I didn’t understand it so I said to my mom, “Why did he do it?”
And my mom looked at me with a sad face, like she was in pain or I had a huge lump on me that I couldn’t see yet. She said, “It’s because he doesn’t know what’s up and what’s down.”
I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t want to give up so easily.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong.”
“But didn’t his mom teach him?” I turned a little red then, because maybe he didn’t have a mom to teach him that it was bad to kill people he loved.
My mom didn’t notice though, and she said, “Someone taught him, and he probably used to know it was wrong. But sometimes, things happen to people that are too much for them to take, and it changes them. It muddles things around in their head, and they don’t know wrong from right. They don’t know up from down.”
I remember the word muddle because it sounded like mud puddle mixed in to one word, which is pretty much what it means, I think.
I still didn’t get it. I couldn’t think of anything that would make me forget that something so wrong was wrong, except maybe if I whacked my head really hard. That’s probably not going to happen though because I always wear a helmet when I ride my bike.
I wonder what happened to Jeremy so that he doesn’t know up from down. I feel like pointing to the floor and the ceiling for him so maybe he’ll be less confused and remember.
What I really want to do is ask him what happened to make him want to keep us here. I think sometimes people think I like to be quiet. But really, there’s all kinds of things going on in my head that I want to ask about and just don’t know how to. I should ask Jeremy because there’s no such thing as a silly question. But maybe that’s another of the things he forgot.
“I know it’s not the nicest place to be down here,” he says. I think the reason he started talking again was because me and Vi weren’t saying anything. I was still eating, but she was just sitting there, looking at him but not really looking. She could have been staring at a big rock or something, because she wasn’t moving anything on her face or blinking very much.
“But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you guys are okay. And we’ll work day by day to see what happens next. If you’re good, then I have a bunch of rooms upstairs, and you could come live there instead. There’s a lot of land here, and the trees are beautiful. There’s so many fun things to do, like gardening and picnics and a porch swing. The sunsets here are so pretty, and you can really see the stars when they come out at night.”
My mom told me once that the stars are shy, and they don’t like to come out when it’s too noisy or bright. They figure the streetlights and big buildings are enough to light the night, so they focus on the dark places that need them more. It makes me glad to live in a town with not a lot of lights.
“It might take awhile before I can let you move upstairs,” he keeps going and I wonder when he will leave. “But I’m willing to learn to trust you, if you earn it.”
I see Vi’s lip twitch. When she smiles, her lip curls in this weird way that my Mom says looks like Elvis, but I don’t know who that is. Vi does it for little smiles, but also when she’s baring her teeth at someone. She doesn’t even know she does it. I asked her once about it and she turned all red and carried around a mirror with her all day to see if she could catch herself doing it.
Anyways, I know that this kind of lip twitch means she’s not happy.
Jeremy keeps talking to us about how we can earn little things, like gifts and food if we’re good and listen to him. Next he reaches outside the door and grabs a whole new bag. At first I’m scared there might be another dead animal in it, but it’s some sort of black box, and it has a red light on it, and it’s got this little top part that screws into the ceiling. I know this, because he takes it into the corner by the door, and starts to screw it up there. He keeps talking while he does it.
“This is just so I can make sure you guys are okay. If you run out of water and get thirsty, I’ll be able to see that and come give you some. Or just in case a light bulb burns out or something, or if you have a nightmare and you get scared.” He looked at me when he said this, and I gave him a dirty look. I’ve had bad dreams forever, but I don’t wet my pants or call out to my Mom to come help me. And I definitely wouldn’t call out for him.
“Just in case you guys misbehave, I’ll be able to see that too. I’m going to be very reasonable, and I’m not going to hurt you, you know, like punch you or anything. But it’s in your best interest to be on your best behaviour.”
He sounds like Mrs. Smiley on my first day of Grade One.
“There’s one more thing,” he says, and I’m hopeful again. But he pulls out more black stuff, this time two long black straps that he hands over to Vi.
“These are security bracelets,” he says. “Do you mind putting them on?” I’m really glad he’s not putting them on for us. I don’t want him to touch me, and plus, I know how to put on bracelets.
“It’s got a GPS that shows me where you are. And even when I’m sleeping, it’ll start to beep at me when you’re moving around a lot, so I’ll wake up and come check on you. Because if it’s anything you need, I don’t mind getting it for you.” I couldn’t tell if he was being really nice or really mean, but I think it was a bit of both.
I put on my bracelet right away, but Vi is still holding hers in her hand and staring at him with her blank, rock eyes.
“Why do we need to wear these? We’re locked in here anyways, and we’re not going to run away, we already told you that.” She sounds like she’s mad, and I don’t think she means to. I think she means to sound strong, and she is because I wouldn’t be brave enough to say all that to him. But she should probably stop talking, and I kick out my foot at her, just gently to try to say, Stop talking so he’ll leave and we can eat. She moves the leg I kicked a little, so I know she felt it, but she just keeps going.
“If we’re going to be living here with you, and we’re going to be gaining your trust, then you have to gain ours too. Trust goes both ways.”
I don’t understand what she’s trying to say. Trust is one of those things that my mom and my sister talk about a lot. It gets taken away when I do things like eat an extra cookie when no one’s looking, or when I sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to watch TV. But then I get some of it back when I play outside and don’t jump out in front of a car or something. I think trust is a sort of money. You get some, and you give it away, and you get some back sometimes but only if you do something right. Someone can’t just hand it to you for no reason, or else it’s fake. And you can’t steal it. I know that much.
Jeremy gets what she’s saying I think, because his eyes sag a little and he looks sad.
“I know I have to earn your trust,” he says. “And I’m going to do that. Let me know anything you need and I’ll get it for you. I’m going to buy you guys a TV so you can watch some movies and shows. I’ll bring you, I don’t know, some weights so that you can exercise if you want.”
He looked at Vi when he said this and I think that was a mistake because you’re not supposed to say things to girls about exercise or what their belly looks like. I said something like that once and Vi threw a hairbrush at my head. I would warn him about this but I don’t think he’s earned it.
“No, I know you’ll give us everything we need.” Vi is being too nice and I know it’s not real nice, but I don’t think Jeremy can tell. “It’s just not ideal to have to wear this bracelet all the time so that you know every time I go to the bathroom.”
His cheeks turn red and he starts mumbling stuff about how he isn’t going to do anything while she’s in the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But there’s no way around it. That’s just the way it’s going to go. So I hope you’ll wear it, and if you do, then I’ll keep doing nice things for you, and maybe soon we can work on an
outdoor day for us all.”
I think Vi realizes he means it, and that we’re just going to have to wear these things.
“I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” he says. “So you can get something to eat and get used to the camera and the bracelets. I’m sorry to have to do all this.” He sounds like he really is. What if he did know what way was up, and he was doing this anyways? I didn’t know what to think about that.
11
That’s how time passed for awhile, Violet and Ben in the basement and Jeremy living above them.
He didn’t have the heart to continue forcing them to use that old barrel as a bathroom, soiled by the earth and their bodies. He knew he wasn’t about to win them over if he kept them in a state of discomfort, so he began escorting them back and forth to the bathroom four times a day. As humiliating as he knew it must be, he used two dog leashes the owners of the house had left in the front hall closet. Soon, he started to leave the leash slack so they could walk more easily, and eventually he stopped with the ritual all together. He locked the upstairs door so that if they ran away they couldn’t get out, but he let them walk at their own speed and would simply follow behind them. He felt a bit inappropriate lurking outside the door while they went to the washroom, brushed their teeth or tried to shit, quiet and embarrassed. But it had to be done.
He felt a strange, grotesque pride at being able to provide them with a bathroom, like he had when taking Buster for walks when he was young.
Jeremy wanted them to move upstairs, to spend time during the day with him. They could have family dinners, just the three of them. They would be roommates and there would always be someone to watch a movie with, or go for a walk with, or talk to if needed. He’d have attention and affection, things he hadn’t had enough of for years, and maybe not ever. Things he hadn’t even known he wanted.
Violet and Ben had been living with him for a few weeks, and he liked to think they were getting used to it. You can get used to anything.
Jeremy scoured the news. It wasn’t that he was vain. He didn’t want to pin up stories about himself. He wanted to burn them instead. He wanted one less newspaper in circulation so that one less person would read about what he had done and maybe try to find him. It wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs, and no one else would understand. The media were getting it all wrong, Jeremy thought, painting him as a fire-breathing dragon and questioning whether Violet and Ben were still alive.
It took a day or two before the news outlets began to swarm on the story like maggots. At first there was a hunt to find out if Violet and Ben’s birth parents had gone on a jealous, regretful rampage, claiming back the children they had long since given up.
“Two children have been reported missing in Blind River. Ben and Violet Wrigley, ages six and eighteen, were last seen on Monday afternoon. Ben was wearing a green t-shirt with a pair of khaki-coloured shorts and Violet was wearing a purple t-shirt bearing the logo of the local diner where she worked. No suspects are currently in custody. If you have any clues as to the whereabouts of these two individuals, call…”
“MISSING SIBLINGS” was the bolded headline on the front page of the Blind River Eyes the following morning. “Little brother and big sister gone for three days.”
But wars went on. People got shot. Stocks went up and down, animals still looked cute. And the three names Jeremy had been hunting for appeared less and less.
He considered the odds of being found. He knew there was no sign of a struggle because Violet had allowed him into her car willingly, and wasn’t alarmed or visibly distressed when she went to pick up Ben. Ben wouldn’t have looked suspicious either, because he had no idea Jeremy was even in the car. Violet had a cell phone, but he had taken that away from her and removed the battery.
He never noticed any signs of attempted escape. There were no claw marks on the door, no smashed windows or little tunnels dug into the cement. It made Jeremy feel good. The house didn’t have a working landline, so there was no fear of them sneaking upstairs and making an emergency phone call. The same was true of an Internet connection, and it was so far out in the middle of nowhere that there was no hope of picking up any wireless signals.
Other technicalities worked in his favour as well. Jeremy tried to evaluate them realistically. Their mother must be putting up a fierce search party for them. With two of them gone, it might be double the search effort.
What would he do if someone rang the doorbell and asked if he had seen Violet and Ben Wrigley? Of course he would have to lie, but would a simple No do? Would he have to feign concern, ask about when they were last seen and if there were any distinguishing marks on them, or if he could have a picture? Was there such a thing as being too concerned, or not enough? Perhaps he would look cold and suspicious if he merely said No and waited for them to tip their caps and leave.
If that happened, he decided he would say: No, I’m sorry I haven’t. Not too many people make it out here. Do you have a flyer with contact information in case I see anything? He acknowledged that if an officer showed up at his door asking if he had seen the two people currently hidden in his basement, he might not be able to access his pre-planned script. In all likelihood, his mouth would go dry and his lips would stick together so he’d have to lick them before he could even open them at all. Then he would bluster and bumble out words that would hopefully convince them there was no reason he looked so nervous.
What if they called him in for questioning? If they hooked him up to one of those lie detectors, he’d send bright lights flashing and loud noises honking out LIAR! LIAR! But maybe they only used those in the movies. Could he learn to beat the system? He didn’t think so. He’d heard that if you press your heels really hard into the ground and breathe really slowly, you could sometimes get the lines to stay straight.
The thought of facing that situation kept him up at night and made him wonder in the dark if it was worth it. But he decided, every time, that it was.
He could hide them in the barn, where he’d also hidden Violet’s car. But no, they would search there. What if he tied them up and took them out to the forest while he waited for the police to search inside? They probably had search dogs though, which would patrol the fields and forests searching for their scents. Perhaps Mrs. Wrigley would have given them some laundry so they’d know what to smell for. Jeremy had known that scent for the first two or three days before it was replaced with dirt and sweat. That was when he knew he had to offer to do their laundry. He enjoyed having purposeful things to do for them, things they would appreciate. They both said thank you after he returned their clothes washed and ready for them to put back on. They drowned in the clothes he had given them to wear while they waited.
The next day, he walked into their bedroom to ask what sized clothing they wore. Their eyes widened like he had just said he wanted to fillet their bodies and was wondering how many they would feed.
“I just thought it might be nice for you guys to have something to wear besides your one outfit and the big clothes I gave you,” he explained quickly. “You can even tell me what stores you like!” He spewed his justification as fast as he could so they were scared and confused for as little time as possible. “I need to know your size so that I can buy you stuff that will fit.”
Violet hesitated, then launched in. “Why do we need clothes other than these? We have lots at home. We could just go there and grab some.”
Jeremy hated when she said things like that. She would be so well behaved, so docile; he would think she was finally coming around to him, and then she would say something like that. Just when he thought he was gaining control, she would try to steal it back.
“I know, I’m sure you do,” he replied patiently. “But that’s not going to happen, so I’ll just buy you some new stuff. When you go home, you can take them with you.”
He thought it might be a good selling point, maybe not so much for a little boy, but for a teenaged girl at any rate.
“It depends,” Violet said.
“What do you mean?”
“It depends on the store, what size I am. My waist is 28 inches, but sometimes they’ll use smaller numbers, and in that case I’m a 6. Sometimes a 4 if it looks big. And with length, my legs are about 32 inches.”
Jeremy regretted not bringing a pen and paper. He asked to use some of theirs and Violet nodded and handed it over.
“Why are there so many sizes? Why can’t they all be the same?” he thought out loud.
“I don’t know, but it’s really hard to get other people to buy clothes for you. Maybe we could come to the store with you. That’s really the only way we can know for sure.”
She didn’t usually try it again so soon. It made Jeremy angry, but also sad.
“No,” he said softly. “That would be nice, and maybe sometime soon we can do that, but I don’t think any of us are ready for that yet.”
She admitted defeat for the moment. “Well, for shirts, I’m a medium. Unless it looks really big, and then you could buy a small instead.”
He nodded. He had no idea what really big looked like, but figured he could buy both sizes and return the one that didn’t fit.
“What sort of colours do you like? Any preferences?”
She didn’t answer right away, just looked at the floor and shook her head.
She looked down at her dirty shirt. It didn’t matter if it were her least or most favourite shade. She wouldn’t feign joy out of being dressed in clothing that she liked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said in a small voice. “The colour doesn’t matter.”
She would only see the shirt about four times a day when she went to the washroom, and even then she barely glanced up at herself. She looked too tired. The bags under her eyes were too blue, her cheeks too puffy. Her hair was knotted and tangled. Jeremy probably hadn’t noticed what a rat’s nest it had become in captivity. She thought of something then.
“Do you think you could buy me a hair brush?” she asked.
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