Blame It on the Shame- Part 3

by Ashley Jade

  Why do I feel like utter roadkill today? Is it even daytime right now?

  I feel my entire body freeze with my next thought—Why don't I remember coming home last night?

  Panic grips me so hard I almost keel over when I realize that not only do I not remember coming home...I don't remember my night out.

  I swallow back the boulder forming in my throat as I think back to what I do remember.

  I remember arriving at the bar with Atticus and heading straight for the dance floor. And I also remember dancing to a few songs and laughing and having fun...but that's where my night cuts off...like a story that's not finished because the words aren't written.

  No longer caring about the little drummer troll in my head, I open my eyes again and glance at the clock.

  A clock that isn't blinking. My blinking clock is the last thing I fall asleep to and the first thing I wake up to in the morning.

  My eyes swivel around the room and it becomes abundantly clear that I'm not where I should be at all. I've never seen this room in my life, and nothing in here looks familiar.

  And that's when I notice it and my heart clenches.

  Except those. Those look very familiar.

  Question is...why in the world is there a vase full of dandelions on the nightstand?

  I rub my temples and draw my knees up to my chest, trying my hardest to put the pieces of my night together.

  I don't remember telling Atticus about dandelions or going home with him. But then again, I don't remember much of anything regarding last night.

  Dread fills my stomach when I realize it's obviously his bedroom that I'm in. I mean, it has to be, I know for a fact that I was with him last night.

  Which can only mean one thing.

  I toss the sheet that's wrapped around me on the floor and say a small prayer when I look down at my work clothes.

  He didn't touch me...Atticus is one of the good ones. Right?

  I'm not an idiot, I know I'm not...but things are so unclear and foreign right now, I can't seem to make sense of anything.

  Logically, I know I should walk out the bedroom door, but there's something terrifying about not knowing what's on the other side of it.

  And there's something even more terrifying about knowing you went home with a man but can't remember any of it.

  My clothes are still on, I remind myself. If Atticus was a bad guy, I would be naked and sore...not waking up fully clothed, in a nice bed, with a vase full of my favorite flowers beside me.

  I hug my knees to my chest and begin rocking myself in an attempt to relax and stop panicking. Hopefully, I'll be able to connect some dots when I've calmed down a little.

  Because no matter how much I try to assure myself that Atticus is good, the fact that I can't remember parts of my night speaks volumes.

  Did I drink so much that I blacked out? I know my tolerance must be low since I haven't had alcohol in what feels like forever, but I know it can't be that low. I must have been slamming down drink after drink at the bar to black out to the point that I don't remember anything.

  Why would Atticus let me do that in the first place? Why wouldn't he try and stop me?

  I guess there's only one way to find out.

  “Atticus?” I call out, my voice sounding all kinds of raspy and scratchy.

  Silence is my only answer.

  I wait a few minutes and call out his name again. When I don't get a response for the second time, I stand up on shaky legs and brace myself by holding onto the nightstand.

  My stomach rumbles and my mouth is so dry I have to bite my tongue just to produce saliva.

  That alone tells me I've been passed out for much longer than I thought.

  Well, that and the fact that I have to pee like a racehorse running through a fire.

  I sprint over to the small bathroom that's adjoined and after taking care of business, I wash my hands and face, hoping my memory comes back now that I'm up and walking around.

  I can't help but notice a dull ache coming from the right side of my stomach as I'm drying my face, and when I look down I'm horrified to find a square white dressing covering my skin.

  I rip it off it one swift move and I don't know whether to be relieved or even more alarmed when I see that it's only a small wound.

  Because I'm hurt and I can't remember why or how it happened.

  I let out a frustrated huff and throw open the bathroom door.

  And fight the urge to piss all over again.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I scream at the top of my lungs to a very shocked Marlene.

  She opens her mouth but she doesn't have a chance to get any words out because I'm pushing her out of my way and running toward the bedroom door.

  “Stop, Lou-Lou,” she yells, right on my heels. “Let me talk to you.”

  No. God...no.

  I jiggle the doorknob again but it won't budge...it's locked. I'm trapped inside this room.

  Bruno DeLuca's maid and sometimes whore has me locked in a room.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Pure fright crawls up my spine as one horrible, glaring, profound thought smashes into me faster than the speed of light.

  DeLuca's not dead.

  He's been hiding out somewhere this whole time, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

  The perfect opportunity being when I was finally on my way to maybe finding happiness with someone and starting to move on with my life.

  I knew it. God, I knew it.

  I felt his presence all around me...suffocating me, refusing to let me go.

  I felt his spirit in my fucking bones and now I'm ensnared...because he wants his payback.

  DeLuca's not dead...because monsters never truly die.

  Sweat slicks over my skin and my heart beats rapidly against my rib cage as all the air gets sucked out of the room again and again and I'm clawing at my throat because I can't breathe.

  He's alive and he wants his revenge...but how? I pulled the trigger and I watched him die with my own eyes.

  Monsters never truly die—my mind taunts again.

  Fuck me, I'm trapped in a nightmare. That's the only explanation I can come up with...and I need to wake the hell up and get out of here.

  I need to escape.

  Every cell in my body shifts into self-preservation mode when Marlene starts walking toward me.

  I quickly side-step her and walk over to a large dresser instead.

  “Lou-Lou,” she shouts but I tune her out because I'm too busy looking for a weapon of some kind.

  I don't want to kill the bitch...I just want to make her pass out so I can grab the set of keys she must have on her and leave.

  Her eyes go wide with fear when I hold up the fairly large ceramic lamp and bare my teeth.

  “I know you're scared right now, the doctor said you would be a little—”

  I launch it at her head and watch as she starts swaying and staggering before she falls on the floor.

  I fish through the pockets of her uniform for the keys and practically sing with glee when I find them.

  When the first 3 keys don't work, I sputter a curse and almost drop them. But when I hear the beautiful click of that fourth key, I run as fast as my legs can carry me.

  Problem is...I don't know where I'm going. This place is huge and I have no idea which way is out.

  The hallways are long and narrow with high archways and everything has a dark, haunting, and almost Gothic feel to it...not DeLuca's extravagant blood-red style at all. The walls are covered with either matte black paint or perhaps wallpaper, and although it's gorgeous, it makes it really hard to navigate when you don't know your way around.

  After a solid 15 minutes straight of turning down hallways leading to random rooms with no outside exit, and trying to open windows that are permanently sealed shut, I finally make my way into the large foyer.

  And that's when I notice it again...another table holding a vase full of dandelions.


  Screw the dandelions, get out, my mind screams as I run to the front door.

  I have to control the way my hands are shaking again due to the adrenaline pummeling through me as I'm trying key after key, and none of them are working.

  13 goddamn keys and none of them lead to the outside world.

  I feel my lower lip start to tremble but I won't give into my despair...until I notice the keypad to the right of the front door.

  Dammit...I don't know the code. And there's no way I'm trying random numbers so the alarm will sound and trigger my keeper to snatch me himself.

  Think, Lou-Lou...think.

  There was a large kitchen I passed on my journey...and kitchens have knives. Knives are better weapons than lamps...although those are effective too.

  I dash back to the kitchen and root around the kitchen drawers until I find what I'm looking for— a big, sharp, butcher knife that will force that bitch to either give me the code or let me out herself.

  I want out of this fucking nightmare and I want out now.

  A smile tugs at my lips...until I hear it.

  The muffled, but very distinct sounds of someone yelling...no screaming.

  I feel myself stiffen as I look down and realize. It's coming from underneath my feet.

  The screaming grows louder...and then there's nothing.

  I lower myself to the floor and press my ear against the cold tile. As if on cue, the screaming starts up again...only this time it's followed by something that makes my heart drop.

  The sounds and wails of someone begging...no pleading for their life.

  Nerves scrape down my spine because I've never heard another person plead so hard for something before.

  Except for me.

  Monsters never die...your monster will never die, Lucianna.

  I stuff down the little girl crying in a bathtub and make sure she's hidden behind me... because I'm not that little girl anymore.

  DeLuca saved me and in return, I killed him. He's dead.

  And that alone gives me the strength I need to do this.

  I get up off the floor and grip the knife in my hand. I make a sharp left turn, walk out of the kitchen, and continue to follow the screams coming from what I can only assume is the basement of the house.

  I know this first floor pretty well now...but there's still one hallway I haven't been down yet.

  The pitch black hallway that I can't see the end of. I figured there couldn't possibly be an exit down here, so I didn't bother.

  But now I know that's the one leading to the basement where the screams of people pleading for their life are coming from.

  I know that's where I'll end this nightmare for once and for all.

  My hands are sweating and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and the unsteady sounds of my feet on the cold granite floor as I pad down the never ending black tunnel.

  I can also hear the screams of the victims increasing in both duration...and frequency.

  There's definitely more than one now.

  And these people definitely sound like they are being tortured to death.

  I fight back the shiver that knowledge causes me and continue until I'm standing in front of a door. I pluck the set of keys from my left hand and try the key marked with a black x. All of the keys look the same except for this one, obviously Marlene knows what must go on down here.

  The click of the lock as I turn the key is the equivalent to a pin dropping.

  I feel around for the banister to the staircase because somehow, it's even darker down here.

  And colder...freezing even. Like I can physically feel all the souls that must have been taken by this monster.

  Think, Lou-Lou...think.

  DeLuca's dead...I killed my monster...this can't be him.

  Monsters never die...your monster will never die, Lucianna.

  I squeeze my temples and stuff that little girl back in the bathtub...I'm strong...I'm not that little girl anymore.

  Nothing scares me now. I've lived in the dark for so long, it's my home.

  Because girls like me can't survive in the light.

  We wither away when the light hits us and exposes our scars to the world.

  Girls like me live in the dirty...we bask in the filth...and we dance with the devils in the shadows.

  I survive in the dark...I can do this.

  I walk down the staircase and clutch the knife that's still in my hand. The screams are so ear piercing, it causes my head to throb even more.

  I navigate my way around, the blood curdling screaming becoming louder with every step I take.

  The basement is dim enough that I can make out several large columns and pillars that separate and divide the basement into different sections.

  I dip behind a column and gather my bearings...I'm only a heartbeat away. One more step and I'll be there.

  “I have a family. I have a wife,” some man's voice that I don't recognize pleads. “I didn't know he was working for you both, please do—”

  The man's own inaudible sobs cut him off and I soon hear the sounds of deep grunting and heavy fists pounding into flesh.

  And then it stops. And there's nothing but silence.

  Until there's one long, last guttural scream.

  I hold the knife out in front of me and tell my legs to start moving...but when I look down...I have to bite back a scream of my own.

  Blood...

  A trail of blood is oozing from underneath the pillar, it's so thick and sticky around my feet that for a moment, I'm scared I'll be permanently stuck to the floor. Jesus, it must be coming out in rivers behind that column.

  I turn my head to the right and the tiny hairs on my arm stand up and I throw my hand over my mouth and fight the urge to puke.

  Because the blood doesn't even compare to what I see over in the next column.

  Piles of bodies. Or rather, corpses.

  Because they're all definitely dead.

  Dead and so...disfigured and deformed. They're missing so many limbs and other various body parts...including what I can only assume must be organs—given the way their insides were gutted and ripped apart—that I can't even take a guess at how many whole men there were to start with down here.

  I swallow down bile as my ears tune into what must be the man's last sound.

  A gurgling sound...no doubt due to the poor guy choking on his own blood as life leaves him.

  Brutal isn't even the word for this massacre.

  The knife nearly slips out of my sweaty palms then but I tighten my fist around it and charge forward.

  Into a very dim and very empty room.

  Actually, that's not entirely right.

  Because chained up to the wall beside a table full of blood-stained tools, is a nearly illuminated headless man whose entrails are wrapped around what used to be his neck. Some toes, teeth, fingers, and even a nose litter the ground around him.

  No wonder he was so frightened...not only did this happen to him..he watched or at the very least, heard this beast do the same thing to all those other men first.

  My heart jumps to my throat when I hear the sound of some secret door behind the column opening.

  My feet finally get the signal now and I make to run like a bat out of hell.

  But I can't.

  Because I'm too hypnotized watching the large shadow round the corner, the thick smoke from their cigarette wafting through the air, making it near impossible for their face to come into focus.

  And then I hear it and the entire world stops. “We'll dispose of the bodies by tonight, Mr.DeLuca.”

  The room spins, my stomach heaves, and I back into the column wall behind me.

  Because a pair of dark, penetrating eyes are piercing right through my soul.

  The sound of my knife hitting the floor is so deafening, it practically echoes as I drink him in.

  It should probably be the flecks of blood marring his perfectly chiseled face and the blood that's literally dripping from his hands that I take
in first.

  But it's the cigarette dangling from his sensual lips, the sexy tic of his rugged jaw as he eyes me up and down with a heated stare...and the fact that he looks better in a designer suit than any man on earth has a right to that sends my body into a tailspin.

  “Mr.DeLuca,” a shrill voice shrieks in the distance and Ricardo tears his eyes from me and pins them to a disheveled and wobbly Marlene.

  Guess I forgot to lock the door behind me.

  “I'm so sorry,” Marlene croaks, sounding out of breath. She points at me and snarls, “But she—“

  I fold my arms across my chest and glare at her. “Me? You—“

  “Were supposed to be watching her!” Ricardo growls so loud I swear the pillars around us all vibrate. In two short strides, his arm is right over her throat, effectively pinning her to the pillar.

  “She hit me over the head with a lamp,” Marlene sobs, and I honestly feel bad because of how scared she sounds. “Please don't kill me.”

  “You had one job,” Ricardo says while reaching for something in his waistband.

  Holy shit. He's gonna kill her.

  “No,” I shout, attempting to put myself between them. “Don't.”

  “I swear, I'll do better,” Marlene whispers as he removes his arm and steps back. “I won't screw up again.”

  He stomps on his cigarette and flicks his hand at her dismissively. “Go. Take her upstairs to her bedroom...now.”

  Marlene yanks on my arm like I'm a rag doll, and although she's got a solid 30lbs and a good 7 inches on me, I plant my feet on the ground and hug the pillar with my free arm.

  I have no idea why Ricardo is doing this to me, but if he thinks he's going to hold me hostage without so much as an explanation, he's got another thing coming.

  “Ricardo.”

  I hate the way my voice betrays me and says his name—like my body knows he's my lifeline.

  He ignores me and looks at the men around him, some of them I recognize as Bruno's men...but none of them are Emilio, which is a little unsettling, but I can't focus on that right now.

  “Clean this shit up,” he orders as he brushes past them, heading for that secret door in the back.

  Marlene's still yanking on my arm but I let go of the pillar and dig my nails into her hand and try again. “DeLuca.”