by A. R. Braun
Stacey looked away from her kids as keys jumbled in the lock. She expected Dick to come through the door to drop off more groceries and apartment supplies.
Then she remembered her prayer.
A ray of hope illuminated her mind. She fought for control, wanting to believe with all her heart that god would break them out of their dungeon; doubt assailed her like a thief, however.
The door swung open.
Why is Dick walking away from the door?
She spotted a woman—another woman—stepping through the threshold. Stacey noted her short blond hair and bulky size, and it was the grandest thing she’d ever seen. At first, anxiety crashed through her like electric sparks. Then the most joyous burst of hope overcame her.
The look on the woman’s face was priceless.
Joy took Stacey as if she was dreaming. The moment she’d been longing for for fifteen years—here it was, like a stranger. No, that wasn’t quite right: like an unfamiliar lover.
This can’t be! It’s too good to be true!
Stacey again remembered her prayer and peace encapsulated her so strongly she thought she’d break out in a rapturous dance right in front of the lady. Her body, though, used to the prison, used to hell, used to the desperation, used to despair, shook as she rose. Therese said something akin to I told you so and Stacey realized right then and there that her daughters were already ten times smarter than she was. Her legs shook so badly that, for a few seconds, Stacey thought she’d fall on the floor. Then she was bawling, smiling so wide she thought the corner of her lips would pop out of her ears.
I’m free! We’re free!
Stacey heard the policemen tell Dick to get down on the ground, and it confirmed that what she was witnessing was no dream after all, because Stacey thought she’d wake up and be in the same hopeless bed in the same hopeless prison for another day in the lowest pit of hell.
Then her eyes went to the hallway, to a world she thought she’d never see again, something that had been beyond her reach all these years, heaven behind a gulf where she as the Pharisee could never cross, and here it was yes it was really true while she stared at that steel wall like it was a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Stacey watched the woman, whose face had gone from well-tanned to white as soon as she’d seen their prison, clear her throat and ask her if indeed she was Stacey Alley.
Blubbering, Stacey just nodded, clutching onto her kids as if she never wanted to let go.
Joy, joy, hallelujah and praise God, we are OUT OF HERE!
The woman turned her head and read Dick his rights. She’d never seen him in a weakened, defeated state before, and that’s when she understood the real meaning of justice, the devils of society being brought low. Dick uttered words of hatred to the officer, as if he had the right to be pissed off, and Stacey watched Therese step forth and rail on him in a thunderous burst of anger from the years of hurt, the years of being imprisoned so that she’d never know the joy of being like every other child in the world, and Therese’s words were like music to Stacey’s ears. Never, ever, would Stacey even think of correcting her, because this was justice, and justice was a beautiful thing.
At that moment of salvation, though she bawled so hard she couldn’t even talk, she had to laugh yes had to laugh and put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle that, good lord help her, should have been a cackle.
Stacey watched Therese, her pride and joy, her daughter number one, just stand there after she’d yelled at her dad. Stacey then wanted to be just like her little girl because she’d never known that kind of strength as a child. Dick had taken that from her by beating her repeatedly.
Dick told them nobody would be able to replace him as the no. 1 realtor and asked who would take care of his tenants, but Stacey couldn’t let him burst her bubble like that no one could burst her bubble like that not after almost fifteen years of imprisonment not the one that beat her over and over as if she was just a piece of cattle just a piece of meat to beat down and degrade until Stacey didn’t even care what happened to her anymore. Her anger rose and she thought that if she touched the wall and pushed hard enough it would tumble down as if she was Samson’s twin sister. Then she stepped forward just like her brave little girl and spat the words of hate without even thinking about them, just let the rage flow, and it felt so good to give it back because the hunter was now the hunted and that piece of shit was getting what he deserved. So she called him a raping son of a bitch yes a raping son of a bitch because he’d get it all back in prison and by god he deserved it lord knows he deserved it and now the rapist would become the raped and she knew justice even more.
As she listened to the nice lady—god, she loved this woman—she thought that, goddamn it, this should’ve been her foster mother when she needed one, when all she’d had was that old bag that didn’t care if her dog of a husband beat her, the woman who told her it wasn’t happening when Stacey knew it was and every time it did she had to go to that special place in her mind where either she was with her real parents or on a deserted island and had anything she wanted under the sun with Kevin the most handsome boy her age and every kind of animal and luxury she could ever want or need a kind of Garden of Eden that by god she DESERVED after what she’d been through. She heard the lady cop apologize as if it had been her fault, and Stacey wasn’t even trying to hear that because all she could do was stare at that hallway where freedom beckoned. Stacey wanted to look this kind woman in the eye but her glances kept going back to the hallway the hallway the glorious hallway where freedom waited and perhaps happiness was her friend after all. She thought of Kevin and how he was probably an old married man now but all that mattered at the present was getting out into that hall.
Then the lady told her she could take the girls out there. Her daughters held her (Are they holding me up or am I holding them up?), and they made their way into the hallway where the bad man had been taken away and now prison was his home and it had come back on him and wasn’t that the sweetest song she’d ever heard in her life?
Stacey and her family from hell barely made it out into the hall, their legs shaking so badly. It had been for over a decade for them, almost fifteen for her. Her kids were her strength, her best and only friends, her salvation and her joy. They’d made it after all, and the first thing to hit her was the glorious air yes the glorious air! She could breathe again! She’d forgotten how it felt to really breathe. That dungeon had been so cramped, so air-tight, she wondered how she and the children hadn’t suffocated. As if a doctor administered a breathalyzer was this air that tasted like the finest bottle of water in non-liquid form, and she sucked it up greedily, so hard she thought her lungs would burst.
Stacey looked around the steel hallway with the fake electric lamps and felt as if she was walking out of hell. Her daughters giggled. Before she knew it, she giggled with them, and all the memories rushed back, her romance with Kevin, her fun times in school with Jenna, and the SUN yes the SUN, and how great it would feel to be sunburned silly right about now!
One of the policeman, a strapping young man with very short hair, held the door for them, and wasn’t he the sight? Stacey wanted to ravage him right there, such a brave soldier come to free her so she could strip off the blackened uniform of bigotry, like an Iraqi wife that had been raped but now was free because Saddam hung dead in the concourse.
The sun’s rays felt as if they’d blind her eyes. Stacey squealed in delight from being reunited with her old friend, then the kids broke off from her and were running toward the door to jump and shout and play and get sunburned like all children should be allowed to do, and it wasn’t long before Stacey was running, too, her legs no longer weak and her mind and body no longer bound.
When she stepped outside, the cold blasted her as she saw snow on the ground, but she cared not for the cold and not for the fact that she wore no jacket because even if she got sick it was the most wonderful pain she’d ever feel in her life. And that long, lost friend—the su
n—kissed her with its warmth, caressed her, and it felt so good she thought she’d come. The sunburn would have to wait, but nothing—especially not that pithy concern—could squelch her victory. The kids were jumping up and down, yelling, squealing, and screaming in victory, then Stacey was doing the same, because goddamn it, she’d been eighteen when Dick had taken her to hell, and eighteen she should be today, the years robbed from her so vehemently they no longer seemed to exist.
She barely heard the engine of a police cruiser driving away.
Though the sun tortured her eyes because she’d been locked up for so long, her joy made her ignore the sweet pain she knew her children probably endured, also.
Then Stacey was running toward the girls, and they locked arms and jumped and jumped and screamed and cried like they’d never done before.
Tears continued to gush forth from Stacey’s eyes—she noticed from all of their eyes—so violently she thought she’d dry up and shrivel into nothingness. And the chants rang out, rang true, rang as lovely as the son of god.
“We’re FREE, we’re FREE, and we’re never going back! We’re FREE, we’re FREE, and we’re never going back! We’re FREE, we’re FREE, and we’re NEVER GOING BACK!”
The kids were lying down in the snow and making the snow angels they’d seen the children on TV make, and Stacey bent down and picked up the snow, throwing it up into the air as if it was confetti at a party, which of course it was. Stacey felt like she’d just won the Miss Universe pageant. Before long, the four of them were clobbering each other with snowballs, and joyous laughter rang out from them like never before.
Finally, when they lay in the snow, exhausted (and didn’t the police officers look at them strangely?), Stacey looked up to the sky, in her mind looking up to god, and mouthed the words thank you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Christina walked outside to see Stacey and her children as they lay in the snow. The four of them gazed at the sky.
Five minutes in that dungeon was too much.
Stacey turned her head to look at Christina. The mother’s smile faded. Christina walked over to hold out a hand to help her up. Stacey took it, her eyes sad and frightened. Her children got up and held onto their mom.
Stacey reached out and hugged her, sobbing like a teenager.
Christina hesitated for a few seconds, then rubbed her back with one hand while stroking her hair with the other. “There, there. It’s all right now.”
Stacey pulled back from the embrace and blanched. “W-Where… are we… going to go?”
Christina pulled her coat over her as the cold wind, which uttered a menacing roar for a few seconds, bit right through her. She looked at the dented snow Stacey had lain in, then locked eyes with her. “Miss Alley, you’ve been through a lot. I’m afraid I’ll have to take you to a psychiatric ward.”
Stacey’s eyebrows raised, and Christina thought some color might have drained from her face, if she’d had any color. Stacey and her kids exchanged worried glances.
Christina took her hand, patting it. “I know you’re probably very upset, sweetie, but I need to ask you a few questions, all right?”
Stacey just nodded, the kids looking up at her.
Christina cleared her throat. “Are all these girls… your children?”
“Yes.” Another tear streamed from her eye.
A few boys romped through the snow and yelled like banshees while Stacey’s daughters broke off from her and watched them. They seemed fascinated and unable to move. Christina knew why. They’d never seen real-life boys before.
Christina gasped. Fighting to come to herself, she took out a pad and pen. “And… how long were you in there?”
The sun got brighter, briefly blinding Christina, while Stacey put a hand over her eyes. Tears still leaked out.
Stacey held Christina’s hand like a vise grip. “Almost f-f-fifteen years.”
Christina sighed, looking away from her, watching the boys as they faded out of sight. They don’t know how lucky they are. She met Stacey’s eyes. “I’ll have you give a more detailed statement at the hospital.” She forced a smile. “You’ll be very well cared for, you and your children. Eventually, they’ll work out some sort of living situation and a job for you, but I wouldn’t rush it.”
Stacey broke down crying with audible sobs. “There are t-t-three more.”
The girls now hung onto their mother in a group hug.
Christina blinked. “Three more… what?”
Stacey covered her mouth for the horror of what she obviously felt. “Three more daughters. He took my youngest babies away from me.” She choked on her sobs.
Christina drew a deep breath, tears and sobs threatening to assail her, too. “The three girls I just saw at the house?”
Stacey nodded, still sobbing.
Christina looked toward Officer Anderson. “Take Miss Alley and the girls to Clarksville Psychiatric Hospital.”
A few more police cruisers pulled up.
Stacey inched her head back and became bug-eyed, as if Christina had betrayed her. The male cop gingerly touched Stacey’s arm, which she shook off.
“It’s all right, ma’am,” he comforted. “We’re going to get you some help.”
The children furrowed their brows, but Stacey and her brood turned and followed him. He opened the back door of the cruiser, and they piled in, wailing so loud the whole neighborhood could probably hear them.
A few more officers approached Christina. They nodded at each other.
Officer Jenneman, a grey-haired man with glasses, watched the cruiser holding Stacey and her family pull away. “How is she?”
Christina shook her head, the tears and sobs no longer threatening. Thank God. I wouldn’t want to look unprofessional in front of my colleagues. “As you’d expect, the woman’s cracked like an old mirror. And I mean seriously disturbed.”
The officer glanced down at the snow as the sun hid behind the clouds. “That’s too bad.” Officer Jenneman looked up with sad eyes. “Thank god we finally found her.”
Christina nodded. “Guys,” her anger rose as she spoke, “let’s go next door.”
<^^>
Dick sat in the patrol car, laughing.
Shit, I could use a vacation anyway.
The young policeman turned a bend in the road.
The other officer, a man with glasses and black hair starting to turn hoary, turned around and looked daggers at Dick. “What’s so funny, shithead?”
Dick scowled. “Oh, fuck off.”
“I’ll add that to the arrest record. It won’t make you look very good at the trial.”
Dick hissed and looked out the window.
“Haven’t you done enough damage?” the officer that drove asked him. “Tell me, how does it feel to take almost fifteen years of somebody’s life for your own perverted enjoyment?”
Dick laughed. “Guess you’ll never know. You wouldn’t have the balls to take your daughter down.”
The officer hit the brakes. He turned around, giving him a look of death. “I’ve got a daughter, and if anyone even thought about molesting her, they wouldn’t have any balls, whether they’re steel or not. ‘Cause I’d cut ‘em off.”
“Oh, get off me. I waited till she was eighteen.”
“You can’t figure out that’s wrong for a seventy year old to do, dipshit?”
Dick stared at him, the willies ravaging his nerves.
“So I think you need to shut the hell up.” The officer eased off the brake and took off.
That son of a bitch. What’s he know?
Yet Dick was frightened inside, truly frightened, for the first time in his life.
And who had balls of steel now?
“Besides,” the officer riding shotgun added as he cleaned his glasses, “you’ll get it all back in the joint. When those big guys feast their eyes on that tanned, swimmer’s body, you’ll find out what it feels like to be raped, seventy years old or not.”
All Dick could do was
shut his eyes, not being able to shield his sight with his hand for the handcuffs… and sit in horror because of what the officer had just said.
<^^>
Christina walked over to Dick’s house, trudging through the snow that jumped away from every step of her galoshes. She fought the urge to tremble because of the cold. The policemen followed alongside her, stomping through the white stuff even harder, sending the crystals flying.
Christina huffed as she approached the porch. “Miss Alley said she had three other daughters, and they’re the ones in there with Dick’s wife. I don’t know whether the old lady’s in on it or not. Maybe she didn’t know. But I’m willing to venture a guess that she not only knew, but also covered it up. So you boys will be taking her for a ride.”
The officers nodded.
A fierce, howling wind blew at Christina’s back as she rang the doorbell. She shivered for a couple seconds.
The door opened. The butler was grinning from ear-to-ear for some reason. “Can I help you, madam?”
Christina locked eyes with him and flashed her badge. “I need to see Mrs. Alley and the three grandchildren right now.”
The butler blinked, then met her eyes again. “I would be only too pleased to get them for you. Won’t you come in?”
“We’ll wait here,” Christina answered, taken aback by his lack of concern.
Jesus, did he know about the whole thing all along? No, don’t get paranoid, girl. Not without any proof.
“A detective and a few policemen to see you and the children, madam,” the butler said from inside.
Was there joy in his voice?
Christina tapped her foot on the green welcome mat, preparing to go in with her gun drawn, if necessary.
Marie wobbled her massive frame to the door, peeking out. “Can I help you, detective?”
Christina gritted her teeth. “Oh, I think you can.”
Marie widened her eyes. “What’s going on here? What do you want with my granddaughters?”
Christina sighed as another ferocious wind tore at her back. “We just found your foster daughter and three of her daughters, your husband’s daughters, in a dungeon next door. The three kids you have in here are his incestuous daughters, too, and were kidnapped. Are you going to claim you don’t know that, Mrs. Alley?”