| |
––––––––
September dropped the penlight, ferocious in her joy that Macy had escaped. Now it was her turn. She’d dodge past Victor, and run like hell.
She held one of the broken boards like a batter warming up on the mound. September cocked her arm, but before she could swing, Victor thrust Nikki forward into her arms and the weapon fell with a clatter.
He stepped into the room, booted the improvised bat across the room, and slammed the door. Macy had ripped the ski mask from his face, loosened the moorings of a hairpiece, and left his clawed cheeks slimed with bloody war paint.
Not Victor at all. He was a stranger.
Nikki shuddered in September’s arms. “You’re not Mr. Felch. You’re Grady.” She turned, and buried her face in September’s chest. “I want my mommy!”
Grady? Not Victor. “Sorry, so sorry. I thought you were someone else. We need to get out of here before he comes back.” September’s arms hugged the weeping child.
“Should have killed that cat when I had the chance.”
She gasped. The voice was Victor’s even if the face wasn’t. She could see a swelling bruise, hidden by smeared makeup, on one side of his jaw where she’d bitten him through the ski mask. Her skin crawled.
He breathed heavily. “Took years to save up for my new face. Just for you. To please you, September.” He aimed the flashlight at his face like a spotlight and his smile gleamed toothpaste bright in the glow. He preened in a model’s pose. “That damn cat better not have ruined my face. Lost a hundred pounds, too. All for you.”
Victor. The shape of his face, the droopy ears, his piggy eyes, his height, but most of all the voice—and those hands, oh God, his hands!—conjured memories. She moved Nikki behind her to shield the child. “It was never about your looks, Victor.”
“Then why did you leave me?” He roared, and September scrambled backwards, pushing Nikki with her. Her instinct was to cower; the old buried impulses reborn in an instant.
The nightmare man. The demon haunting her nights and stalking her days. Thief of her childhood. She’d blanked out the worst, but the body’s sense memory couldn’t forget.
Every touch. Every cut. Every burn, every beating. Every caress. She gagged, and thought she might throw up. She’d survived only because she learned to freeze, become invisible, go to another place in her mind and convince herself the pain and terror were happening to someone else. A different September.
Terrified animals react in one of three hardwired behaviors: freeze, flight or fight. She was an animal. Freeze, so the predator won’t see you. Flight, to outrun the hunter, find a bolt hole to hide. . .
“Took a while to find you, and then you were all over the news. The perfect job opened up right in your back yard. Everything came together, the timing was perfect. We’re meant to be together, and this time, you’ll never leave me.” Boasting. Proud of himself. Wanting her admiration.
Freezing made her a target. Running triggered the predator’s chase. She took in Nikki, another innocent victim. Only one option left. It was time to fight.
“Let Nikki go. It’s me you want. I’ll go with you, do whatever you say, only let her go.” She hugged the child as a cover to whisper to her. “Hole in floor under the rug. Go!” She pushed the girl behind her. Nikki was the right size; she’d be safe in the crawlspace. Keep him distracted and focused on her until the child was safe.
He waved his hand dismissively, and the flashlight stayed on his figure like a theater follow spot he clearly relished. “You nailed the lid on the kid’s coffin when your cat unveiled me.” He tsk-tsked. “What a shame. She saw my face.”
September’s mouth turned to dust. He was right. If only she’d stayed quiet and not asked Nikki for help. If she’d sent the girl away immediately to call the police. If she’d delayed Macy’s command. Any of these choices would have kept Nikki safe. If Nikki were hurt, it’d be her fault. So many wrong choices, all wrong. How could she trust herself to get them out?
She had no choice. Survival was up to her.
He waxed poetic, a thespian writing his own script for a captive audience. “I say jump, and Dietz asks how high.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Had Dietz so worried about that reporter’s fairy tale he nearly wet himself with relief when I cleaned up the mess. Even got a bonus lined up. A bonus for us, for our life together, a gift that keeps on giving.”
She couldn’t stop her lip curl reaction. Victor still didn’t get it.
He pointed at her and she flinched. “I remade myself, for you, for us! And you spit on me—again—like you’re so much better than me.” He took another step toward her, anticipating her scared rabbit response of the past.
No more running. Her heart quickened. Nowhere to hide, even if she’d wanted to. Time to end this, once and for all. Her shoulders straightened, she breathed in-out-in and a weight melted from her heart with the exhalations. She’d been lost for a lot of years, but tonight she’d found herself. September was reborn.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nikki kneel on the floor and finger the carpet. September nodded encouragement but kept her focus on Victor. She’d goad him, distract him until Nikki wiggled through the hole. She’d lure him further into the room, get him tripped up on the sleeping bag, make a dash for the door, and lock him inside. She took a breath, planted her feet, and smiled. “Fixing your outside doesn’t change who you are. A bully and a sadist.”
He lunged at her, and she dodged but miscalculated. God, he was quick! His fist caught her jaw, and she went down, hard, landing on top of the pet carrier. If Macy had been inside, the cat would have been crushed. Please God let Macy avoid coyotes—and don’t let his heart give out.
Victor came after September, and she crabbed backwards, feeling the carpet give way to rough wood. “Nikki, hurry! Go, go, go!” Something jangled, and her hand closed around cool metal, recognized it, and raised the cello endpin like a sword above her. It gleamed in the limited light.
Nikki squealed as Victor remained focused on September, following her and standing over her. “A bully? A sadist?” He panted. “You ungrateful bitch. I loved you!” He kicked her, and September cried out. “I took care of you.” He kicked again, and she scrambled sideways.
Nikki sat wide-eyed but frozen against the wall, the uncovered hole forgotten before her.
“Go! Nikki, get out, now! Run!”
She jumped, a terrified bunny-scamper aimed not into the crawl space as directed, but toward the closed door from which Victor had stepped away.
Victor easily countered, caught the little girl’s arm and shook her. He crashed Nikki into the closed door. She crumbled, fell to the floor.
“No!” September scrambled to her feet.
“That was your fault.” Victor snarled. He transformed into a deranged clown figure, the skewed wig flapped and bloody cheeks distorted his features. Grabbing Nikki’s coat collar, he dragged her away from the door and dumped her at the center of the room. “I gave up my own career, my own art to make you a star!”
She whipped the endpin through the air like a fencer’s foil and the silver gleamed in an arc that kept him at bay. “You never loved me. You wanted to own me, that’s all.”
He feinted, dancing in and away. His new athletic physique gave him an advantage, and she hoped her tingling cold fingers could keep fast their grip. She caught him on the wrist and the metal rod made a satisfying meaty sound.
He hissed and retreated, flexing that hand—oh God his hands! Fingers that pinched, fists that punched—her nostrils flared with satisfaction.
“You ungrateful bitch, flaunting yourself, making men want you. I did what any man would do to protect what’s his, and teach you right from wrong.”
She padded in a semi-circle to get closer to Nikki. The little girl curled into a protective ball, knees hugged to her chest and eyes squeezed closed, frozen in fear.
“Bastard! Picking on little girls make you feel like a big man?” She softened her voice. “Nikki, honey, I know it’s scary. I’m getting you out of here. Nod if you understand.” The child nodded and her eyes squeezed even tighter shut. “I want you to go under that table over there, okay?” Nikki squinted, located the spot, and scrambled beneath the table and hid behind the cello.
September didn’t take her eyes off of Victor. She positioned herself between him and the girl’s minimal shelter.
He stood between them and freedom, blocking the door as he mocked her. “You’ve changed. Sound like a mother.” He stepped back closer to the opening to guard the door. But she had no intention of escaping. She’d finish this tonight, once and for all. “How are you going to save her? You couldn’t even save yourself. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Hypocrite!” Like a lanced abscess, the vitriol poured forth, using the words to enrage him and lure him in. “Love doesn’t lock you away. Love doesn’t teach lessons with whips. Love doesn’t punish with lit cigarettes on your neck.” Her long hair covered the scars, but the emotional hurt might never heal. Fighting back salved the wounds better than any miracle cure. Closer, just a little more. She hefted the endpin, balanced her feet well apart, and readied herself for the swing to take him out.
He took another step closer but then backed away, shaking with anger. “You ruined my life, made me a laughingstock. I couldn’t show my face, nobody believed I could deliver, not in the concert hall and never again on stage. I had to reinvent myself.”
“Good! You deserve every bad thing that happened.” She shook with anger, and it felt good, God it felt so much better than fear. “A normal person doesn’t rape someone and call it love. A normal person doesn’t murder someone’s husband. You killed my dog!” Her voice broke.
Be strong. Do this is for Chris. Do it for Dakota. And for Timothy, for the lost Macy and Shadow-pup. And do this for Nikki, who should never have been here in the first place. “I’m not the same scared kid you tortured into believing she had no value without you. I know what you are. No amount of surgery changes that. You’re a freak.”
He roared, and came at her at last, the flashlight an improvised sledge.
She dodged to the side, stepped in, and with all her strength whipped the endpin. Its shimmer whickered through the air.
He whirled, countered. Banged into the table.
Nikki screamed. Scrambled. The cello fell over.
September reset, followed him, swung again.
He backed away. Face surprised. Then concerned. Finally angry, he retaliated with the flashlight blinding her eyes.
She ducked. Blocked his blow with the endpin. Metal hit metal so hard her finger and arms stung, but she hung on to her weapon.
He pressed the advantage, scooped up the cello—no, not Melody!—and swung the instrument toward her.
Shoulder hunched, she spun away to absorb the blow, and fell to one knee with the impact. He held the cello like an ax, and chopped her exposed knee. She saw Melody fall in slow motion, heard a distinct POP before the pain flooded her knee.
September shrieked, fell to the ground, and rolled. The joint screamed, it was never meant to turn that way. Victor tossed Melody aside and swung the massive flashlight toward her face.
She held the endpin overhead between both hands to block the blow. The pin flew out of her hands, and clanged against the wooden wall, rolled and disappeared down the hole into the crawlspace.
Victor leaned down, loose wig flopping, and took his time as he cocked his arm for the killing blow.
Nikki smashed the used metal bucket over Victor’s head, and immediately scurried away, gasping with fear.
Her knee. Unbearable pain. You’ve felt worse. September dug in her pocket. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get away. Could only wait. Her fingers found what they sought.
Victor wrenched off the bucket, face and hairpiece wet from its contents, and flung it across the room at Nikki in disgust. The girl squealed at the impact, and dodged away.
He turned back to September, ripped the bedraggled wig off, mopped the blood from his cheeks, and threw it into her face.
She brought up the bottle of synthetic cat pheromone, and sprayed directly into his eyes.
He screamed, anguished, the alcohol in the suspension burning his ravaged skin and eyes. Victor knuckled his eyelids, dropping the flashlight as he backed away and reached blindly for the door. “I’ll kill you for this! You’ll die, do you hear me?”
Nikki raced to September’s side.
“Now, get out, now’s your chance Nikki, go go go!” September waved toward the door Victor had managed to open and stagger out.
Before the little girl could reach the handle, the door slammed shut. The padlock snicked, locking them both inside.
