Black Rose

by Kris Thompson

  “Hey, Anna?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The plaque that holds your chain to the wall, can you describe it to me?” She described in full detail the exact same thing I was looking at. “Do all of yours look like that?” I yelled, and received confirmation from everyone.

  “Why? What are you thinking?” Anna asked.

  “Not sure, but I have an idea.”

  Then the music stopped, and there was a lot of ruckus overhead. He came down the stairs in a rush, opening and slamming the main door behind him. I hurried to the overturned carpet and flipped it back, covering the hole in the floor.

  Sara whimpered as he unlocked her door. We could hear her being slapped around before he took off his belt. Whenever he came down here pissed off, he always went to her. I had started to see a pattern when it came to who he picked and why. When he was angry, he picked Sara; she always cried the whole time he raped her, and she was the one out of all of us who did. I think the sick fuck liked that more than anything.

  With Anna, it was torture. She told me once that his favorite new thing to do was tape a ball to her mouth, because when he raped her she would vomit due to her pregnancy. I assumed he liked seeing her choke when he did it. Sometimes he would burn her, and I would scream and pound on the walls every time I heard him flip open his lighter.

  When he was in a good mood, he picked Linda. If Linda didn’t act like she was having sex with him, instead of being raped, he would hit her until she was unconscious. She said that was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, to kiss him back, to pretend to moan in pleasure, and even sometimes to hold him afterward. The sick fuck.

  And then there was poor Kandace. Kandace seemed to be his favorite. We all knew why; she even realized it, too. Kandace always fought back, and he loved it. You could hear her slapping and hitting him, but he would just laugh at her, throw her to the ground, and do whatever he wanted to her.

  With me, I think it was just a pain thing. He hadn’t tried to rape me. Not even once. Fondle, yes, but never rape. It seemed like he saw me as his own personal punching bag. A few times he’d come down here just to beat me and then leave. Even when he was here dropping off that pathetic bag of food, or emptying our buckets, he would have to beat me. I knew he liked me yelling at him, that was obvious, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t why he had taken me. I wondered if my smart mouth had just been an unfortunate added bonus. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what was worse, being raped or being beaten, but it was a question I hoped I never had to answer.

  He laughed, hitting Sara again. “That’s right, bitch, cry out!”

  Feeling a little bit of my confidence returning, and wanting her to know we had her back, I started to sing.

  “Oh, yes I am wise, but it’s wisdom born of pain. Yes, I’ve paid the price, but look how much I gained.”

  I sang it so loud that my voice cracked at the end. While I continued singing the chorus to “I Am Woman”—the only part of the song I could remember—I turned my attention back to the plaque. With bobby pins in hand, I put my crazy idea to work.

  Thirteen Days Missing

  —Richard

  For three days, Luke and I had been checking out every person on the list. Luke’s old football trainer, Joe, helped us limit the list down to ten from the almost twenty that were there. Joe had been working for the athletic department for more than thirty years, so we felt comfortable going to him over anyone else.

  We spent hours following these men around, unsure of what we were looking for but taking notes on everything from what car they drove to what brand of cigarettes they smoked. Noah would call every once in a while, just to see if we were making any progress, but I continued telling him that if we found anything he would be the first person we would call.

  “I bet he’s not getting anywhere on his end, and that’s why he keeps calling you,” Luke said. He was ready to move on from the guy we had been checking out. His name was Henry Castro, and we had been following him around for five hours. All he did was time the runners for their practices and write the time down on his clipboard. We made a copy of the list for Adam so he could look up the addresses of all the people Joe said were new. Adam was driving over to Henry’s house to see if he seemed decent.

  I felt my phone vibrating again, and was relieved to see that it was Adam.

  “Hey, man, how’s it looking?”

  “Mr. Castro has a wife and three kids,” he replied. “He lives in a nice little area, too. I’m sorry, man, but I don’t think he’s the guy.”

  “It’s cool, Adam. I didn’t think so either. So who’s next on the list?”

  “I want to check out this guy named Thomas Reed.”

  I looked down at my list and found the name toward the bottom. Joe had taken the time to write a few notes by each of the names, and by Thomas’ name it said: field department, working almost a year, seems nice, but doesn’t talk much.

  “Where does he live?” I asked.

  “Nederland.”

  “Where the hell is that?”

  “About thirty minutes west of Boulder,” he answered. “It’s just past the Barker Reservoir.”

  “So out in the boonies?” I laughed.

  “Anything west of Boulder is the boonies to you,” he said with a chuckle. “But that’s why I want to check it out. This Thomas kid is the only person on this list who’s from Colorado. Everyone else moved here for the job.”

  “You need Luke and I to tag along?” Luke heard me, and his attention seemed to perk up a little.

  “No, but how about you give Noah a break from girl-sitting? Go eat some lunch. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  I hung up the phone, and Luke and I headed for the car. When we got to the apartment, Noah was chain smoking outside while the women were in the living room watching some annoying chick movie. Watching them sitting there on the couch made my heart ache. Sadie was sitting in the middle, with Emma to her left and my mom on her right. They both had their heads on one of Sadie’s shoulders, and all of them were holding hands. They didn’t even seem to be watching the movie, but were just using it as an excuse to be close to one another. I felt the tears start to rise when the phone rang. I walked over and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Agent Chase.” He sounded very monotone, which made me nervous. Chase was somewhat of an upbeat and uplifting person, even under the circumstances, so I was taken aback by this sudden change. “Is Officer Locke there? I tried his cell phone, but it went to voice mail.”

  “Um . . . sure, h-hold on,” I stammered, looking at Noah and motioning for him to come over. I mouthed Chase to him and he nodded.

  “Hello?” he whispered, not wanting the girls to hear him. “Uh-huh . . . okay . . . I’ll be there in”—he glanced at the clock on the wall—“half an hour.” He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys off the counter.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, following him out the door. He seemed to be in a rush, and I couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “I’ll call you when I find out,” he said, walking over to his car and unlocking the door.

  I put my hand on the driver door to stop him from closing it. “What did he have to say? I know something is wrong, Noah, just tell me.”

  Noah took a deep breath and looked up at me. “Another girl’s body was just found.”

  Chapter 8

  Day Seventeen

  —Lillian

  Nearly four days had passed since I began working to loosen the bolts on my plaque, and he had only shown up twice. Both times he came downstairs, dropped off a bag of food, emptied our buckets and then left. He never said a word, never touched us, just dropped shit off and cleaned up. It made me both grateful and nervous—grateful that his time with us was so short, nervous that it was so robotic. I had a feeling that whoever he decided to abuse next was going to get it bad, but that was just a gut feeling.

  At what I thought was the end of day four, I awoke
to hear him shouting.

  “Wake up, you stupid cow!”

  His steps echoed through my small room along with the sound of the stairway door slamming open and shut. I stood up and looked around, making sure everything was in its place and no evidence of my hole in the corner or loosened bolts showed.

  His keys jingled as he came up to my door and banged on it. “Your family’s gonna cause you a world of hurt, little girl!” He opened my door. “Get over here.”

  I walked over to him until the chain pulled at my ankle, crossed my arms over my chest, and tried hard to look unfazed by his presence. He looked like a monster at the brink of insanity in front of me, his hair a mess, eyes wide with hatred, and I could tell he was clenching his teeth because his jaw muscles kept flinching.

  “What do your parents do for a living?” he asked.

  I stood there in confusion, my brow furrowing until it finally hit me.

  Shit! My brother. He must be looking into this and trying to find me.

  Not wanting to put Noah in any danger, I kept him out of my answer. “My mom is an art teacher in Eldorado Springs,” I replied. “I don’t know where my father is. Why, you want me to hook you up with some art lessons?”

  He slapped me across the face. “Don’t get smart with me, bitch! And you better not be lying or I’ll make it so you’ll be pushed around your precious track in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.”

  Track? How did he know I ran track?

  My thoughts were ripped away from me when he slapped me across the face again.

  “What, no witty remark? Don’t have anything else you want to share with the class?”

  I just stared at the floor, biting my lip, waiting for a metallic flavor to fill my taste buds, and willing myself to maintain control of my anger.

  “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it,” he said, turning away from me and stalking out of the room, locking the door behind him.

  The second I heard Anna cry out when he opened her door, I ran over to the wall and yelled, banging on it with my fists.

  “Come on, Lilly,” he laughed, and I heard him flip open his lighter. “I know this is your favorite part.”

  Anna screamed and I cried openly, resting my forehead against the wall. It was a double-edged sword talking shit now. Either I said something and he killed her, or I said something and he killed me. I banged my forehead against the wall, trying even harder to contain my anger.

  “Fuck!” I yelled when I heard Anna scream again.

  “Oh, please, is that the best you can do?” he moaned.

  There was a loud bang against the wall, and it caused me to move away from it. He must have pushed Anna against it because his movements were causing the wall to bend.

  “Please stop,” Anna whimpered as the banging became more frequent.

  I put my hands against the wall, laying my forehead back against it, trying to console Anna.

  “Listen to my voice, Anna,” I whispered. “I’m right here. Just pay attention to my voice.” I felt my tears start to well up behind my eyes. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  “It’s not over till I say it’s over, bitch,” he yelled.

  The wall thumped a few more times and then I heard Anna slump to the floor. He returned to my room, opening the door and barging in. He took me by the throat and shoved me against the wall.

  “You’re so heartless,” he sneered, running his nose along my cheek. “To give them hope, raise their spirits.” He pulled back and looked me straight in the eye. “I would say you torture them worse than me.” He pulled his fist back and punched me straight in the stomach. He let me fall to the floor, where he proceeded to kick me in the side.

  “God, it’s such a turn on,” he groaned. I rolled onto my back and bit my lip, holding my aching stomach. He reached down, picked me up, and threw me on the mattress. “Knowing that when I’m not here, you’re here just making it worse for them,” he smiled, lying on top of me and licking the side of my face. Trying to push him off me was useless. My body was in so much pain all I could do was close my eyes, hoping that this wouldn’t last long.

  He started rubbing himself against me, and I was unable to hold back the lone tear that escaped. I turned my head so he couldn’t see it.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  He continued rubbing himself against me while I just lay there, waiting for him to finish. He let out a low moan, his body trembling over me, then grabbed my face and plunged his tongue down my throat. He laughed when he was done, and stood up before walking toward my door.

  “It may have taken me a little over two weeks, but I have yet to find a horse I couldn’t break.” He smiled with pride, shutting the door behind him.

  I rolled over to my side and held myself. As soon as the main door was shut, Anna called out to me.

  “Lee, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Forget about what he said, Lee. It’s all bullshit,” Linda called out.

  I knew what she said was right, but I couldn’t help but feel that, because of my mouth, some of their blood was on my hands. Too exhausted to answer, I just closed my eyes, letting sleep take over.

  Seventeen Days Missing

  —Richard

  “They all check out,” Luke said, tossing his list on the kitchen table.

  “I still have a weird feeling about this guy.” Adam pushed the paper forward, pointing out one of the names at the bottom of the list.

  “Just because the guy is an emo loner doesn’t make him a serial kidnapper.” Luke laughed. “I mean, that was Richard for years, and look at him. Maybe this guy just needs to get laid like Richie-boy did.”

  “Fuck off, Luke,” I snapped.

  “Okay, okay, sorry . . . bad joke,” he apologized, setting down his beer. “Look, I’m just saying that this Thomas guy lives in a double wide in the middle of nowhere. Not a place to keep six girls.”

  “Five.”

  Four days earlier, the body of Ruth-Ann Summers had been found by the side of the road near Sugarloaf Mountain. Sugarloaf was forty-five minutes from Gold Hill where Nina Rosado was found, also by the side of the road. Just like Nina, Noah said Ruth’s face was beaten to the point of being unrecognizable and both of her hands were missing. She had also been raped and starved. The worst thing was that she was found to be pregnant. That information alone almost killed me. Noah was damn near inconsolable. He and I knew these details and kept them to ourselves, not wanting to upset the others.

  Sleep was becoming more and more difficult for me. Every night I would hear the echo of Lee’s voice, screaming out in pain while being attacked by a man I couldn’t see. I was surrounded by darkness, and no matter what direction I ran, I was never getting any closer to the source. Emma would even come wake me up when she heard me yelling Lee’s name, now that I had moved in and was living on their couch.

  “But look where he lives,” Adam argued, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Gold Hill is here.” He pointed on our little map. “And Sugarloaf is over there. They’re small towns, just like Nederland. Nederland is a secluded area, and when I drove by the place you wouldn’t have even noticed his home unless you were looking for it.”

  “Wait, you drove by it?” I asked, annoyed.

  “Well, it had a gate around it. I couldn’t drive up,” he said. “I could see his trailer and that was about it. No other cars, buildings, or even a dog house nearby.”

  “Then I think we should at least tell Noah about this,” Luke said, draining his beer.

  “I agree,” I answered, picking up the papers and following Luke toward the door. “If we leave now, we can make it to his place before traffic gets bad.”

  “I’ll stay with the girls,” Adam whispered, standing and facing us.

  I walked over and gave him a hug. “You’re a great friend, Adam. Thank you for your help.”

  He nodded and patted my back. “Anytime, bro. Now hurry up.” He smiled, pushing me out the door.

&
nbsp; Chapter 9

  Day Twenty

  —Lillian

  There was an eerie silence among us, besides the stupid record playing upstairs. I was about to say something when Anna started to sing.

  Anna found comfort in singing after being brutalized. She was in too much pain to crawl off her mattress to our hole, where we would hold hands after he would hurt one of us. So she just lay on her mattress singing to us. Most of the time we joined her, needing to hear something other than the music that was on constant replay.

  Each girl had found her own way to deal with the aftermath that was “The Douchebag”. Linda would talk, sometimes for hours, but of course we never complained. Sara sought comfort in Anna. Their hole was about the same size as ours, so they were also able to hold hands. Kandace, being Kandace, found comfort in denting her walls with her fists. I couldn’t blame her; I had, on occasion, done the same thing a few times. Some of my knuckles were still swollen.

  I, on the other hand, had found a new hobby—our escape. Using the bobby pins Anna had given me, I had begun scraping off the rust around the bolts holding the plaque up against the wall. Satisfied that one of them looked good enough to try, I brought the bobby pins together sideways, placing them inside the crevice of the bolt. Like a makeshift flat-head screwdriver, I proceeded to try turning the bolt loose. The bobby pins kept cutting through my skin, causing me to bleed, but after a while the bolt turned. My heart stopped when I brought my fingers to it, unscrewing it the rest of the way. I looked at the bolt in my hand as if it were the best fucking thing I’d ever seen.

  “Well, fuck me,” I whispered, smiling to myself. “Broken horse, my ass.”

  As the hours passed, I quietly interacted with the girls as if nothing had changed. I continued working on loosening the other bolts, but listened as Anna and Linda began a debate over who had the sexier voice—George Clooney or Gerard Butler.