A Tortured Soul

by L. A. Detwiler

  ‘Well, sorry to disappoint you. But he’s not here, and I don’t know when he’ll be back,’ I reply calmly, coolly. Henry still yanks on his rope, barking and snarling as if he’s thirsty for blood. I think he is.

  ‘You know, it isn’t smart to tell people you’re all alone when you’re a frail woman like yourself. A bad man might take advantage. A man looking for vengeance might just settle for taking it out on you. It would be a shame if your pretty little face got damaged.’

  I pull the knife out of my pocket, holding it in front of me. My hand trembles, but my eyes are steady. It feels good to wield power, to be able to stave him off.

  He shakes his head. ‘Ballsy, aren’t we? Should’ve known Richard’s slut would be a bitch.’

  ‘Get out of here,’ I demand through gritted teeth. I don’t blink, don’t breathe, just in case I’m forced to thrust the knife into his flesh. I imagine the feel of the blade plummeting into the skin between his ribs, hearing his yelp. I imagine the feeling of slicing and hacking away the pieces of his abdomen, of his arms, of his face. I picture the skin flaps splattered in the dirt, like an abstract art display to be pondered. I like the image. I’ve always thought about being an artist.

  ‘I don’t know what scam you two have going. But I’m not done here. Someone’s going to pay for what Richard’s done. I’m getting my money, whether it’s from Richard or from you. If I have to ransack this place and club you both to death in the process, I will. You understand?’

  ‘And if I have to slit your throat right here, I will,’ I reply, taking a step forward. He stares at me defiantly, challenging me as if we’re participants in a duel. I notice his fingers grip the crowbar tighter, sending a shiver of fear through me, but I stand my ground. I can stomach this. What do I have to lose, after all?

  Through gritted teeth, he bellows, ‘You tell that motherfucker that I’m not playing anymore. He better get his ass back here. And Cody too. You tell Cody that I’m coming for him. We had a deal. And I’m not going down for this. You hear me?’

  ‘Get out,’ I bark, stepping forward, brazen and stoic.

  After what feels like an eternity, the man curses and turns, storming to his truck. He stomps on the gas, peeling out and driving off, almost hitting a section of fence on the way.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, my hand shaking violently. Who the hell was he? And what dealings does he have with Richard? I think about the money in the envelope, wondering what could have possibly transpired between Cody, Richard, and the mystery man to get him so angry. What has he been doing in that garage? And will the asshole come back?

  I steady my shaking hands. I’m no weak flower. I’m no fragile pansy. I’m no longer the Crystal Connor who would cower in the corner, waiting for some strange man to come back for vengeance. I’ve changed. I’m different. I can handle this, I realize, smiling as I look down at the knife, the specks of blood instilling a sense of confidence. Maybe I can handle myself after all. Maybe that man should be afraid. Maybe they all should.

  I make a decision then, stirred by the recent events and the confidence that has grown. I meander into Richard’s garage and beeline for the drawer. I shudder at the sight of the familiar hammer but shove it aside. I claim the envelope of mystery cash, counting it to make sure it’s all still there. It is. I smile as I squeeze the envelope tightly, feeling all sorts of feelings of hope and promise in that wad of paper.

  I pat Henry on the head before wandering back into the house. I head upstairs, lifting the floorboard I loosened in the corner of my closet last night. The floorboards seemed like the perfect spot. When he shows up, he won’t look here. I insert the envelope of money into its spot, gingerly lowering it beside the hair dye I bought. A few more things to add to my collection, a few more debts to collect. And then, once the final debt is paid, I’ll be out of here. I’ll be on my way.

  When I head downstairs, I pull the knife back out of my pocket. My fingers run across the handle, and I know what I need to do.

  I can still put the knife to good use.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The screen door slammed as Henry’s barking resonated through the forest. I startled awake in the rocking chair where I’d been perched after a full day of cleaning. My heart pounded wildly. How could I have fallen asleep? How could I have stopped keeping watch?

  I jumped to my feet, struggling to steady my breathing and get it together. I smoothed out the yellow dress I was wearing. Richard hated that dress. How could I have been so stupid as to wear it? I knew he’d be back any moment.

  In the time since we’d lost our baby girl, Richard had started disappearing more frequently. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to an empty driveway, his truck missing. Sometimes, he’d disappear for hours, a day, or even three or four days. But this time was different. This time, it had been five whole days without Richard.

  Five nerve-racking days. Where was he? When would he back? He always, always came back, typically more volatile than usual.

  I walked to the kitchen, questions swirling. When I reached the area, I saw Richard heading straight for the refrigerator. His eyes were both blackened, his gait shaky at best.

  ‘What happened? Are you okay?’ The questions flew out at the sight of my husband, clearly hurt. Everything else took a backseat to making sure he was physically okay.

  Richard slowly turned staring at me, a sneer on his face. ‘What do you care? Doesn’t look like you missed me too much.’

  I stepped closer as Richard grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. ‘Richard, I’ve been worried sick. Where have you been?’

  Richard turned slowly, slamming the bottle on the counter. Before I could even think, he was stalking across the small room, slamming me backward into the wall.

  ‘Don’t worry about where I’ve been, you hear? I don’t answer to you. I had things to take care of. Important things.’ His fingers tightened around my jaw as he flung my head backward. The searing pain radiating from the base of my skull blurred my vision for a moment, but I could still see his wild eyes close to mine. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The fear rising up in me was so much worse after being away from it for days.

  I hadn’t realized how peaceful, how quiet it had been without him. Perhaps because there was always the lingering fear that at any moment, he would come back. I’d lived my life for five days as if he were still there.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur.

  ‘Sorry? Sorry for what, you fucking bitch? What did you do while I was gone, huh? The place is a wreck. What, were you cheating on me? Do you think you can run around doing what you want while I’m gone?’ His fingers tightened as he pressed up against me. I could feel him harden against me and worried what was coming next. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  ‘No,’ I choked. ‘Richard, I’ve been here.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to check and see where I was? Huh? You didn’t get worried and try to find me? What kind of a wife are you?’

  Confusion at the contradiction whirled, making me realize the truth I’d known all along. There was no winning with him. I was damned no matter what I did. He was in control.

  He was strong.

  I was weak.

  I was his plaything at his mercy.

  With one final shove he tossed me aside, stomping back over to his beer to take a swig. I didn’t dare move, crumpled against the wall, staring at the floor and wishing I could disappear. I stood like that for a long moment, my neck and head aching, my heart hurting. Fear surged. I prayed it would be over, that Richard would stalk off to bed and leave me to pick up the pieces. But a few moments later, he was back in my face, taunting me with slaps and sneers.

  ‘You listen to me, woman. You listen here. What I do away from here is my business. Who supports you? Who provides for you? Do you fucking think I provide this life for you doing a couple of brake jobs? No. It takes resourcefulness. I’m smart, and I handle it. But that means you don’t ask questions. And you don’t stray from
me. Because I promise you this, I’ll always be back. No matter how long I’m gone, I always come back. And so help me, if I find this house not in the condition I would expect or if I find you so much as doing one thing I don’t approve of, I’ll kill you. You hear me? I’ll fucking murder you.’ He pressed against my trembling body as sobs racked me.

  ‘I’ll take that axe from out back,’ he whispered in my ear, his fingers twisting around my wrist so hard, I knew I’d have a bruise. ‘And I’ll chop your head off. I’ll split you into pieces, and no one will be the wiser. You think anyone would find your body out here? And you think anyone would care? Just remember that. I’ve got the power. I provide for you. I can change that at any time you become a liability. And don’t even think you can get away from me. I’m resourceful. I’m wrapped up in all sorts of things you have no clue about. So don’t even think for a second you can get away with anything, Crystal. I’m in control here. You got it? You’re never leaving me. Fucking never.’

  I nodded wildly, just needing to appease him, to get away. He flung me to the ground and gave me a hearty kick. I considered myself fortunate that he wasn’t interested in anything else. For a long while, I stayed crumpled on the floor, sobbing into the linoleum that smelled of bleach from my cleaning earlier in the day.

  I cried for the life I’d lost when that baby girl died. I cried for the hopes of a normal life that died with her. I cried for the pain in my head and my heart that Richard inflicted. Most of all, I cried because I knew Richard wasn’t bluffing. He would kill me. And he wouldn’t need a good excuse to do it. I was trapped in every sense of the word. And he was right about another thing, too. I was too weak to do anything about it.

  Crystal the weak would never be able to rise up.

  Would she?

  Chapter Sixteen

  I pace back and forth in the house, wearing a trail in the floor. I really shouldn’t. I can’t. This isn’t a good idea. There are so many reasons why I should just stay here, stay put. It’s safer here. It will be safer if I’m here. He’ll be safer.

  I exhale, my hot breath falling on my own chest, the tank top I’m wearing showing more skin than I’m used to. When Richard is here, I tend to stay covered. I’ve always ascribed to modesty standards, but it goes beyond that. It just feels smarter to hide my skin, to keep my shoulders, my neck hidden away. But today, it’s hot, and I’m sweating up a storm. My emotional health is more important than modesty. Besides, there’s no one here to see me, after all. There are perks to being alone, I’m realizing. I keep pacing, my fingers linking my hands behind my back. Think, Crystal. Think.

  Staying right here is the wise thing to do. I can keep an eye on things, can watch out for his vehicle to come rattling up the driveway. I can be prepared—although I don’t think preparation will help at this point. Sometimes it isn’t a good thing to see the devil coming, especially if you’ve already been damned to hell.

  Still, it could be a good move to wander into town. Swing by a few of Richard’s old haunts, do some digging. Gather a few of the supplies I’ll need once I secure my chance to get away. When it’s the right time, I’ll be ready to dye my hair, slip into the night, and drive off for South Carolina. To start over.

  Plus, going to town might give me some information that could be of use. Maybe they could help me dictate the trail that he’ll follow. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll give me the information I need to stay safe, to buy some time.

  It could work. The good thing about being perceived as weak and piteous is that no one suspects you are capable of much. They trust you with things they normally wouldn’t because they just don’t have faith that you’ll be able to do anything with it all. Yes. Yes, this could be a good thing.

  Then again, there are also the questions. If someone asks me about that sweet baby—no, stop, don’t go there. Don’t even go there. You’ve been doing so well. Don’t let your mind unravel now into that dark abyss that is your sense of loss. Don’t be enveloped by the choking, sobbing sorrow that racks your hardened heart. There’s no use. You’ve done your best. You’ve done what you can do to keep him safe. It’s all gone now. It’s all over. That can’t matter right now. There will be time enough to think of sweet Gideon, to ponder what it all meant. For now, you must keep your eye on the prize.

  I touch the locket around my neck and caress the smooth silver.

  ‘Yes,’ I announce to no one. ‘This will do.’

  I will go into town and track down some of Richard’s old stops. I’ll ask questions. It will keep my mind off of everything here and, more importantly, I’ll look like the dutiful wife. I’ll be the good wife Richard expects. Then maybe things won’t be so bad for me if he shows up. I’ll still secure some safety for myself, a chance to get away. The South Carolina dreams won’t be dead. Yes, indeed. Great idea. I smile and chuckle a little at my own ingenuity. Sometimes I do surprise myself. I hurry to the bedroom, ruffling through drawers. I need the right outfit. I need to look pious but also sorrowful. I need to dress the part. It’s all about looking right for the role I’m playing now.

  I settle on some plain jeans and a simple baby blue sweater. It’s innocent enough, even though it is quite loose. I try not to think about why the sweater is so baggy. I look like the sweet, innocent Crystal from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was anxiously waiting to welcome her baby into the world. Other than the missing belly and my aching bones, I do look the same. I look like the same Crystal from a week ago who spent her days cleaning the floors and doing dishes and picking up after Richard’s messes.

  Not much has changed, I appreciate as I smooth down my hair, grab the keys, and head out to the truck to wander into town. My hands shake as I peel out of the driveway. I won’t be gone too long, though. I need to do this. I need to make my appearance. Because sometimes inaction simply isn’t a choice.

  ALTHOUGH THE SUN ISN’T even in the middle of the sky yet, the morning dew barely gone, there are cars in Blinky’s Tavern’s parking lot. Of course there are. All of the regulars will be here, burying their faces in steins of beer instead of facing the real world. If Richard were around as usual, he’d be here already, too. I hate to think about how much money he racks up in tabs each month between here and his other favorite bars.

  I walk through the creaky door, the blinking neon sign out front beckoning me in. I waft away the puffs of smoke, choking as I enter the dingy bar, the haze disorienting me. Some rock songs fill the radio, and the stools are already lined up with customers.

  A redhead stands behind the bar, her white T-shirt accentuating the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra. The low neckline leaves little to the imagination. I cross my arms across my own chest, feeling paranoid and self-conscious even though I’m clearly dressed in an appropriate way. I feel all of the men at the bar and the redhead turn to see who has wandered in, automatically suspicious of a new face. I offer a weak smile, take a breath, and walk toward the bar.

  ‘Can I help you, Miss?’ the barmaid asks, mindlessly wiping down the black, glassy countertop in front of her.

  I amble closer, trying to look poised and not terrified like I am. This isn’t my scene. I probably shouldn’t be here. Still, I ask myself: why not? I have nowhere I have to be. Why can’t this be my scene? For a moment, I think about taking off the baby blue sweater and sporting only the tank top underneath. I think about straddling one of the stools, ordering a bourbon, and settling into an afternoon of drowning my own worries in the bottle. But I know that won’t do. I have to stay focused.

  ‘Hi, I’m Crystal Connor. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen my husband, Richard, if you know where he might be.’ I decide to just get to the point.

  A man nearby whistles, slapping his hand on the bar. ‘You poor thing. Married to Richard Connor, huh? Damn. I didn’t even know he had a missus.’

  I avert my eyes to the ground. This was a mistake. I’m just asking for trouble. What did I really think I’d accomplish here? These guys are so drunk, they’ll probably forge
t this conversation in thirteen seconds.

  ‘Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the bastard in a while. Carl, have you heard from him since last Friday?’

  I look up to figure out who Carl is. A man with a moustache who is sitting on the corner stool rubs his chin.

  ‘No, haven’t seen the fucker—excuse my language—since he took me for my last twenty in that poker game. Bastard was card counting from what I’ve heard. Shouldn’t be surprised though, with all that shady shit the guy was up to.’

  I squeeze my eyebrows together. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, staring at Carl. The other men quiet, looking at me with the familiar pity. What do they know that I don’t? This isn’t what I expected. I came here for one particular reason, and this isn’t it. What am I missing that everyone else knows? Richard, what secrets were you keeping? And could I use them to my advantage? Am I brazen enough to use them?

  ‘Oh, nothing for you to worry about, darling. I’m sure Richard’s fine. The thieving bastard’s probably just out on a joyride somewhere. I’m sure he’ll be back irritating us all soon.’

  I think about pushing it further, especially when I see some other guys whispering to Carl. I turn my attention to the barmaid.

  ‘Honey, I haven’t seen him either. Who knows where he could be? When you run with a tough crowd and deal in some shady things, you never know what’ll happen. Listen, if I were you, I’d just lie low. Keep your hands clean and enjoy the peace. I’ve seen the temper on that one. I can only imagine what it’s like to live with him. If something happened, well, maybe he got what he deserved, you know? Might be a blessing in disguise. I, for one, wouldn’t miss him.’ She winks at me, and I nod. Looking into her eyes that are accented with way too much purple eyeshadow, I feel an odd sense of comradery like she gets it. Like she knows more about Richard than the others. I feel like she can see through his thinly veiled façade and recognize him for the monster he actually is. I don’t know why, but it makes me happy to know that. It makes me feel relieved and a whole hell of a lot less guilty for my own façade.