by Mike Duke
Improvisation had kept him out of juvenile prison at 13 years old. He and Mom had made lemonade out of lemons, made Ricky disappear and sold it to the cops. Ricky was a gambler and owed a lot of money to the local bookies. Knowing this enabled them to create just the right amount of plausible doubt as to what might have happened to him.
Jack called Duane and told him they needed to sell a car to a chop shop for some quick money. Duane had the connections. Said he could come over and get it right away. While they waited, Jack and Lori took turns pulling Ricky’s teeth out with a pair of pliers then wrapped him up in a tarp. After Duane got the car they drove to the local pig farm in the dead of night to throw Ricky’s body in with at least fifty of them.
Mom and son stood there together and watched by the moonlight as the pigs consumed every last bit of Ricky in under an hour. Once back home she took an empty paint can and burned all Ricky’s cards – debit, credit, work ID, driver’s license, insurance cards. Everything in his wallet turned to ash and goo. The teeth they smashed into tiny pieces and powder. She swept it up into a can to throw in the river the next morning. After that Lori cleaned the floors then sanded the areas blood had covered in an attempt to remove as much evidence as possible. The following day when Jack came home from school there was a small rug on his mom’s bedroom floor.
They waited two days and reported him missing, letting the police know he was a chronic gambler. An officer would stop by periodically to let his mom know there were no leads of any kind and eventually told her that with no activity on his credit cards of any kind foul play was likely. Mom played the distraught girlfriend role for a short time and then let the officer comfort her on a few occasions after meeting up at the local bar. After that it was never brought up again.
Case unsolved.
Headlights swung across the library parking lot, making Jack jump slightly. He stood and walked outside carrying only a small backpack slung over his shoulder. He stopped at the sidewalk, a good twenty feet from the vehicle. The lights turned off and the engine died. There was a long pause before the door opened and April exited, a large suitcase in tow that seemed to be bulging at the seams.
“Jack,” she said tentatively, obviously not wishing to interact with him still. “What are you doing here?”
“Me?” he asked, buying a moment to kick his brain / mouth connection into gear. “I’m here waiting for a ride. Some research project living off the grid over the summer. Pays too. Thought it would be good to get away from it all for a while.” Jack smiled big, promoting his feigned admiration for isolated bliss.
April’s arms dangled slack suddenly, her countenance dropping as well.
“You’ve got..to be..fucking..kidding me.” Every word was pronounced individually with precise articulation and emphasis on April’s absolute incredulity at the possibility of being stuck with Jack for two months, away from all other outside contact.
“Nope,” he quipped cheerfully then cocked his head and put a skeptical look on his face. “Hold on…you’re not the female part of this equation, are you?”
April looked like the irony just might choke her. She couldn’t make a sound, just clenched her teeth and tried to swallow this big fat horse pill that tasted like shit.
“Well, our contact should be here anytime now. Can we sit in your car and wait with the AC running? It’s hot as balls out here.”
Jack started walking for the passenger side of the car. April stood slack jawed at everything still and didn’t answer, so Jack got in and shut the door.
“C’mon April,” he pleaded nicely, flashing a charming smile. A smile, in fact, meant to charm. “Let’s get this AC rolling.”
April shook her head, a look of resignation falling across her face. She left the suitcase by the front quarter panel and got in, starting up the car and turning the AC up.
She looked over at Jack, glanced down at his small backpack sitting in the floorboard between his feet then a curious and confused look twinkled into existence followed by the obvious question to her.
“Jack, where’s your truck?”
“Oh, I left it at home. I walked over here.”
“Well…where’s your clothes and stuff? It can’t all be in that little backpack.”
“OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT!” blared like an air horn going off through his brain, catapulting his thought process into a befuddled scramble to come up with a plausible lie. In turn his face went blank and he stared down at the radio, dumb and mute.
“Uhhhhhhh,” was all that came out at first.
“FUCK!!!” he thought. Something always doesn’t go as planned or you forget to include something in your plan. He had forgot this simple detail that would have helped sell it all and now he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say in explanation as to why he wasn’t holding said gear in question.
April stared at him harshly now, eyes beginning to reflect her flabbergasted instincts at the thought that crossed her mind suddenly.
“Jack! Did you make all this shit up just to get alone with me?” Her voice rose 5 octave levels in the course of one sentence.
“April. Are you nuts?”
Her mouth opened wide and her hand flew to cover it.
“You did! Didn’t you?!?”
“I’m not talking with you about this bullshit.”
Jack opened the door and turned away from her, buying himself time to think. She was aware now, not oblivious. He was going to ambush her from behind, at some point, with a rear naked choke to knock her out. That wasn’t going to happen now. “Same target, different technique” he thought, deciding on an alternate way to skin this cat.
“You’re lying!” April spit at him. “I can see it in your face. I’ve always been able to tell when you were lying to me about something important.”
She grabbed his left arm to pull him back in the car.
“Look at me, Jack!” she demanded.
Jack turned, sliding his legs back inside and shutting the door, causing the light to go back out.
“I’m sorry April,” he said shyly. A mere whisper right before his arms exploded into action, left hand reaching behind her to grab a large mass of hair, pulling her head back and down, into his body while his right hand clamped forcibly around her throat, thumb and fingers seeking out the carotid arteries on each side, pressing in hard enough to seal them temporarily. April squawked once and Jack pressed his lips against hers to quieten any attempt at screaming as the blood choke quickly took effect.
She tried to struggle, her left hand pulling on his right arm, but it was like a steel girder compared to her strength. And her right arm was useless, pinned between his body and the seat.
When she stopped trying to scream Jack pulled his head back.
It was her eyes that killed Jack and everything they communicated to him. The shock. The disbelief. The confusion. And lastly, when she realized she was passing out, the utter betrayal.
Her head lolled, eyes still open. Jack dragged April in the back seat and laid her on her side to ensure steady breathing. He quickly zip tied her wrists together behind the back then zip tied her feet together, and ran a bungee cord between the two to restrict her movement if she woke up. A piece of Duct tape covered her mouth. He retrieved her suit case and tossed it in the car then hopped in the driver seat and drove to a dark back corner of the parking lot where a street light wasn’t working. He popped the trunk and put her inside. Shut the lid, got back in and drove off calmly. He drove the speed limit all the way to the barn, ignoring her muffled cries the last couple of miles when she came around.
*****
Jack backed April’s car inside the barn and closed the door before opening the trunk. A bitch face laced with confusion stared up at him. She knew Jack, or at least thought she did. And so, between anger and fear, anger was the predominant force at play now. Jack realized that would have to change as he looked into her eyes. Eyes that challenged him to let her go, demanded it even. He would have to change April’s emotions f
rom anger to fear. But to do that Jack would need to weight the scale of fear much heavier. He would need to do something to cause her to fear him.
He couldn’t be the white knight anymore. She could be angry at the white knight because she wouldn’t fear the white knight. Couldn’t imagine the white knight hurting her, so she could never truly believe he was a threat. And would never take Jack or his efforts to change her seriously.
But the black knight would be different - dangerous, unpredictable, full of scorn and disdain, uncaring and willing to hurt and inflict pain. Not an ounce of empathy would he show. They were no longer the same. Wolves don’t care what sheep think or feel. And monsters not only don’t care about the pain their victims feel but are aroused by it, enjoy it. The black knight would have to be monstrous.
As much as Jack could stomach, anyway. It was April, after all, not some stranger.
He loved her. His intentions were pure, but pure of heart methods could not prevail here. Only a monster could kill the warped mind that daily strangled April’s potential for happiness. Only a monster could do the things that it would take to save her from herself and all the wolves she repeatedly let in her heart. “Was she unconsciously masochistic?” Jack had often wondered.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he thought just before pulling the tape off her mouth with one quick jerk.
“Ow!” she squealed then stared at him as she launched into a tirade.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Jack? This is kidnapping! You can’t do this to me! Take these ties off now and let me go, dammit!”
Jack just stared down at her, unblinking.
“For fuck’s sake Jack, quit staring at me like that and LET ME GO!!!”
Jack tilted his head but didn’t break eye contact or say a word.
April took a deep breath and screamed bloody frustration, jerking against her bonds and rolling back and forth, exasperation finally reaching the boiling point. But all the struggle and primal shrieking was nothing but a cathartic expression of her recognition that she lacked control here. Jack was not respecting her demands, her verbal exertions of the will.
The blankness in his eyes. The lack of emotion in his face. It finally registered…and it disturbed her. Unconsciously she shifted into being kind and asking, not commanding.
“Whatever you have on my wrists and ankles are cutting in. They fucking hurt, Jack! Please take them off.” Her eyes went soft. Pleading eyes. Puppy eyes…False, pretending eyes.
“Good.” Jack spoke his first word to her.
Perplexity spread across April’s face as Jack reached in his pocket and retrieved the skull mask he had worn during the home invasion. He slipped it over his head and pulled it down, completely covering his face.
April’s face flinched momentarily at this simple act of transformation. She suddenly felt like she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Like she was becoming aware of dark skies, roaring winds and thunder and lightning that had been raging all along.
“First off,” Jack began calmly, “to answer your accusation that what I’m doing here is wrong, Nietzsche said that ‘All things are subject to interpretation, whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.’ And in fact, ‘The world itself is the will to power and nothing else.”
Jack paused for a moment to let it sink in before continuing.
“So, you may think this is wrong and society at large may think this is wrong and the law may call it kidnapping, but you are weak, society and their representatives of power are not here and I am strong. I have the power and the will to exert it…so my interpretation stands. And I call all this the right thing to do.”
April stared, slack jawed and dumbfounded by what she had just heard, her stomach a pit suddenly opened and erupting with fear.
“Why?” was all she could muster in response.
“Oh do not ask ‘why’ April. It’s just lazy. We have a lot of time to spend together...as much as two months to be exact. I’m sure you’ll figure out my ‘why’ at some point. ‘What’ is all you should be concerned with now. What is going to happen to you? That is the question you should be asking.”
April swallowed hard and croaked out the question, “What’s going to happen to me, Jack?”
“You’re going to suffer April. But then you’re going to get strong. You’re going to find your own will to power.”
April wasn’t sure what the rest really meant yet but she understood the word suffering and it pierced her like an arrow, fear spreading across her face.
Jack bent down and heaved her out of the trunk and over his shoulder and walked into the sound proof room he had constructed. She felt soft against him, her skin wonderfully smooth, her thighs seducing. The sheer, brutishness of the act of carrying her struck him, like some caveman with a prize woman headed back to his lair for some fun.
He became aroused, suddenly, his body’s response an indictment of the sickness of mind he himself possessed. His sense of morality converted that recognition into feelings of shame. He struggled with his inherent vices but they never went away. The shame never ceased when they held sway. He laid April down on the floor and proceeded to snip the zip ties, freeing her. He stood and backed up to the door.
“This room is soundproof, so don’t ruin your vocal cords screaming. Won’t do ya any good. The bed and sheets are clean and there’s a bottle of water on the night stand along with clothes in the drawer for tomorrow. Go to sleep. We’ll get started in the morning.”
He shut the door without giving her a chance to ask any questions, securing all three locks – door handle, deadbolt and padlock.
Jack walked outside and took care of himself in the night air, further ashamed at the thoughts he entertained to reach orgasm. It was a necessity, not a want. He couldn’t be charged with testosterone moving forward with April. It would only complicate things.
Jack had set up a tent inside the barn with a twin size mattress laid inside. Once finished and cleaned up, he climbed in, buried himself in the covers and went to sleep thinking of how fucked up he was.
*****
Jack dreamed of uncomfortable memories. He was 16 and had his first real girlfriend, Maggie. She was sweet, came from a bad home just like him, abusive father, punching bag mother, the works. He had thought her so sweet, so kind, but too sad, much like April in many ways. Jack wanted to be the white knight, her rescuer, her savior…and at first he was. But eventually, he became controlling, and when Maggie told him “No” he flushed angry, using words as a weapon, withholding emotion and affection as a manipulative tool, twisting words and the truth to fit his own ends…to get what he wanted. He was selfish, narcissistic, enjoyed the fantasy more than the person, wanted things just so and any deviation was unacceptable. Control was necessary to ensure his happiness.
It went on for months till his mother, Lori, witnessed one to many episodes and finally accepted that her boy was his father’s son.
The day Lori sat Jack down and told him he was fucked up was a watershed moment in his life. He denied it at first, of course, but she reminded him of example after example of how his own father and many other subsequent abusive boyfriends had treated her the same way. She provided him with a book she had read, “Why Does He Do That?” and demanded he study it.
Over the next couple of weeks Jack came to hate who he was, seeing himself as if in a mirror. He accepted that his way of thinking was twisted and wanted to change. He tried. Over the months that followed he tried so hard but over and over again he fell back into abusive patterns. Never physical, but he was quick to engage in emotional manipulation, vulgar explosions of verbal animosity and condemnation, twisting of words to support his desires and controlling behaviors to monitor and dictate what Maggie would do, as well as when and how.
Maggie was willing to comply and Jack seemed incapable of not taking advantage of the Power Imbalance at work within their relationship. Eventually, his hate for himself grew too large to continue in tha
t path. Jack would rather be alone than repeat this sickening cycle of abuse he was committing against sweet, sweet Maggie.
He broke up with her. Told her it’s me, not you…and he meant it. Her tears and confusion tore at his heart again and woke him. Memories unfolded into consciousness.
April had become his infatuation after Maggie, but she was too accepting of abuse. He longed to be her white knight but knew it would never work.
He’d just abuse her too.
His second year in college he met a girl, a senior, and went out with her a few times. She was strong willed, stood up to him and called him on any bullshit and wouldn’t tolerate being treated wrongly or abused. She also didn’t want any long term relationship, just the sex. Her plans were more important than being with someone. They saw each other occasionally for a good time but there was never any commitment.
That was his only interaction with women from then on. Find a girl who just wanted a good time and great sex, no strings attached.
But it also, told him what kind of a woman he needed. Someone who was strong of will and wouldn’t back down in the face of his fury. Someone who valued themselves enough to stand up against him no matter how much he huffed and puffed and sought control. Someone who would love him enough to not stay if he was abusive, to set a boundary and enforce it.
He could teach April to be strong, he thought. He could teach her to stand up for herself and stand up against abusive people. And maybe she already loved him in some way, and maybe, just maybe she would love the white knight when the black knight was done.
*****
Jack flipped the light on and opened the door just an inch, his left foot braced sideways against the bottom, just in case. He peered inside quickly. April was still asleep but began covering her eyes instinctively.
He stepped inside, pushing a small cart. A toasted, whole wheat peanut butter and honey sandwich, a cup of coffee, protein shake, and a bottled water sat on top.