Only Women in Hell

by A. R. Braun

  “It’s peachy-keen,” Stacey answered.

  Marie chuckled.

  Pink walls and pink carpeting! Wow, my favorite color!

  The northeast door caught Stacey’s attention when she rose to look over the rest of the room. She headed toward it. The scent of new carpeting was enchanting. Stacey walked into the bathroom and noticed she had her own shower, with a shower massager. The tub was huge. She also had a Jacuzzi and an automatic flushing toilet.

  Golly! There’s a couch in here!

  Her heels clicked on the tile as Stacey walked over to sit on the soft, purple davenport. The huge, marble tub held her attention.

  Look at all the different types of bubble baths, and look at all the rubber ducks! There must be fifty of ‘em!

  Then she spotted something that troubled her.

  Why does my bathroom have a tampon machine?

  Marie appeared in the doorway. “Now, don’t spend the first moments of your room in the shitter.”

  Stacey walked toward the door, pausing and waiting for Marie to move so she could stroll into the bedroom. She bounced up and down on the bed. “I love it.”

  Marie folded her arms. “You’d damn well better. Your father and I worked our asses off for this home.”

  Stacey stopped bouncing, watching her, wondering if Marie was going to go psycho.

  Dick smiled as the butler placed the suitcase on Stacey’s bed. “You can start unpacking. Your dad needs a nap. Come on, Marie. Let the girl get used to her new room.”

  I like him more than I like her.

  “Of course, honey,” Marie answered. “How’s the chef doing with supper?” she asked the butler.

  “Almost done, madam.”

  “Good.” Marie fixed her eyes on Stacey. “Welcome to your new home, my daughter.”

  “Thank you,” Stacy answered.

  Dick and the butler left.

  Marie glared at her. Stacey decided to be good and walked up and hugged the bear of a woman.

  Marie ran her fingers through Stacey’s hair. They pulled away from each other. The big lady turned to leave, then stopped when almost through the door. “Feel free to watch TV after you get unpacked. The remote’s on your nightstand, and go ahead and play on the computer until you’re assigned homework. By the way, I’d better hear you call me Mom pretty soon, or I might get cross—you don’t want that—and I need a hallelujah.”

  Puzzled, Stacey stared at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that, child. Sweet Jesus gave you all this, and you give him a hallelujah!”

  Stacey cleared her throat. “Hallelujah.”

  “Enjoy your room. Next time I want you to say it with feeling. Supper will be in an hour. And yes, we do say grace.”

  Marie lumbered out of the room.

  Stacey twirled her fingers around her ears.

  Gawd, she’s some kind of crazy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Stacey finished unpacking. Exhausted, she lay down on the huge bed. Stacey grabbed the remote from the gigantic pink dresser and flicked on the television. Cable TV roared to life. Feeling a little naughty after the episode with her foster mother, she tweaked it so she could watch episodes on free pay-per-view. Stacey ordered the latest South Park.

  Hysterical giggles erupted.

  Marie barged in. She snapped her head toward the plasma screen. Stacey tried to change the channel to the weak-ass kids’ channel or something like it, but was too slow on the draw.

  Marie stomped over. Her manicured nails left painful cuts in Stacey’s palm when she ripped the remote out of her hand. Stacey had never gazed on the face of evil, but just then she was staring right at it. Marie’s forehead folded over her brow like a shark’s skin, her eyes narrow slits. Her red lipstick smeared her yellowed teeth as she scowled, and Marie’s jowls trembled with rage.

  Beads of sweat erupted on Stacey’s forehead, and her heartbeat crashed against her ribcage as if wanting out.

  My goodness, she’s lost her mind!

  “I can’t believe you’re watching that trash in our Christian home,” Marie shrieked. “You’re grounded for a week! By god, you’ll learn respect in this house, little girl. Your television privileges are suspended as of now. If you even say South Park under our roof, if you even so much as think South Park, you’ll be grounded for a month.” She reached out and shook the child. “Do you hear me?”

  Stacey wept and wiped her eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “You damn well better be.” She stuffed the remote in her back pocket, then grabbed Stacey by the arm. “Get your ass downstairs! It’s suppertime!”

  Marie dragged her out the door and toward the stairs as hot tears streamed down Stacey’s face. Marie’s hard grip hurt her arm. There would be red marks, Stacey was sure of it. She keened under the enormous woman’s grip.

  “Shut your little ass up,” Marie cried.

  Her foster mother picked her up, slung her over her shoulder, and spanked her the whole way down the stairs. Her large hand stung Stacey’s rump like the butt of a shotgun; she continue to throttle her till they reached the bottom of the landing.

  “You rotten little shit!” Marie continued.

  I don’t think I can take much more of this.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Dick cried from the bottom of the stairs. He took her from Marie and set her down. Stacie snuffled and wiped her eyes.

  “That little monster was watching South Park.”

  Dick frowned. “Stacey, we don’t watch that garbage in this house, understood?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again.”

  “She’s sorry she got caught,” Marie snapped.

  “Oh, you fucking take it easy,” Dick said. “She said she was sorry. What an impression you’re making on the child on her first night here. Let’s forget about it and have some supper, all right?”

  Marie harrumphed. “Fine.”

  Dick led Stacey by the hand to the huge dining room with a long, mahogany dinner table. She gasped when she saw servants wearing bow ties like the butler. The exquisite roast duck looked inviting, along with the huge plate of garlic potatoes. The rest of the meal, which included green beans and baked apples with sweet sauce, smelled delectable, a mouth-watering assembly.

  “Stacey,” Dick said, “I sit at the head of the table, your mother sits at the other end, and you’ll sit between us.”

  The butler pulled Marie’s chair out for her, and she plopped down.

  “Let’s hope she has table manners,” Marie breathed as she grabbed a napkin and snapped it open, stuffing it into her collar.

  Can anyone say “sooie”?

  The butler pulled Stacey’s chair out. She sat.

  “Let’s say grace,” Dick said.

  “I’d like to hear her say it,” Marie snapped.

  Afraid of any more repercussions, Stacey steepled her hands and closed her eyes. “Dear lord, thank you for this wonderful meal. Bless it to our bodies. Amen.”

  Dick chuckled. “Short but sweet, I like that.”

  “You Philistine,” Marie barked. “You would.”

  “God, Marie, would you shut up and eat?”

  “This looks delicious,” Stacey said.

  Dick chuckled again. “You won’t go hungry here, baby girl.” He winked at her and gestured toward Stacey with his fork. “Dig in.”

  Blessed quiet followed. Famished, Stacey ate her meal as politely as possible, reveling in the euphoric taste. Even the green beans were delicious, with bacon bits and some kind of heavenly sauce. Chocolate milk served in an expensive wine glass was the panacea.

  Dick chortled. “Looks like you’ve got a milk mustache.”

  Stacey laughed while reaching for the thick silk napkin embossed with a monogrammed S that lay in her lap. She wiped her mouth. “Sorry about that.”

  Dick waved her off. “Ah, you’re just being a kid.”

  A tall and thin African-American servant wheeled in a dessert cart that made Stacey’s mouth water
. She chose Cherries Jubilee and a banana split.

  “Hungry there, doll?” Dick asked.

  “Starving, sir.”

  A thud shook the table, rattling the silverware and the drinking glasses. “Why can’t she call us Mother and Father?” Marie yelled. “We’ve provided these luxuries for her, and she treats us like shit.”

  “Will you calm down and let the girl eat her dessert?” Dick yelled.

  “No! By god, she won’t finish her dessert until she calls us Mother and Father! It’s the least she can do.”

  Stacey had had enough. “You’re not my mommy and daddy! Why can’t I just call you sir and ma’am? Jesus Christ!”

  Marie bounded up, her chair crashing to the floor. She pointed her sausage finger at Stacey. “The lord’s name in vain! The lord’s name in vain!” She became squinty-eyed. “Go to your room.”

  “I think you’d better go, Stacey,” Dick agreed.

  Stacey scooped as much dessert into her mouth as she could. Marie charged over and yanked her away from the ice cream when she was half finished, the cold treat dripping from her lips as her chair fell to the floor and rattled. The massive woman’s vise-like grip hurt Stacey’s arm worse than before. It was only a matter of time before welts formed.

  “Let me go,” Stacey cried.

  “You cranky little bitch!” Marie dragged her up the stairs.

  Stacey’s heels knocked on the steps while she wept. Marie stopped halfway up the landing and gave her a couple of swift swats on the butt.

  “Ow! Stop it,” Stacey cried.

  “Shut up, Satan’s whore,” Marie uttered in a cacophonous tone.

  When they reached her room, Marie threw Stacey on the floor, and she slid all the way to the dollhouse.

  Oh god, no, don’t let me knock it over! That’s the worst thing that could happen!

  So, of course, she knocked it over.

  Time stood still as it crashed onto the floor, breaking into little pieces, Stacey’s life crashing down around her. The little figurines of the parents and a child plopped onto the carpet.

  “OH MY GOD, NOT MY DOLLHOUSE!” Marie trembled, her pupils rolled under her eyelids, and she fainted. The floor vibrated as she made a sickening thud.

  Footfalls clambered up the stairs.

  The butler rushed in. “Madam? Oh my goodness, madam!” He bent down and gingerly slapped her cheeks.

  I hope she cracked her head and died.

  The butler reached into his pocket and touched smelling salts to her nostrils. Much to Stacey’s dismay, Marie revived. The butler helped her up. When she’d drawn a few deep breaths, she glared at Stacey, who stood and rubbed her butt.

  The woman’s eyes goggled as she surveyed the wrecked dollhouse. A vein popped out on her huge forehead, and she shook her fist. “You just wait till your father deals with you,” she yelled.

  With that, Marie and the butler left. Stacey heard a lock turning on the outside of her door. She knelt before the tipped-over dollhouse, and bitter tears streamed down her face.

  When will my life not be hell?

  <^^>

  Stacey picked up the dollhouse the best she could, but it was ruined. Giving up, she changed into her purple horsey pajamas and went to bed. Stacey wiped her tears with pink tissues from the golden box on her nightstand.

  At nine o’clock, she heard a knock on the door. “Stacey?” Dick yelled. “It’s Daddy.”

  “You can come in, but Marie locked the door,” she yelled back.

  A key fumbled in the lock, then the door opened. Standing in the threshold, Dick smiled and closed the door. He walked over to her bed and sat down, smoothing her hair.

  “Why are you still crying, my ragamuffin?”

  Stacey tried her best to give Dick the puppy dog eyes. She hoped it worked. “Marie said I was really gonna get it from you. I didn’t mean to break the dollyhouse, I swear. Marie threw me in my room and I slid on the floor and bashed into it.”

  His eyes were sympathetic, and the corner of his mouth turned upward. “Oh, I know, your mother’s a bit of an old bore.” He snickered. “Don’t tell her, but I like South Park myself. That Trey Parker and Matt Stone, they crack me up.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. Cartman, Stan, Kenny, and Kyle are funny little fuckers, aren’t they?”

  Stacey giggled and nodded.

  His smile changed into a frown. “I’m afraid I can’t ignore the disrespect you’ve shown your mother and I, though.”

  Uh-oh.

  “You see,” he continued. “A child has to learn respect. You’re out of control, and you just got here! All you had to do was humor her and call us Mommy and Daddy, and everything would’ve been all right. Your mother’s already gone to bed. She’s very troubled by your behavior, you know.”

  “No, Daddy, I won’t cause trouble again, honest to goodness! I’ll call you Father and her Mother and I won’t watch bad TV again, never ever!”

  “Well, it’s one thing to say, and another thing to do.” He rose from the bed. “There has to be punishment or chaos will follow.”

  “Are you going to spank me?”

  “Oh, that too.” He walked over and shut the door, locking it. Then he killed the lights. “A simple spanking’s not going to cut the mustard, I’m afraid.”

  The strong full moon’s glow shone into her window like a beacon of disaster.

  Dick stood over the bed. He took off his belt. Then he pulled what looked like a police club out of the back of his pants. Stacey didn’t know it was called a blackjack.

  “What are you doing?” Stacey cried.

  The silhouette like a dark devil leaned forward. “This will hurt you more than it’ll hurt me.” He nodded. “Yes, yes. I’ll have to make sure I beat you where it won’t show.”

  Stacey wept, and her sobbing soon turned to screaming, then shrieking that no one in the house heeded. Stacey went to a better place in her mind, where her loving parents weren’t dead and they still doted over her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “If you tell anybody what I just did, I’ll kill you,” Dick said.

  He left, locking the door behind him. Stacey lay in complete and utter shock. In a fetal position, she shivered; he had indeed beaten her where it wouldn’t show.

  Stacey didn’t know what to think. She must have imagined it. Things like this just didn’t happen to little girls. But she couldn’t have imagined the pain, as if a truck had run over her. She stripped and stared at the purple bruises, wishing she hadn’t. It looked like she’d been beaten to death. It made her feel like a ghost.

  Her eyelids grew heavy and she fell into a deep sleep. Stacey dreamt of her dearly-departed parents. The modest house they’d owned in a rough part of Mowquakwa stood as a palace to her now as she kicked her legs while sitting on the deck in the front yard. The house sported one turret, half the size of the two on Dick and Marie’s house. The gabled windows were cheaply made, and the picture window was cracked. Yet there were more riches here than Dick and Marie could ever imagine—the wealth of a loving family. Her dad, a stocky man with a gray crew-cut, mowed the lawn. Her mom, sweet-faced and thin, played with the black lab.

  It was euphoria.

  Until the flesh peeled from their faces.

  Mom and Dad’s skin turned crinkly brown, their eyes caved in, their hands crumpled, and their digits thumped onto the grass. The mower moved backward over the discarded fingers, and flesh and bone shot out in spurts and chunks. Her parents crashed onto the half-cut lawn. Their skeletons peeked through the flesh as maggots sped up the decomposition process like fast-forwarding on a DVR. The skulls beneath their skin offered sickening death-grins.

  Then she found herself sitting on the porch of her new home.

  Stacey writhed on her bed, kicking off her bedsheet.

  A limo pulled up. The butler from her current household stepped out, a chauffeur’s hat stuck on his bald crown. His beady little eyes twinkled. “Stacey, come with me. I have to get you away from
your new parents, for the worst part is… yet to come.” The last few words he’d uttered sounded like a monster’s, wheezy, with plenty of dread.

  A flood of hot tears gushed from her eyes as she rose to follow him. Stacey stopped when he cocked his ugly head to the side after taking off his cap. Liver spots dominated the butler’s crown and hands.

  “You must hurry,” he bellowed in an abominable voice. “The terror that’s near will make tonight look like… nothing at all.”

  Horror took her like a whirlwind.

  “Move!”

  “Why do you look so old, Jeevsie?” Stacey asked in a quaky voice.

  “I am from the future. Do not question what I say. I must take you back to The Children’s Haven, for I know your family’s dark secrets.”

  Fear forged a last-ditch effort to hold her back.

  “Come!”

  And she ran to him, faster than she’d ever run to anybody in her life, because she knew he was right, knew what her evil foster parents were capable of and that he’d be the only one to save her. Jeevsie opened the door and she sat inside. He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine… until an eye the size of a VW Bug looked into the windshield: the angry, sadistic eyeball that belonged to the face of her foster father.

  Stacey’s eyes snapped open while she lay in bed, the horrible reality returning to haunt her. Time slowed. Objects at the far end of the room moved farther away.

  And deep in hell, a demon cackled.

  <^^>

  Stacey slept in as long as she could, till Marie pounded on the door and told her to get her little ass up and take a bath because breakfast was almost ready. Never was there a more somber bubble bath. Stacey changed into pants, along with a sweater. When she came to the table trembling like a cat that had been left out in below zero weather, Dick was absent.

  “Sit down,” Marie said. Was there a hint of regret in her eyes?

  Stacey sat, but not without wincing from the pain.

  “Your father had to go to work today,” Marie added. “And he’s hiring a construction-worker buddy to build a warehouse next door. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Stacey nodded. Whoop-de-do. She looked at her plate of poached eggs, sausages, blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, golden-brown hash browns, a bowl of oatmeal with orange chunks, and a wineglass full of chocolate milk. It smelled delectable, looked delicious, but she had no appetite. It was a shame. Stacey looked surreptitiously at Marie, who downed her breakfast like a pig at the trough.