by Athan, Jon
Logan lowered his arms to his side as he sighed in disappointment. He dug his fingers into his hair and approached his daughter, blatantly anxious. Ashley glanced back at the front door, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. She remained suspicious, refusing to let her guard down.
Logan smiled and clasped his hands in front of his chest. In a soft, tender tone, he said, “Please. I'm not asking for your entire night. I just need a little bit of help. I don't have three arms, I can't keep everything steady while doing all of the work. Give me five minutes. That's all I'm asking for: five minutes.”
Ashley was stunned by her father's plea – the man was practically begging. She could have kicked and screamed to cause another scene, but she was physically drained. Her discussion with her boyfriend remained on her mind, too. She figured she could take it easy on her father and hope he would do the same in the future.
She closed the front door and said, “Fine. Five minutes. What do you need?”
Logan grinned from ear-to-ear and said, “Great. Just follow me down to the basement. I'm almost finished.”
As instructed, Ashley followed behind her father. She raised her brow upon catching a glimpse of the new door knob – the key pad caught her off guard. She considered taking a left and walking up to her room instead, but she decided to respect her father. She didn't realize the appalling plans he had in store for her. She didn't know any better. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and glanced around.
The spacious basement was clean – red brick walls and concrete flooring. There was a thick support beam towards the center of the room. Laundry and drying machines hugged the walls to the left, a workbench hugged the wall to the right. An old storage freezer and stacks of cardboard boxes hugged the wall across from the bottom of the stairs.
Logan stepped in front of the workbench and glided his eyes over his tools. He stared at the floor beside the table. The roll of rope caught his eye.
Ashley approached the support beam and asked, “So, what are you doing down here? You going to turn this place into a den or something?”
“Something like that,” Logan responded as he placed his knuckles on the workbench. He stared down at his tools and said, “A den isn't the right word, though. You know, Ashley, I want to help you grow. I want to... to prepare you for the real world. So, I've thought of something for you. It's something special. At the end of the day, I think you're going to like it. I really do.”
Ashley raised her brow as she glanced at her father. The man's explanation was vague, but she wasn't alarmed. In fact, she was optimistic about her future. She figured her father was still apologizing to her, trying to fix their broken relationship. It's not a den, she thought, no, he's making me a bachelorette pad.
Blushing, Ashley ran her fingers across the pillar and said, “I think I understand.”
“Good. I was hoping you would. It makes all of this... easier. You see, I've come to terms with everything. I think we both know your behavior hasn't been great. You fight with me and your mom all the time, even for the smallest issues. I think most of it has been my fault, though. I haven't been the father I was supposed to be. I haven't been fulfilling my duties as a parent. I've been failing. I know that now and I'm ready to fix that.”
“Really? I'm... I'm glad to hear that, dad,” Ashley said, trying to contain her excitement.
She was still mesmerized by her hopes and dreams, seduced by a fallacy. She believed her father was sincerely apologizing to her. She felt as if the negative energy was siphoned from the home. Staring at the pillar, she thought about offering her own apology to even the playing field. Apologizing and forgiving – those were the first steps to fixing any problem.
Before she could apologize, she was struck on the side of the head. The skull-rattling hit landed on her right temple. Her ears rang and her vision diminished. Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor, unconscious.
Logan stood over his daughter with a hammer in his right hand. He held the hammer from its head, though, and he used the handle to hit Ashley with all of his might. He didn't want to kill her after all. His breathing intensified as he watched his daughter's slumbering body in disbelief – it was actually happening.
He tossed the hammer aside and yelled, “It's time! Get down here and help me tie her up!”
***
Ashley gasped as she awoke, eyes barely open and lips quivering uncontrollably. A quavering breath, fast and raspy, escaped her pale lips. She rapidly blinked, trying to clear her blurred vision, but to no avail. Yet, she could still see two figures standing in front of her. One person leaned on the workbench in front of her, the other stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Ashley stuttered, “D–Dad? Mom?”
Indeed, her father leaned on the workbench with his arms crossed. The man appeared frustrated but confident – he was no longer nervous. Her mother stood near the stairs. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and softly trembled, visibly anxious.
Logan sighed, then he stepped forward. He said, “I just want to get down to the nitty-gritty of what's going to happen, Ashley. I know you're confused, you're probably scared, but you have to listen to me. That's your first lesson: you have to start listening to authority. It's non-negotiable.”
“Lesson?” Ashley repeated as she shook her head, still trying to compose herself.
“Yes. We're in this position now because you're a bad girl. No, you're just a bad person. Girl, boy... it doesn't matter. Your behavior is unacceptable and we're not going to take it anymore. So, we're going to punish you in every way possible to teach you the lessons you should have learned a long time ago. Don't worry, though, sweetie. This is going to help you grow like everyone else. I promise, everything's going to get better.”
Ashley softly chuckled as her head swayed left-and-right. Her father's voice sounded distorted to her, sonorous and evil. His statement was also simultaneously terrifying and confusing. She didn't know if her parents were playing a prank or if she were actually hallucinating. She tightly closed her eyes and sniffled, then she pushed forward.
The teenager yelped as she felt the pressure on her chest, ribcage, stomach, and legs. She stared down at herself. She found herself restrained to the support beam. Despite her blurred vision, she could see the durable rope tied around her body at regular intervals. Handcuffed at the ankles, her feet dangled half-a-foot above the floor. Her hands were handcuffed behind her on the other side of the pillar, too.
Her vision cleared as she uncovered the truth. She squirmed every which way, trying her damnedest to break free from the restraints, but to no avail. The rope was tightly wrapped around her body, leaving no room between her and the pillar. She was too weak to break free anyway. She surrendered. She leaned her head back on the support beam and glared at her father. They're serious, she thought, they're actually insane.
Ashley said, “Please, tell me this is just some sick joke. Tell me this is some 'Scared Straight' bullshit you thought of. Say something.”
Without a crack on his face, Logan said, “This isn't a joke, Ashley. This is about you and your future. We're doing this for you. You understand me?”
“That's a bunch of bullshit and you know it. If–If you're actually going to do this, it's... it's because you're crazy.”
Jane frantically shook her head as she approached her daughter. Tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. She stroked Ashley's hair, pushing the stray strands away from her face. A mother's touch was supposed to soothe a child, but it only frustrated the teenager. Under the circumstances, it was wicked and condescending.
Jane said, “We talked about this all afternoon. We–”
“I don't think an afternoon is enough to make a decision like this,” Ashley interrupted, furious.
“I understand you're angry. We expected that. But, you have to believe us when we say this is for the better. We're only trying to help you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Wha–What did you just say?�
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“I said: fuck you. If you agreed to this crap, then you're just as bad as him. I should have known anyway. You were always such a bitch to me. Whenever I asked for your help, whenever I told you about the crap that's happened to me, you would just ignore me. You... You're just a terrible mother. I hate you already, but, if you don't let me go, I swear you'll regret it.”
Jane grimaced, disquieted by her daughter's insults and threats. Terrible mother – that phrase jammed a knife into her back and twisted the blade in her spine. However, Ashley's insolent tirade also supported their theory. Discipline was necessary to tame a child.
With a vacant stare, Jane stepped in reverse and said, “We have to do this. It's for the better. It's for the better...” She glanced at Ashley, then at Logan. She said, “I won't stop you. Fix this child before she permanently destroys our family. Fix her.”
Logan glared at Ashley and said, “I will. I'll fix everything.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ashley asked as she grimaced and sobbed. She wheezed and squirmed, hopeless. She mumbled, “What the hell is going on here? Is this the fucking Twilight Zone or something? Let me go. Please, let me go.”
“It's for the better.”
“It's not!”
Logan placed his hands on Ashley's cheeks and said, “It is. You have to learn your lesson. You're going to listen and you–”
The creak from the stairs echoed through the room and interrupted the confrontation.
***
Wide-eyed, the feuding family members turned towards the staircase. Calvin stood near the bottom of the stairs, awed. His jaw dangled as he gaped at his discovery. When he departed in the morning, the home and family dynamic were relatively normal. With his afternoon arrival, he found the basement had been converted into a makeshift dungeon and his sister had turned into a captive.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't conjure a single word. If he could speak, he would have probably said: what the fuck?!
Ashley shouted, “Run! Run, Cal! Get help! Call 911! Do something!”
Calvin hesitated, though. He looked at his parents – the very same people that imprisoned his sister – for advice. Logan and Jane disregarded Ashley's pleas for help. The couple grabbed Calvin's shoulders, spun him around, then ushered him out of the basement.
Logan closed the door behind him. The keypad door knob locked on its own after five seconds. With the sealed door, Ashley's shouts became muffled.
Logan nodded at Calvin and said, “Go into the living room and sit down. Everything's okay. Let's just talk about this.”
Sweat glistening on his brow, Calvin reluctantly followed his father's directions. He sat on the sofa. His mother sat beside him, stroking his hair and tidying his shirt. Logan inhaled deeply, then he sat on the recliner. He found some comfort knowing his daughter could not be heard from the living room.
Logan explained, “Calvin, what you saw down there... It's not a big deal, okay? It might have looked strange or... or...”
“Evil?” Calvin suggested.
“Yes, evil. That's not something you see everyday, is it? It's... It's like something from a horror movie. I know it worries you, but I want you to know everything is okay. We're going to keep your sister down in the basement throughout the summer to try to teach her some... lessons. We're doing this to help her. We want her to behave, like you, so we can all live normal lives. Don't think of it as us hurting her, think of it as us teaching her. You understand?”
“I... I guess so. Isn't it, like, illegal to do that, though?”
Chiming in, Jane said, “It's not illegal, it's just not accepted. Those are two completely different things, sweetie. We're allowed to discipline you and your sister, it's a parent's right, but some people don't believe that anymore. And, because we thought that way for so long, your sister ended up the way she did. We're trying to fix that now.”
“So... it's not illegal?”
Logan explained, “No, it's not. I mean, your sister hit me, remember? Was that illegal? Should I have called the police? Maybe, but I didn't because family takes care of family. So, if there's a family dispute, we have the right to fix it without the police. That's the way it is. But, even though it's not illegal, we still have to keep it a secret. Okay? Just remember: it's not illegal, it's just not accepted. Big difference, kiddo, big difference.”
Calvin stared down at the coffee table, struggling to digest the information. Illegal or unaccepted – he couldn't tell the difference. As far as he knew, his parents were playing by a different set of rules.
In a soft tone, Logan said, “We're going to take care of your sister, Calvin. I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to her. We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't love her – if we didn't love this family. She needs to learn a few lessons so she can grow up. Don't you want her to be like your mother? You want her to be nice, caring, and grateful, don't you?”
Calvin pouted, then he nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Attaboy. Listen, since you've been so cooperative, I think we can tell you this now: your mother and I have been thinking about buying you that new game system you wanted. That should clear your head, right?”
Calvin wasn't exactly familiar with the idea of bribery – at least, he didn't know when he was being manipulated. His mind was still innocent, his lifestyle was still simple. So, when his father offered him a game system, his eyes glowed like the moon at night. He still trusted his parents, they never hurt him, so he believed his sister was in good hands.
Logan was not absolutely certain, though. So, he decided to offer Calvin a position by his side. Doing so, he would win his trust while incriminating his own son.
Logan said, “I could sure use a deputy on this project, kiddo. What do you say? Wanna give me a hand?”
“With what?” Calvin asked, curious.
“Like I said, we're doing this to help your sister. I don't want to punish her if she didn't do anything wrong, right?”
Calvin nodded – right.
Logan continued, “So, I want you to go to your sister's room and find anything she shouldn't have. You know the house rules, so you know what's wrong and what's right. For example, I've been smelling smoke in the house. It could have been her boyfriend, but it might be her. Find out. Go up there and check everywhere. Help us so we can help your sister. Okay?”
Calvin glanced at the ceiling and slowly nodded. His sister did not allow him into her room, demanding respect for her privacy from everyone in the house. He finally had the opportunity to explore – and he wasn't going to miss his chance.
He said, “Okay.”
Logan stood from his seat and said, “Great. Your mother and I are going to talk to your sister. We're going to close the door this time, but don't worry about a thing. You just find everything in her room and bring it down to the living room in an hour.” As he walked to the basement door, Logan shouted, “Have fun!”
Jane caressed her son's cheek and said, “Remember: check everywhere. We'll see you in a bit, my little hero.”
She kissed his forehead, then she followed her husband's lead.
Chapter Seven
Adolescent Deviance
Calvin stood in the doorway and stared into his sister's bedroom. He inhaled deeply, then he took his first step into the room. The floorboard groaned, echoing through the eerily silent home. The youngster stopped and glanced back. He knew his sister was tied in the basement, but he still expected her to run to her room and attack him.
The home, however, remained quiet and calm.
He took another deep breath, then he strolled into the room. He couldn't help but smile as he reached the center of the bedroom. He felt as if he were entering a different world, traveling into a new dimension. It had been years since he last entered the room to spend time with his sister. Times changed, though, and his sister became increasingly aggressive as she entered her teenage years.
As he glanced around the room, Calvin murmured, “Where do I start?”<
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Directly ahead, there was a twin-sized bed with blue bed sheets; a nightstand was situated beside the bed. To his left, there was a dresser with a large mirror. Makeup, lotions, perfumes, and other knick-knacks cluttered the top of the dresser. To the right, there was a black desk with a computer on top. The room was fairly basic. However, due to Ashley's strong personality, her parents never entered her room to search.
Calvin knelt down in front of the bed, then he tossed the dangling covers onto the mattress. He searched the dark space for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes widened upon spotting a small blue box of condoms. The box was wedged into the corner, hidden in the shadows cast by the neighboring nightstand – the perfect place. He pulled the box out, then he placed it on the bed. He examined the marketing on the box.
“Lubricated? Flavored?” Calvin said in a dubious tone. “They must be her boyfriend's.”
He learned about condoms in his sex education class in seventh grade. The pieces were easy to connect – hidden condoms, boyfriend, and a girl equaled sex. However, he was not told about lubricated or flavored condoms. He could only wonder what they tasted like. Gum, he thought, fruity gum. He didn't bother to chew on one, though. Instead, he placed the box on the dresser.
Calvin opened the top-left drawer of the dresser. He found a set of neatly organized socks in the drawer. He moved the socks aside, but his search was fruitless. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the drawer. He opened the top-right drawer. To his surprise, he found himself staring at his sister's underwear.
In that moment, time seemed to stop. The whooshing wind outside, the coughing engines, and the yelling kids vanished – silence reigned supreme.
The youngster was stunned by his sister's underwear. It was difficult to admit, but he was aroused by the undergarments. Specifically, he kept his eyes locked on Ashley's pink lace thong. With stiff shoulders, barely breathing, he glanced at the doorway – the coast was clear. His hands trembled as he reluctantly grabbed the thong from the drawer.
He held the underwear with his fingertips, pinching the thong between his thumb and index fingers. The underwear dangled in front of his face – like a fish dangling from a hook on a fishing rod. He treated the panties like the catch of the day, too. Again, he glanced at the door – no one in sight.