by Aisha Graham
Georgia was screaming and sobbing so incoherently. Evita couldn’t understand a word she was saying. She temporarily ignored Georgia and started the engine, putting the car in reverse faster than she ever had in her life. Evita allowed Georgia to continue her incomprehensible shouting, as she sped away from the wooded neighborhood. Once they reached the main road, Evita pulled over again.
“Calm down!” Evita shouted and put all of Georgia’s verbal vomit to a halt. “She isn’t dead.”
“What?” Georgia couldn’t believe it. “She’s still down there, in the basement. That’s why he came back to the house. She isn’t dead.”
Georgia suggested calling the police, but Evita wasn’t so sure that was the best course of action. Loud cars and lights pulling up into a dark isolated area would give her father time to do something to Clarice and with her body. Evita knew, by now, her father wasn’t the most stable person, and found him capable of doing just about anything, if necessary.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, but you’re going home, okay?” Evita insisted.
“No, no, please don’t take me home, yet”, Georgia begged and Evita realized she was right. Georgia was right. Yeah, The Reverend was at home for now, but neither of them knew what his next move would be. “He obviously was at my apartment, Evita. You’re playing with fire, right now.”
The clock was ticking and it was almost midnight. Evita and Georgia remained no more than ten miles away from the scene of the ongoing crime, parked along the shoulder. Georgia cried herself to sleep in the passenger seat. Evita stared through the front window. The scarcely-scattered street lights barely lit the rural atmosphere. Evita knew she couldn’t keep Georgia with her. She thought of Georgia as a liability, but she knew it wouldn’t be right to dump her back in the very place The Reverend went looking for her in the first place.
Evita proceeded to a nearby hotel and once they arrived, she gently poked Georgia’s shoulder until she snorted herself awake. Evita received a room key from the youthful clerk at the front desk and interlocked arms with Georgia the entire way to the room, dragging her bag alongside. This room wasn’t as nice as her last hotel stay, but the sheets were cleaned, and there were two separate double beds, which was all they needed for the night.
Georgia plopped on the bed closest to the door and went right back to sleep, but not without reminding Evita to call the police. Evita found herself staring at the ceiling again. Her heart raced. It was as if she could still see Clarice fidgeting for help. Evita didn’t want to risk getting Clarice killed, period, so she continued to replay scenarios in her mind. She could sneak down into the basement somehow and free Clarice by herself, and then they’d go to the police station and report it.
In the midst of her daydreaming, Evita received a text from Diana checking in. Evita let her know she was safe, but lied about going to the police in the morning. Evita’s eyes started to burn again and she couldn’t help but to rest them for a second. She suddenly heard whispers from Clarice again, asking for help. Evita quickly opened her eyes, but there was nothing in her view but white ceiling.
Georgia still snored peacefully, feet away. Evita closed her eyes again. This time, a hand calmly lie on her left shoulder. Evita tried to ignore it. The hand began to squeeze tighter and tighter until there was an actual pain piercing through Evita’s skin. She opened her eyes and turned over to see Vivian. Vivian didn’t resemble the beautiful images that were ingrained in Evita’s mind from childhood. This Vivian was the version that Reverend Thomas had destroyed.
Her eyes were bloodshot like Evita’s had been for the past few days. Dark bags formed where a joyful glow once resided. Scratches and bruises adorned what used to be a youthful, firm, chocolate-toned face. Her jaws were sunken in. Her wrists were a deep red from the ties that had bound her prior to her death. She looked Evita directly in her eyes and whispered “Save Clarice”. Evita reached her hand forward to caress her mother’s face and woke up.
DAY 31
BIRDS were chirping and the sun was shining bright through the opened curtains. Georgia stood in the small bathroom area, vigorously brushing her teeth and humming “Amazing Grace”. She leaned back past the wall that separated their bodies and cheerfully waved with a mouth full of toothpaste.
“What time is it?” Evita asked, squinting for clarity.
Georgia spat into the sink.
“It’s seven, we need to go.”
Evita immediately jumped out of the bed and rushed to grab her duffle bag. “Where’d you get a toothbrush?” Evita asked.
“From the gift shop, I’ve been up for a while”, Georgia handed her a small travel toothbrush.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so tired yesterday, and I’m sure we have a big day ahead of us—”
“Let’s go”, Evita grabbed Georgia by the arm, grabbed her shoes from beside the room door, and dragged her down to the lobby and into the car in a rush. She finally allowed Georgia to put her shoes on once the car door was shut.
“Evita, go to the police, honey”, Georgia began panicking again like clockwork.
“She’s still alive, she’s okay.”
“How do you know that?” Georgia screamed in a louder volume than Evita thought her voice could even reach.
“Another dream, Georgia.”
“You can’t keep going off of—”
“Shut up”, Evita said calmly, “these dreams are what have us in this position in the first place, so I’ll continue to listen to them until this is over with.” Georgia listened, she shut up. She faced forward, placed her hands in her lap, as they drove a few minutes back to The Reverend’s house. As they approached the street again, Evita immediately noticed there were no cars at the house. The coast was clear.
“Do you know where he is today?” Evita asked as she parked the car in the same spot as the night before.
“Well, tonight there’s a charity event, so I’m sure he’s at the church helping with that.” Georgia used finger quotes for the word “helping”.
“He’d definitely be there to save face”, Evita agreed.
“What if he isn’t at the church? We have no clue where he is!” Georgia backtracked.
“Listen to me. If anything happens to Clarice, I will not forgive myself. I’m going to go in there and get her out.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Look at your arms!” Evita reminded Georgia reminded of the pain The Reverend had caused over the years. Georgia realized she was frightened, but she was more tired of being afraid than anything. Evita got out of the car, left the keys in the ignition this time, and told Georgia that if she saw The Reverend coming, to drive off, and she will find her way to the road on her own. Georgia was actually relieved with that plan and immediately switched seats. Georgia locked the car door and leaned her seat backwards again.
Evita crept toward the house the same way as she did the night before, but without the advantage of darkness. Luckily, there was no sight of anyone or anything. Upon reaching the backside of the house, Evita crouched downward to see inside the basement window. The light was off now making it difficult to see. The ties around Clarice’s body were a bright white, and the only thing clearly visible. Evita could see them moving. She took one last quick peak around the side of the house for safety measures.
Evita searched the grass for a large rock, stick, or anything to break the window. She knew the alarm system wouldn’t be triggered and that this was her moment. There it was, the key to her salvation; a large gray rock with sharpened edges. As Evita picked it up from the tall grass, she knew it was heavy enough to create an entryway. She struggled to carry it a few feet toward the house and once she was in arm’s reach of the window, Evita lunged the small boulder forward. It only created a crack down the middle of the thick glass.
Evita grunted and took a few deep breaths. She struggled to pick the rock up again. This time, with full force, Evita propelled the
rock through the glass, completely shattering it downward onto the basement’s floor. Evita could now hear Clarice grunting and moaning with a cloth tied snuggly around her mouth.
“I’m coming!” Evita assured her. She hopped down into the window, landed atop of the shattered glass, crunching under her sneakers. Evita ran toward Clarice, immediately snatching the cloth from her face. Clarice let out a loud whimper of relief. Evita began taking the ties from around her wrists and ankles. This was the most emotion Evita had ever seen Clarice express. Over a decade of terror streamed down Clarice’s otherwise stiff, pale face. Sweat drenched her dress and blood stained her skin. She continuously thanked Evita for coming, but Evita was too focused on rescuing her stepmother to reply.
Down the small street, Georgia noticed a car slowly approaching. Her heart raced and she became so nervous she forgot she had the car keys. She continued hiding in the reclined driver’s seat. This time, the car stopped beside Evita’s vehicle. It was The Reverend, parked right beside the passenger door. He could see Georgia’s chest moving up and down through the window.
The Reverend removed the keys from the ignition and bolted from his vehicle, over to the driver’s side of Evita’s car. His trench coat flew behind him, stained with Clarice’s blood. Reverend Thomas demanded Georgia open the door, while slamming his closed fists against the window. His rage ran so deeply he was able to crack the glass in its center. Georgia remained lying backward, crying, with her arms cross in front of her, mumbling a prayer for salvation.
With every slam against the window, Georgia nearly jumped out of her skin. Georgia noticed the keys jingling to the cadence of The Reverend’s punches and remembered she could leave. Georgia sat upward without fixing the seat back to its original position and looked at The Reverend in his angry eyes. He was grimacing, blaring curse words, and sweltering with fury; all of this emotion surrounding cold, blank eyes. The Reverend let out one enormous, loud groan, with his fists high in the air, echoing through the desolate area.
Evita and Clarice recognized the sound from a mile away. “C’mon, let’s go!” Evita shouted as she dragged Clarice up the basement stairs by the arm and out the back door, which triggered the burglar alarm.
The Reverend slammed his arms into the window one last time, breaking it. Glass shattered all over Georgia’s face, bloodying her forehead and left cheek. The Reverend reached his hands between the broken glass and clutched Georgia’s neck. Georgia fought through the pain, turning the keys in the ignition. The car revved and Georgia abruptly reversed, slamming her heavy foot on the gas pedal. The car flew backwards, yanking The Reverend’s arm from around her neck and through the broken window. Georgia swiftly turned her head back and forth, making sure not to hit anything behind her and simultaneously watching The Reverend. He was caressing his sore arm while still shouting and cursing to his lonesome self.
The Reverend then ran toward the house leaving his car in the middle of the road. He noticed the beeping alarm system as he approached the porch and burst through the front door. The Reverend realized Clarice had somehow escaped. Although he hadn’t remembered her car, The Reverend knew Evita was the culprit. He ran back through the front door, down the steps, and around back of the house, finding the broken window and rock sitting at the bottom of its fall. “Fuck!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
By now, Evita and Clarice had run through the forest behind the house and reached the end of the road. Adrenaline continued to fuel Clarice where a lack of food and water could not. Evita helped by pulling Clarice alongside and keeping up speed. They paused for a second before proceeding down the busy intersection.
“Are you okay?” Evita asked. Clarice nodded yes while scrounging for oxygen. They turned the corner onto the main road and continued running. There were cars flying by on their way to work. Evita continued full speed, hauling Clarice along.
“Wait”, Clarice whimpered as she held her stomach tightly and stooped downward. Evita almost didn’t hear her cry and kept moving. Clarice squeezed her hand and shouted “Wait!” as loud as her throat would allow. Evita stopped and turned to see Clarice struggling to continue. Evita grabbed her frail body and slung it over her shoulder. Clarice was lighter than she’d imagined and her ribs poked Evita’s shoulders as she jogged alongside the traffic. She was skin and bones. It was like carrying a small child, which in this case, was bittersweet.
A few cars began to slow down beside them. One, miraculously, was driven by Georgia.
“Get in!” Georgia shouted through the passenger side window. Evita tossed Clarice’s thin frame into the back, climbed into the passenger seat, and instructed Georgia to drive the hospital.
Just then, Georgia noticed someone was following close behind them. She squinted into the rearview mirror, and there was Reverend Thomas’s car, tailgating so closely, that they almost crashed.
“Turn here!” Evita insisted and Georgia made a sharp right. Clarice’s body jumbled with each quick movement. The Reverend continued driving straight on the main road.
“We’ll get back on in a few blocks”, Evita declared. Clarice was limply sprawled out in the backseat.
“Clarice?” Evita turned around and kneeled in her seat, rubbing the side of Clarice’s body. “We’re only a few minutes away okay?”
Georgia slammed on the brakes and Evita flew backwards, slamming her spine against the dash board. Clarice rolled onto the floor. There he was, The Reverend, right in front of them on a one-way backroad, almost touching their front bumper. Georgia reversed the car and sped backwards. She made a left onto another street and made it back out onto the main road, The Reverend still closely followed.
“Fuck him, just go”, Evita shouted. Georgia floored the gas for the remainder of the way, barely bypassing red lights. The Reverend kept within distance the entire path. Finally, after a few minutes, the local hospital appeared on the right side and Georgia slowed to enter the parking lot. The Reverend noticed where they were headed and continued on the main road. He knew his fate had come to a dead end.
The Reverend began sobbing behind the wheel. For the first time in nearly forty years, Carl Thomas allowed himself to cry. The feeling became so overwhelming he had no choice but to pull over. The Reverend sat there, covering his face with the palms of his hands, wondering if this was it. The Reverend sensed this was the end of the mirage he worked so hard to maintain. His tumultuous life flashed before his eyes; the beatings that he watched his mother take, which were recreated with his own hands against the very women who loved and cared for him. Vivian’s face appeared in his memory as the young girl on that B6 bus.
Visions appeared of Evita’s face as a young, curious, three-year-old, which prompted regret within The Reverend over losing his temper with her just a few weeks ago. He pictured himself saying his vows to Vivian, and the rare moments, early on, when the two of them shared laughter with their newborn daughter. The Reverend saw himself, clear as day, preaching to his congregation every Sunday about how to overcome their demons, but realized he had never been able to overcome his own.
Georgia pulled in front of the emergency room entrance, allowing Evita to get out and carry Clarice’s limp, now-unconscious body through the automatic doors.
“This is Reverend Thomas’s wife! Please, help her!”
Evita screamed. The local news had played nothing but Clarice’s face for the past 48 hours and all of the nurses and doctors immediately recognized her. Chaos ensued as they placed Clarice’s petite body onto a stretcher, pushed her back into the emergency operating room, and instructed Evita to sit in the waiting area. Minutes later, Georgia waddled through the automatic doors, scanning the room until she found Evita’s bewildered face.
“Is she okay?” Georgia asked.
“They’re looking at her now. Where’s my dad?” Evita was worried.
“He’s not out there”, Georgia reassured her. She sat next to Evita and held her hand. The two of them stared into the distance, unsu
re of what would happen next. Thirty minutes or so had passed, and a doctor approached Evita, holding a clipboard in his hand and peering over the top of his thick glasses. This must’ve been a doctor thing, as it immediately reminded Evita she needed to contact Diana.
“Ma’am”, he greeted Evita, and she stood to meet the doctor at eye level. “We have her stabilized. Her blood pressure is doing fine, we’re running tests now to see to what extent the damage was—”
“The Reverend did this to her”, Evita couldn’t wait. As long as she knew Clarice was okay, the only thing that mattered to her is that her father finally served justice.
“What?” The doctor couldn’t comprehend. The Reverend was loved by most of the people in the town and it was hard for him to imagine he was responsible for such terrible pain inflicted upon his own wife.
“The Reverend, Reverend Carl Thomas, her husband did this to her”, Evita spoke slowly so the doctor couldn’t miss a word.
“How do you know?” he signaled for a nurse to approach them. “Cindy”, he said, “call the police.”
“I’m his daughter”, Evita hesitated to admit. This came as another shock to the doctor. Anyone who had entered the town since Evita moved, was unaware that The Reverend had any children at all. “She, Clarice, was tied to a radiator in his basement. He’s harmed this woman before too”, Evita said, pointing to Georgia a few feet away. She brought the doctor over to where Georgia was seated, pulled Georgia’s sleeves upward, and revealed welts, bruises, and scratches.