Hillary’s heart thumped. She knew her mother would walk straight to her room. She quickly tore off a few sheets of paper towel and began wiping up the wet mess on her closet floor. She had just finished tossing the soggy paper towels into her trash can when her mother barged into her room without knocking.
“What are you...what is that?” she asked disgustedly.
Hillary had forgotten to discard the body part she had shoved in Caleigh’s mouth. It was in the middle of the room on her carpet. It looked grayish and moist and fatty. Hillary stared at the chunk of flesh with wide, horrified eyes, her mouth agape. Within seconds, she snapped out of her shocked daze and ran to pick up her father’s body part.
“What is it?” Mrs. Greyson asked curiously.
“Uh...food,” Hillary said, tossing it into her trash can. It was part of my project...a science experiment. That’s what smelled so badly, rotting meat.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That was a really old piece of steak. I had it in my closet.”
“That didn’t look like steak.”
“Not anymore,” she replied quickly.
“Well what kind of project requires steak? Rotten steak?”
“I told you, a science experiment. We were learning about bacteria in biology. I know, it’s gross, but I had to do it. I’m sorry I didn’t get rid of it sooner.”
“Are you saying that dreadful smell was rotting meat? That this huge monster of a stench is coming from that little piece of meat?”
“Uh-huh.”
Hillary looked at her mother. She looked skeptical.
“Maybe you should complain to Mrs. Donovan,” she added, hoping that her statement would lend credence to her lie.
“You know, I just might do that,” Mrs. Greyson replied, bluffing, “because this is unacceptable.”
“I just started cleaning up,” Hillary said, “isn’t it an improvement?”
“Oh my God, what happened to your closet?” Mrs. Greyson blurted when she scanned Hillary’s room and spotted the closet.
“It’s from the meat,” Hillary said quietly, “I had raw meat in here...the blood leaked through the bag.”
“What raw meat?” Mrs. Greyson asked, growing nervous. It was blood all right. Human blood and she knew it.
“I thought you said that was a piece of old steak?”
“I had to use other pieces of meat too, like raw chicken, raw beef…it was for the experiment, Mom,” Hillary said exasperatedly, followed by a loud sigh.
“And where did you get this raw meat from?”
Hillary hesitated, what should she say?
“My lab partners...I said I was sorry, can you just let me finish cleaning my room?”
“Who were your lab partners?”
“What difference does it make?” Hillary asked, growing angry.
“I just wanna know,” Mrs. Greyson persisted.
“Mia Walters, Rachael Goldstein, you don’t even know them.”
“I thought you said Jax was your partner?” Mrs. Greyson asked suspiciously.
“That was a different project, God, Mom, why are you interrogating me?”
“So where’s the rotted meat now?”
“I threw it away...that is what you wanted isn’t it?”
“Downstairs? In the garbage?”
“The outdoor garbage,” Hillary replied, wishing her mother would just drop the subject.
“So I can go see this rotted meat from your project?”
“You want to see rotten meat?” Hillary asked facetiously, arching her brows as she awaited her mother’s response.
“Well I’m just curious about this project.”
“Then call my teacher.”
“Show me,” her mother said, unrelenting.
“What? The meat? It’s gone. I told you, I threw it away.”
“Then it should be in the outdoor garbage like you said.”
“They garbage men hauled it away yesterday.”
“I thought you just started cleaning up?”
“God, Mom, I’m tired of this interrogation, for the last time, I threw the meat away yesterday, no you can’t see it, it’s gone...it’s still smelly because the blood and nasty juices leaked everywhere and that’s what I’m cleaning up today. It was gross and nasty and I had no choice and if you have a problem, then just call my teacher.”
She sounded convincing, but deep down Mrs. Greyson knew and feared the truth. She had come so close to driving to the police station after dropping Joshua off at his school. Yet, she knew what Hillary would tell them…then she would be the one who got in trouble. They would probably even take Joshua from her. She refused to take the chance.
“Hillary,” Mrs. Greyson said softly, her eyes desperate and looking longingly at Hillary, “are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
“Dad raped me...not once, not twice, not a hundred times, but hundreds of times—for close to two full years. He—”
“I’m not having this discussion,” Mrs. Greyson interrupted, cupping her ears with her hands.
Hillary wasn’t surprised, it was her typical reaction.
“Then you shouldn’t ask me if there’s anything I want to tell you...you don’t listen anyway. Leave me alone!” Hillary shouted angrily, motioning toward the door.
Mrs. Greyson knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with Hillary today. She turned to leave the room.
“Oh, and don’t forget the carrots and potatoes,” Hillary said sweetly.
Mrs. Greyson turned to face Hillary. She was smiling as if there had been no escalating tension between the two of them just seconds ago. She looked like a sweet and wholesome teenager, like the girl she used to be. Mrs. Greyson froze in place, uncertain as to how she should respond. Was she likewise supposed to release her tension and plant a smile upon her face? Was she supposed to act nice and sweet and pretend that everything was okay when, in fact, things were going from bad to worse at lightning speed?
“Okay, Mom?” Hillary said softly. Her eyes were aglow with innocence.
Her mother nodded once, tears flooding to her eyes. Her head felt like it was spinning. She quickly turned and left Hillary’s room, shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t bear to see her daughter, the daughter she both loved and feared. Would she ever see her other daughter? Would she ever know what happened to Caleigh?
She leaned up against the banister, dropped her head and wept softly. If only she had listened to Hillary long ago when she had first confided in her. She could have protected her. She should have protected her, instead of protecting her good-for-nothing husband. She was too scared, too weak to deal with all of the problems that would have followed. What if Michael hadn’t gotten arrested? What if he were released on bail? What if he didn’t get prosecuted? Then she would surely have paid with her life, and Hillary would have been no better off anyway. At least that’s what she had convinced herself at the time. Now she wasn’t so sure. But now it was way, way too late for regrets.
~10~
Hillary had spent the remainder of the morning in her room, as did Kathy. She would have preferred keeping herself busy in the kitchen, mopping the floors, cleaning the refrigerator, organizing the pantry and cabinets. It’s what she did when she was especially upset—mundane, brain-numbing, menial tasks around the house. It gave her a chance to think about things. But when she had searched the utility closet she found that her cleaning supplies were gone.
She supposed it was just as well...she didn’t want to think about anything. She wanted to rid her mind of all thoughts, so she crawled back into bed and turned on the television. If anyone had asked her what the shows were about, she wouldn’t be able to tell them. Nor could she even say what shows were on. She stared at the television, but the images in her mind were the only ones she saw. Like a horror movie unfolding in her mind, she imagined the rotting meat from Hillary’s closet as Michael and Caleigh’s corpses. But of course it could not possibly be. She had seen Caleigh just yes
terday at breakfast and Michael the night before. She was no expert, but she was pretty sure a body couldn’t decay and smell so badly so quickly.
More than anything, Kathy wanted to believe that Hillary was innocent of all the horrors she imagined. Yet, she just knew that Hillary was hiding something. Maybe she was threatening Michael, blackmailing him. Maybe she forced him to leave. But what about Caleigh? Where did she fit in? Was Michael molesting her too? Maybe Hillary found out about it and got jealous. Maybe she forced them both to leave, threatening to expose their incestuous relationship if they didn’t.
Kathy was tired of forming theories and making guesses. Each one seemed more ludicrous than the last. Each one left more questions than answers. Each one revolted her. She wanted to shut her brain off, but couldn’t. Yet, no matter which explanation her mind proffered, the bottom line result was always the same: grim. Likewise, the solution seemed so obvious: call the police, go to the police…get help.
Kathy was never one for making wise choices. Her life with Michael seemed to dissolve her strength and common sense. She lived to keep him happy, to serve him at all cost. It was as if her own self-identity had merged within him and now that he was gone, she was a helpless shadow, an empty shell of a person left to fend for herself. She simply didn’t know where to begin. She didn’t trust her judgment. She knew that no matter what decision she made, she would regret it. No matter what road she traveled, which direction she took, she would be doomed. So the choice made itself. She would do nothing. She would grieve Caleigh’s loss, and Michael’s—to a lesser extent—and just keep living as if everything in her dysfunctional world was normal. She would go to work and cook dinner and do all the things she usually did. She would even embrace Hillary again, no matter what she may have done. After all, the one thing she had learned from Michael was to be a good, obedient, loyal person. Keep your friends close.... It was safer that way.
By one in the afternoon, Kathy could no longer stand being cooped up in her room. She quietly walked past Hillary’s room on her way downstairs only to run into her daughter in the kitchen. The color drained from her cheeks. Her heart rate accelerated. Hillary smirked. Was it obvious to the girl that her mother was so afraid of her?
“I’ve decided to make my special meal for you on Sunday instead,” she said, “you know, for Mother’s Day.”
It had completely slipped her mind that Mother’s Day was just days away. The last thing she felt like doing was celebrating. She forced a thin smile on her face.
“That would be nice,” she said softly.
It felt like déjà vu. Her mind drifted to a time, long before Hillary was born—several months after Michael had nearly beaten Phillip to death—when Michael had accused her of aborting another baby.
“I didn’t,” Kathy said truthfully, desperately trying to assure him that she didn’t have another abortion.
“We’ve been doing it almost every day for four months. Why aren’t you pregnant then?”
“I don’t know, Michael, I don’t know,” she cried, long tears streaking down her frantic face.
“If I ever find out you killed another child of mine, I’ll kill you, Kathy...I swear to God I will.”
“I won’t,” she promised, “I would never do that again.”
“I think I’m going to start bringing home pregnancy tests, randomly test you.”
“That’s a good idea,” she agreed nervously.
“Because I don’t want to have to kill you,” he said, jokingly, but with those manic, cold steel blue eyes warned Kathy that he wouldn’t hesitate if he ever felt the need.
She smiled feebly, nodding her head in understanding.
“Fine,” he said at last, “how about I take you down to that new burger place?”
“That would be nice,” she replied, suppressing her urge to cry. She forced herself to smile, to act happy. She had to. Michael picked up on every hint of sadness, distorting it and using it as “proof” of her deceptive ways. She could cry when he was at work or at the bar. When he was home, when he was with her, she had to paint the picture of a happy, loving girlfriend.
Now, years later, things had come full circle to haunt her again. Hillary stepped in Michael’s shoes and had taken his place as dominator, leaving Kathy once again with that constant sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her smile widened. She was the happy, loving mother now. She was still a puppet; only the puppet master had changed.
“I’m glad you agree,” Hillary said excitedly. She had some special plans for Mother’s Day. She could hardly wait to see her Mother’s face. It was sure to be an unforgettable day.
“Speaking of meals, I’m hungry,” she said enthusiastically, “what’s for lunch?”
Kathy thought for a moment. She had only intended to grab a quick cup of coffee. The thought of food turned her stomach. But she knew she had to preserve the peace. She wouldn’t mention Michael or Caleigh anymore. As Hillary had informed her, they left together. They were somewhere safe and sound. She would focus on Hillary and Joshua for now. Things would be good, happy. She could do it...she had done it before....
“I guess I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich for now, if you want.”
“That sounds good,” Hillary said happily, nodding slightly, “are you going shopping later?”
Translation: You’re going shopping later.
“Yes, before I get Josh I’ll run to the market,” is that acceptable commandant, she added to herself.
“Good...can you get the veggies I need? Oh, and maybe a bag of popcorn?”
Kathy nodded as she walked to the other side of the kitchen to grab the grill pan from one of the lower cabinets. She gathered everything she would need—the bread, the butter, the cheese—and set to work making Hillary’s lunch. It felt odd just cooking for one person. She had to shrug away the depressing thoughts that constantly fought to overtake her. It was mostly a difficult struggle, but as long as she kept busy, she knew she could maintain her role.
The hours passed slowly, but eventually the time Hillary was waiting for finally arrived.
“I’m leaving” she heard her mother call out from the bottom of the stairs, “I’ll be back soon.”
Take your time, Hillary thought wickedly, her playtime was about to start.
When she heard the front door shut, she quickly raced downstairs and around to the basement stairs. She descended the steps two at a time, nearly tripping, as she raced to Caleigh. She squeezed her body into the tight crevice where she had left her sister. She was so still, so quiet. Was she still alive?
“Caleigh...” she called out softly.
“Caleigh...” she repeated louder.
She pulled at Caleigh’s feet, sliding her sister’s body toward her.
Caleigh was still alive. Hillary could hear her muffled cries. She winced when she saw her. The bruises under her puffy eyes had darkened to a deep maroon color that ran down below her cheekbones. It was far worse than her own eye had gotten after her father had struck her. Caleigh’s nose was still swollen, dried blood framing her nostrils.
“You look awful, Lee Lee,” she said blatantly, “how do you feel?”
Hillary could hear Caleigh struggling to say something. She partially removed the tape, letting it hang down the side of Caleigh’s face.
“Water,” she said weakly, her eyes still closed.
“Still begging for water? I’ve decided you don’t deserve any. You don’t need it. It’s only been a couple of days...let’s see how long you can go before you really need it.”
“Please,” Caleigh begged, “my mouth is so dry.”
“Do you want me to put something in it? I still have Dad’s meat.”
Caleigh shook her head fiercely.
“At least it’s not the meat I had to eat,” Hillary said, disgusted by all the horrible memories she could never erase.
“Just a little...please,” Caleigh persisted.
“Nope,” Hillary said cheerfully, “I think I’ll stic
k to my plan...you’ll be my little experiment.”
“Where’s Mom?” Caleigh asked slowly. She was relieved to have the tape off so that she could breathe through her mouth. Her nasal passages were still swollen and she was constantly congested.
“Dead,” Hillary replied callously, “I killed her...chopped her into pieces.”
Caleigh’s eyes widened in terror then filled with tears. She began to sob.
“Look at those long tears,” Hillary said, pointing, “I told you that you weren’t dehydrated...yet.”
“Mooommm,” Caleigh whimpered sadly, believing her mother was dead.
“You should have heard her scream,” Hillary said excitedly, “how she begged for her life.”
“Nooooo, Hillary…why? Why would you kill Mom?” Caleigh cried softly.
“Because she deserved it, she let him hurt me...she knew and she didn’t do anything about it.”
“Oh, God...how could you kill Mommy?” Caleigh whimpered despairingly. She knew without a doubt now that Hillary would kill her too...slowly, but surely.
“Oh please, like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were the one getting abused for almost two years.”
“You...you killed our parents,” Caleigh yelled, as if just fully comprehending the magnitude of Hillary’s actions.
“They deserved it,” Hillary re-emphasized angrily.
“They’re dead,” she said loudly, “they’re dead...oh my God, they’re dead...they’re—”
“Shut up!” Hillary shouted loudly, disrupting Caleigh’s hysterics.
Caleigh broke down and began weeping. Just the other day her biggest worry was whether Andy liked her. Now she was a paralyzed orphan thirsting to death before her crazy sister.
“I want to have fun with you,” Hillary said, “but you’re not making it easy. You’re no fun, Lee Lee. You can’t even feel your body.”
Hillary stomped her foot down on Caleigh’s thigh. Caleigh didn’t flinch. Her sobbing retained its steady rhythm.
“See? How am I supposed to play with you?”
Hillary lightly ran her fingers along the cuts on Caleigh’s face as if tracing them.
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