Why Did You Hurt Me?

by Phylicia Joannis

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

  Trapped!

  Martin passes through the long hallway. This is no small shack. It’s much larger than it appears. A small stairway to his right leads upstairs, but the noise is coming from somewhere further down the hall.

  Martin finds a stairwell that leads to the basement and hears another shout, this time much louder. Martin rushes headlong down the dark stairs, slamming his body into the door at the bottom. It opens without resistance and Martin stumbles into the dark basement.

  He lands on the dusty floor with a thud and winces at the pain shooting up his left side. He looks up from the floor and finds the source of the noise.

  It’s a small laptop with the webcam turned on. The laptop is connected to external speakers with the volume turned to the max.

  Martin pushes himself off the floor and dusts off his pants. The basement smells like oil and gasoline. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent odor, and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to water and burn.

  Martin blinks the water out of his eyes and takes a closer look at the screen. A girl he doesn’t recognize is rolling her eyes at the camera. She seems aggravated but not at all in danger. She’s standing outside somewhere, judging by the grass and trees surrounding her. Martin assumes she is the one he heard screaming. The girl starts arguing with someone, but Martin isn’t paying attention. He is following the long extension cord that is connected to the computer.

  The line runs across the room up to a small window. Who would leave a laptop here, with the volume up full blast, in a shack in the middle of the woods? And why?

  “Are we finished yet? It’s getting cold out here,” the girl whines.

  Martin sees a familiar figure enter the screen. He narrows his eyes as the person turns and stares directly at him. A burst of light engulfs the screen, and Martin turns away, shielding his eyes. He hears his name.

  “Martin!”

  Get out of here! his mind screams at him. Martin turns as the basement door slams shut. Fear grips his heart as he runs to the door and grabs the handle. It’s locked! He pushes against it, shaking the handle again and again, but it doesn’t budge.

  Martin looks around frantically, weighing his options. The basement is dark, except for the light from the laptop. Martin scans the room and spots the window he’d seen earlier. He runs over to it, but stumbles over the cord, causing it to disconnect from the laptop.

  The laptop screen goes black; the sudden loss of light confuses Martin momentarily, but the light from the outside puts him back on track; it’s moonlight, but it’s just enough to allow him to see the window again.

  He grabs the windowsill and pulls himself up. He sees the ground outside, but through the dingy window, he can’t see anything else.

  He examines the window, running his hand along the side until he finds the latch. After unlocking it, he pushes it up as far as it will go and sticks his head out.

  A stinging spray splashes his face. He jerks his head back, banging it on the window before falling back to the floor.

  He screams in pain as the burning sensation pierces every part of his eyes and nose. He slings a handful of dirt into his face, desperate to dull the pain, but that only makes it worse. The dirt is saturated in gasoline.

  A loud pop startles him, and he jumps to his feet. His eyes are red and raw, and the tears building in his eyes make the burning unbearable. Another sound, this time very shrill and sharp, zips past him.

  Martin grabs his arm, a sharp pain searing his skin. Whatever passed him burned his arm. Martin blinks his eyes several times, willing himself to see. The familiar hiss of fireworks catches his ear. That’s it! The first pop had to be a firecracker. The second...

  Martin sees it before he hears it this time; a small rocket jettisons through the window into the basement. Small flames ignite in the fuel-plagued dirt around him, and Martin realizes the danger he’s in.

  He runs back to the door, slamming his entire weight into it, but it still won’t budge. Smoke fills his nostrils and Martin’s mind numbs with panic.

  The window! Martin thinks. He runs back to the window, ignoring the pain as another rocket smashes into his shoulder. He sticks his arms out first and tries to pull himself through, but the window is too small to fit his head and shoulders. He pulls his head back and tries going out with one arm first, but as soon as he sticks his head out he’s hit with another dose of fiery spray. Martin jerks back and cries out in pain, unable to hold back his tears any longer. The room is hot and smoky, and Martin is surrounded by several small fires. Martin hears someone laughing just outside the window. He turns his head and cries out.

  “Hey! Help me!” Martin cries as he rubs at his eyes. “I’m trapped!”

  A dark figure appears in the window. Martin blinks several times. His chest heaves as he struggles to breathe in the smoke-polluted basement.

  “You took my life from me, Martin,” the dark figure hisses. “I had dreams. I had a future. But you destroyed it!”

  Martin rubs his eyes again as the dark figure moves closer. Their eyes meet and Martin recognizes him as the same face on the camera. Josh Turner. The same Josh Turner he fought in August the previous year. He was expelled, along with his friend Steve Owens. Now, he’s dangerously close to becoming a murderer.

  “I don’t understand,” Martin falters. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why? I lost everything because of you!” Josh explodes. “I got kicked out of school, you know. But that’s not all. I lost my football scholarship, thanks to your dad. He had me thrown in juvie, and now no college football team wants me. My own father disowned me, and you,” he points a finger at Martin, “You’re to blame!”

  •••

  Johnny watches his father’s chest slowly rise and fall. Mr. Reese makes a low rattling sound every time he exhales, like an old engine struggling to stay cranked.

  The monitors to his right indicate that Mr. Reese is losing his battle for survival. This is the end for Charles Reese. The doctor and nurses have hinted as much.

  A single tear escapes from Johnny’s left eye, but he quickly wipes it away. Johnny closes his eyes as anger rages within him. Johnny hoped his stepfather’s death would bring him relief, but he feels more anxious than ever.

  He hates Charles Reese. He wanted to tell him as much during that brief moment he was conscious the night before. He wanted to release all the hurt he’d been bottling up inside. He wanted to laugh at him and tell him he’d gotten what he deserved. But the initial shock of it all had robbed him of words. His stepfather was finally vulnerable, too weak to fight back, and Johnny was left speechless. All he could do last night was stare. Now, Johnny is ready to say it, to say all of it, but his stepfather can’t hear him. Before the day is over, Charles Reese will be dead. And what will Johnny do once his stepfather is gone? His family will need him for comfort, at first, but then what? Will the nightmares really stop? Will the pain in his heart finally go away?

  Johnny fears the answers, and another feeling has been wiggling its way in. Guilt. He asked the Master to get rid of his stepdad, and he did – but at what price? What does the Master want with Martin West? Nothing good, Johnny’s sure. If the Master is willing to kill Charles Reese to get to Martin, what else is he capable of?

  Johnny breaks into a nervous sweat. Whatever scheme the Master has planned, Johnny is now an accomplice. Though he has no idea what – if anything – is going to happen to Martin, Johnny knows he’s equally responsible. Just as he’s responsible for what happened to his stepfather. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he traded his service in exchange for his life. His stepfather’s blood is on his hands, and, possibly, Martin’s too.

  Johnny groans heavily. His world spinning out of control, his shirt collar feels too tight, and if he stays in this tiny room any longer, he’ll suffocate. Johnny rushes out of the room, ignoring the cry of surprise from his mother. He runs past the hospital exit and doesn’t stop until he’s well beyond the parking lot. He has
no idea where he’s going. He can’t go home. Not now.

  Johnny walks to the end of the street and stops. Katalia Falls is just a mile away. His destination set, Johnny runs until he reaches the bottom step of Jennifer’s house. He grabs the side rail and forces himself to walk up the next three steps and ring the doorbell. He turns and sits on the steps, putting his hands over his head. His chest is tight and his lungs are burning. He’s breathing too fast and begins to hyperventilate.

  “Breathe slowly,” a quiet voice instructs him. Johnny looks around, but no one is there. Jen still hasn’t come to the door.

  “Take a deep breath,” the voice says again. Johnny breathes in slowly and the hyperventilation subsides.

  I, the Lord, search the heart of man.”

  Johnny freezes. Where did that come from? Johnny blinks, but he can’t hold back his tears; they fall, heavy on his face.

  “Johnny?”

  Johnny turns as Jennifer steps out of the house. She looks at him quizzically before sitting down next to him. She places her hand on his shoulder, massaging it gently.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks. Her face is soft and full of compassion. Johnny only nods. “Is it your dad?” she asks.

  Johnny folds his arms and places his head in between them. He rocks back and forth, feeling very much like the scared, lonely six-year-old child he used to be; ten years later, and nothing has changed.

  “Johnny?” Jennifer’s alarmed but soft voice interrupts his thoughts. He feels her hand, firmly pressed against his shoulder to comfort him. He squeezes his eyes shut, closing out everything but his thoughts. Once again, Jennifer’s touch brings him back.

  “Come on, you can talk to me,” Jennifer prods gently. Johnny sits quietly for a moment before speaking.

  “All this time,” Johnny whispers, “I’ve never known why. Why did you do it? Why did you hurt me? What did I do wrong? I trusted you. Now it’s too late.” Johnny breaks into a sob and Jennifer pulls him close.

  “Johnny, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m going to pray for you, ok?”

  That sets him off. Johnny pulls himself away from Jennifer’s embrace, disgusted.

  “No, it’s not okay!” Johnny shouts angrily. “What good does it do to pray to a God who never does anything?” Johnny turns his face towards the sky, eyes blazing with fury.

  “Did you hear me, God?” Johnny shouts. “What good are you?”

  “Johnny,” Jennifer reaches for his arm but he pulls it away.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Jen,” Johnny is still looking at the sky. “How do you worship a God who just lets people suffer? People like me and my mom? How could he watch us getting our brains beat in every single day and do nothing!” Johnny turns and looks at Jennifer, pain in his eyes. “How could God be deaf to the screams of a six year old boy having his innocence taken from him by a man who was supposed to be his father?”

  “Oh no, Johnny,” Jennifer’s hand covers her mouth as Johnny turns back to the sky.

  “Were my screams not loud enough?” Johnny shouts. “I needed you, and you weren’t there! You’re never there! Not when I had my face smashed against a greasy garage floor; not when my mom was getting knocked across the room; not when that monster had his hands on my brother! Someone had to protect them! What was I supposed to do? I had no choice!”

  Johnny’s body shakes with painful sobs. “I had no choice,” he cries. Jennifer takes his hand in hers, eyes full of tears. Johnny looks up at her and she pulls him into an embrace. This time he doesn’t pull away.