Insanity Road

by Williams, Brett

  He vowed to forget this one, though, once she’d been dealt with. He’d never asked for her to be chained down in his basement, but it was he who needed to handle the mess. For that matter, he’d never asked to see Sharon again. She and David had left. And he had tried to move on with his life.

  For many years, he’d done just that. He poured himself into school but after two years, during a summer job working with a clean-up crew at a small manufacturing plant, he was offered a chance to learn to weld. It seemed a simple way to earn decent money without digging himself a deeper financial hole to finish school. So, he didn’t return for the fall semester of his junior year. Of course, a redhead may have played a part in the decision. After a fiery few months, the relationship fizzled. The welding gig turned into a full-time job and he rented a small house and found hobbies, such as working on his truck, to help pass the time.

  After several years of dating the occasional single woman, relationships which never panned out, such as one would-be gold-digger who thought he earned more than he actually did, women he dated, for the most part, became single mothers, which only worked to shorten the timeframe of their relationships.

  Then one day the unbelievable happened. He was driving around late at night, near the St. Michael’s church, when he spotted her. Long-lost love Sharon. She eluded him by hitching a ride with a guy in a suped-up Chevy Nova. The following weekend he built a heavy-duty custom bumper and mounted it to the front of the old Dodge. Then he started to cruise the old highway on a nightly basis in search of Sharon. It only took a week before he noticed her passing in a Chrysler. He eventually convinced her to pull over (with a few friendly bumper bumps) and ultimately to return to his house. When she didn’t want to stay, he…

  He didn’t want to revisit the memory. Sharon never wanted to stay, always found a way to leave. And now she had again. With an unlikely accomplice in Julia, who remained chained downstairs.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, unsure what to do. He pulled from a bottle of beer, his third of the night, and descended stairs to the basement. He found Julia sprawled naked across the bed, hair slightly damp, a scent of soap wafting in the air.

  “You bathed,” he said but she didn’t respond. Cigarette burns dotted her flesh. Her smooth, beautiful flesh. “Sit up,” he said and reluctantly she complied. As she moved her womanly form flexed seductively in catlike grace. Hair had sprouted between her legs in a manner he found quite alluring. Scarred but still beautiful breasts hopped and leaped as if to entice him.

  “What do you want tonight?” Julia asked.

  “I just want to talk,” he found himself saying. It came as a surprise to him, as he truly had no idea what he should do. Right now, with blood diverting to his penis, he imagined himself inside her. Inside her mouth, inside her vagina, and perhaps later, behind her, giving her anus a nice, pleasant stretch.

  She eyed the bottle of beer, shifted away from him to a rattle of chain around an ankle.

  “You want a sip? Sure, why not.” He brought the bottle to her lips, tipped it to allow her to taste its frosty goodness.

  “If you went free today,” he said, “would you return to Chad?”

  “Really? After interrogating me… torturing me… That’s what you came to ask?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Yeah. I suppose so. I mean, initially. I’d have no place else to go.”

  “Yes, of course. But I mean after. Once everything settled. I suppose what I’m asking – and I believe I already know the answer – do you want to remain with Chad? After all, according to you, he’s a womanizing cheat. Not to mention, based on what you’ve told me about your relationship, you truly don’t want him.”

  Julia’s eyes turned glassy; her chin quivered. Finally, she replied, “Men are shit. Each and every one of them. Womanizing cheats.”

  “Not me. I’ve never cheated.”

  “How can you say that? You supposedly love Sharon, yet you raped me.”

  “I…,” he started, then let it drop. “Here, have another drink.”

  He allowed her to drain the bottle, then set it aside on the floor. He elaborated: “This relationship between Sharon and I… You see, it ended years ago. Decades… Through it all, though, she’s remained my one true love. But she doesn’t want me. Didn’t know how to keep me. It’s simple, really. Stay true to me; I remain true to you. But we’re not together anymore. I know that now. And I suppose she’s still with David, although I’m not quite sure how that can be. Doesn’t matter. What happened between you and I… Well, I’d say you wanted it, at least—”

  “Good lord, you can’t be serious.”

  “Then why chain yourself in my basement when you could’ve easily slipped away with Sharon? Or did she trick you into being left behind?”

  “You’re mad. A lunatic.”

  “A devoted and loyal lunatic, in a world full of cheating rats.”

  “What are you saying?” A confused and somewhat fearful expression clouded Julia’s face.

  “I suppose what I’m asking is…” He shifted closer to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Leaning toward her helped to alleviate the binding in his shorts caused by a swelling penis. “I’m asking if you find me attractive.”

  “Are you ser—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. And while she shirked away, she didn’t strike out or in any other way try to prevent the display of affection. He kissed her passionately, enjoying for the first time the softness of her skin, the tender womanly curves which steeled him below the belt, which promised that this woman, this Julia Sommers who had chained herself in his basement, might prove to be the next best thing to an impossible relationship he’d agonized over for years. The relationship he’d wanted with a hormonal and lost teenage girl.

  My god, his mind screamed, Julia could be everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. If only…

  “Answer me,” he said. “It could be wonderful, you and I.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Am I? Within time, once I could trust you not to cause trouble, not to run away, I could remove the chain. I’d return home from work, never give you a moment of worry that I’m with another woman, that I’m running around cheating on you. It’s what you want. It’s what I want. But first I’d need to trust you.”

  “Trust me?” A nervous laugh. “Why wouldn’t you trust me? You’re the psych—” Julia cut off her own sentence.

  “Of course,” he said, massaging a shoulder, a thigh, gazing into her beautiful, questioning eyes. “After all, you, a supposedly devoted woman, allowed yourself to be chained in my basement. You lust for past lovers while still committed to your current lover. You’ve willingly pleased me and you allowed intimacies with ‘friends’ in the past. I just don’t know what to think.”

  “Go find Sharon,” Julia said after a moment. “You tortured me for information to find her. Now turn me loose, go find your girlfriend.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said angrily. “But you’re right about one thing. I’m mad to have pined for her all these years. She may have been sweet, but a tramp nonetheless. I should get over her. I should find someone else and get over Sharon,” he repeated.

  “Then along comes you,” he continued. “Damn. I think we should give it a chance. We’d be crazy not to.”

  “Crazy for sure,” she said, with a potentially sarcastic tongue.

  He paused to look into her eyes; only contempt shone there.

  “We should give it a chance,” he said, hearing himself repeat like a scratched record. “Please?” His fingers combed through her hair.

  “No,” she said simply, with finality.

  “No?” He raised a threatening hand but stopped himself from violence.

  “No.” Her voice cracked.

  “You’re stupid. A foolish… I can’t let you leave. Not now. Not since you believe I’ve kidnapped you. Not since you believe I raped you.”

  “But you did.”

  His vision turned
red. She appeared heavy, slightly overweight, albeit in all the right areas. Voluptuous, he realized. Stupid and voluptuous, a wonderful combination.

  She could have it so good here with me, he thought. I can offer what she wants, if only she could find herself attracted to me. But stupid cows like her, foolish little girls, they always want what they can’t have. And never what they could have.

  He slapped her across the face. Slapped her again for good measure. Batted breasts and gripped wrists when she tried to fight back. Blood surged to his groin, steeling him for the act he planned to perpetrate on her. He fucked her long and forcefully, repeatedly demanding she tell him she liked it, making her choose one act over another, the ones she either enjoyed most or disliked least. And then, while choking off her supply of air, demanded she come.

  “Come, goddamn it. Make that sweet, tight pussy squirt for me, baby, because I’m not going to stop until you gush.”

  It took a while but, between giving her what she wanted (and forcing her to accept what she wouldn’t admit she enjoyed) he brought her to a shameful orgasm, he was sure of it. And then he had her taste her own juices on him before providing her a taste of his. Finally, after a kiss, he left her in the basement with a final thought: “I have no choice but you have two: allow me to give you want you want, what you need, or force me to dispose of you. Think about it.”

  Chapter 18

  Allow me to give you what you want, his own voice echoed in his head. Allow me, please. That’s all I ask. That’s all you want. Except, in his mind, he wasn’t trying to convince Julia. He wanted to convince Sharon. He’d wanted to convince her years ago.

  But he wasn’t talking to Sharon. Not then, not yet. He’d mentally rehearsed what to say when he got the chance. Home from school on a long Thanksgiving weekend, he’d went prowling the roads, the highway, even the remote parking areas where he sometimes took her. Not that he expected to find her there. But revisiting the spots brought back fond memories.

  She had to be somewhere, and he fully expected, if he cruised around long enough, to find her, to see her again, perhaps talk to her. A heart-sickening feeling filled his belly as if he’d gorged on humble pie. She’d probably be with David, and if she wasn’t she’d most certainly be driving his truck, something he’d learned, through family and friends, that she did on occasion, not having a vehicle of her own.

  If she was with David, what could he do? What should he do? He didn’t know. He simply needed to see her again, to see for himself what he’d learned through others.

  The dreary, gray day had offered a morning shower and threatened to provide another. He’d stopped at Sonic drive-thru as he ended the cruising circuit and bought a cherry Mountain Dew before doubling back toward the highway. That’s when he spotted Sharon, approaching in David’s Ford pickup truck, alone behind the wheel. She’d undoubtedly noticed him, but just to be sure, instead of blowing the horn, he veered slightly toward the center line without crossing it. The gesture, in rural parlance, suggested a meet-up in a nearby parking lot. He turned the Power Wagon around and caught up with Sharon, who had bypassed a convenience store and bakery parking lot and several others and instead opted to make her way away from the standard cruising strip, down a steep incline, and around to a parking area that supported a pair of shuttered businesses.

  After circling around, the Power Wagon pulled up alongside David’s truck. He cranked down the driver’s side window to peer down at a nervous-looking Sharon.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I just wanted to see you again. Can we talk?”

  Her eyes darted to the north-south highway.

  “Now’s not a good time. I have to pick up David from work soon. Anyone sees us together, word will get back to him.”

  A danger of small-town gossip brought credence to her concern.

  Hands grew clammy as he gripped the steering wheel. He rubbed them on his thighs as he blurted: “I can’t stop thinking of you, Sharon. The last time we were together…”

  “Last time we were together, David nearly lost it. He knew you were inside the house with me. He didn’t like it at all.”

  A smirk spread across his face.

  Sharon said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk.”

  “Why not? We’re still friends, aren’t we? You and David met regularly. As friends,” he added.

  “I’m with David now. I live with him.”

  “Yeah, I know. How about later tonight?”

  “David will be home. He’ll go ape if he finds out.”

  “Tell him you’re going out with a friend. Tell him anything. Tell him I have something of yours to return, which isn’t a lie. I have your garter.” He touched it for effect, as it dangled from the rearview mirror. It wasn’t an actual garter, as she’d never worn it. But they sold scented garters at Walmart, in the automotive section, as air fresheners, and, on a whim, Sharon had bought this one for him. Its fragrance had long since faded, as had the black lace, but he hadn’t the heart to dispose of it.

  “If David finds out, he’ll do something.”

  “He won’t hurt you, will he?”

  Sharon’s eyes became wet and she looked away as she said, “He’ll do something to you.”

  “There’s nothing he can do to me,” he said, unafraid.

  “Not you directly. Your truck.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He threatened before. To sneak to your house after midnight, drain out all the oil. He said you’d ruin your engine when you started it. Maybe pour sugar into the tank, too. I told him he better not, that I’d tell you who’d done it, as if you wouldn’t already know.”

  “That son of a—”

  “But that was before I moved in with him. He might do anything now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. Or to help you.” She turned toward him with tears in her eyes. “Nothing.”

  He chose not to give up so easily and asked yet again: “Can you meet me tonight? Please.”

  “Yeah, I think so. Just to talk.”

  “Now, later, or at David’s place for the world to see – it’s your call.”

  “No, don’t do that. I’ll think of something. Maybe tell him I’m going out with Tonya. I don’t know. Then you have to let me be. Now I’ve gotta go.”

  She slipped the car into gear and, with a final sad glance, pulled away. He watched her drive away, hoping he’d get that final chance to talk to her tonight. To spill his heart out to her.

  And he’d be prepared if David showed up to throw a wrench in the works.

  ~ ~ ~

  Knowing there’d be plenty of time to kill, he returned home to spend time with family and friends. His mother, happy to have him home for the weekend, had prepared a favorite meal of homemade hamburgers, deep-fried okra and potato wedges. He’d played a board game with a buddy from high school but turned down an offer to see a movie at the local theater. Other things occupied his mind and he needed to prepare.

  What to do about David? Most likely Sharon would offer a plausible excuse to go out alone. However, considering David’s reputation of being controlling once he finally “caught” a girl, it stood to reason there might be trouble. The town wasn’t so big that David couldn’t track down Sharon, if not downright follow her. He’d owned various cars and trucks over the years and the young man knew as well as anyone what David drove. Except that he’d been away from school. Had he traded cars? Gotten a second or third car? David was as into cars as any guy. And while the Power Wagon and its repairs, restoration, and modifications took much of the young man’s attention, David likely had another vehicle or vehicles – he always had – of which he knew nothing about. And the thought made him nervous, like knowing you’ll be tailed in an unmarked car.

  He’ll do something to you, Sharon’s voice echoed. Last time we were together David nearly lost it… He’ll go ape if he finds out…

  Face to face, man to man, David didn’t frighten him. But how unstable might
David become? He’d spent the better part of a year, more if you counted the time away at school, trying to steal Sharon away. What if he tried something drastic? There had been gossip over the years, of David fighting over girls. He’d gotten his ass kicked, a time or two, if memory served. Which only suggested David, who seemed quite possessive of Sharon, might decide he needed more than fists to protect what he saw as his this go around.

  She’ll always be mine, he thought as he rummaged through his things, looking for some sort of protection. Sharon loves me and always will. You’re just a cheap motel for her to stay at right now.

  A roll of coins, if taped, provided extra power to a punch. A roll of pennies, somehow, had ended up in the junk drawer of his dresser. But he doubted Scotch tape would suffice and he didn’t know if his dad had any electrical or duct tape in the garage. He could look, but… His .22 rifle sprang to mind. He quickly tossed away the idea. He wielded too much respect for firearms to go toting around something like that. Only aim at what you intend to kill, his father, who’d been trained as a U.S. Marine, had taught him about firearms. That very important rule had always resonated with him and so he wouldn’t dream of any such effort of protection on his part, unless he knew for a fact David planned to gun for him. At which point Dad’s thirty-aught six offered more firepower. Not to mention a telephone call to the Sheriff provided the ultimate solution. Such drastic measures seemed unnecessary.

  No, I need something small, inconspicuous. Something just in case, he thought. And then, buried deep in the junk drawer of his desk, behind pens, pencils, an eraser, an old keychain, and a plastic box of tacks awaited just what he wanted, albeit larger and thus not quite inconspicuous. A hunting knife his dad had bought for him. Similar to the knife in First Blood, the Rambo knife as he liked to call it offered a five-inch blade with integrated saw, handle with removable compass to store fishing line, hooks, and matches. More of a hunting or camping knife, actually, than a military or combat knife, with its pouch for flint on the scabbard, it offered exactly what he wanted. After attaching it to his belt and donning a light jacket for concealment and warmth, he left the house for the evening.