he showed her, once she got older, that in some cases it didn’t hurt, but instead could provide pleasure. She thought back to that moment, her awakening as a woman; her Daddy had been so proud of her.
It was in a cheap motel they were staying at – they really didn’t stay at any other type of motel. She was about thirteen; her breasts had started to develop and she had gotten her period; she assumed that had made her a woman, but her Daddy had explained to her that that was only one step along the way. She wasn’t yet a real woman, but he’d see to it that she would be. That night in the motel, he asked her to take her clothes off and lie on the bed. That wasn’t any big deal; they’d been traveling alone together for quite some time, and in that time had often been naked around one another. She had seen her Daddy’s thingy that just seemed to hang there limp and unimpressive most of the time; it wasn’t like it was when he was punishing one of those women, where it was long, hard and seemed to stand up on its own. She wondered how he made it do that.
Gail undressed and got on the bed. She lay there in silence watching as her Daddy took off his clothes. She knew what was going to happen; her Daddy was going to turn her into a woman; he was going to take his thingy and he was going to put it between her legs, like he had done to those other women. He’d told her this would be different; that this wasn’t punishment, but something for them; to prove their love for one another. Nonetheless, she was nervous, as she watched her Daddy’s thingy go from limp and droopy to hard. She had seen him stab many women with it, and wondered if it hurt them so much, how could it possibly not hurt her? Daddy wouldn’t hurt her. She believed that, so she had to trust him.
It had hurt, at least that first time, but got better after that. She had cried out in pain the first time he put his thingy into her; it hurt like the dickens. He just looked at her and told her it was her duty to deal with the pain; it wouldn’t always be there, but now that it was, he didn’t expect any daughter of his to be that soft. She wanted to please him, so she refrained from crying, and as he continued to move his thingy in and out of her, it got better and better. She watched as eventually he spasmed and grunted; she could feel something being shot into her. When her Daddy finally rolled off of her, she examined herself. She’d dealt with blood before, but this time there was a sticky white substance oozing out of her; she had no idea what to make of it. Her Daddy explained to her that that was normal; if they were lucky that sticky white ooze would make a baby inside of her and they wouldn’t be alone anymore; their family would grow. That sounded reasonable enough, and she liked the idea of having a little brother or sister, so she really didn’t mind it whenever her Daddy decided to put his thingy inside her and fill her with his baby-making stuff, although she never did understand why a baby never came from it.
She had discovered the dual nature of sex – the pleasure and the pain. She knew that night at the bar, when she had picked up Leonard, that all he wanted to do to her was inflict pain. She could see it in his eyes, and she had taken care of him; if it wasn’t her he was going to stick his nasty thingy in and cause pain, it was going to be some other woman, and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Let everyone else be fooled by his picture - she knew his true nature.
Anthony had been easier to read; he thought a little too much of himself. He actually had the nerve to act like his willingness to go home with her and have sex with her was a gift to her; of all the women in the bar that night, he had decided to fuck her and she was a lucky girl. The evil he tried to hide from the world was much easier to see. He was younger than Leonard and probably hadn’t discovered yet how to hide his true nature. She had enjoyed killing him more than Leonard. She’d enjoyed it all and she had been careful. Still, it almost felt anti-climatic. If the police weren’t going to tell the world of her artistic kills, were they still art? As far as she was concerned they were evolving art. If the police just let them be, the bodies would decompose and change over time. Eventually they would reach a state they would stay in for quite some time, but until then, anyone who purchased her murder art would get a piece that was ever evolving; she could continue on, but she had another idea.
“Reviews have been good,” said Leslie.
Gail looked up from her meal and smiled.
“Surprisingly,” she said. “I don’t really read reviews. Find them a waste of time.”
Leslie smiled. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Why would Gail read her own reviews?
“So you didn’t read mine?” he asked.
“Wasn’t interested,” she said.
Leslie laughed. She was definitely refreshing in her approach to life. They continued eating.
Leslie had been surprised when she called. He hadn’t anticipated hearing from her again. Somehow he figured their little get together had been a onetime thing. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman to put up with anyone for too long. In actual fact, she intimidated him; one of the reasons why he hadn’t picked up the phone and called her. He really didn’t want to deal with the rejection.
“I was at the library today,” said Gail after a little while.
“That’s good,” he said. “Never hurts to expand one’s mind.”
“I was doing some research.”
“Some ideas for your art?” he asked.
“Not really. I was researching you.”
Gail was watching him closely, determined to gauge his reaction to this, and he knew that. This was one of the games she liked to play; he’d figured out from the short time he’d known her; she liked to shock and now that she had shocked she liked to enjoy the discomfort it often brought.
“I’ve done quite a few interviews over the years,” he said. “My books have done well.”
“Artists or writers talking about their craft,” she said. “Is there anything more boring than that?”
“Some find it interesting.”
“Never underestimate the dullness of the public in general. I could care less about your writing, Leslie. I was researching you. Your past. Your demons.”
Gail paused again to watch him closely. She smiled. He figured that was because as best as he tried not to, he did react, a brief moment of anger crossing his face.
“You’re angry,” she said.
“This snooping thing of yours,” he asked, “it endears you to how many guys?”
“You can’t handle it?”
She was actually challenging him; this woman was fearless.
“I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he said. “Does that bother you?”
“We share violence,” she said. “Our pasts. I wanted to know.”
“And what did you discover?”
“You were there that night. Did you witness what happened?”
I can handle whatever you throw at me, he thought, what the hell was I thinking?
It�
��d been a long time since he’d shared the story of that night with anyone. A long time back he had done so often with different Survivor groups (although for some reason he never actually mentioned witnessing members of his family being shot; almost as if in some strange way they would blame him for doing nothing to stop it). It hadn’t taken long for him to realize talking about it wasn’t doing anything for him; others in the group seemed to be gaining some benefit from sharing their stories, but not him. Eventually he just stopped talking about it and going to meetings. Other than Walter, he really shared nothing with others, even girlfriends. Donna, who had been with him for a while, she knew what had happened to his family, and she knew he had been there in the house at the time, but had never asked him to elaborate. She had been smart enough to realize there was no upside in pushing him to talk about something he didn’t want to talk about; he figured she’d hoped he’d open up to her when he felt the time was right; she hadn’t expected he would just close right down instead.
“You did witness it, didn’t you?” she asked.
“And you want the story, right?”
Gail nodded her head.
“What’s the point of going over all of it again?”
“A push.”
“A push?”
“I’ve been contemplating what you had to say about revenge.”
“Haven’t we all ready discussed this? Besides, I was just talking out of my ass, that’s all.”
“The newspapers stated that the police suspected your Father’s partner in crime, Morgan Neil, was responsible for your family’s demise? They couldn’t pin anything on him or his underlings. They got away with murder. If you were there and witnessed it, you could put them away, but you haven’t. Do you know who killed your family? Did you see them?”
Leslie had no way of knowing Gail had printed off his F.B.I. flow chart of the Morgan organization with the four men circled in red. Had no way of knowing she had all ready deducted the answer to her questions before asking them; that this was just part of her process; the game she liked to play.
“I didn’t see anything,” he said. He really didn’t want to go into it, so lying seemed like the best course of action.
“But you know who they are, don’t you? You know who they are and they’re still out there killing, aren’t they? They’re out there living the life your family wasn’t given the chance to live. I mean, I read about your father, he was one serious killer and probably deserved what he got, but not your mother and brother and sister. They were innocents.”
“You don’t know jack-shit about my father,” he said, a little more anger in his voice than he’d hoped to have.
“Two words - Dwayne Turner,” she said.
She was pushing it, and she probably knew it. If he opened up to her, she won, and if he didn’t and lost his cool, she probably won as well. Either way, she’d probably be tickled pink. He didn’t know how to handle this, so he remained silent.
“You’ve never thought of taking them out yourself?” she asked.
Of course he had, and she knew it; she’d heard him talking about revenge. This was all just part of the game.
“To what purpose?” he asked.
“The revenge you were talking about,” she said. “You know an eye for an eye.”
“We’re not living in Biblical times.”
“Those who believe that they are exclusively in the right are generally those who achieve something,” she said.
Leslie just looked at her, puzzled. He had no idea what she was getting at.
“Aldous Huxley, the author,” she said. “You know you’d be in the right seeking revenge. Maybe you don’t know that. Maybe what’s holding you back are your sense of morals? You don’t really believe in revenge, despite all your talk about it; you don’t think it’s right so you’re holding back, achieving nothing.”
“Maybe it’s just not in me,” he said. “As a child of violence, am I expected to embrace violence in my life? Make it a part of my life?”
“Our destinies find us.”
Gail Russell, who in the hell was she? Last week he didn’t even know she existed. A press release crossed his desk, and he spent a night having unconventional sex with her. She was still really a stranger to him. He didn’t know her and she was expecting him to just open up to her – and without really telling him anything about herself. It was time to fight back.
“You’re the boldest woman I know,” he finally said. “You speak your mind and you don’t hold back. Based on that, we’re to think you’re an open book, aren’t we? Not afraid of anything. But it’s all a facade, isn’t it? You’re only bold and forthcoming when discussing others. You’re desperately trying to peel away the layers that make up me, but when I ask about your past, you’re a closed book. What about your violence? What is it that fucked you up? Care to share your story?”
“We were talking about you.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, “because when it comes to you and your demons, you’re a coward.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need the ladies room,” said Gail as she stood up.
Leslie watched her walk away; maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe she just got what she deserved. He didn’t know, and at that particular moment, he really didn’t give a damn.
chapter THIRTEEN
gail PICKED up the knife her Daddy had given her to play with. She was only seven-years-old, but no stranger around knives; her Daddy had seen to that. It had slipped out of her hand, which it sometimes did. She had a few marks on her body where she’d accidentally cut herself, but nothing too deep. Her Daddy said they’d help build character. All she knew was he had cuts and now so did her – she was just like her Daddy.
She picked up the knife, which had fallen beside the body of the dead man. He was lying there on the floor of his camper on his stomach, all bled out. Daddy had seen to that. He’d also cut open the dead man’s shirt to expose his back to her. He set her down there, along with the knife and told her to practice her cutting; she really wasn’t up to it today; she was tired, but she also didn’t want to disappoint her Daddy. Half-heartedly she picked up the knife and began randomly stabbing it into the man’s back; not deep, just the point going in. She just didn’t want to play today.
“Please! I’ll do whatever you want. Please, just don’t hurt my girls.”
She was distracted by the woman. She was at the other end of the camper sitting in a chair and holding her daughters close to her. She was crying and a little bloodied from where her Daddy had hit her across the face several times. It always took a couple of hits to bring them under control. Standing before them was her Daddy, a big bulk of a man. In one of his hands he held the bloodied knife, dripping on the floor, joining its owner who was all ready sprawled out dead on it. Why he had attempted to fight her Daddy, she didn’t know. The men always tried to fight him, but were never as good as her Daddy. They never really looked like they knew what they were doing, whereas her Daddy knew exactly what he was doing. As far as she was concerned, he was the toughest man in the whole of the land.
While the man had been trying to hurt her Daddy, the woman, who was now crying and trembling before him, had jumped on her Daddy’s back. Gail knew that wasn’t a good idea. The woman had been on her Daddy’s back at the same time her Daddy was driving his knife deep into the man’s stomach. The minute the man went down her Daddy shook the woman off his back and proceeded to punish her for being difficult. She had been bad - she was interfering with men’s business.
All of them had made a god-awful racket, but that really didn’t matter; her Daddy was careful, he had scouted out this family, who had decided to set up camp in a remote area of the park. They probably thought it was nice to get away from everyone; they just hadn’t counted on her and her Daddy. It was a good thing anyway. It’d been a long time since her Daddy had punished anyone; a long time since he had taken out his thingy and poked anyone with it. That always made him a little crazy and on edge. He te
nded not to treat her as well when he went too long before punishing the bad people.
The woman was still pleading for the safety of her daughters. Both appeared to be teenagers, which was bad news for them. Her Daddy never discriminated; if they were old enough he was willing to poke them with his thingy.
She listened as her Daddy told the woman that if she cooperated he’d spare her daughters. This seemed to quiet her down a little bit; Gail knew it was a lie, her Daddy was going to take care of them as well, and when he was finished he’d take his knife and poke them some more. He told her they were evil – bad girls that deserved what was coming to them. He’d also told her it was all right to lie to people like that as they were evil and you had to do that to protect yourself against them.
The woman calmed down as her Daddy used duct tape to tie up her daughters; their hands behind their backs and their legs secured as well. He then had the Mom strip naked and proceeded to tie her hands behind her back. She began to sob again, as did her daughters, when her Daddy started to strip. It wasn’t long before he had the woman bent over a small table in the camper and was poking her hard with his thingy. As he was doing so, he looked over at the daughters and said, “You’ll both have your turn.” This seemed to upset the woman, who attempted to struggle harder, but her Daddy had her well secured and was holding her down by the neck; at one point he pulled her head up and then slammed it back down against the table hard. The woman seemed to lose a little bit of her fight after that, although her daughters, now with duct tape across their mouths, seemed to renew their crying and moaning.
If people only knew that no one ever got the better of her Daddy, they might just settle down and let him do what he was supposed to do. Sometimes you just had to face your punishment and take it like a man; at least that’s what her Daddy had told her.