Not Dead Yet, page 22
Foster stood straight, in standard boxing stance, shuffling from side to side like a prizefighter. Jack looked outmatched by Foster’s powerful build. Jack was lean and lithe, well-muscled but not bulky. Foster was still built like the college football player he had been long ago. He maintained his muscle mass through long, regular workouts in the weight room. And he had the advantage of the seemingly superhuman strength of the insane.
“So, how was she?” Foster asked. “Did you enjoy fucking my wife?” He unleashed powerful punches, which Jack easily evaded.
“She’s not your wife,” Jack replied, as they continued to fight.
“She will always be my wife,” Foster insisted. “Tell me, did you make her scream? Did she say you were the best? Was she worth dying for?” he asked as he lunged at Jack. Jack deftly sent Foster flying over the back of the sofa. Jack glided over the sofa to land on top of Foster, who was on the floor, momentarily dazed from his fall.
Jack was getting the upper hand, which enraged Foster, who bellowed, “This is not the way this is supposed to go! I’m supposed to kill you in front of her. You’re supposed to die! Die, damn it, you whore hopper!”
“Hate to disappoint you, old man,” Jack chuckled, landing a few solid blows into Foster’s abdomen. Foster grunted in pain.
They careened across the floor, swinging at each other and knocking things over. Theia turned around in her chair and frantically tried to finish untying herself. The struggling men crashed into the tray of instruments. Scalpels, surgical instruments and men went flying onto the floor, then scrambled to their feet. They were both battered and bloodied, sweaty and staggering.
Foster grinned and let out a crazed laugh. “Look at what I found!” he announced, brandishing a shiny scalpel.
He slashed at Jack, who jumped back so the blade only made a shallow cut diagonally from his midsection across his chest. Theia screamed at the sight of blood. Foster jabbed at Jack. Jack bobbed and dodged the blade. Foster got a little cocky and gave a war yell as he barreled toward Jack, leading with the blade. Jack used his martial arts training to knock the scalpel out of Foster’s hand and send Foster, off balance, stumbling into a pile of firewood.
Theia heard a heavy crack, then a thud. Jack lay motionless on the floor, blood pooling around and under him from a gash in his skull. A bloody piece of jagged firewood lay on the floor next to him.
Foster staggered to a chair to catch his breath, unaware that Theia had untied both hands. “Your beau put up a good fight,” Foster gave a mock salute at Jack’s still form. “Can’t say as I blame him. But I won. And to the victor go the spoils.”
“Foster, how do you think this is going to end?” Theia asked, weary and sad.
Foster looked surprised by her question. “That’s easy. I’m going to kill you. First I’m going to fuck you, and then I’m going to kill you. Will all the questions be this easy, teacher?”
“And then what?” she asked him.
“What do you mean ‘and then what’?” Foster was puzzled.
“The officers outside are going to kill you. If you don’t have a live hostage, they’ll have no reason to hold back from killing you,” Theia explained. “If you want to live through this, you have to keep me alive. I represent life or death. As long as I’m alive, you‘re alive. If you kill me, you kill yourself.”
“You have already killed me,” Foster said. “The day you stopped loving me, you drove a stake through my heart. I love you, Theia. And you’re killing me. Why are you doing this to me? I don’t ask for much. Why can’t you just love me back?” Foster asked, piteously.
“I used to love you, Foster, but how can I love someone who keeps trying to kill me? I would have to be as crazy as … “
“As crazy as me?” Foster asked softly, his voice breaking. “Do you think I want to be like this? Do you think I asked for this? We had a great life. We had everything. And now, everything is gone.”
“There is a way out,” Theia pleaded.
“No, there’s no way out,” Foster shook his head. “There’s no time for us. There’s no place for us,” he muttered, and went over to the music player. Taking out Randy Crawford, he put in Queen, and the haunting voice of Freddie Mercury began singing ‘Who Wants To Live Forever’ as though Freddie had felt the pain himself.
There’s no time for us
There’s no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams
Yet slips away from us?
Foster paused the music. “Don’t you see, Theia? I don’t want to go on living. I can’t take this pain any more.”
Freddie sang on.
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
There’s no chance for us,
It’s all decided for us,
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us.
“This is all we have, dollbaby. This one sweet moment. I have to take this one last sweet moment,” Foster explained. “It’s all there is.”
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
Now touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips
And we can have forever
And we can love forever
Forever is our today
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants forever anyway?
Theia stared off into space, tears flowing. Foster turned off the music.
“It has all been decided for us, my dear. All that remains is for us to play our parts, to run through the script.” He knelt as if proposing. “Do you remember the day I asked you to be my wife? To spent the rest of your life with me?”
Theia nodded, unable to speak through her tears.
“Today, you will fulfill your promise to me, when you die with me. Only then will we have forever. Only then will we love forever.”
“No, I promised life, not this,” Theia shook her head. “This is not love, this is murder.”
“Prove your love for me,” Foster insisted.
“Prove your love for me and let me go. Forcing this on me will not prove anything, except that you are a murderer. Let me go. If you really love me, let me go, Foster. Please.”
“How dare you defy me!” Foster lashed out, suddenly enraged. “You belong to me. You are my wife. You will do as I say.” Foster ranted and raged, stomping back and forth across the room. “I went to a lot of trouble to get you back. Do you know how many people I killed in the last five years? Their blood is on your hands. And how much money this has cost me? Your Judas was particularly expensive. But it was all worth it, to get you back. And now you are mine. I came here to do something,” he continued bellowing, “and by God, I’m going to do it!”
He walked around the room, picking up some of the scalpels and surgical instruments that had been scattered during his fight with Jack. He set the metal tray table upright again, although crooked. Foster adjusted knobs and wing nuts until the table was straight and stable again. He set the table in front of Theia and arranged the instruments into neat rows. To taunt her, he held up several scalpels one at a time, raising an eyebrow at her. Theia put on a defiant face, but the pulse in her throat was pounding wildly.
“And now, my love, you will be disciplined for your adultery,” Foster said. He got out a fresh set of surgical garb and set the stack of shrink-wrapped packages with a slap down on the kitchen table. With deliberate movements, Foster tore open the package containing a surgical gown. He slipped his arms in, pulled the ties around his waist and tied a precise knot in the front. Foster put on a pair of surgical booties, a cap and a mask. He snapped on a pair of latex surgical gloves and rolled the metal tray table to Theia’s side. Walking behind her, he saw that she had worked her hands loose.
“That was very bad,” Foster reprimanded. “You should not have done that.”
He walked over to the tray table and picked up a scalpel. Squatting down at her side, Foster quickly sliced the ropes that bound Theia’s ankles. He grabbed her and forced her to the floor, as he lay on top of her. “Because of that, I’m going to fuck you one last time before I kill you.”
As he reached to unfasten his pants, Theia glanced to the side and saw some scalpels on the floor. She threw her arm toward them, grabbing as many as she could, wincing as some cut her arm and hand. In one quick, clean motion, she jammed them into his back as hard as she could.
He reared back in pain and shock. Looking deep into his eyes, Theia saw the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. Nothing. Inside his eyes was a vast, arctic-cold, nothing. No soul. No light. Nothing human. Miles and miles of black tunnels winding throughout the universe. The blackness was reaching for her, trying to pull her down. Theia resisted as the blackness tugged and pulled at her. She cried out, “No!” Then even the darkness was gone.
Foster slumped over on top of Theia, his lifeless body heavy on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She squirmed and pushed to get out from underneath him. Scooting to one side and pushing him to the other, she finally got out from under his crushing weight.
Theia sucked in great gulps of air as she lay on the floor next to him, exhausted from the struggle. She looked up at the ceiling and murmured a silent “Thank you.” The nightmare was finally over. Somehow, yet again, she had survived. But this time, instead of Foster being carted off in an ambulance, he was right here and she could see with her own eyes that he was dead.
Theia looked over at Foster’s still form, face-down on the rough wooden floor, with scalpels sticking out of his back. Some of them had fallen out onto the floor.
Theia’s gaze then went to Jack, who was also still. Had she lost both of them - the man she had once loved and who had terrorized her, as well as the man she now loved?
She collected her strength to go over and see if Jack was dead or alive. Slowly, she stood and, teetering a little, she held on to a chair until she was steady. She stumbled across the room and knelt down at Jack’s side. Checking his wrist, she did not find a pulse. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him, demanding, “Breathe, damn it! Breathe!” She checked for a pulse on his throat, and looked uncertain. Placing her head on his chest, she listened for a heartbeat. She popped up into kneeling position, a look of glee on her face. He was alive!
Two large hands grasped Theia by the throat and slung her onto her back on the floor. Seemingly oblivious to the scalpels still sticking out of his back, Foster straddled her and squeezed her throat like a metal clamp. She tried to yell to the people outside to help her, but he had cut off her air. Her pulse pounded in her head. The blood vessels in her head expanded as the blood could not circulate. The pressure in her head was immense. She was dizzy and saw little sparkly things. The edges of her vision began to darken. The dark area grew larger, until there was only a central area that was not blacked out.
Refusing to die, she kneed him weakly in the crotch. He slipped his hands away for a moment, then throttled her again but she had sucked in a huge gulp of air while his hands were away. Flailing her arms around on the floor to try to find something to use as a weapon, she snatched one last scalpel. She drew her hand across to her shoulder, and slashed back across his throat. With blood gushing out of him and spilling onto her, he looked at her in total amazement, as if to say, ‘that’s not what was supposed to happen,’ then he fell on top of her.
Theia rolled and shoved him off of her, lifting last his hand with the now bloody wedding band. She looked around for Jack, but he was blocked by Foster’s body. “Help! Someone, anyone. Help!” she called weakly.
The door burst open. Everything became blurry again, then went completely dark.
EPILOGUE
Theia was in adult abuse court during the day and a half of spring weather they have in St. Louis. More than six months had passed since the incident in the farmhouse. “Bella Strand versus Monte Strand,” the bailiff called out.
Theia stood at counsel table and tapped her client’s arm. Her nervous client turned to Theia for strength. Theia whispered, “Everything will be okay. You can do this. You’re going to show your daughters that a man should not treat a woman this way.”
Bella gulped and stood, but looked as though she might bolt at the slightest sound.
“Is Mr. Strand here?” the judge asked. “Monte Strand?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” a man answered from halfway back in the courtroom.
“Come forward, sir,” the bailiff instructed, “and remove the hat.”
Monte smirked at the bailiff and removed the baseball cap. He took his time swaggering to the front of the courtroom, where he put his hands on his hips and stared at the judge.
“Sir, your wife has asked this Court to grant her an Order of Protection. Her petition says you slapped her in the face, grabbed her by the throat and held her by the throat against the wall until she passed out. Is that true?”
“Aw, judge,” Monte began. “Wasn’t nothing but a misunderstanding. I just got a little upset is all. I didn’t mean nothing. I love my wife.”
“Sir, how do you answer the allegations of the petition?” the judge persisted.
“Huh?” Monte looked confused.
“Did you do these things to your wife?”
“Well, yeah, but that don’t mean anything. We sort of do that, you know. We’re kinda physical. Believe me, she gives as good as she gets. Ask her about the time she come at me with a kitchen knife.”
“Ma’am?” the judge looked at Bella.
Bella looked at Monte, who was giving her his best “puppy dog eyes” look. “Aw, come on, honey,” he wheedled. “I’m really sorry. Let’s just go home.”
“Not this time,” she shook her head. “You went too far.”
“I said,” Monte said, now with menace. “Let’s go home. You tell the judge you wanna drop this thing and we’ll settle this at home. You’re my wife, and you’ll do as I say.”
Bella raised her chin and faced the judge. “Everything I said in the petition is true, your Honor,” she said in a clear voice. “He was mad because of something that happened at work and, as usual, he came home to take it out on me. He slammed the front door, came into the kitchen and started cursing about what an asshole his boss is and how stupid his co-workers are. I was frying some chicken for our dinner. He said that after the day he had, he deserved steak. I told him we didn’t have any steak, and he smacked me and told me to go to the store and get some.”
“That’s right,” Monte said vehemently. “A man works hard, he deserves steak now and then.”
Bella glared at him and continued. “I told him the chicken was already half-cooked, and I’d fix steak tomorrow. That’s when he grabbed me by the throat, lifted me off my feet and slammed me against the wall, still holding me by my throat. He choked me until I blacked out. When I woke up, he was gone. I guess he went out, ‘cause I didn’t see him again until the next day.” She turned to Monte. “And the time I got out a kitchen knife was when you came home drunk and I knew you’d try to use me as a punching bag. So when you started yelling at me that time, I showed you the knife and told you what I’d do if you hit me. I got a right to defend myself.”
“You don’t have no right to tell the judge about what happens in our home!” Monte yelled. “A man’s house is his castle. You got no right! We’re going home.”
He tried to grab Bella but Theia was standing between them. She turned so she could be a physical shield for Bella. Monte drew back his fist to punch Theia. The bailiff neatly grasped his arms and snapped handcuffs on him.
“Sir, you’re going to jail,” the judge said sternly. “You’ve just assaulted an officer of the court, and your wife’s allegations amount to assault and battery. I suggest you get a lawyer.”
“I suggest you fuck yourself,” Monte blustered.
“Duly noted,” the judge said, sharing a knowing look with the bailiff. Monte was destined to have a little “accident” in his jail cell. Nothing that would leave a lasting mark, just a reminder that one does not behave that way in court.
“Monte,” Bella said calmly and with a newfound strength. “When you get out of jail, I won’t be there. The girls and I are going to move in with my parents. And I guarantee that if you ever come around and try to bother us, you’ll find out what my brothers and cousins have been wanting to do to you for years. Your days of bullying me are over. Now, you’re the one who’d better look over your shoulder.”
Theia looked at her client with pride. One woman had found the courage to take her life back. One woman had shown her daughters how to stand up for themselves. One woman was not going to die at the hands of her abuser. There were so many more who needed help, but this was a start. She could not bring back Rose Catalino, but she had been able to help this woman.
“I’m granting a full order of protection. That means you’re not to be present at your wife’s residence, at her place of work, or anywhere else she is,” the judge explained.
“And I’ll be filing for divorce immediately,” Bella announced. “You’re fired,” she said to Monte, who stood handcuffed, now with three bailiffs behind him, ready to haul him off to jail. They led him out of the courtroom. He did not look back.
The judge called the next case. Theia gathered her things and walked out of the courtroom with her client. They set a time for Bella to meet with Theia at her office to start divorce proceedings, then Bella walked away, with more confidence in every step. Mollie had followed them out of the courtroom, where she had an earlier case.
“That had to feel good,” Mollie commented. “To have her stand up for herself like that.”
“Yeah, that did feel good.”
“So, how’re you doing? I’ve been in trial all week and I haven’t seen you. Everything okay with you and Jack?”
“You could say that,” Theia grinned and wiggled her left hand in the air. “He gave me this last night.”
