The Tormentors

by Jack Phoenix

  Chapter Eight

  Roderick is walking along a green cliff side, when clouds begin to gather. Just ahead, standing on the edge of the cliff, is his mother, her back turned to him once again. He calls for her, but she does not respond. He runs to her, but can’t prevent her from spreading her arms and letting herself fall. He bellows her name, cries for her, his hand outstretched over the canyon as though he can somehow catch her. When she disappears into the fog below, he hears something to his left, and can see not that far from him along the cliff’s edge, his sister who is holding his daughter by her shoulders. His sister looks at him and grins. As Roderick reaches out, his sister falls backwards over the cliff, taking his daughter with her.

  His eyes opened. He had tossed and turned in the bed and realized Elizabeth was sleeping in the guest room. As he lazily watched the shadows dancing along the bedroom walls, he thought he heard something laugh. No, it was more like a cackle from outside. He got out of bed and peered out the window. In the distance he saw a light coming from the trees behind his house. He realized that it must be yet another group of teenagers using the field for a bon fire.

  He thought he heard something else too, a word sizzling into his ears from the trees.

  “Sinner…”

  He decided to deal with the situation himself rather than call the police. He threw on his robe and slippers, walked downstairs, and proceeded into the cool night air. If he had realized it would be so wet out this evening, he wouldn’t have worn his slippers, which were now covered in mud. He tightened his robe and folded his arms. His breath was smoke in the chill. It was a warm day with a contrastingly cold night, but he was nearly there. He could see the fire ahead, and he squinted as he tried to make out the shapes around it. However, as he got closer, his eyes widened, and he briskly trounced through the mud.

  Atop the fire was a large black cauldron around which were three hooded figures in dark cloaks.

  Lit torches were sticking in the ground around them, and the figures were holding themselves up with twisted wooden canes. The light of the fire flickered across their cloaks with cavorting shadows. What truly caught Roderick’s attention and what made his heart race was the fourth figure that was bound to a large wooden fixture at an angle, like a prisoner on the rack, dangling above the cauldron. It was Chelsea, the woman he had been with just recently. Her hands, feet and mouth were bound with red silk, and streams of tears flowed down her cheeks.

  “Sinner…” the three figures breathed in unison, their backs turned.

  “What the fuck is going on out here?” he shouted, and the figures then faced him

  Under the blackness of their hoods, he could see strands of thin red hair. They were three old women, one tall, one short and one in-between. Their skin was like the bark of an aged tree. Like villains from a fairy tale, their hooked noses and long chins were covered in warts. Their sickly eyes were faded, a pale greenish color with yellow pupils, and they peered from the center of dark circles on their faces. Their eyeballs seemed to hover unsupported in their skulls.

  Roderick stopped in his tracks at the site of the beldams. He saw the victim’s eyes turn towards him, desperate and pleading for a rescue.

  “What do you think you’re doing? What is this?” he demanded.

  The three hags pointed their spindly wart-covered fingers at him.

  “Let’s just…just let the girl go. Let her down. I won’t call the cops.”

  Just then, from under her cloak, one of the hags pulled out a large and rusty crescent sickle.

  “What are you doing with that?” he asked, as the young victim went into hysterics, and the hag stepped under her with the instrument, raising it to her belly.

  Roderick shouted, “No, wait, let’s talk about this!”

  The hag obeyed. The sickle stopped in the air, shaking in her wobbly, feeble grip. She slowly turned towards him, and Roderick could hear the snaps and crackles and pops of her taught muscles and brittle bones. She then hobbled over to him, presenting the blade, grip first.

  “I’m calling the cops!” he threatened.

  “Do you realize what she intended to do?” the hag hacked, revealing a mouth of yellow putrid teeth. “She was going to betray you.”

  “She was prying into your past,” the taller hag said.

  “She heard you say things. Things you said in intoxicated states,” said the short one. “She recorded them. She recorded you together.”

  “Your intoxicated mutterings—she will put all the pieces together. When she does she will reveal your sins to the world,” said the tall one again.

  “Your deepest, darkest secrets,” added the hag handing him the blade.

  “Your infidelities will become public. As well as your other transgressions.”

  “Blackmail.”

  “You will lose it all.”

  “Everything.”

  Roderick paused, looking at all three and then looking at Chelsea, her eyes begged. He slowly wrapped his fingers around the sickle’s grip. He held it up and moved towards the helpless woman, slowly, as though he were in a trance. When the blade entered the young woman’s sternum and was dragged all the way down to her groin, it left a crimson trail like a bloody zipper. Her muffled voice was barely even able to let out a whimper.

  As the hags cackled maniacally, the victim’s teary face swung back and forth frantically in pain as the red trail left by the blade suddenly split, the flesh parting, and her steamy innards spilled into the bubbling cauldron. The hags stirred the contents in the boiling water, as teardrops rolled down Chelsea’s cheeks before her head went limp, hanging inanimate from her neck.

  Roderick backed away, and dropped the bloody blade. He stepped backwards through the mud as the hags released the large ladles from their hands and hobbled towards him, still cackling. They pointed at him, and their laughter ceased. As he turned to run, they let out a horrendous scream, like a thousand voices screaming at once, so loud and screeching that Roderick had to cover his ears. It was so powerful it knocked him over. He couldn’t organize his thoughts, his senses scrambled by the noise. He was incapable of escaping, unable to get off the ground. He began to scream himself in an attempt to block out theirs, and that’s when he fell out of bed, covered in sweat.

  Though his heart raced, he was safe in his bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear. Elizabeth came through the door with concern on her face, rubbing his back and helping him off the floor. “What the hell, Rod, are you alright?”

  “Is Daddy okay?” asked Sam’s little voice as she stood in the doorway with one of her dolls. Though she posed the question, her voice and face were void of concern.

  Elizabeth assured, “Daddy’s fine, you go back to sleep, okay?”

  As Samantha returned to her room, Elizabeth sat on the bed next to her husband, her hands on his shoulders. She was used to his unusual sleeping patterns, whether it be tossing and turning or getting up in the middle of the night for a few hours or so, apparently being unable to sleep, but she had never known him to be plagued like this.

  “It was another goddamn nightmare,” he told her.

  “So, I gathered,” she replied. “My God, the way you screamed, it was terrifying. What did you dream?”

  “I don’t even wanna talk about it. God, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “Rod, you just lost your father under terrible circumstances,” she comforted him as best she could, “something like this is to be expected. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Can I get you some water or anything?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Before she left the room she turned to him and said, “You know, if this keeps up, you should probably talk to someone.”

  “I’m not seeing a goddamn shrink.”

  “Don’t be dense,” she flared. “You’ve got a lot on your mind, and you’re under
a lot of stress. There’s nothing wrong with getting help when you need it.”

  “I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

  * * * *

  Roderick awoke for work in the morning still tired. He slammed his fist on top of the digital alarm clock to silence it and rolled onto his back with a sigh.

  The first thought that entered his mind was the possibility that his wife was right about seeking professional help, but he was raised knowing that men didn’t scare over bad dreams.

  A man wasn’t fragile. A man didn’t let his emotions get away from him and get scared. Bottom line; a man should never have need for a shrink.

  He stepped out of bed, and his feet touched the cold hardwood floor. He went to the closet to get his slippers but was stunned to find them covered in mud. When he was fully dressed and showered, he made a detour outside to the trees behind the house before going to his car. He stopped when he saw a big black spot on the ground. He bent down and touched it to find it to be ash, as though someone had lit a fire the night before.

  * * * *

  “Now, the fun begins.”

  Chapter Nine

  Wade brought the wine, bless him. The sound of the doorbell chimed through the house and there he was, greeting Elizabeth with that shining smile as she raced to the door. She slapped him on the shoulder, telling him that he was an idiot and he was too early. Wade was supposed to have waited for her text message, because Roderick had not left the house yet.

  She ordered him to get in his car, drive down a ways, and wait until he saw her husband’s car exit the premises. Wade swiftly obeyed, and just in time, as Roderick came down the stairs, a fresh squirt of cologne trailing fragrantly behind him.

  He was dressed in a tight-fitting polo shirt to show off his chest, allowing a small arrow tip of hair to be visible from the unbuttoned collar, where the cross hanging around his neck nestled. It was a gift from his mother.

  His mother had given it to him when her father had died. Little Roddy found it difficult to pay attention during his grandfather’s funeral services, his eyes constantly wandering around the church and up to the closed casket. He started making faces at his sister who replied with a conspicuous giggle. Soon, little Roddy would never again hear her giggle in such a way, but at the time, her hands flew over her mouth, and she looked at her mother in shame. Her mother simply smiled through her tears and put an arm around each of them; their father’s eyes remained pointed at the minister talking at the podium.

  “It’s okay,” their mother said sweetly. “Your grandfather liked to hear you laugh.”

  After the service, she handed her son the necklace, which was balled up in her hand. She told him that it belonged to his grandfather, and that he would want his grandson to have it. She told him to honor it, because it represented his love and devotion to his family. It was then that little Roddy finally began to cry, his father scoffed at the act.

  Roderick didn’t wear the necklace until he got older. He found it in an old sock drawer and put it on after his mother left, and he’d worn it ever since. He enjoyed showing it off, letting it dangle between his pectorals, every time he went out and about and wanted to appear casual.

  He’d be wearing it tonight, and he would tell his wife he would spend the night with Bob and some of the guys from work. He really just wanted to be alone. He said goodbye to Elizabeth, and she replied from the kitchen with a simple, “MmHm.”

  Elizabeth listened carefully for his car to start. Once it had, she peered out between the curtains of the living room window until she saw it drive away. She pulled out her cell phone, selected Wade’s number, and told the idiot that it was safe to come back.

  “Oh, my God. I am so sorry,” Wade said, handing Elizabeth the wine as he entered, “I thought you said nine!”

  “No, dummy, I said ten,” she corrected him. “I wanted to have an hour in between to make sure Rod wasn’t coming back. Plus, I wanted to make sure Sam was asleep.”

  Wade made a face like someone who has stubbed a toe, and a hiss escaped from the sides of his mouth. “She’s not still awake, is she? Oh, I do not want to get you into trouble!”

  Elizabeth reassured him, solemnly, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, she went to bed early tonight. I doubt she’d say anything, anyway. She’s talking less and less.”

  “She’s still acting weird, huh? Have you taken her to see anyone yet?”

  “One doctor, just recently,” she answered, “but we’re not going back. I’m going to find someone else. He told me it probably was ‘just a phase’, and for us to be patient. I told him I wasn’t paying him for ‘probably’.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry to hear. I was really hoping she’d be doing better since last time I talked to you. You sounded so worried.”

  “Well, I am worried,” she stated as she popped open the wine and poured him a glass, “I’m so goddamn worried, I can’t even think. And I’m trying to tell myself not to make a mountain out of a molehill and that getting freaked out won’t do her any good. But I can’t help but worry that she’s got the same condition that Rod’s sister has. I’ve been to see her a few times, and…oh, God, it’s just pitiful. I’ve wanted to take Sam to see her just, you know, out of respect, but I can’t bear to do it.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said, gulping wine.

  Elizabeth chastised him, “Hey, take it easy with that shit. You can’t stay the night, you know, you’re going to have to drive home.”

  “Oh, calm down,” he said, pretending to wave her away, “I can hold my alcohol. Well, look, the point of tonight is to have fun and relax a little and not be all serious, but I do have to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, obviously you chickened out. So, where are you going to from here?”

  Elizabeth took a big gulp of wine herself. “I was going to tell him. I knew the day, I knew the plan, and I knew just what I was going to say. But then his father goes and kills himself…”

  “I see.”

  “And for your information, I’m not chickening out. I know I need to leave him, but I had time to think since his father’s death, and I realized that I should probably wait.”

  She entertained thoughts of divorce, of taking her daughter and leaving this life forever, but Elizabeth had developed a knack for finding reasons not to go through with it. But what if her daughter’s condition was directly affected by the negative environment? If Mom and Dad weren’t happy, then how could she be happy? But ultimately, she decided the upheaval caused by a divorce would create adverse effects.

  Wade rolled his eyes, “Oh, lord, Liz…”

  “No, Wade, listen to me, I’m not stupid, okay? And I’m not weak. But you know how he is, and a divorce would get so incredibly messy. And I’ve got Sam to worry about, you know? How can I just uproot her and put her through all that chaos and crap when she’s already acting so…so…”

  “Emotionally unstable?” he filled in.

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s the term. Anyway, what kind of a heartless bitch would I be if I tried to divorce him after he just lost his father?”

  “I didn’t think he and his father were that close.”

  “They weren’t. They rarely spoke other than to talk about business. But still…I mean, they were close when he was a kid. I guess when his mother left, that’s when they started drifting apart.”

  “What happened to his mother?”

  “Apparently she just abandoned them because of the pressure of dealing with his sister’s condition. So, you see, I can’t really blame him for being flawed and having some issues. And maybe now you can understand why me leaving, and abandoning him like she did, would just be cruel.”

  Wade finished his glass with a swallow, and Elizabeth took it from him to refill it.

  “Just for the record,” he said,
“I think it’s a mistake. I think you’d be better off dealing with the consequences of leaving than dealing with the consequences of staying.”

  “Well, I respect your opinion, but I think I should wait. I have more to think about here than just myself.”

  He commented as they made their way to the couch with fresh-filled glasses, “I know that, but…look at this place! It’s glamorous and all, but it’s a cage! It’s a big glamorous cage! You don’t get to work; you don’t get to have a social life at all. You and I have to sneak around just to see each other, and I know you don’t have any other friends. I don’t know what you ever saw in him, anyway.”

  Elizabeth knew the answer to that question. Roderick had pleased her a great deal. At twenty-four, she was a high school English teacher, along with Wade, with whom she had become very close back in college. Wade always listened and talked to her, and they shared a great many things. When Roderick came into the picture, her time was suddenly monopolized, but she didn’t mind it so much then. She didn’t see where it was heading. When the baby came and Roderick forced her to quit her job in his gentle way, Elizabeth lost contact with her friend. She had never bothered to tell Roderick about him, but the two became secretly reunited when Elizabeth began to feel too confined, and she called upon him for comfort.

  At first, Roderick Whithers was very attentive. He was a wonderful conversationalist, always smiling. He’d buy Elizabeth random gifts, surprise her with flowers, and was very affectionate. She perceived him as an intelligent, well-spoken, handsome and gentle soul. She fell deeply in love with him.

  On their first date, he won her over. She certainly didn’t want to cancel on him, but she saw no choice. A bad case of strep throat was nothing to ignore. She could barely speak, but had looked forward to a date with this handsome young professional all week. She called him that afternoon, barely audible over the phone, to cancel.