Presley snaps her eyes open and focuses on my eyes. The tears start to pour from her eyes and the sobs are breaking free. “Shhhh…it’s going to be okay. I’ll get you out of here. Where are the keys to the handcuffs? Where are they?”
“Where is he? He’ll hurt you, too. You have to leave.” Panic-stricken and scared, she speaks over her sobs.
“He’s downstairs. That’s why we have to hurry. Where are the keys?” My voice is commanding, but quiet.
“Over there…on the hook. Next to the door,” she whispers.
I yank the small metal key from the hook and un-cuff her feet. She moves them up and down as I make my way to her wrists. I place the metal in the hole and free her hands. Presley struggles, but makes it to a sitting position. It’s only been a few moments, but I fear Robert will be up here soon. Then, we’re both screwed.
“Come on, Presley, you have to stand. We need to jump out the window.” I unzip my hoodie and wrap it around her body. “Here, put this on and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Walking to the old window, I unhook the latch and slide the old pane up. The screeching noise is loud and sends chills down my spine as the cold wind brushes against my bare arms. Then, I hear the booted feet trudging up the stairs.
Robert.
I push Presley out onto the roof of the front porch. “Go get help, Presley! Now!” She slides down the roof and lands in a mound of snow on the ground. “Run, Presley!”
She gets to her feet just as electricity shocks my body and I collapse to the floor. Shaking and shivering, my eyes close. Darkness attacks.
Reggie
I can’t wipe the huge grin from my face. Darcie and I are finally on the same page and now we are together. The time we’ve spent over the last couple of weeks has been the best time of my life. I am certain, without any doubt, she was meant to be in my life. We belong to each other. I spent too much of my time consumed with what everyone else thinks of my feelings for Darcie, but the truth is, it was always supposed to be this way. I didn’t start having feelings of real love for her until recently, but our bond was sealed the day I looked into those captivating green eyes.
Of course, by society standards, it’s wrong for us to be together. I’m almost ten years older than Darcie, she’s still considered underage, yet more mature than any seventeen-year-old I’ve met, and I’ve been taking care of her since she was fourteen. Fuck ‘em! Those bastards don’t live our lives. They have no idea how hard it’s been for me raise four teenagers or how hard it was for Darcie to grow up in the pits of Hell. Our life has been the opposite of normal and I wouldn’t trade a single moment we’ve spent together.
I quickly finish my shower, dress and make my way across the hall into Darcie’s room. When I push open the door, I notice her clothes thrown on the floor and it smells like vomit. “Darcie? Are you okay?” When I reach her bathroom, it’s vacant. The alarm is going off in my head, but I shut it down. No need to panic until I’ve checked the rest of the house.
When I round the corner to the kitchen, it’s the same as the bathroom, empty. I run my hand through my hair and think of where she could be. Pulling back the blinds covering the backdoor window, I see the garage door is open and the Challenger is gone.
I move back down the hall to my room and snag my phone from the dresser. I locate Jake’s phone number and press call.
“Yeah!” Jake answers.
“Jake! Have you seen Darcie?” I snap, heading back toward the living room where I spot her winter coat slung over my Lazyboy. Now is a perfect time to panic, Darcie hates winter and never goes outside without wearing layers of clothing, heavy coat included.
“Nah, man. I haven’t seen her since you all were dry humping in the living room. Why?”
“Because she’s miss—” The backdoor slams against the wall as a half-naked girl flies through it. “Holy shit! Jake, get here, NOW!”
I toss the phone to the couch and run to aid a bleeding Presley in my kitchen. As she collapses to the floor, I can see she’s badly hurt. There are lacerations all over her legs, her hair has been hacked off and purple bruises are across her cheek. She smells of urine and cigars.
My stomach drops.
I fall to the floor and grab Presley by the shoulders. “Presley, what happened?”
Tears and snot are running down her face as she tries to speak. “My uncle…he…he’s got her. He’s got Dar…cie!”
“Who’s your uncle, Presley?” I yell, begging her to hold it together long enough to confirm my biggest fear. “Tell me!”
“It’s Robert…Stein. You have to save her…he’s gonna kill her.”
I let go of her arms and fly down the hallway. I quickly put on my boots, throw a shirt over my head and run back into the kitchen. “Stay here. The boys will be home soon. I need to get Darcie.”
“Let me tell you where she’s at!” Presley yells as I make my way down the back steps.
“I already know!”
The air is brisk against my face as I run toward the house on Washington Street. Déjà vu all over again when I remember it was blistering cold that night, three years ago. Although I know what I’m walking into this time, Robert will be expecting me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I make my way up the driveway, onto the porch and through the backdoor.
The smell is the same, mold and urine, mixed with cigar smoke. My adrenaline is pumping rapidly through my veins as I inch my way further into the house. Keeping my guard up, I round the corner and begin to ascend the stairs. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, I take the stairs, fist drawn, ready to plow into his face.
Darcie’s whimpers at stifled pain and the sound of leather cracking skin come pouring out of the room. With every crack, agony follows. Enraged, I fly down the hall and push open the door, completely unprepared for what I see.
My eyes instantly are drawn to Darcie. She’s stripped to her underwear, suspended from the ceiling by her wrists, her feet barely touching the floor. She’s blindfolded and bleeding from a large gash on her stomach. Raised welts and red marks plague her body as Robert whips her again with a leather belt.
“Wait right there, big man.” Robert turns, showing a revolver in his hand, pointing it at my chest. His white, button down shirt is undone and the fly of his pants are unzipped. By his bulge, I can see he’s ready for her. Sick fucking pervert. I can see the purple bruise covering his eye and a smile creeps slightly on my face. Thatta girl, angel. She put up a fight.
I stop in my tracks and glance over to Darcie. She’s gone, drowning within herself. I put my hands in front of me to show peace, but they are trembling with rage. My eyes see red, but I have to keep myself under control. I will be no use to her if he shoots me dead.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Reggie. I thought a long time about what I could do to make you experience the pain and frustration you’ve given me over the last three years, then it comes to me. Before I kill you, you can watch me take her virginity. I’ll get a great joy, knowing you’ll have to watch me take it from her. I know this is the only way I can truly make you suffer just as I have. This time, though, I think she needs to see what her body does to me.”His snide smirk intact, Robert pulls down her blindfold. Her eyes are lost.
“Robert…I’m going to kill you. I don’t care what happens to me or what you think you might do to me. Once I get my hands on you, you’re dead. That I can promise.” My voice is low and seething with anger.
“Ha! If you can even get your hands on me. The second you make a move, I will put a bullet between your eyes, and then your heroism will all be for nothing.”
“That’s the only way you’re going to stop me. I’m going to kill you.” I adjust my weight on my front foot and Robert’s eyes widen. He pulls the belt back and cracks it across Darcie’s pink skin. Whipping her lacerated stomach.
“Move again and I’ll unload all six shots into you!” Robert shouts back as saliva sprays from his mouth.
Darcie’s green eyes connec
t with mine. They’re alive and fuming with rage. She is fucking faking. My girl is a damn genius. Darcie rolls back her shoulders, balls her fists above her head, and the trance disappears from her face. Her eyes are murderous. “Hey, asshole.” Robert snaps his head to her. Then suddenly, she brings her foot up and rams it into his side, knocking the wind out of him. He buckles forward, grasping his side. Darcie grabs onto the rope binding her hands and pulls herself up to keep kicking as hard as her legs will allow. She’s wild with rage. Robert pulls the blade from his pocket and slices her calf.
She screams.
I charge.
Running at him with the force of a freight train, I tackle him to the ground. Robert scrambles to aim his gun, but I knock it from his hand and start wailing on him. Blood is flying with every punch I land on his face, chest and stomach. His reign of torture ends here. He will never be able to hurt anyone ever again because he’s going to die. I’m going to kill him.
I hammer as hard as I can, his face is beyond recognition, but it doesn’t stop me. All of the pent up rage over the last three years and the torment Darcie’s suffered is all channeled through my fists. I can’t stop. I won’t stop until he’s dead. I will kill him.
There’s a commotion behind me as hands are dragging me off Robert’s lifeless body, but I’m a rabid gorilla, swinging blow after blow into his corpse. A slap to my face snaps me back into reality as I look at Jake’s brown eyes. “Reggie! Stop! He’s dead, man. Just stop!”
My breathing is rapid as my heart collides with my chest. The floor around Robert’s body is consumed by pools of blood. I look down to my hands and they’re stained red, matching the splatters on my clothes. I sit back on my knees and rub my hands across my jeans. My muscles are twitching, still flooded with the adrenaline-induced rage.
Darcie!
I fly to my feet. She is still bound by her wrists, the nylon rope digging, burning her skin as she clings from the ceiling. “I got you, angel.” Yanking the cord from its knot, her hands drop and her body crashes into my arms before we fall to the floor.
Darcie’s palms grab my face and her lips crash into mine. The salt from her tears is drenching my cheeks as we continue to ravage each other with our mouths. I wrap my arms around her and press her body into mine.
Through our kiss, Darcie whispers, “I knew you’d come.” We kiss some more, then she whispers again, “You’re always my knight in shining armor.”
I whisper back, “Always, angel.”
Our moment is suspended in time as we kiss away the pain of what we’d just experienced. She is here in my arms and alive. This will never happen to her again.
Jeremy moves to my side and taps me on the shoulder. “We need to go, Reg.” His eyes move to Robert Stein’s motionless heap piled in the center of the room. The smell of gas penetrates my nose and then I see the gas can in Jake’s hand.
“Come on, Darcie.” I give her my shirt to cover her body with then stand with her still in my arms as we all head down the stairs and out the back door. The below zero temperature sends chills down my spine instantly and then reality of the situation hits me like a thousand pound boulder. I just killed Robert Stein. How will I get out of this one? I selfishly feel remorse for a moment until I look at Darcie’s body shrouded with wounds and I’m glad I did it. I wouldn’t change a single second of it. I’m glad he’s dead.
Jake pulls a book of matches from his pocket and asks, “Who wants to do the honors of torching this joint?”
“I do,” Darcie says as she climbs out of my arms. The look of pain and finality burns from her eyes as she flips the cardboard cover back and strikes the match, running the flame along the un-struck matches, lighting the entire book. She walks toward the gasoline soaked porch and tosses the lighted book of matches; the house is instantly engulfed in flames. The scorching heat radiates from the house as the structure is consumed by fire in a matter of moments. We stand momentary and watch Darcie’s past turn to ash as the flames move to the top of the house exploding out of the roof.
“Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here,” I say as we slink into the shadows behind the dilapidated garage and head into the trees. We take cover in the density of the trees, weaving in and out of the naked limbs, taking the long route home, before we finally reach our safe haven.
Chapter 31
Darcie
Reggie carries me to my bedroom and starts the shower as I undress then sit on my bed, naked. The events of the night catch up to me and I can feel the sobs breaking through. I bow my head into my hands and cry. I cry for Presley who’s now going to be scarred inside and out, just like me. I cry for Reggie, if anyone finds out what he did, he’ll be locked up, life in prison. I also cry for me because I had to experience Hell all over again, but my tears are not tears of sorrow, they’re of happiness. Because, when I was face to face with the devil himself, I was able to fight back.
Reggie rushes back into the room, kissing my head, scarred shoulder and face. “Hey, angel, it’s going to be okay.”
“I love you so much, Reggie,” I whisper onto his lips as I lightly kiss them.
“I love you, too. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He helps me into the shower and I let the warm water wash over me. Tipping my head back, I begin to cleanse myself. I wash the blood from my skin, I wash the hurt from my heart, and I wash my hands of Robert Stein once and for all. I scrub my body until it’s raw and burning with pain. I refuse to let him control my thoughts or my life from this moment on. My soul is cleansed and he’s gone, I’m now baptized in the water of self- preservation and love. From this moment on, when I look at my body, I won’t be reminded of the pain I suffered, I will be reminded of the trauma I have survived.
As I step from the shower, I find the clothes Reggie left for me, sitting on the sink. I quickly dry and dress, brush my teeth and put my sopping wet hair in a bun. I pour peroxide over the large cut on my calf and stomach then bandage them up. When I come from the bathroom, Presley is sitting on my bed. She’s staring at her hands, twisting her fingers into knots. Her once long, chestnut hair is cut short, chopped off above her ears. The strands are uneven and it looks like a toddler took scissors to her head, but it’s her bruises and cuts that ache at my heart. I don’t need to see the jagged lacerations from Robert’s razorblade that hides underneath the bandages, I know they’re there and I know how much they hurt. She has a large blue bruise on her cheek and more bruises up her small, stick legs. Presley is swimming in Drake’s Detroit Lions t-shirt and boxers, as she moves off the bed, she secures her arms around my neck.
“Thank you, Darcie. You saved my life,” she says through her tears.
“If I only had put it together sooner who your uncle was, I could have stopped this before it started and you would’ve never had to experience what he did to you. I’m sorry, Presley.”
I guide her over to my bed and we lay down underneath the blankets, facing each other. My body is tired and sore. I can hardly keep my eyes open as my eyes meet her brown irises, which are sad and filled with tears.
“How did you even know who he was?” she asks.
“He was my stepfather,” I whisper as the tears prick my eyes.
Presley’s eyes expand as wide as saucers when realization strikes. “You’re Margaret?”
“Correction…I was Margaret. Margaret Darcia Claiborne-Stein. That girl died three years ago and Darcie Claiborne was born.” I haven’t spoken my real name in a long time. I always hated him calling me Margaret and I hated even more that my mother allowed him to do it, she even hated calling me that herself.
“Oh my God, you’re my cousin. Well, kind of. Robert was my dad’s adopted brother, but he never really talked to him. When my parents died, they left me to Robert in their will, knowing he could financially take care of me. I was expecting his wife to mostly care for me, but when I got to his house it was only him living there. He was always angry, yelling and complaining, I never did anything right. Then, the first t
ime he hurt me, he kept saying, ‘You’re going to pay for that, Margaret.’ I had no idea what he was talking about or who Margaret was.” Presley rolls up the sleeve of her t-shirt and I see a matching cigar burn to the top of her left shoulder.
Sitting up, I roll up my sleeve and show her the exact same mark on my body. We both smile a sad smile and I lie back down on the bed. Presley now deserves to hear my story because we share the same nightmare, so I spill the truth.
“I was four when my mother married Robert. She met him at a gas station when she pretended to have problems filling her car with gas. He was hooked immediately, probably because my mom was beautiful. She could captivate anyone with one look, but was only interested in the men with money. Anyway, when she saw the Mercedes and she locked eyes with him, it was over for Robert; hook, line and sinker.
“He became obsessed with my mother, always spoiling her with lavish gifts, expensive trips and anything her heart desired, but he despised me. I was always in the way, taking up my mother’s attention. He hated it…hated me.”
“Ashamed of me, he kept me locked in the house on Rose Hill Terrace. I was not allowed to go anywhere or do anything. Only a few people knew I was there and, if they wanted to keep their jobs, they kept their mouth shut. The sad truth is, my mom didn’t even care what he did to me. She became so doped up on pills, she tried to act oblivious, but I knew better. The only thing she managed to do right is educate me. She was incredibly intelligent, but obviously lacked any common sense or motherly instincts.
“For almost ten years, I lived there and he would find new ways to hurt me. Toward the end, right before my mother died, he started getting sadistic. He stored his weapons in a drawer in the hall cabinet. They were strategically placed in the drawer and never out of order; varying in shapes and sizes, but all had the same end result. That’s where most of my scars came from.” I lift my shirt and show her the white marks covering my back and stomach then I take my legs from under the blanket and show her every mark from my thighs down. Presley’s eyes widen and glisten with new tears.
Scarred Love Page 21