Obsession (A Murderous Mind Book 2), page 15
Her mother wouldn’t murder her.
On the nine hundredth and seventy-second day before Lori’s emancipation, a freight train came down that dark tunnel. She didn’t see it or hear it until it was too late, but that was how these things always went, wasn’t it?
“Come here, Lori,” her mother called.
The basement. Lori never went to the basement. She was specifically forbidden from going. She didn’t want to either since if Clara told her not to do something, it likely meant something sick was happening. Something like what had happened to her
NO! DON’T YOU THINK ABOUT THAT. DON’T YOU DARE!
“Why?” she called from the top of the stairs. She could see the illumination cast by the single light hanging from the ceiling.
“Because I said.”
No argument existed for Clara’s words. Lori had to follow the command because whatever existed down there with Clara wasn’t as bad as what would exist upstairs if she didn’t obey.
Or so she thought.
Lori walked down the steps slowly and carefully, flinching each time her foot hit the next stair. Eventually, as all things must, the staircase ended. Lori looked at the light first to avoid her mother, who stood in the shadows. She saw the drawstring hanging from the bulb and knew she couldn’t look at it forever.
“Lori, over here.”
She slowly turned her eyes to her mother and saw the second most horrifying thing ever.
A man was tied to a chair, wrists and ankles bound so tight that the skin on his feet and hands was pale.
“Come,” Clara ordered.
Lori went. Her mind tried to shut down and turn catatonic, unable to see or know what happened around her.
“What should I do to him?”
The man had been brutalized. His face was a mixture of swelling skin and broken flesh. Deep purple blotches grew on him like weeds. He couldn’t see, and blood dripped from his ears.
Lori followed the beating downward, seeing that he was naked and that...
“No! No, no, no.”
The man had been gelded. Tied off to stop the blood flow, but missing what made him a man.
“Do you want to know why?” Clara asked.
“No, no, no,” Lori repeated without knowing she said the words.
“Because sometimes it’s fun to see how far the human body can go. I didn’t think he would make it this far, so what should I do?”
“Let him go, Mom. Please let him go.” Lori wasn’t sobbing, but tears streamed down her face.
“How would that work? You think he’ll keep quiet about all of this? Won’t turn me in to the police, right?”
Lori shook her head, unable to take her eyes away from the horror and not understanding a word her mother said.
“You don’t like seeing this, do you?”
She shook her head, not answering the question.
Clara smiled. “I didn’t think so. Where’s your little book at, darling? The one with the days in it. The days until you turn eighteen.”
Lori’s eyes snapped to her mother’s.
“Oh, there isn’t anything that happens under my roof that I don’t know about, sweetheart. It’s fine. Keep your little book. I just thought you might want to see this...if, I don’t know, you were thinking of leaving before those days reached zero.”
Lori said nothing, only stood staring at her mother with wide eyes and fear rippling through her body.
“Go on. Get upstairs. I’ll take care of this.”
I went upstairs. I don’t know how long it was until I left my room, John. All I know is that one morning she came in, and turned the lights on, and they shone down like God had opened up the heavens because I’d been in the dark for days at that point. I didn’t even get up to use the bathroom. I don’t remember going in the bed, either. She told me to get up, that I’d missed enough school, so that’s what I did. I got up and went to school.
I don’t tell you all this to scare you since I doubt there’s much that can scare you, John. I am telling you because I want you to see what could happen to you. You’re going to have kids and a family one day. You’re going to have a household. I don’t think what was in my mother is the same as what’s in you, but part of it is. A large and strong part.
Everyone else can deny it or refuse to see it, but I won’t.
Because I love you, and I have to keep you safe. That’s why you’re over there, but you knew that already, didn’t you? Vondi cared too much. He wanted to understand you, and when he finally did, you’d be jailed. Or killed. I can’t let that happen, not while I’m alive.
You have to be careful. You can’t let what’s inside you break through. I don’t know what happened with Harry, and it doesn’t matter. Be safe, John. Be careful.
I love you more than you know. More than anything in my life.
Mom
24
A PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN
“Wow,” Harry said. He placed the letter on the desk. “Well, at least you know now, huh?”
John stood at the door, facing it. He had listened to Harry read the letter to him without saying a word.
He remained silent for another minute, not turning around. “She knew. She knew the whole time.”
“Didn’t you suspect that?”
“There’s a difference between suspecting and knowing your grandmother was a lunatic, Harry,” he said, moving from the door to his bed. He sat down and put his head in his hands.
“So what?”
“That’s what’s going to happen to me. I’ll be like her. That’s what you are. You’re the beginning of me turning into that fucking bitch.”
“Come on, man. That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? I mean, we’re talking about an eentsy-weentsy murder here. We’re not talking about cutting balls off and making your daughter watch. That’s absurd.”
John looked at him. “’Eentsy-weentsy murder?’ That’s what this would be? No, Harry. It’s all-consuming. It’s taking over my life. I’m sitting here talking about killing my girlfriend with a guy who doesn’t exist, for Christ’s sake.” He shook his head, then looked at his hands. “Jesus, she knew. She knew what was happening, and she didn’t help.”
“Don’t be so hard on her.” Harry stood from his chair and walked over to the bed. He sat down, and his weight caused the mattress to shift. “What could she do, John? What could anyone do? Her mother was like this, and maybe this thing skips a generation. You drew the short straw. The difference between you and your grandmother, I think, is that your parents care about you. You’re... I don’t know. You have a heart of sorts, which is what makes this so difficult. Even so, you can’t change who you are. Your mom couldn’t change it either. She’s doing all she can to protect you by arming you with this knowledge and sending you away. Did she say to quit, John?”
Tears filled his eyes, blurring his surroundings.
“Did she?”
John shook his head.
“Exactly. She didn’t. She knows you can’t. She wants you to be careful, but you’re going to be what you are, John. She sees it. Why don’t you?”
The tears fell, and John’s chest hitched.
“I know, man. I know.” Harry placed his hand on John’s back. “It’s heavy, but she still loves you. Your family still loves you. None of them needs to know, ever.”
John looked at Harry. No smile adorned his face, and he spewed none of the usual jokes and irreverence. Harry appeared serious, even sympathetic.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll be okay. I’m here, too.”
John wanted to hug him, and at the same time, he was repulsed by the idea. He had no one else in this strange country who could understand any of this, and here his dead friend sat, telling him they would work through it. They would be okay. No one else was trying to help, just Harry.
“You ain’t gotta hug me, man, but we’re in this together, for better or worse.”
John nodded since he knew the truth in those words. For better or worse, Harry was here to stay.
“Not Cindy,” John said. “Anyone but her.”
Harry cocked his head to the side, studying him. When he reached the conclusion he searched for, he straightened. “Let’s not talk about who right now, okay?”
“Okay.” John nodded. “Okay.”
John knew what was coming. Knew it and saw no way around it.
He had thought about the possibilities for the past two days to see if he could do anything else and get the outcome he wanted. In the end, however, the answer was simple and final: no. He had to do it this way since humiliation was one key. Anger was another. Hate too. If all of those things rolled up inside Cindy, she would never try to date John again.
The truth was, John didn’t trust Harry. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it a few days ago, and when John finally calmed down, he understood why. Harry wanted Cindy. He wanted her to be their first and wasn’t done trying to convince John.
So John had to end it with Cindy.
He couldn’t be around her anymore. Couldn’t see or talk to her.
Telling her it was done in a phone call or face to face wouldn’t be enough, either. He needed to make sure she wouldn’t try to patch things up. That when they broke up, they were done forever. He wouldn’t let Harry, or himself, hurt her.
Real noble, John, he thought as he watched Cindy walking across the cafeteria. Let’s talk about how noble you feel once this is over, huh?
He had ignored her calls for the past two days. In class, he sat on the other side of the room and refused to look at her. After class, he left too quickly for her to say anything. All of those actions had built up to this moment when she would force him to talk to her.
He saw the anger on her face from twenty feet away, and she walked with purpose. She didn’t look at anyone else in the room, only him, and her feet moved too quickly since he could do nothing to postpone this any longer.
You did this, John. Now watch as it falls apart.
“How long are you going to ignore me?” she asked when she reached the table, her voice loud enough for anyone sitting by him to hear. She didn’t sit down. She didn’t take her backpack off, either. She stared at him with the righteousness of gods, and John saw hate in her eyes. Hate…and a whole lot of pain.
You’re hurting her. She loves you, even if she hasn’t said it or understand the truth of that. She loves you, and you’re tearing her apart.
A stronger part of him, a piece he’d only met that one time in a London school cafeteria, spoke up. And you love her, so do this so she can love another. If you don’t, you’ll be the last person she ever falls in love with.
From that strength came everything that followed. He blocked out the part of him that recognized how much he was hurting her. Perhaps he even blacked it out or maybe killed it.
“You haven’t gotten the hint?” he said, his voice matching hers. His American accent sliced through the conversations around him with all the delicacy of a Viking sword. “We’re done.”
The anger in her eyes faded, replaced by tears and hurt.
“I…” She paused. “What did I do?” Her voice no longer carried the thunderous rage but was almost a whisper. “What did I do, John? What happened?”
He stood up, leaving his tray on the table. He had stood like this before, but then he’d taken the tray and slammed it against someone’s head. That had been when Harry was still living. He had to hurt someone now too, but he wouldn’t use the tray.
“What did you do?” His voice was loud, and the tables in the lunchroom were silent, all of them paying attention to two people. “You’re just a cunt, Cindy. I don’t want anything to do with you. You can’t fix cunt.”
The tears swelled past the point of her holding them in. They fell down her face, and she didn’t wipe them away. She just stood, looking like her heart wasn’t just breaking but being slowly crushed as it still struggled to keep beating against something it would never conquer.
“You’re cruel,” she muttered.
The entire lunch room stared at him along with her. John knew he had just killed any chance of having friends in this country. He would be alone again, and he would be an outcast. Perhaps even bullied. It would all be worth it if Cindy lived.
She walked out of the cafeteria, her feet moving as fast as they had carried her in. John watched her go, and just before she was out of sight, her hand moved to her face to wipe away the tears he’d caused.
Cindy lay on her bed.
The tears were gone for now. She didn’t have any more to shed, not for John and not for herself.
That didn’t mean she was finished with this situation. The light in her room was off, and when her roommate came knocking, Cindy didn’t get up to answer. She didn’t want to see anyone or talk to them about what happened in the cafeteria. Without a doubt, her circle of friends all knew about it by now. They were gossiping, and some of them were probably trying to talk to John. Cindy didn’t care. They could go on about their business however they saw fit, but she wouldn’t get involved.
She had her own ideas about what to do next, and none of them had anything to do with her friends. They were inconsequential in this.
Cindy had never felt what she felt for John. She had flirted with guys before, but those had been kid games. She thought this one would be the same when it started. A lot of people at school called her a tease because of how she flirted, then pulled away, which was fine. She probably was one.
Except with John.
He was special, and he made her feel special. Despite his acting job today in the cafeteria, she knew he felt the same.
That was what she’d spent the last two hours thinking about. The first four hours after the spectacle had been devoted to crying uncontrollably.
John had been acting. “Can’t fix cunt?” It was like something out of a cheap fraternity comedy in which the guy who said it ended up getting kicked out of school for hazing pledges. John had been a caricature, which wasn’t him.
So, he had been acting. Almost as if he wanted it to happen there and then because why wouldn’t he have simply continued what he’d been doing? He could have stood up and walked off, making her look like a possessive ex-girlfriend, but he didn’t. He raised the confrontation to a level of aggression she didn’t think possible.
Why?
When she found the answer to that question, she was relieved.
John was hiding something, and by causing such a public humiliation, he thought she would back off, and he could keep his secret. She felt relief at that answer since she knew it wasn’t over between them. Not yet. He still cared for her.
She wasn’t done caring about him, either.
She didn’t know how she would talk to him, but she would keep trying. She cared about John and wouldn’t quit just because he was hiding something.
No. Quit wasn’t in Cindy.
John paced across his room.
“Take your mind off it,” Harry suggested. “You know how.”
John didn’t look up. He wasn’t sad at what had happened earlier that day but angry with himself. He couldn’t focus his mind on anything but what he’d said to her, and the stress was overpowering. He felt as if he might collapse on the floor from the weight.
“Look, you didn’t want me touching her, so you did what you thought you needed to. Fine. I’m not mad about it, but sitting here pacing won't bring her back. Going up one side of yourself and down the other with guilt won’t do anything either. We can do something, however.”
How many weeks had John resisted this? Arguing and arguing, and for what? For his mother to tell him she already knew and him to lose his first girlfriend?
The change in John wasn’t gradual, like a mountain slowly degrading under the relentless force of nature’s elements. No, the change occurred more like an earthquake under the mountain, cracking it apart from bottom to top, from outside to core. All at once, the ground shifted, and when the first piece broke, the rest followed.
“What?” John asked, his pacing finished.
“I’ve been looking at some places,” Harry said, smiling.
“Where?”
“Well, about a mile from the school, I found something pretty interesting. I think you might like it.”
John went to the door and grabbed the coat hanging next to it. “Let’s go.” He walked out of the room without waiting for Harry to follow.
When he exited the dorm, Harry was outside on the stoop.
“Which way?” John asked. He didn’t care anymore. He was sick of fucking fighting it, of wanting it, without any help—except from Harry.
“Oh, I like this version of John better,” he said. “Come on. This way.”
John walked slightly behind Harry, who hummed a song that John couldn’t quite place. He looked at his watch and saw that it was one in the morning. If someone caught him out this late, he’d face repercussions tomorrow, but that mattered as much as a tear in a hurricane.
“How do you want to do it?” Harry asked, the energy in his voice radiating through his body.
“I don’t fucking know. Haven’t you been thinking about this?”
Harry looked at him and smiled. “Of course, John. Of course I have. I just wanted your input to make sure we are on the same page.”
John said nothing, only looked ahead as they walked through the campus’s northern quad. Harry didn’t speak again, as if he knew John needed this time in silence. He led, the two of them walking quickly and making sure that they stayed in the shadows close to buildings, away from eyes peeking out windows.
Thirty minutes later, John stood in the most broken piece of England he’d yet seen.
A dark building stood in front of him. He followed it up with his eyes and saw that Harry had brought him to a decrepit old ruin. “What’s in there?”
“People society forgot about. Winos. Addicts. Schizos. Those who aren’t cared for, I guess.” Harry was also looking at the building.
