Fade to Black (The Black Trilogy Book 1)

by MC Webb

  Being hit or slapped I healed from rather quickly for the most part. I knew to stand perfectly still, and to be attentive to every word Jean-Paul threw at me. When the Scotch took effect after an hour, I dared to nod, and say, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better from now on,” keeping my eyes averted.

  It went from the receipt order to how much I spent on laundry detergent. After being told what an overspending, stupid cow I was, I was then instructed to perform oral sex. It repulsed me. I got on my knees, as he began to unzip his trousers, I began thinking of other thoughts to keep me sane.

  Had I acted like I didn’t want to or showed any sign of displeasure I would have suffered physically. So I did as he wished. He pulled at my hair and bloodied my lips, but I stayed on my knees as he instructed.

  As I later watched Ellie sleeping, I thought I would kill the man that ever tried to force her into anything like I had been forced into. I would kill him and not blink an eye. It dawned on me for the first time ever that the sexual abuse was minor in comparison to the names I was subjected to, or the constant put-downs. I realized at that moment, touching the splits on the inside of my lips, that I was sick of feeling bad. I was in a dark place in life, for not only Ellie but for myself. I would crawl out, and then I would run like hell. I had to, or die this way.

  I began trying to find my way out. I had to be stealthy about it, or I would end up dead, and that would leave Ellie with Jean-Paul, an idea I could not stand.

  Sheldon came at least three times a year with his family. Ellie had playmates, and I had adult conversations. This did not sit well with Jean-Paul, who was becoming more aggressive each time he was home. I was a great actress, but it now seemed just my existence annoyed him.

  I had a healing broken wrist when Roger next came to visit. He stayed in my old room, now the guest room. On the night before his departure, I cooked a huge dinner. Roger had been walking the horses around with Ellie. She was growing at a rapid pace. The marks on the wall were measuring her taller than I was at seven.

  When they came in the door, Ellie was telling Roger stories she was learning in school. Roger winked at me and sat at the table as if there were nothing better in the world than listening to Ellie.

  “You know, Ellie, you might grow up to be a producer. Make your own movies! Or be an actress, because you are so pretty with those great big blue eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were kin to my friend, Ryan Knox,” and Ellie laughed at the thought.

  I laughed too, for just a second as this sunk in. I kept up with the tabloid news on Ryan when I was allowed to, as Jean-Paul disapproved of it. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to wonder about Ryan too much, because it made me so sad, and I had a little girl who depended on me.

  I was at the sink, drying a plate and lost in thought. Once the idea of what Roger was saying had firmly set in, I dropped the plate, staring at Roger in horror. I was trying to do the math in my head. I couldn’t keep up.

  “What? What is it?” he asked, frantically running to me.

  I bent over double and dry-heaved, trying to keep my dinner down. Maria helped Roger get me to the couch. Ellie was saying, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Truly scared.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I told her once I found my voice, but it was anything but okay. It was unbelievable.

  I looked at Ellie, placing my hands on either side of her face, and there he was.

  Ryan, the same eyes, the same mouth. She was Ryan in miniature female form. How had I not seen this? How would I not know? With burying my best friend, nursing my brother back to life, Papaw dying, and getting my hair ripped out every other night by my husband, and then trying to die…Matthew.

  Matthew saved me from killing myself and my baby. Matthew, always saying that there was something better, and to just hold on. Matthew.

  I laughed then, like a crazy person. I laughed till I cried. And cried and cried. The realization and irony of it was just too much.

  Maria took Ellie to bed, and I calmed down. Roger placed his hand over mine.

  “Can you tell me what it is?”

  I wanted to so bad but was afraid. I shook my head and we sat in silence, sipping wine until it was time for bed. I left him at the stairs. I lay in bed still in shock, wishing I could tell someone.

  When I was still awake at two in the morning, I made my way to my old room where Roger was staying. I knocked softly, and he answered.

  “Come in.”

  He was on the phone. I waited until he finished and set the cell aside.

  “Sorry. I operate on West Coast time.”

  I nodded and shut the door. Roger had a bottle of Johnnie Walker on the dresser, a half-full glass beside it. I walked to it, and swallowed it down.

  “I need to tell you something, but what I need to tell you could cost me my life, and maybe Ellie’s as well. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do.” I eyed him nervously, I was quivering with fear. “Distract me. Tell me some of your secrets until I can get calmed down.”

  Roger thought for a moment, and then began to tell me about his daughter’s death. We never spoke of Molly. I knew of the suicide, as did everyone else, but Roger never wished to speak of her, so I left him to whatever feelings he had about the tragedy. He told me of the planning it took to remove the man from the picture. He never mentioned a name, but I had a feeling I could narrow that list down to one. Ryan.

  When he’d finished, I could appreciate his confidence in me. I dreaded involving him in my secrets, but I was ready to tell now. I went to my old window and then onto the roof outside. Roger followed, and I began to tell him everything. From Daniel to Jean-Paul to Matthew to Ryan to Ellie. I left nothing out. I talked about the daily abuse I received, cringing at the thought of being labeled a victim. To say he was shocked at my admission would be an understatement.

  We watched the sunrise, and in the morning hours, we had a plan. It would take some work, but we were co-conspirators now. We had to get Ellie and myself out of the dangerous situation we were in.

  Now, to act on what I thought I already knew. We had to have a DNA test done to prove what I was already sure of. Nothing would be said to Ryan until the truth was confirmed. Roger knew if this got out, I and my daughter would be dead, and we would never be found. Jean-Paul promised me that all the time.

  …

  I acted as I always did, like I was an actress in my own movie. Roger said the test would take several weeks, so I waited impatiently. I was already sure of the results but needed the confirmation.

  Ellie turned eight and got a new saddle from Roger. Finally, in May, he called with one word.

  “Positive.”

  I was not at all surprised, and I grew more and more in love with Ryan through the daughter we shared. I began to look forward. If something did happen to me, then Ellie would go to Ryan, and Roger would make certain that happened.

  I began to notice Jean-Paul watching me, closer than normal. I think he became suspicious of my talking with Roger so much. He would also catch me daydreaming and slap me back to reality. One thing he despised more than anything was my smiling for no apparent reason. I caught myself counting down the hours until he would leave.

  When I was on the phone after he left for work one morning, Maria came to me looking frantic. She was twisting her hands and looking around. I touched her arm to calm her. Maria pointed to the phone, then to her ear.

  “You need me to call someone?” I asked, never knowing her to call a soul.

  Jean-Paul said all of her family was in Mexico, and could not be reached. Maria shook her head, and then pointed to the phone again, but this time she took both hands and extended pinky and thumb like a phone, and placed both hands to each of her ears.

  “Someone is listening,” I said, my stomach turning. “For how long? Since when?”

  Maria shook her head and shrugged. Dread filled me. Had we spoken of Ellie? Just the previous week, Roger and I agreed a private investigator should follow Jean-Paul when he left to drive his t
ruck. Roger felt like we needed to know his habits, and find out if he was doing anything illegal.

  Roger said he would be coming with Sheldon on July fourth. He also wanted to know Jean-Paul’s schedule. I told him he would be gone that week. We said good-bye until the fourth. As I saw the fear in Maria’s face, I wondered if we were in danger at that moment.

  “Watch Ellie. I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?”

  I didn’t wait for her to answer. I left and drove Papaw’s old truck as fast as it would go to the grocery store. I jumped out at the pay phone and pushed a half dozen quarters into it. I was in near panic when Roger picked up.

  “He’s listening to my phone conversations at home. Maria just told me.”

  I looked around me, paranoid I was being watched.

  “What?” Roger asked in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

  I took a deep breath and tried to think.

  “He likes to know what I’m thinking all the time. He doesn’t trust me with anything.” That was a fact. “He doesn’t want me going to church if he isn’t with me, because of my talking to other men, and having my own thoughts without him guiding them.” I was rambling now but couldn’t stop. I was in full-blown hysterics now. “Roger, what if he knows. Have we said Ryan’s name? Oh my God, Roger!” I was breathing hard now, thinking. What nagged at me? It wasn’t just this. There was something else that bothered me.

  And there it was. The pieces of a jagged puzzle slid into place.

  “He killed him,” I whispered, not listening to what Roger was saying. “He killed him!”

  “What? Killed who? Piper, what are you saying?”

  I placed my hand over my mouth, and tears blurred my vision.

  The scene of Matthew’s body, with no helmet in sight when I knew he always wore his helmet, because Matthew was the most responsible person I knew, and did what was expected of him.

  “Roger, a couple of years ago I found Matthew’s helmet in our garage. It was hid back behind some decorations. When I asked Jean-Paul about it, he said he found it while he was hunting and couldn’t remember where.”

  I paused, sickened by my own stupidity.

  “Roger, Matthew had a horrible head injury, an injury that would have left a mark on the helmet he never went without. When we got him from the wreck site, his helmet was missing, and I searched for it myself, along with his family.”

  I closed my eyes remembering.

  “Matthew’s helmet, when I found it in the garage, was spotless. No marks. Jean-Paul killed him because we loved each other, and had made plans to get married after college. At my party, I remember Jean-Paul was there, and he seemed agitated and weird to me. And I had seen someone in my woods.”

  Roger listened as I let all this stuff out I’d been holding inside.

  “Piper, there’s something I need to tell you, but quickly. The investigator I hired to track him? He was found dead on the side of the highway. He had to be identified by dental records. He was burned beyond recognition.”

  I nodded numbly.

  “He likes burns,” I said in a hoarse whisper, and as if mine was fresh, it stung to remind me how much he liked them.

  “Get Ellie, and get to the airport. I will have two tickets waiting for you there. Pack nothing. Tell no one. Understand?”

  I agreed and hung up. I sped home.

  chapter twenty-four

  On my way home, I passed Ellie happily waving at me from the back seat of her school friend’s car. I skidded to a stop.

  “Damn it! I forgot I told her she could go today!” I yelled at my steering wheel.

  The girls had wanted to go for ice cream. If they were not back in thirty minutes, I would go get her. First, I had to do something about Maria. How could I have forgotten about her? Roger said two tickets, so he forgot her too.

  I would go home and talk to her. I would give her some cash I had saved and tell her to drive to Knoxville and get lost in the Pigeon Forge tourist motels. I found her in the grand room, sitting stiffly in one of the high-backed chairs. She was white with fear. When she saw me, she shook her head frantically filling me with dread.

  “Is Jean-Paul here?” I asked in a whisper.

  Maria was looking out the window behind me. She took my hand in her cold one and shook her head again. Her eyes went wide trying to convey something I was not getting. Then it dawned on me.

  “He’s in the woods?”

  Maria nodded. I began to pull away, but Maria squeezed my hand tight. I gave her my attention, though my mind was racing.

  “Yes?”

  Maria pointed to her mouth. I didn’t understand.

  “Maria, what is it?”

  She continued to point, and then slowly, she opened her mouth.

  All the years since she arrived, I assumed Maria didn’t speak because of the language barrier, but, as I looked in horror into her mouth, I got it. Where her tongue should be was a small nub. It was obviously not removed with precision or care. Though healed long ago, it was ragged. Tears came to Maria’s eyes as I began to rub her arm.

  “Will you tell me?”

  She shook her head, scared.

  “Would you tell Roger? He can help you.”

  She shook her head even harder, grey hair spilling over her face.

  “Jean-Paul?”

  She didn’t answer, but I was positive that if Jean-Paul did not do this to her, he knew who did. One thing was sure, Maria was afraid of Jean-Paul in the worst way. I made a promise that she would be okay.

  “Come on, let’s go” I was saying to Maria, when I saw him standing in the doorway.

  His boots were mud-covered, and he was layered in dirt and sweat. He gave me a disgusted look, as if I’d spit on him. I put my hand on my stomach, willing it to be still.

  “Jean-Paul, I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, hearing my voice shake.

  He was big and mean. Jean-Paul placed his narrowed eyes on me, then Maria, but said nothing. I was crossing over into territory that would surely bring about my death, but at that moment I didn’t care. In the years I had been married to this bully, I thought this was the best chance I’d ever get.

  Daniel had ruined me so thoroughly, I knew I’d never be worth anything ever. So when Jean-Paul hit me, I took it, thinking it could always be worse, knowing I’d lived in a dog collar. I had finally seen how much worse it could be. I did something I didn’t know I was capable of. I launched myself at him. All the anger I had bottled up poured out of me. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to watch him bleed. I hit, clawed, and bit my way through his blows.

  He threw me toward the kitchen, and I landed flat on my back. The breath was knocked out of me. I didn’t have a second to lose, as I tried to run. I wasn’t running to get away this time. Oh no, I was going to get a weapon. A knife or my shotgun. He pushed me down, and Maria jumped on him. In a split second, Jean-Paul had her by the throat, strangling the life out of her. He threw her, and her breaking neck echoed though the room.

  I fought harder, but each time I hit at him, he punched me with his closed fist, blurring my vision. I collapsed on the floor defeated and near passing out. He grabbed a handful of my hair. I felt strands separate from my scalp.

  “No!” I screamed, as I elbowed and kicked at him.

  Jean-Paul had my head held back, as if to slit my throat.

  “You stupid bitch,” and he punched me in the kidney.

  The pain took my breath away. He was forcing me to the steps. I fought like a wild animal, reaching back to pull his hair or claw his face. We got to the stairs, and he pushed my face into them. He began ripping my clothes, taking time in between to punch my ribs or my face.

  One of the blows landed on my temple, and I momentarily saw black spots. I could do nothing to stop him. I kicked and screamed, but he sodomized me with little effort.

  “How’s that feel?” he was saying, nearly laughing, pushing further inside me. “Think you’re going to fight me, but look at you now. You ain’t so tough now,
are you?”

  I couldn’t breathe. The shock and pain of it was carrying me away. He had forced me before, but never this kind of evil. He pumped into me, and I begged him to stop. I just screamed and screamed. My insides were being torn apart. I went away in my mind, as I did with Daniel. I couldn’t stay in that place. It was too much. My face and neck were being crushed to the steps. I knew in a minute I would be dead.

  Jean-Paul pulled at my breasts ripping my flesh. I was floating away. I didn’t want to come back. Roger would make sure Ryan got Ellie. Sheldon and his family would help raise her. I could no longer take this life. It was too much.

  I heard a blast, but it sounded like it was somewhere far away. When I felt Jean-Paul’s body lift off of mine, I stayed still, anticipating my death. I turned to look and I saw my daughter holding a smoking shotgun.

  “Ellie!” I was stunned and crumpled on the floor.

  I reached for her, and she came to me. She was crying. I looked down, only seeing out of my left eye. Jean-Paul was spread-eagled, dick hanging out, bleeding from different places on his face, chest, and arms.

  He was not dead. He was blasted with buck shots from Papaw’s old gun, buck shots we used to scare away a wandering bear or hog. Not to kill, but to sting.

  I got Ellie’s hand and ran to my room. I was on the brink of passing out. It felt like there was great damage done to my face. I stumbled into the room and shut the door then called 911, and got a .357 out of the gun case I kept under the bed. I loaded it as I told the operator what had happened. She tried to keep me on the phone, but I hung up. I tried to sit, but that was impossible. I knelt on my knees in front of Ellie. She was no longer crying.

  “Maddie’s mom dropped me off. I thought he was killing you,” she explained.