“FUCK! FUCK! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
He rocked back and forth on his haunches, like a small child in a doctor’s office awaiting his first shots. The boiler continued pinging. Darrow rose from the bed like he was shot out of a cannon and grabbed one of Porter’s mops leaning against the south wall. He struck the side of the boiler repeatedly with the mop handle, producing a series of clangs that echoed off the boiler room walls and made the fillings in his molars vibrate, simulating the unpleasant sensation of biting on tin foil. Darrow screamed in rage with each swing.
“FUCK!” CLANG.
“FUCK!” CLANG.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The mop handle shattered, spraying splinters of wood in all directions before Darrow collapsed on the floor, curling himself into the fetal position and sobbing uncontrollably. He whimpered pitifully. An inundation of memories flooded his mind blending past and present.
“No mommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me any more. Please Gretchen please.”
Darrow used his mother’s first name like he did sometimes when he wished to grab her attention, hoping that it would jar her from the confines of her blinding rage. This time it had no effect. She grabbed him by the hair, dragging him along the cellar floor.
“You don’t want to eat your vegetables, fine. Then you get the hanger again.”
“No mommy, I’ll eat. I’ll eat!”
Darrow kicked and screamed as his mother drug him along the dusty floor. His tiny sneakers kicked up clouds of dust as he struggled to get a foothold. His mother continued undaunted, mercilessly pulling him over to the radiator and slamming his head against the iron pipes. Darrow’s skull exploded with blinding white light, disrupting his vision. The cold steel of the handcuffs cut into his wrist, his mother tightening them until he could no longer feel the pulse in his fingers. She clamped the other end to the radiator. The steel banged against the iron creating a metallic sound that pierced Darrow’s ears.
“Please, mommy don’t. Please, no.”
She made her way over to the tin cabinet that held a variety of cleaning products, methodically scanning the shelves until she found what she was looking for, a bottle of Borax bleach she used rarely for cleaning. She unscrewed the cap and walked slowly back over to her son. Darrow thrashed against the radiator; mustering all the strength he could in his five-year-old arms he pulled against the handcuffs trying desperately to free himself. His wrist began to bleed. The crimson blood trickled down his arm, staining his shirt on the sleeve and just below the armpit. Gretchen flew into a rage, spittle flying from her lips as she hissed at her son.
“You ungrateful little puke! Do you have any idea how hard I have to work to buy those clothes?”
Darrow curled into a ball, shielding himself from his mother, hoping that her rage would subside and that she would leave him alone.
“No you don’t do you? Everything is just handed to you on a silver platter isn’t it Jacky boy?”
“Mommy please.”
His pleas were getting more conciliatory now, resigning himself to his inevitable fate. Gretchen pulled the rusted clothes hanger out from behind the radiator where she kept it stashed. It had been unfolded, forming a long metal rod, one end brandishing a dirty cotton ball wrapped around the prong. She placed the Borax on the floor and dipped the hanger into it, dunking it up and down several times, making sure the cotton ball was soaked with bleach. When she spoke her voice was calm and cold.
“Look at me.”
Darrow tucked his head against his side peering at the floor, praying that his mother would let him be.
“Jacky look at me.”
Her voice was firmer this time. Darrow rocked back and forth staring at the ground and humming to himself like he did when he was nervous. Gretchen’s patience dissipated like smoke in a stiff breeze.
“LOOK AT ME YOU LITTLE FUCK!”
She grabbed his hair and jerked his head up with a savage yank. Darrow tried to fight her off with his free hand but she was too strong. She pried his eyelids open one at a time jabbing the Borax soaked cotton ball into his eyes. The bleach burned his retinas and the metal wire scratched his eyeballs, causing Darrow to cry out in excruciating pain.
Darrow smacked his head against one of the cinder block bedposts jarring him back to realty. He was drenched in sweat. His clothes clung to him like a second skin. It took him a second to get his bearings before the familiarity of the boiler room came back to him. He wiped his face and sat upright. His jeans clung to the cold cement floor making him shiver, reminding him of the cold water he dumped on Abby earlier this morning. Oh my sweet Abby, how could I be so cruel? The tears welled in his eyes blurring his vision. She was a saint, and he had treated her like vile trash, like a blight on his existence.
Darrow rose from the floor, wiping his tears away. His God damn bitch of a mother wasn’t going to control him anymore. It was an oath he had sworn to himself countless times before. The boiler clanged again, threatening to take him back to the cellar in which he had spent most of his youth. He would not listen, not this time. Darrow forced himself to ignore the clanging in his head and exited the room. He was going to check on Abby, to make sure she was comfortable. He made his way through the darkened corridor, moving swiftly. It was familiar to him now and he navigated the twists and turns effortlessly. He reached the elevator and pulled the handle, jarring it to life.
When it reached the top he stepped out into the main foyer, blinking in the light streaming from the track lighting high above. The floorboards creaked underfoot as he walked to the grand staircase. His hand followed the banister while he ascended the steps. At the top of the stairs he made the sharp left leading to Abby’s room. The hallway was pitch black. This was odd; he always left the light on for Abby, helping to alleviate her fear of the dark. He searched the wall looking for the light switch and found it in the on position.
“What the hell?”
He flipped the switch down and then quickly back up again. The hallway lights blared to life making him squint as his pupils dilated. Electrical problems already. That lying Jackson had told him that the wiring in the entire house had been replaced a year ago. Now he had something else to concern himself with. He entered Abby’s room quietly, not sure if she was asleep, and not wanting to rouse her if she was. Despite the light from the hallway, Abby’s room was dark, making it difficult for Darrow to see Abby’s face. He bent over her, straining his eyes in the darkness. She was sleeping soundly. Darrow watched her chest rise and fall in tune to the steady rhythm of her breathing. He planted a kiss gently on her forehead.
“I love you Abby baby.”
He whispered the words, not wanting to wake her. Darrow shivered, the room was cold. He pulled the covers up and tucked them underneath her chin. He watched her sleep for a few more minutes before turning and leaving the room.
She watched Darrow leave, crouching quietly in the corner of the room concealed by the shadows. The light from the hallway burned through her, making it difficult to think. She focused her concentration and withdrew the energy from the room, snuffing the hallway lights out like a candle. She was not sure if Darrow could see her or not, but she didn’t want to take that chance, content for the moment to sit idle. The acrid stench of whisky hung in the air even after his departure. His thoughts were bad ones. He planned to hurt someone soon. She had to warn Abby, that much she knew. There were bad things happening at Talcott Manor, bad bad things, and Darrow was the cause. He had awakened it from its slumber and she was scared. She made her way over to Abby’s bed with jerky steps, sloshing as she went.
In the boiler room Jack Darrow stripped off his clothes, leaving himself naked save for his boxer shorts. He shivered in the chilly air. Why the fuck was it so cold? The thermostat upstairs had indicated that it was sixty-eight degrees but it felt like twenty. He could see his breath for Christ’s sake. It swirled about him, clouding his vision and making him angry. He cursed Randall qui
etly to himself once again. The God damn wiring was shot and the heating system couldn’t make a slut hot at an orgy. He could replace the wiring himself but it would take both time and money. The heating system was a bigger problem; he would have to call somebody for that. It was much more time and effort than he had anticipated. Darrow sighed to himself, the joys of owning a new home never ceased.
Darrow.
The fucking voice inside his head was talking again.
“Leave me alone you son of a bitch!”
Darrow yelled into the darkness, making him feel foolish. Good God, He was screaming at a voice inside his head.
Just one step away from the nuthouse Jack.
He paused for a second, waiting for the voice to return. It didn’t. Darrow shook his head, the flashbacks were getting bad. At first they were just nuisances, repressed memories that would surface in his nightmares, and then they were gone with the light of day. But lately those nightmares had turned into daymares, (if there was such a thing he thought to himself) terrifying his every waking moment. They would show up out of nowhere unannounced and unwanted. The fucking bitch of a mother wouldn’t leave him alone even in death, haunting him mercilessly. What terrified him the most however, were the blackouts, the loss of consciousness that left him dazed and confused unable to remember anything at all. Usually he awoke in the same place he blacked out. Other times however he would awake outside, or in another room. One night he had awoken to find himself standing over Abby while she slept. The incident had left him shaken for weeks. Although he couldn’t remember what he had been doing or thinking, he had a horrific feeling that his intentions towards his wife were not good.
The jolts back to reality were often more horrifying than the blackouts themselves, like being sucked through a black hole towards a bright piercing light. Now the voice had started speaking to him. At first it was pleasant, like a welcome companion offering advice and comfort. But lately it had begun to nag. If there was one thing Darrow despised above all else it was constant nagging. His mother, Abby, and now the voice chatting and bitching at him incessantly, each word cut like a knife tearing his flesh from his bones.
Darrow!
This time the voice was angry. It erupted in a hiss and sounded guttural at the same time. Shrill and forceful, it exploded in Darrow’s head like air escaping from a tire gauge. His hands shook. Darrow calmly sat down on the edge of his bed and taking a deep gulp of air forced his voice to remain calm.
“Who are you? And what do you want from me?”
We have work to do Jack, you and I.
Darrow was alerted to the fact that the temperature in the room had gotten even colder. He shivered in the surrounding cold and shook from the terror welling inside of him.
“Show yourself.”
In good time.
The presence moved towards him. It stopped at the foot of the bed. Darrow couldn’t see it but he knew it was there. He could feel its aura, it was cold and dark almost like an absence of matter, a vacuum that existed in between worlds. It wanted to be felt, to let him know it was there. Darrow had no doubt that if it had wanted to it could have moved by undetected, but for reasons still unknown it has chosen to reveal itself to him.
Listen to me Jack.
Darrow waited with baited breath.
Upstairs Abby awoke, afraid to move a muscle. It was back; she could feel its presence. Moving her eyes back and forth she scanned the room looking for the vile presence. She would not be afraid she told herself as her heart beat like a jackhammer against her chest. She found the headboard once again and strained to bring herself upright. Her eyes were incapable of piercing the darkness, it was too heavy. Jack had neglected to turn the hallway lights on again like she asked. She drew ragged breaths, struggling to normalize her breathing. Afraid that the sound of her respiration would draw unwanted attention her way.
“CAW!”
The sound shattered the silence making Abby’s heart feel as though it had exploded in her chest. It had come from the outside, reverberating through the plate glass window and filling the room. Abby swung her head around, her eyes wide with terror. A large raven sat on the windowsill, peering at her with eyes of crimson glowing bright in the light of the moon. The bird sent shivers down her spine. The raven had long been considered to be a bird of ill omen. Abby doubted that its appearance on her windowsill tonight was a sign of good tidings. What was the most troubling was the single thought that echoed through Abby’s head. Why had it crossed the boundary?
ELEVEN
August 27, 1998
Ellie applied another layer of sunscreen. She was getting double exposure she knew, the sun’s rays pounded down from above and reflected off the water, cooking her from all sides. She was not going to make the mistake of burning once again, but she relished the opportunity to catch a few more rays before the summer sun faded into the fall. Her feet dangled off the side of the dock and were submerged in the refreshing water. She wore a one-piece floral bathing suit with a sarong wrapped around her waist, still self-conscious about the size of her backside. Laura was less inhibited, relishing the opportunity to show off her body. Her black two-piece bikini was so skimpy that Ellie thought the bottoms looked like she was wearing nothing more than a peanut shell and a rubber band.
Chubs bounded along the lakeshore, barking and frolicking as he awaited Randall to throw the stick. It had been just over three weeks since Ellie had returned to Saltar’s Point and already her life had taken a drastic turn for the better. Since Randall had reentered her life her problems seemed to melt away or at least diminish. She had spent every second she could with him, learning about his life the past twenty years and relishing the moments to come. He was great with Aiden. He took him fishing and read him bedtime stories, always tucking him in and kissing him goodnight. He had filled a void in Aiden’s life, a void that had been present ever since Michael decided to leave them. Ellie was cautious in her optimism, not wanting to pressure Randall but hoping that he harbored long-term ideas for the three of them.
She watched as Randall cast the stick as far out into the water as he could. Chubs followed plummeting into the water, creating a small tidal wave that crashed all around Aiden who giggled and hollered with laughter.
“Go get it boy!” Aiden said, clapping his hands enthusiastically.
Chubs swam out into the water and grabbed the stick in his mouth, dog paddling back and leaving a ripple behind him. When he got to the bank he took off in the surrounding grass, weaving and darting between Randall and Aiden trying without success to coral him.
“He’s too fast!” Aiden shouted. “He’s the fastest dog in the whole world!”
“He sure is champ. Let’s see if we can outsmart him.”
Randall chased Chubs around the bank of the lake, trying to get him to run towards Aiden. At last he got the lab to change directions and head right for Aiden who stood ready his arms open and his legs braced like a linebacker about to make a tackle. Chubs plowed right into him knocking him over causing his legs to fly up into the air as he landed flat on his back. Ellie jumped to her feet expecting to hear Aiden wail in pain, instead he giggled with laughter.
“Relax Ellie. Boys will be boys.” Laura said as she rubbed sunscreen on her thighs.
Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. She had never seen Aiden so happy, but Chubs was getting bigger everyday and she was scared that their roughhousing was getting a little too intense. Laura noticed her concern and tried to alleviate her fears.
“He’s fine Ellie. Now do my back please.”
She extended the bottle of Coppertone to Ellie who took it while still eyeing Aiden. He had gotten back to his feet and grabbed the stick hurling it as far as he could into the lake. It went about four feet before splashing down; Chubs was already in the water retrieving it once again.
“You know I wonder if I’ll ever stop worrying about him.” She worked the Coppertone into Laura’s back.
“Of course you won’t, that’s a mother
’s job, but right now you need to relax. Have another Corona.”
Laura handed her a bottle out of the cooler. It was cold to the touch, perspiring in the late August sun. She popped the top with the bottle opener that hung suspended from the cooler, attached to the string Laura had tied around it. She took a swig, the beer was refreshing on her parched throat. Ellie wasn’t sure how much more beer she should drink, it was mixing with the Vicodin and the Zoloft making her loopy but filling her with a sense of euphoria at the same time.
“Girl, have I taught you nothing over these past few weeks?” Laura handed her a slice of lime from the bowl at her side. Ellie smiled.
“Mexican piss in a bottle right?”
“Without lime it might as well be.”
They laughed in unison, enjoying their private joke.
“It’s too bad Denny can’t be here.” Ellie said, working the Coppertone in around Laura’s lower back. The sun glared off the sheen of the lotion making Ellie squint.
“Yeah, well somebody’s got to protect this town while we’re out playing.”
Ellie was surprised at how quick she and Laura had bonded, never thinking they would have gotten along despite their glaring differences in personality. But since coming to Saltar’s Point she realized that their differences might not be as big as she would have thought. Although Laura liked to party quite a bit and was about ten years younger than her, they seemed to value the same things in life, both wanting families and to spend their golden years with the men they loved. Ellie was surprised at how good her and Denny’s marriage was. All the kids she knew who had gotten married in the big city were already divorced or had their marriage on the rocks, but Denny and Laura seemed to communicate with maturity well beyond their years. She hoped that she and Randall would be able to experience the same love and devotion that Laura and Denny had for each other.
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