The Tormentors

by Jack Phoenix

  It came at him, swinging its tail about in circular motions like a bullwhip, its blade sliced across his arm, causing him to drop his knife as it sliced his shoulder and torso. As he turned to flee, the other two Furies wrapped their tails around his arms, spreading them in a crucifixion pose, and held him in place so their companion could slice him up with its weapon.

  Before the cutting could begin, Roderick grasped the tail wrapped around his right arm, trying to hold it as tightly as it was holding him. With every ounce of muscle he could muster, he flung the abomination around, bashing it against the other two Furies like potato sacks. Free from their grasp, he took a running dive for the remote. He slid across the dirt and grabbed it as the menacing trio flew at him. He pushed the red button on the remote and found himself blinded by blue light, as the large, ultra violet lamps rigged all around them blared their powerful beams.

  They howled, and began to writhe and flail about, like fish out of water as light erupted. They struggled to remain airborne, but slowly descended to the dirt. Roderick’s gambit seemed to be working. He had never been molested by nor seen the hellish women during the day, and he was betting on the chance that sunlight was their natural enemy. His theory was sound, but he didn’t quite get the reaction for which he’d hoped. He expected a reaction like in vampire movies, and hoped they would burn to a crisp or evaporate.

  Roderick laughed as they sank to the ground, unable to move, the ribs under their scales moved up and down with their faint breaths.

  He laughed so hard that he could barely control himself, while he picked up his rifle and handgun from off the ground. He shaded his eyes from the light, and stepped over to his fallen foes, poking them with the barrel of the gun like a child poking a possum. He started to smugly shove one of them with the toe of his shoe, when it grabbed his calf with its snapping maw. He kicked hard, sending the loathsome creature flying across the room and out of the beams of light where he could no longer see it. He quickly realized his folly, and held his gun up to his eye, approaching the spot where he had kicked the chimeric fiend.

  Suddenly, one of the lamps from across him went out with a crash, falling off its hinge. Then another went out; then another; then another, with the sounds of snapping chords. He could hear its wings in the air, as it flew about taking out the lamps one by one. He began to fire in every direction he could hear flapping, but his bullets never met with success. Finally, the last lamp lost its light, and Roderick stood once again in darkness.

  He heard rustling behind him and turned to see the other two Furies rising back into the air, rejuvenated, and eyes aflame. He dropped his rifle as the slithery tail of the third wrapped around him again, securing his neck with the upper part of its tail and his right hand with the end. By contracting the muscles in its tail, the creature was able to bring Roderick’s hand to his face, forcing him to literally smack himself. It did this repeatedly, and all three cackled maniacally and mockingly. He grabbed the handgun with his left hand, and fired at the one that held him; it quickly released him, joining its partners.

  Roderick pointed his gun at them, and the three devils, their wings thrusting forward, let out a scream powerful enough that it sent a gust of air knocking him on his back once again. He began to fire wildly at the Furies, sending them scattering, as he fumbled to his feet and ran for his car. He chose to flee since he could not prevail here.

  He could hear their wings behind and above him, and he fired wildly, always missing as they darted around like demonic dragonflies, their howls consuming the night. By the time he made it to his car, he was out of bullets, so he threw his knife at one that was approaching as he opened the car door. He condemned himself for his foolishness as he sped down the street at unsafe speeds, not bothering to look back.

  “Why! Goddamnit, why!” he cursed into the darkness while he drove. “Why didn’t it stop them? It had to stop them! Make them stop! Please, God, make them stop!”

  * * * *

  “Foolish creature! Did he truly believe that would work?”

  “The light was a tad uncomfortable, but that he would resort to such an absurdity!”

  “He resorts to desperation, Sisters. Can’t you taste it?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wade’s hands were gentle, strong but soft, as they held and consoled the crying Elizabeth. She had been there for nearly an hour, venting, releasing some of the pressure, after the detective had left her house. She needed her loved ones, needed support, and came immediately to be with Wade and her daughter. She didn’t bother to hide her tears from Samantha this time, didn’t bother to tell her to go to her room. She grabbed her daughter and held her tight as though she’d never let go.

  Over and over again, she said the words, “What have I done?” reciting the rhetorical question under her tears.

  Wade wasn’t sure what to say. “So, you’ve still not heard from him?”

  Elizabeth blew her nose into a tissue. “He showed up this morning, a complete mess, and took my car. I have no idea where he is. But the police are looking for him now, so in a strange way I feel like I can relax a little.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  “Daddy’s not coming home?” Samantha peeped.

  Elizabeth was startled by the lack of sadness on Samantha’s face. She realized that perhaps her daughter had recognized her father’s madness for some time, the strange intuition or just keen observational skills that children sometimes possess over adults, and maybe the little girl somehow knew she’d be safer away from her father’s influence. While trying to do what was best for her child, believing it was best to keep her family from breaking and keeping her within financial stability, Elizabeth knew she may have put her daughter into harm’s way. If she only left him years ago when she became unhappy and knew that it had become a loveless marriage, she could have spared her daughter this immersion of negativity. If Roderick was indeed capable of murder, than what other atrocities could he commit? Her insistence on standing by her husband over the past few days now seemed like a fool’s devotion to a corrupt and lunatic king, blind and unappreciated.

  “Sweetie, I’m not really sure what’s going to happen,” she told her daughter. “But we have each other, and everything will be okay. Daddy is not well, and we’ll just have to wait and see what needs to be done.”

  Wade released Elizabeth’s shoulders from his comforting grip and went into the kitchen. “How ‘bout some ice cream?” he asked enthusiastically.

  “Me!” Samantha hopped. “I want mint chocolate chip!”

  Upon returning with the bowls of ice cream, he put on a cartoon for Samantha and she happily plopped in front of the television with her book spread out in front of her, careful not to drip any of her green treat upon it. Elizabeth put a spoonful in her mouth, her nose still running. Wade considerately handed her another tissue, and she smiled, thanking him.

  “So, what now?” he asked.

  “Now, we stay here until they find him and bring him in. If that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is, don’t even ask,” he assured her, patting her on the shoulder.

  “Thank you. They’ve got our house under surveillance, so once he comes home, they’ll take him. They’ve got my license plate number, so they might even spot him on the road in my car. Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

  “So, you know what question is going through my head?” asked Wade, with ice cream still melting in his mouth.

  Elizabeth replied, “Do I think he did it?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. All I can say is that…I can believe it, and because of that, I feel ashamed that I’ve been with him for this long.”

  “You can’t keep blaming yourself. Come on, you were going to blame yourself if you left him, now you’re blaming yourself for sticking around. You’re just doing what you t
hink is best and you’re doing it because you care. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She embraced her friend once again, promising not to get any snot on his shirt, and he advised her to get some sleep. His house was a modest house with one story and two bedrooms, but Elizabeth realized that something like it was more her style. It was a warm house and an easier house. She imagined how nice it would be to find a small apartment or small house somewhere and fill it with love for her daughter instead of expensive objects with no life.

  Wade suggested that everyone retire for the night and Samantha fell asleep in the guest bedroom, and he took his place on the couch, while Elizabeth, after two restless nights, fell into a deep sleep on her friend’s bed.

  * * * *

  Despite the fatigue within his feet, his steps were careful and calculated so not a soul detected his presence as he entered the carelessly unlocked back door. It didn’t make a single creak as it opened, a convenient silence for the intruder. The GPS on his smartphone and a name were all that he needed to find the address, and fortunately the intruder had installed the handy device in all three of his family’s cars. He placed undeclared footsteps along the hallway, calling upon eccentric, residual energy to keep his legs steady beneath him, unclear of his own motivations for entering. He knew there was a figure on the couch, resting motionless, and there were bedrooms, each door wide open. One had a large silhouette lump laying in the bed, the other a small one.

  Roderick entered the guest bedroom where his daughter slept, cautiously closing the door behind him. He had no foresight beyond anything other than the current moment. The blood on his arm was beginning to dry. He could feel the tooth marks. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, breathing deeply, and began to run his hands along his face. It felt rough. It left a film on his fingertips.

  Then he heard the cackling. It was faint, but it was there. His daughter was still fast asleep, but her three Raggedy Ann dolls were standing on her bed, standing on their own free will, and talking to one another.

  “Like a winged horse from the blood of a Gorgon, is it not, Sisters,” said a doll, “that one so lovely could sprout from the seed of something so heinous?”

  “Get away from her,” Roderick ordered in a whisper, grinding his teeth.

  “Do you hear?” asked another doll, brushing some of Samantha’s hair from her face with her tiny cotton-stuffed hand. “He thinks us a threat to her?”

  The third doll continued, “He knows what ails her. Within his buried soul, he knows.”

  Angrily, he rushed at the bed and, with the sweep of his arm, sent the dolls flying to the corner of the room where they became lifeless once again. This act however, woke Samantha who, like a small animal whose sleep is disturbed by a predator, kicked out. She backed against the head of the bed, cowering, looking up at her father in fear. He looked down at her, as thoughts began entering his mind, wheels of suspicion turning.

  “Daddy,” said Samantha, her eyes filling with tears, “please, no.”

  His bloodshot eyes turned right to her. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Daddy, please, no,” Samantha repeated.

  “You called them didn’t you?” his voice lowered in accusation.

  “No, Daddy, I didn’t tell,” Samantha whimpered.

  “You called them on me,” he said as his fingers wrapped around her throat, “didn’t you? Make them stop. I want you to make them go away and leave me alone.”

  What should have been a pitiful scream loud enough to wake the neighborhood was just a hoarse squeal, as her father’s hands began to squeeze. Nothing but attempts for a call for help were emitted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Her kicking however, made quite a commotion as she struggled, twisting her little body to knock over the lamp on the nightstand. At that moment, both Elizabeth and Wade were jolted out of their slumber, swinging off the bed and couch respectively. They rushed to Samantha’s aid.

  As they entered, alarmed and gasping at the sight, Roderick’s hands released his daughter’s throat and covered his ears, as he suddenly heard the screaming of his enemies in his head. He crouched in pain as Wade tackled him, trying to restrain him, while Elizabeth grabbed her daughter and could see the redness on her throat. Roderick saw Elizabeth take Samantha in her arms, as he tried to filter out the screaming from his brain so he could free himself from Wade’s firm lock. He could barely hear his wife’s words as she raced out of the house, her daughter in her arms. The words sounded like, ‘son of a bitch’ and ‘police’.

  He heard the front door slam. He felt Wade on top of him, restraining his arms and pinning him down with all of his weight and muscle. As the screaming in his head began to dull, there was nary a muscle in his body that was willing to obey his mental commands. From outside, the sound traveling in through the open window, he thought he could hear his wife’s voice, as though she were hollering orders to someone.

  Her voice rose through the window. “Hello, police…he’s here…attacked my daughter…please, hurry!”

  * * * *

  The two police officers were trained to expect the unexpected. They had their firearms ready, expecting to encounter an armed and ferocious man, one who would certainly put up a fight. What they saw tempted them to holster their guns it was so pitiful. When they entered Samantha’s room, they saw him.

  On a child’s bed was a grown man, holding his ears, his head down between his legs and rocking back and forth. Another man stood over him, poised as if ready to attack, and there were signs of a struggle.

  The pathetic man was muttering, “Make them stop, make them stop, make them stop, please, God, make them stop…”

  “Sir, you’re going to have to come with us,” said one of the officers to Roderick, guiding Wade out of the room.

  “Just make them stop, make them stop, please make them stop,” he repeated.

  “Roderick Whithers, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used you against you in a court of law…”

  “Make them stop. Make them stop. Make them stop.”

  “…you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Stand up and put your hands flat against the bed,” the officer commanded him, pulling out his handcuffs.

  “Make. Them. Stop,” and as the officer approached him, he didn’t expect this incoherent idiot to grab a porcelain piggy bank and break it over his head.

  The officer grabbed him and forced him to the bed, subduing him with superior strength. Tired and weak, Roderick could not fight back, and instead cried as the handcuffs were secured to his wrists behind his back. He was dragged to the cruiser; his body was limp dead-weight. His wife looked on, cradling her daughter, protecting her from the sight.

  The ride to the station was unbearable for all parties including the prisoner, who curled up in the seat, irritated that he couldn’t cover his ears from the continuous screaming in his head. He writhed and twitched like a dying rodent, kicking his feet every now and then, the voices of the officers inaudible to him as they commanded him to be silent. They could barely stand it, and made cracks about shooting the loon just so they could concentrate on the road.

  He spent the rest of the night in the holding cell with his hands over his ears. His cries didn’t cease until the sun rose.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Well, that’s hard to say,” the doctor tapped her pen to her chin. “Those animal bites of his have healed up nicely. But as far as his mental and emotional state, I will be recommending that he be sent to Twin Creeks Hospital.”

  “Oh my Lord…”

  “I am terribly sorry, but we’ve done all we can do for him here. His problems would appear to be more deeply rooted than we are equipped to deal with. We can’t get him to eat, and we can’t get him to sleep. Even when medicated, he
tosses and turns all night, crying out, as if he’s not even entering REM. This is more than just a stress or trauma-induced problem.”

  Elizabeth stopped playing with her purse, placed her hands on the desk and leaned over. “Well, what do you think the problem is?”

  “Not for me to say, but I will. Judging from these paranoid delusions he’s been having, his insistence that these ‘demons’ are trying to kill him, it would seem to be a very intense form of schizophrenia.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “I see.”

  “But the odd thing is—the thing that just has me stumped, is how his condition got so bad so fast. It’s unusual for these things to just happen. You’re sure you can’t remember any odd behavior in the past?”

  “No. It’s only been recently.”

  “I understand that his family has a history of mental disorders.”

  “Yes.”

  “That also worries me. After all these years, an official diagnosis never has been made on his sister.”

  “Really?” Elizabeth cocked a surprised eyebrow. “They’ve never figured out what’s wrong with her?”

  “Not to my knowledge. I will arrange the transfer to Twin Creeks for Tuesday. We can only hope that he shows some improvement by then.”

  “Is it possible…could it be that this is all being brought on because of guilt of some kind? Could it be that he did kill that woman and now he can’t handle it?”

  “That, Mrs. O’Dell-Whithers, is something I won’t comment on.”

  Elizabeth’s head turned to the side, as though she were distracted, “Or I guess he went crazy and that’s why he killed her…”

  “If I may, these are just allegations. The bottom line is that your husband is incapable of defending himself. If I were you, I would try to deal with one issue at a time.”