He leaned down and whispered, “Are you referring to your boyfriend? The one who just fucked your brains out? Why, he’s gone, my child.”
Emily stared at him in disbelief. “Gone?”
John Hoffman guffawed. “That’s right. He’s through with you, sweetheart. He got what he wanted and now he’s on his way. ‘Fuck ‘em and forget ‘em!’ he told me as he was leaving. Nice young man, by the way.”
“What did you do to him?” she cried.
“I told you, he’s gone. You didn’t really think he was going to stick around, did you? Especially now that he knows you belong to me!”
“Lenny!” she screamed, struggling to escape. But John Hoffman leaped on top of her, pinning her shoulders down with his scabrous hands.
Emily started sobbing, unable to look away from his huge girth lying on top of her. John Hoffman leaned down in her face and whispered hoarsely, “You haven’t quite gotten it yet, have you my child? You belong to me, just as Katherine belonged to me. She couldn’t escape, nor can you. You’re mine forever!”
“No!” Emily shrieked.
“Oh yes,” he objected. “I can have you whenever I want you. Whenever I feel the urge. And, as you can plainly see, I’m feeling that urge right now. So why fight it, my little one? You might even enjoy this! Katherine’s mother enjoyed it, as you already know—couldn’t get enough of this big old hammer! Begged for it, she did . . .”
“That’s a lie!” Emily cried angrily. “You raped her!”
John Hoffman laughed so hard, the bed shook.
“Raped her? Now that’s quite a laugh! Nancy Porter was a whore—a bitch in heat!”
Emily couldn’t keep quiet. “She was not a whore! She was a good, decent woman. She loved her husband. But you raped her and made her pregnant. And then you raped your own daughter!”
He smacked her hard on the face. “You bitch! You’ve got it all wrong! I loved my Katherine; did everything I possibly could for her. But then she had to go and fornicate with my son. Now is that any way to show respect for your father? After all I did for her? Rescued her from that fire, raised her good and proper? She was all mine until she started fucking around with Warren. I took care of her, made her feel real good. And how does she repay me? Marries my only son! Turns him against me!”
“That’s not the way it happened!” Emily snapped. “You abused my grandmother as a child. You treated her as if she were just another possession of yours. You didn’t love her! You were ruining her life so she wanted to get away from you. She fell in love with Grandpa Warren and ran away. But she couldn’t hide. Because even after you died, you still managed to ruin her life by the lies you’d conjured up just to keep her your own and deprive her from ever finding any happiness . . . You are the most arrogant, despicable, slime bag who ever lived! I hate you!”
John Hoffman froze, unable to respond. Then his face turned red with rage, every blood vessel bulging out of his skull. His eyes were maniacal, wanting to murder. He threw back his hand as if to strike her then stopped himself midway. He stared deep into Emily’s eyes for a moment, as if trying to ascertain the proper way to deal with her insolence. In the meantime, his erection had gone limp. He looked down at himself then back at Emily, his eyes conveying a renewed rage.
“Now look what you’ve done, you young tart!”
With that, John Hoffman began laughing hysterically. Emily watched in horror as he rocked up and down on her, doubled-up in a fit of laughter. Then suddenly, the laughing ceased as quickly as it had begun.
“Not to worry,” he hissed, gaping at her with eyes as cold as steel. “There will be other times, my child. A lifetime of other times. I’ll come back and pay you another visit real soon; you can be assured of that. And the next time, I’m going to spread those little legs of yours and fuck you so hard, you’re going to wish you were dead. Yes, missy, I’ll be back!”
“No you won’t, John Hoffman,” a voice said, coming from the doorway.
They both turned and looked toward the door at the same time. There were three figures standing there, silhouetted by a blinding white light coming from behind. Their faces were obscured in darkness, but it was apparent that the figures were those of a man, woman, and small child, standing hand-in-hand just inside the doorway of Emily’s bedroom.
“No, it can’t be!” John Hoffman cried, bolting out of the bed.
The man stepped forward. “But it is, John Hoffman. It is I. And soon your heartless, selfish scheme will be found out. And then you will perish forever. You shall burn in Hell for all eternity.”
John Hoffman ran and cowered in the corner of the bedroom, like a stray dog that had just been flogged. “It’s not possible! No one could ever know!” he declared.
The man took another step forward. “But someone does know, John Hoffman. And soon, you shall pay. No crime ever goes unpunished!”
“You’re lying!” John Hoffman shouted. “You’re just as dead as I am. . . You’re all dead! You have no power . . .”
“Perhaps I’m not dead,” the man declared calmly as he continued advancing forward. “Have you considered that, you heartless swine?”
Emily quickly glanced over to the doorway where the woman and child stood motionless, hand-in-hand. Katherine and Nancy! she thought. And Clem! Together! Her eyes flashed back to Clem. He was standing near the foot of her bed. His features were now distinguishable . . .
“Don’t come any closer!” John Hoffman cried. Emily glanced over at him. He was huddled up in a ball on the floor.
“It is not you I want, John Hoffman. You mean nothing to me. I have come for this child, my great-granddaughter.”
Emily stared at the man incredulously as he strode slowly around to the side of her bed. He was gazing at her compassionately, a tear falling down his cheek. When he reached her bedside, he knelt down and gently placed his arms in under her then lifted her up, cradling her in his arms.
“You’re safe now, my child,” he declared comfortingly.
Emily continued staring into his eyes and whispered, “Lenny?”
CHAPTER 21
“Emily, wake up!”
The voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel; thin, reverberating.
“Come on Emily, wake up!”
The voice sounded closer and much clearer. Her cheek stung. Thousands of needles.
“Emily!”
She opened her eyes to see who was screaming at her.
“Emily! Thank God! Are you all right?”
The room was bright. Too bright. She closed her eyes. She felt something cold on her forehead and lifted her hand to touch it. It felt like a damp washcloth. She wondered what it was doing there.
“Emily, are you awake?” she heard Lenny say.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. “The light . . .” she mumbled.
She heard Lenny reach over and flip a switch.
“Is that better?”
“Yes,” she replied. The room was dark now, except for the candle on her vanity. Seeing it brought everything back to her. She and Lenny had made love—twice. They’d done it! It was wonderful . . .
“Emily? Are you all right?” Lenny asked again.
“Yes, just a little groggy,” she replied drowsily. “What are you doing awake? And why is there a wash cloth on my head?”
Lenny ran his fingers through her hair, damp and matted from perspiration. “You were dreaming again.”
Emily stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding!”
“I’m afraid not. Your screams woke me up. Then you started squirming all over the place so I tried to settle you down. But you started wrestling with me—just like you did in the bus. I couldn’t get you to snap out of it to save my life! I even tried slapping you. Finally you calmed down a little, but you still wouldn’t wake up. You were hot as a pistol so I went to get a damp wash cloth to cool you off.”
Emily struggled to recall the dream but couldn’t. “I can’t remember, Lenny! Did I say anything?”
“I couldn’t understand most of it—you were mumbling. The funny thing is, the only word I could make out was my name. You spoke it just before you woke up.”
Emily was stunned. She’d never had any trouble remembering her dreams. Before she’d met Lenny, that is. This was the second time she hadn’t immediately awoken in terror screaming bloody murder after having a nightmare. She’d assumed the time in the bus had been a fluke since she had been knocked unconscious prior to having it; thus taking her some time to recall it. But now, she wasn’t so sure -
A thought suddenly occurred to her . . .
Maybe things are finally turning around!
“Lenny, I can’t remember any of it!” she exclaimed jubilantly. “Maybe I’m getting over them!”
Lenny smiled. “God, wouldn’t that be great?”
“It sure would!” Emily cried, now fully awake. “Hell, I don’t care if I have nightmares—as long as I can’t remember having them, that is. And that was one of the things that Doctor Langstrom found so unique about my case. He said that it’s perfectly normal to have dreams—even bad dreams—it’s a natural process that helps us to relieve stress and anxiety. But it’s very rare for someone to consistently be able to recall them, as I can. I’m an exception to the norm, he told me, having not only total recall, but the ability to remember even the slightest details. Maybe I’m finally ‘normal’ again!”
Emily suddenly threw her arms around Lenny. “God, I’m so happy!”
Lenny was skeptical, but didn’t show it. “So am I. See, I told you everything was going to be . . .”
“Shit!”
Lenny stared at her, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
Emily looked away for a moment, deep in thought. Then she turned and faced him again. “I remember it now,” she moaned.
Lenny saw Emily’s disappointment and kissed her. “How bad was it?”
Emily thought for a moment before replying. “It was really strange; different from the others.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well first of all, my father wasn’t in it. Not once. And every single nightmare I’ve ever had has always started out with my father. This one didn’t . . .”
“Can you tell me about it?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“It was horrible . . .”
Emily paused and then asked Lenny, “Did you get up to go to the bathroom?”
“Yeah. But you were sound asleep.”
“I didn’t say anything to you?”
“Of course not. I just said that you were sound asleep.”
She’d dreamt that too, Emily thought to herself.
After collecting her thoughts, she began. “Well, I dreamt that you got up to go to the bathroom. You told me that you’d be right back then you left the room. The next thing I knew, my great-grandfather was laying beside me on the bed—I thought he was you at first. He . . . he was half-naked. God, it was so horrible! I asked him where you were and he told me that you’d left—that you’d gotten all you wanted and had left me.”
Tears came to her eyes. “Although I didn’t believe him, I was still scared to death. I thought that he’d murdered you!”
Emily took Lenny’s hand in hers and squeezed, trying to compose herself. “He told me that I was his- that I belonged exclusively to him—just as he’s told me in all the other dreams. I tried to get away, but he grabbed me. Then he jumped on top of me and said that he was going to . . . do it to me. He said that I’d enjoy it, and that Grandma Katherine’s mother had always enjoyed it. I got really mad. I told him that he’d raped Nancy Porter—that she hadn’t let him do anything. I also accused him of raping his own daughter.”
Emily paused to catch her breath. Even now she could feel the anger welling up inside. “He got mad and slapped me and then denied everything. He said that he loved Katherine and that she’d turned against him by marrying Grandpa Warren.” She looked directly at Lenny, her eyes filled with emotion. “Then something inside of me snapped, Lenny. I was beside myself with anger by then, and I told him that he’d never loved Grandma Katherine and that he’d basically ruined her life forever. Then I told him that I hated him. I didn’t care if he killed me at that point. I was too angry to care.”
“What happened then?”
“It was really weird. He started to strike me again, but suddenly stopped himself. Then he realized that he had . . . lost his hard-on. He was absolutely livid then; and I thought for sure that he was going to kill me.”
Emily’s face was flushed. “Then all of a sudden he started laughing really hard, like a lunatic. He laughed for a long time then he suddenly stopped laughing, got right up in my face, and told me that he’d get me some other time—that I’d always be there for him whenever he wanted me.”
Emily’s eyes clouded up again as she recalled John Hoffman’s maniacal face leering at her. “Then it happened. Clem, Nancy, and Katherine suddenly appeared in the doorway. John Hoffman was petrified when he saw them and ran to the corner of the room. It was the first time I’ve seen them all together. In fact, I’ve only dreamt of Clem Porter once before. Remember?”
Lenny nodded.
“Just like in the other dream, Clem started walking toward John Hoffman. Clem told him that his ‘scheme’ was about to be found out, and that he would then burn in hell forever. John Hoffman didn’t believe him and said something to the effect that Clem was just as dead as he was and that there wasn’t anything he could do to him. Clem said that perhaps he wasn’t dead, and this made John Hoffman really freak out. By this time, Clem was close enough for me to see his face—before then, it had been indistinguishable . . . He looked exactly like you, Lenny!”
Lenny smiled. “Really?”
Emily gawked at him, annoyed. “Why are you smiling? Don’t you believe me?”
Lenny’s smile disappeared. “Of course I believe you! I was just thinking . . . I’ll tell you after you’ve finished.”
Emily softened a little. “Well, that’s about all there was to it. Except that you—I mean, Clem—said that he’d come for his great-granddaughter. Then he came over and picked me up in his arms. That’s it. Now, tell me why you were smiling.”
“I was just thinking of the symbolism . . . Freud would have a field day!”
Emily wasn’t the least bit amused. “Thanks a lot, Lenny!”
Lenny stared at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, Emily. I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. What I’m trying to get at is that this dream seems sort of ominous in a way. And I mean that in a positive way. Think about it. First of all, your father wasn’t in this dream for the very first time ever, right? Couldn’t that possibly be because of what we did earlier tonight? That by making love to me you’ve managed to overcome your father’s ‘hold’ on you, or whatever you’d call it?”
Emily considered this for a moment and replied, “Well, I guess it’s possible. Doctor Langstrom did say something to that effect; that abused children often feel trapped by their abusive parent and find it difficult to break away from them psychologically.”
“Okay. So assuming that it’s true—that you’ve succeeded to free yourself from your father—then it appears that you have only one villain left to deal with: your great-grandfather, John Hoffman. Can you buy that, just for the sake of argument?
“Okay,” Emily replied. “I’ll try to.”
“Good. Now let’s consider how you dealt with your great-grandfather in this dream. From what you’ve told me about the other dreams, you’ve basically always been at John Hoffman’s mercy—totally petrified of him. Is that a safe assumption?”
“No, it’s a fact,” Emily answered dryly.
Lenny nodded. “This time though, it appears that you actually challenged him for a change. You met him head-on and nearly shut him down by flatly refusing to accept what he was telling you. In essence, you defied him. Then you came right out and told him that you hated him. Look at the symbolism here! In your subconscious mind you have at last c
hosen to defy John Hoffman, to let him know that you refuse to accept his terms; even at the risk of his killing you. In dreams, of course, you can’t actually die and you were probably aware of that. Anyway, the point is that you’ve finally begun to turn the tables around on John Hoffman. What do you think?”
Emily looked away from Lenny then back. “I don’t know, Lenny. I realize that dreams are manifestations of the subconscious mind and all, but I’m not so sure I deserve the credit that you’re giving me. I was, and still am, absolutely terrified of the man. I shudder now, even as we sit here, just thinking about him. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not truly convinced that he won’t be back to haunt me again.”
This wasn’t what Lenny wanted to hear. He’d hoped his theory made some kind of sense; that somehow Emily would interpret the dream the same way as he had.
“Not only that,” Emily went on, “but the only thing that kept me from being in any further danger in this dream was the sudden appearance of Clem Porter. What’s your explanation for Clem and his family showing up? And what about the fact that he looked just like you?”
“Didn’t you tell me before that you’ve never seen a picture of Clem? That you have absolutely no idea what he looked like?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Emily confessed.
“And didn’t you tell me that the other time you’d dreamt of Clem, that you clearly saw his face?”
“Yes.”
“And did he look like me then?”
“Well, no—I don’t think so, anyway. What are you driving at?”
“In both dreams, you apparently ‘assigned’ a face to Clem because you have no conception of what he truly looked like in real life. In the first dream, the person you perceived as Clem could have been just about anyone who happened to be in your subconscious at the time. But in this dream, you perceived Clem as me due to the recent turn of events. Think about it. Here I am, Lenny Williams, and I’ve suddenly entered your life and expressed a desire to help you out with all of this; sort of like your ‘knight in shining armor,’ for lack of a better term. So is it any surprise that you would envision Clem as none other than yours truly? It’s a possibility, anyway, isn’t it?”
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