The Punished

by Peter Meredith

  "Oh...uhh-uh." She made sounds of deepest grief and moaned in anguish, tears falling in an amazing torrent from her chin.

  Now it felt to Curt that all of his tendons abruptly let go of his bones and he collapsed onto the floor. His guilt became over powering and he began to cry along with Miss Feanor. He wasn't just a killer now, he was a murderer of innocents and it was a few minutes before he was able to hitch out an apology to the mother of the people he had murdered.

  "I'm sorry...I really am. I didn't know. I thought that they were controlling the house." The sound of his voice appeared to bring her around to their surroundings, the dreadful house.

  She wiped away tears and it seemed as well she wiped away a will to live. She looked blank and dead herself, "No...it's not them."

  "Then who is it...or what is it?"

  "Something terrible. Something that has held my babies prisoner for so long, so many years, but I guess I don't have to worry about them now," she gave him a haunted smile that set him on edge. It held a look that suggested she had nothing left to live for and nothing left to fear, "Come on."

  Kissing her children once on their pale cheeks, she left them, going to the very back of the attic where she kept her meager belongings. Curt followed after and he did so warily, despite the feeling in his heart that told him that she was no longer a threat to him.

  Going to the filing cabinet, she rummaged around in it for a moment and then pulled from one of the neat little files a newspaper clipping. Beside the headline, was a picture of a large man and other than having shadowed dark eyes, he seemed completely normal. Curt looked at the picture for a while before turning to the article.

  Havacheck's Death Ruled Homicide

  Allegheny County authorities have reversed their original ruling in the poisoning death of Darren Havacheck. It had been thought to be a classic murder-suicide, but new evidence points rather to murder-murder.

  After brutally killing his wife, Sonja Havacheck sixty-eight, by biting her to death, Havacheck succumbed to the poison Tetra-phenol-HC, a highly toxic compound with uses only in petroleum distillation. The poison was originally found on his hands and this led to the first report of suicide. Later, however the coroner is reported to have found the poison "smeared" on the neck and arms of Mrs. Havacheck. It appears that she knew she was going to be bitten the night of her murder and due to faded bruising on her body, it has been suspected that she had been bitten on numerous occasions prior to this. It is unclear whether these bruises were indicative of abuse since unnamed authorities have speculated that the bites might have been sexual in nature.

  Mr. Havacheck had been under investigation for the disappearance of a seven year old in his care...

  Before he had a chance to finish, he was a slow reader after all, Miss Feanor snatched away the clipping and handed him another.

  'Cemetery' Found in Havacheck Basement

  Police authorities, early Tuesday morning announced that the bodies of eight children, ranging from six to seventeen, have been unearthed in a hidden crawl space beneath the home of Darren Havacheck. Alerted to the presence of the bodies by what one officer, who asked to remain anonymous, called, 'The atrocious odor of decomposition,' detectives have been working around the clock to discover who exactly the children were.

  The wet soil found beneath the home has made identification difficult and authorities have been using dental impressions in their attempt. A spokesman is asking that anyone with knowledge of...

  Again, without warning, Miss Feanor took the clipping from him. She stared at it for a moment and then crumpled it up, dropping it to the floor.

  "You wanted to know," she said listlessly, her eyes staring down at the paper.

  Curt felt adrift in confusion, "The man was a killer? How did he come to haunt this place?"

  She shrugged.

  "What about the lady...Mrs. Havacheck. Why is she here? She didn't do anything wrong, except for maybe kill that guy." Curt wasn't just curious, he hoped that by understanding the situation, he would be able to find a solution.

  This question finally burned through her apathy and Miss Feanor stared at him as if he were the stupidest thing, "Nothing wrong? She was worse than that sick pervert. All she cared about was this house and living in style. He was rich and kept her in this fine home and gave her everything she wanted. And when she found out what he was up to...did she go to the police? Noooo! She would have lost her pretty home and all her fancy crap and more importantly, her status."

  Curt began to get worried, he had been out of bed far longer than he had thought he would be and Miss Feanor was becoming very loud. And now, he felt the air building slowly up around them and he made to shush the lady, but she was compelled to rant and wouldn't quiet down.

  "No, Mrs. Havacheck was way worse. You know, she was the one who would go and find the children. She just seemed to have a knack at luring them in; despite the fact that she hated them...you can feel it right?" Curt was about to answer, but it was a rhetorical question and Miss Feanor went right on talking. "She hated everything about children. The way they made messes, and broke things. And how much noise they made and how much they ate and how they smelled. The only thing she liked about them was their screams. Can you believe how sick she was?"

  Curt nodded and stepped back a little. The air was becoming brittle with the energy in it. Miss Feanor seemed to notice as well.

  "You won't have to worry about punishments tonight, Curt," she said this with a sad smile. "Tomorrow yes, but not tonight." She walked behind her desk as she spoke and began to yank on something.

  "Why not? Didn't you do something to my area of responsibility?"

  "I did, but that bastard Havacheck will be coming for me soon...the house will make sure of it," she sighed when she said this and looked deathly tired. It was an odd feeling that came over him then. He felt sad for her. The woman who had imprisoned him and who had sought to have him tortured. It was strange, yet Curt's soul rebelled at having caused her so much pain, unnecessarily.

  "I thought he only attacked children," Curt said to her.

  "No...it only gets off on attacking children, but that doesn't mean it won't attack someone else. Remember that stupid caseworker? You know how many times I tried to put her off, to keep her from coming over. The new ones are the worst. They think..." she paused as she pulled an extension cord free of its socket.

  "They think they can change the world, but give them six months and they will find any excuse not to leave their tiny little offices. You know that the average social worker barely last three years doing what they do? The burnout rate is ridiculous," she sighed again and looked up at one of the rafters, before she went to the desk and gave it a shove.

  The noise was very loud and alarmed by it, Curt hurried to the other side of the desk to help move it. She smiled and said, "Thanks. When Havacheck comes, you will want to be somewhere else."

  Curt wanted to be somewhere else even then, but he had a few more questions. "What is Havacheck? Is he a ghost?"

  "I don't know. I don't know what either of them are really. I was twenty-six when I bought this house. I thought I was getting the best deal of my life and suddenly I was trapped..." All emotion appeared to drain from her face. "My husband had left me with two kids and no job. I started doing foster-care, but then there was a fire and I had nothing. I needed a furnished house and this place came on the market. No one would take it, because of what had happened here, but I was desperate. I didn't even need to put any money down, all I had to do was take over making payments. What a deal I was getting. What a fucking deal! That first night the monster came. It was just me and four kids. I heard him sneaking around and I went to call the police, but the line went dead. Just like that.

  "I tried to get out, only I couldn't, you know?" At this, she looked for Curt to agree and he nodded his head, knowing exactly what she meant. "I tried and tried, but everything was locked and the windows wouldn't budge. I took the children and hid in the attic. The ne
xt morning we snuck down stairs and the house had been cleaned. All the little messes were picked up and everything looked just like it had when we moved in. It was so bizarre. We tried to get out, but the house seemed to wake up and... you know how it is. You can feel it in the air, in the wood. I didn't know what to do so we went and hid again in the attic.

  "That night the monster came again, but this time it came all the way up here. And so we hid in the junk, but one of the foster kids began to cry and the monster was on her just like that. I was so afraid. I didn't do anything. I just hid behind that desk and held my two babies. It was horrible. The little girl had been chewed on...you know."

  Curt did know. Hearing the tale made his skin crawl and his injuries sting just a little more.

  Miss Feanor went on, "The same thing happened the next night to the same little girl. By this time, I was crazy with fear. We had barely had anything to drink and no food what's so ever and I thought we would all starve and I was so afraid for my children. They were so good throughout the ordeal, but not the other two. The other two whined and cried all the time and I knew this was only making the house more angry. I told them to stay quiet but they wouldn't. At the time I thought it was all their fault and I became really angry that my babies were in such trouble because of them, so...so I went down stairs and..." she paused to swallowed hard. Her words had been growing louder as her story progressed, but the last sentence was a whisper as if she really didn't want Curt to hear what she had done.

  "...And I went to the basement where I knew they were hiding, down in those wet pits. I begged them. I begged the Havachecks to spare my babies. I said they could have the other two, if only they would spare my babies. But it wasn't enough. They wanted more. And Curt you have to believe me I was so desperate, I was so afraid and...and I told them I could get them more."

  "You mean more children?" His mind felt as if had become unglued.

  She nodded without looking him in the eyes, "What was I suppose to do? The Havachecks wouldn't just take their lives. They would take their souls as well. You know this. Deep down, you know this and I knew it too. So I told them I would get more children. And I did. Mrs. Havacheck...or her ghost I guess laid down the rules, how everything had to be exactly perfect. How the children had to be quiet at all times...you know the rest."

  Curt did. "But why were your children like this? Why did they just sleep up here all the time?" he asked.

  "Because I tried to run away with them once. It was about a year after we moved in and I was going crazy. Really, really crazy. If you think it was easy for me to have done what I've done, then you are wrong. I couldn't stand what I had become, so I tried to run. They stopped me and Havacheck would have killed us all but I begged them again and so Mrs. Havacheck took their souls as hostage and somehow they were kept alive, but like this. And their souls...oh, now their souls are hers forever! My poor babies. And all this for nothing...I wish," she looked down and tears came again from her eyes. "I wish you had been my first foster child, Curt. I wish I hadn't wasted fourteen years watching my children waste away. I wish I hadn't become just as evil as those two bastards. I'm sorry about that...I really am. Do you believe me?"

  He did, and he felt bad for her too, but he couldn't exactly forgive her. She had been a large part of so much hurt and misery."I believe you."

  "I am sorry. Tell the others, ok? Tell them I'm sorry." He nodded again, and Miss Feanor, with a little grunt, climbed onto the desk and threw the cord over one of the rafters. "It's time you went back to your room; I can feel the monster moving about."

  "You're going to kill yourself?" he asked incredulously. "Why don't we make a run for it? You have no reason to stay anymore."

  Miss Feanor started to tie knots in the extension cord and soon had fashioned a noose, "The house knows what has happened...it won't let me leave now and I don't want to stay here causing more misery than I already have." She then began stacking books on the desk and when they were a foot high she stepped up on them, placing the cord about her neck.

  "Please, wait! You have to tell me how to get out," Curt could feel the monster coming then. It was charging up the stairs in a fury even as it had when it had attacked Darla the caseworker.

  "There is no way out," she said simply and kicked away the books.

  Chapter 25

  The Punished Alone

  1

  Despite the heavy tread of the creature rushing in a savage anger toward the attic, Curt stood mesmerized by the spectacle of Miss Feanor hanging from the extension cord. He had never seen such a horrible sight in his life, she twitched and kicked in the most gruesome manner.

  Finally, he heard the thunderous feet of the creature coming up the stairs of the attic. This got him moving. But he was essentially trapped. There was only a single way through the stacks of old furniture and piles of books. His one choice was to hide, however his delay had left him no time between thought and action. With his natural speed propelled by an unnatural fear, he took two quick strides and slid beneath a roll top desk a few feet away.

  Now his greatest worry was that Miss Feanor would die too quickly, leaving him to face the creature and its inhuman desires alone in the attic. The thought made every pore on his body open up and sweat ran down him in sheets. Craning his neck, he saw the unfortunate Miss Feanor a second before the creature came rushing full upon her with its teeth already fully formed in its ghost like mouth.

  Sadly, she would live longer than she had planned. The extension cord had stretched beneath her weight and now he saw that her toes were touching the top of the desk. It was a hideous sight when the creature came upon her and began to bite without mercy. She was still very much alive, fully aware of the shocking pain inflicted by the great teeth and she jerked about making a nasty gurgling sound deep in her throat. Hanging by the neck as she was, the sight of her flopping in spasms, reminded Curt of fish at the end of a line.

  Stricken in horror, he sat huddled beneath the desk, captivated by the sadistic cruelty in front of him until he felt his dinner rising up in his throat. It broke the spell and he crawled away, without looking back. As he moved on hands and knees, he could feel the terrible evil glee of the house emanating through the rough floorboards. He flew along faster.

  Miss Feanor had been right. The woman, Mrs. Havacheck was worse. The spirit of the man, the creature, Mr. Havacheck was practically an animal in its lusts, he gloated on a horrifying perversion and got off on pain and fear, but not necessarily death. And what's more it would become satiated, where as the woman was never satisfied. She was evil. Hating and angry and bitter. In addition, it was clearly the dominating force in the house and it seemed to dictate or control the creature at least to some extent.

  This all went through his mind as he crawled away, but he didn't crawl for long though, the moment he felt that he could, he got up and ran as if his life depended on it. He didn't look back. His greatest fear was that the house would hold the attic door closed against him, but when he came sailing down the stairs, touching nary a single one, he found that the knob turned easily.

  He paused for barest second at this, feeling the awareness of the house, and it was with a distinct sensation of relief that he sensed that the house was focused on the death of Miss Feanor.

  His relief was short lived, however. Above him, he heard a great crash and a second later Miss Feanor's gurgle became a soul-searing scream. Feeling her pain running through him, he slid with quiet haste to his room and crawled beneath his covers, crying.

  2

  She was being punished and the screams lasted a very long time.

  Each sent a dagger of guilt lancing his heart and through it all, he wept like the child he was. For the other children, it was likely a mercy when it finally ended, but for Curt, the guilt had just begun. Alone in his bed he laid for hours replaying everything that led him up those stairs, seeing vividly with the benefit of hindsight how he had stupidly jumped to wrongful conclusions.

  His cowardice was o
n full display as well. Curt had known all along that the evil things haunting the place resided in the basement, not the attic. Yet he had killed innocent people based on little more than wishful thinking; he had wanted it to be as simple as killing two invalids in their sleep. Pathetically, he had fancied himself this great thief, but now he knew he was nothing more than a killer.

  Eventually he dozed, but awoke frequently with Miss Feanor's screams echoing in his head. They were so sharp and real that he would start up gasping, yet always the house was silent. With the coming of the morning, his guilt only increased. Now, he'd have to tell the others exactly what had happened and he dreaded the looks he'd get and the accusations they would hurl his way. But he felt that lying would be worse. First, he'd begin by telling Amber, though the weak coward in him wanted to start with the mouse, who was likely the only person whose feelings for him wouldn't be changed by the news.

  When he judged the sun high enough, he slipped out of bed and found the house amazingly still, out of habit he went to one knee, feeling the spirits residing in the very molecules of the wood. The creature was well satisfied with the misery it had caused, and it seemed to slumber. The house, that mockery of a feminine spirit was alert, but waiting as if unsure how things would proceed.

  Curt wished he knew as well.

  His steps were light and agile, so smooth that he slipped into Amber's room without disturbing the air around him. She lay unmoving and he waited a long time trying to get the courage to wake her and tell of his terrible mistake. He never did get the courage, but after awhile she rolled over and began to snore lightly.

  It was precious to hear and held him mesmerized. She was like a real person just then, not some girl in a mad house, edging slowly towards insanity. As he listened to the light snore, he momentarily forgot what he had done and lost himself in that small but very human sound. Suddenly she snorted and he giggled.