Hillary_Flesh and Blood

by Angel Gelique

  The first thing Hillary noticed as she walked over to Caleigh was the smell. Her heart skipped a beat as she feared that her sister had died. Yet it wasn’t the same smell that had invaded her room when her father’s body had been left in her closet. This was a more familiar smell. It was nasty and foul, unmistakable. It was the smell of feces.

  Hillary shoved a container out of her way for easier access to her sister. As she hovered over Caleigh, she plugged her nose.

  “Yuck, Caleigh, what did you do? Did you shit your pants?”

  Caleigh didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to, it was obvious enough. Caleigh was lying in a puddle of her own filth, both feces and urine.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Hillary said quietly, annoyed.

  Hillary waved her hand in front of her nose, fanning the air. She could tolerate the stench of death—her own handiwork, but Caleigh’s human waste was another story.

  There was no time to clean up Caleigh’s mess before her mother was done bathing Joshua. Hillary exhaled deeply as she thought about her mother entering the basement to do the laundry. Surely she would smell the stench of crap and investigate the source. Hillary had to think of a way to keep her out of the basement. But how? She knew her mother well enough to know that she would wash Joshua’s clothing now that his shirt was covered in spaghetti sauce. She’d be on her way down to the washing machine minutes after giving Joshua his bath.

  “Well?” Hillary said aloud, seeking suggestions from the voice of reason, her savior.

  The voice was silent.

  Caleigh, believing that Hillary was talking to her, began muttering something.

  Hillary slowly pulled back the duct tape, leaving the left side hanging over Caleigh’s mouth.

  “I couldn’t help it,” Caleigh said softly, afraid that Hillary would lash out.

  “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side,” Hillary replied bitterly, “I should have just killed you.”

  “Then kill me,” Caleigh said sadly.

  “You wish,” Hillary spat, “I’m not done with you yet.”

  “I’ll die anyway, on my own.”

  “That’s what you think...you’ll die when I let you die, and it won’t be painless.”

  “You’re going to go to hell for this,” Caleigh said slowly, her voice strained and raspy. It hurt her to talk. She just wanted to sleep.

  “I’ve already been to hell, remember?” Hillary replied sneeringly as she patted the tape back over Caleigh’s mouth. It was dry, but not very adhesive. She knew she would have to find a better way to make sure her sister remained quiet. For the moment she had more pressing concerns.

  She backed away from Caleigh and paced the room trying to think of a way to cover Caleigh’s stench. An idea struck her quickly as she worried about her mother doing the laundry. She quickly strode to the laundry area and grabbed the bottle of laundry detergent. She carried it back to Caleigh and poured nearly the entire amount remaining over Caleigh’s posterior end. It was a perfect solution given her time constraints. It masked the truck-stop restroom odor without adding any foreign smells, like perfume would have. There was still a foul smell, but it was faint—much better than it had been. From the washing machine and dryer, it wouldn’t be noticeable. For good measure, Hillary pulled out a quilt from one of the storage containers and covered Caleigh’s body from her ankles up to her neck. Caleigh frowned. It was already too hot next to the boiler and hot water heater. She began mumbling underneath the tape.

  “Shut up or I’ll cover your head too,” Hillary threatened and turned to leave. She knew that her mother would soon be finished cleaning her brother.

  Hillary quietly walked up the basement stairs, hesitating just before opening the door to listen for signs of her mother or brother. It was quiet. She opened the door slowly, shut it behind her and sighed in relief. Now all she had to do was hope that her mother would slack off and leave the laundry for another day. Not likely.

  Get the knife....

  Hillary’s heart began to race. Where was the voice when she needed it before? Now it was loud and clear and she didn’t care to hear what it had to say.

  It’s her or you...she’ll call the cops...she’ll send you to jail for the rest of your life....

  Hillary was breathing heavily as she contemplated her options. She didn’t want to kill her mother. But she didn’t want to go to jail either. She slowly trudged into the kitchen and straight to the butcher block. It looked empty with several of the knives missing. She purposefully bypassed the big carving knife and pulled out a steak knife. She didn’t want to have to use it, but she had to be prepared. She carefully shoved it into the front pocket of her jeans and waited restlessly in the kitchen for her mother to walk downstairs.

  If she had needed more time to tend to her sister, her mother would have marched downstairs in record time. As it turned out, Hillary waited impatiently for nearly an hour more before her mother returned downstairs. She was flustered and highly agitated by the time her mother made her way downstairs. Sure enough, she had Joshua’s laundry bag dangling from her arm.

  Kill her...kill her now....

  “You’re doing laundry now?” Hillary asked sarcastically.

  “Yes...why? What difference does it make?”

  Hillary sighed heavily to vent her frustration. She’d had plenty of time to think of some excuses and reasons to convince her mother to stay out of the basement.

  “It’s not that,” she said, trying her best to sound disappointed, “it’s just that I wanted to do more things around here. I thought maybe I could do Joshy’s laundry....”

  “What? Really?”

  Kathy thought about it as she looked skeptically at Hillary. What was she up to?

  “Okay...I guess. Sure, why not, it’s a great idea,” Kathy said with a smile. “I’ll show you how to—”

  Kill her....

  “No!” Hillary shouted, too quickly, too nervously. Kathy frowned

  “It’s just that I want to do it by myself...I already know how.”

  “But you’ve never—”

  “Trust me, Mom, I can handle it,” Hillary said, as she grabbed at the laundry bag on her mother’s forearm.

  “You’re awfully eager,” Kathy said as she surrendered the bag.

  “I just want to help you out, to make you proud.”

  Kathy didn’t know how to respond. She just nodded her head dubiously.

  “Go sit down, watch TV, have a cup of tea,” Hillary suggested anxiously, “I’ll be right up.”

  Hillary walked quickly to the basement door, pulled it open and shut it behind her as she took a step down. She flicked the light switch then pulled the knife from her waistband before descending the creaky, old wooden steps. Her heart was racing. Would her mother follow behind her? The basement was silent. She hoped it would stay that way.

  Growing increasingly anxious, Hillary darted to the washing machine and quickly emptied Joshua’s clothing within the chamber. She poured nearly twice as much laundry detergent as she should have used over his clothing then closed the lid. She looked at the knobs and settings on the top panel.

  It can’t be that difficult, she thought as she turned the left knob to regular wash and the right knob to cold water.

  She sighed, thankful that she had averted a potential crisis.

  Until she heard the basement door creak open....

  “Hillary, I forgot to mention...”

  Hillary gasped and left the detergent uncapped as she raced up to meet her mother before she reached the basement. She could hear her footsteps on the noisy stairs.

  “...I use the dye-free de—”

  “I’m already done,” Hillary exclaimed nervously, stepping in her mother’s way so that she could not advance any further.

  “Already?” her mother asked, “let me see.”

  Get the knife....

  Hillary had left the knife on top of the dryer.

  “Don’t you trust me?” she snapped. She
was trembling.

  “I just want to make sure—”

  “It’s fine,” Hillary interjected, “c’mon, let’s go back upstairs.”

  “Why are you acting so strangely?”

  “Because I’m sick of you not trusting me...not believing me,” Hillary replied, hoping a little guilt would do the trick.

  Kathy exhaled loudly. She didn’t have the strength to fight this battle. It wasn’t even worth fighting. The worst that could possibly happen was that Hillary ruined a load of Joshua’s clothes.

  “Where’s Joshua?” Hillary asked, advancing up to the next step and forcing her mother to back up a step.

  “Fine, Hillary, you win,” Kathy said in frustration as she turned and ascended the stairs.

  Had the washing machine not been filling with water, she might have heard the muffled, desperate cries of her wide-eyed, terrorized younger daughter. Caleigh was shocked to hear her mother’s voice. At first she thought she was dreaming. She often dreamt of her parents when she dozed off during the long hours. But she heard the exchange between her mother and Hillary. She had heard Hillary at the washing machine. She was awake. It was real. Her mother was alive. Her mother could help her.

  Caleigh was disheartened when she saw the light go off and heard the basement door shut with a slam. Yet, at the same time she rejoiced knowing that Hillary didn’t murder their mom. She whimpered silently. Her mother was alive...she was really alive. This simple fact renewed her will to live. She just had to see her mother again. Her mother would find her...she would rescue her. It was only a matter of time.

  Despite her deep thirst, her throbbing wounds, her hunger pains and her inability to move, Caleigh forced a smile upon her face. Her mother would protect her from Hillary...her mother would save her....

  Drenched in sweat and bordering delirium, Caleigh dared to believe once more that she might be rescued from Hillary’s hell. She continued to scream within her covered mouth until she no longer possessed the strength to. She grew silent and fell asleep, hoping this time, that she would live to see another day.

  ~12~

  Another day arrived. It was Friday. It held promise for Caleigh, who lapsed in and out of sleep. When she was awake, she often felt like she was asleep. Her mind played tricks on her and the shadows within eyeshot mocked her. She had thought at one point that her mother was standing over her, stroking her hair. She looked up to see the same empty space that had become part of her new home now. She would wait. Her mother was alive! She would find her. She would rescue her, take her to the hospital and everything would be all right. Yes, the day held promise. If only she could suppress the growing dread that threatened to swallow her faith entirely.

  Hillary likewise had a sleepless night. Her mother had nearly followed her downstairs to put the clothes into the dryer, then again when it was time for her to take them out of the dryer. It almost erupted into a huge fight with her mother insisting that she help her fold Joshua’s clothes on the folding table in the laundry room. In the end, Hillary once again got her way, stuffing his clothes into the laundry sack and hauling them upstairs to fold. Her steadfast refusal to accept her mother’s help had aroused her mother’s suspicion even more and she feared that her mother might be curious enough to wander down to the basement in search of answers.

  Hillary knew she couldn’t take any chances. She sat up on the couch watching television until just after two in the morning when her eyes refused to stay open. She drifted off to sleep. It would have been the perfect time for her mother to creep downstairs and search the basement. She had fully intended to, but sleep imprisoned her as well and it was not until just before five in the morning when she awoke and slowly descended the stairs. She could see Hillary hunched over the couch. She felt like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house. How had the roles changed so drastically? She was the mother, for Christ’s sake, Hillary was the child. Why did she feel compelled to play this bizarre game? She knew the answer, but didn’t dare accept it: fear.

  Kathy had gotten all the way to the basement door, had turned the knob then slowly pulled it open when it creaked loudly, waking Hillary. She had nearly jumped out of her skin as she quickly got her bearings and raced over to her mother. Kathy jumped as well. Hillary was pressed up against her within seconds.

  “What’re you doing?” Hillary asked anxiously, suppressing waves of nausea.

  “I have to get something,” Kathy lied, “what’s the matter with you?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I keep worrying about Dad and Lee Lee.”

  Kathy’s heart sank at the mention of her husband and youngest daughter. She had been trying not to think about them. She was flooded with sadness as her eyes misted. Hillary knew she could easily manipulate the situation. She flung herself into her mother’s arms and pretended to cry.

  “It’s okay,” Kathy comforted her, “they’ll be all right.”

  “I have to tell you something,” Hillary whispered, “can we talk?”

  Kathy nodded nervously, unsure that she wanted to hear what Hillary had to say, but at the same time, relieved that her daughter was finally opening up to her.

  Hillary closed the basement door then walked back to the couch. Her mother followed behind and took a seat beside her.

  “I...I....”

  “Just tell me, Hillary, it’ll be okay,” Kathy assured her.

  Hillary took a deep breath as she thought of what she could say to assuage her mother’s fears and suspicion.

  “Promise you won’t be mad?” she asked in a waif, child-like voice.

  “I promise, Hillary, please…just tell me once and for all what’s going on.”

  “I did it,” she said sadly, her face contorted as if in pain.

  Kathy’s eyes widened as she held her breath waiting for Hillary to continue. What had she done?

  “I made them leave,” Hillary said, lowering her head and pretending to cry.

  Kathy exhaled deeply. She had actually expected Hillary to admit that she had killed Michael and Caleigh. She chuckled slightly at the absurdity of her fears. Hillary was just a child...what was the matter with her for thinking such horrible things about her own daughter?

  “What happened?” Kathy said soothingly, coaching Hillary on.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it, you won’t believe me anyway.”

  “I’ll believe you if you tell me the truth.”

  “I always tell you the truth.”

  “What is it, Hillary, please...I have to know.”

  “I told Dad to leave, to take Caleigh with him. I was mad at Dad, I really didn’t mean for Caleigh to get involved.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you told Daddy to leave and he agreed, just like that? He packed up and left—and took Caleigh with him—just because you told him to?”

  Deep crease lines appeared in the center of Kathy’s forehead as she furrowed her brows.

  “That’s right...I, well, I threatened him. He knew that if he didn’t leave, I would have finally called the cops. I would have—”

  “Nothing happened, Hillary, how could you keep insisting that your father hurt you?”

  “Because he did hurt me,” Hillary said emphatically, her face turning red, her cheeks burning, “you said you’d believe me.”

  “I said I’d believe you if you told the truth.”

  “Why would I lie about something like that?” Hillary shouted.

  “There’s something really wrong with you, Hillary, honestly...you need a lot of help….”

  “No, not anymore...I needed help when he was here and you didn’t do a thing. He’s gone now. I don’t need help anymore.”

  “Your father wouldn’t just leave, Hillary.”

  “Why can’t you just accept the facts? He left because he didn’t want to go to jail. I told him to take Caleigh as a consolation prize.”

  Kathy’s hand connected with Hillary’s face before she even realized what she was doing. She didn’t regret it.


  Don’t let her get away with that....

  “How dare you say such a thing?” Kathy shouted.

  Hillary stared at her mother in disbelief, her hand over her slapped cheek.

  “How dare you hit me?” she hissed.

  “You’re nothing but a no good liar!” Kathy shouted.

  “You’re nothing but a no good whore!”

  Kathy raised her hand again to strike Hillary, but Hillary grabbed it in mid-air. She dug her nails into her mother’s wrist as her mother tried to withdraw her hand. Hillary glared at her mother with feral, loathsome eyes. She didn’t release her mother’s arm until she cried out.

  Kathy examined the deep grooves left on her wrist by Hillary’s nails. They were turning a bluish-purple color, outlined with florescent edges. One of the scrapes began to bleed. Kathy’s eyes misted as she grabbed a nearby napkin and patted her wound dry.

  “You’ll never hit me again,” Hillary said threateningly, “do you understand me?”

  Kathy nodded, stood up and walked back to her room.

  With all of the excitement, Hillary knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. She changed the channel on the television and stared blankly at the screen. She would have loved to have vented her anger and frustration on Caleigh but knew she still had to be careful. She had failed to mollify her mother’s qualms, as planned. If anything, she had exacerbated them.

  The hours passed slowly. Kathy walked by Hillary as if she didn’t exist. She made no attempt to go down to the basement. At lunchtime, she left a sandwich on the coffee table for Hillary without saying a word. Hillary hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled it. She devoured it in less than two minutes as she thought about how hungry and thirsty Caleigh must be.

  She had thought about walking down to the basement to check on her sister, but knew that she had to be patient. It was just a matter of time before her mother left the house. Then, and only then, would Hillary dare to venture down to the basement and pay Caleigh a visit. She didn’t want to risk anything. She was so close to completing her plans.

  It was nearly eight o’clock that evening when Kathy approached Hillary and finally spoke three words to her.