Chapter 3

The room was eerily silent and ink black. The air smelt like weed and crushed tobacco leaves. A girl lay, whimpering, on the ground. Suddenly, a door creaked open and the girl saw a shadow slip into the room. She knew who he was. And, what he was going to do. Noiselessly, she rolled herself up to her mattress. He hadn't seen her on the floor. While the shadow stalked towards her bed like a predator, the little girl shut her eyes tightly in a silent prayer.

The shadow stopped right at the foot of her mattress and stooped down enough that he could see the outline of the child's face. She looked so relaxed and innocent. His hands shot forward and tugged at the girl's tank top. It slipped a bit revealing a bit of abdominal skin. Slowly, his thumb began to caress her skin, from one edge to the other.

The teenage girl hitched an inaudible breathe in her throat. Unmoving, she willed herself not to cry. She was scared.. So scared that she felt she could pee in her pants.

She heard him make that sound she had come to hate at the back of his throat. She felt revulsion twist her intestines.

Suddenly, he jerked her off the mattress and she fell to the ground, her head taking the brunt of the fall.

She screamed in pain.

A boot clad feet landed a kick on her rib and she let out a blood curdling shriek.

"You've been a bad girl. A really bad girl." He said with a drawl and kicked her stomach.

"I'm sorry. Please. "She said in between sobs.

"Are you? You should've thought about the consequences before saying shit to Miss. Clooney. Now, she's goin' 'round town sayin' fucking shit to people. I can't go nowhere without those fuckers staring."

Another kick to her shin.

More screams.

"You're a piece of shit. You could've been out there. Out in the cold. But, I took you in. My maria and me. And now, you pay me back with saying shit to people about me? You wanna fuck my life up, uh? "A kick to the face. "You enjoy seeing me screwed up, ehh? I'll show you real pain, Bitch. I'll screw you up."

She didn't see it coming.... Hadn't seen him slip out a pair of scissors from the band of his jeans.

She only felt the cold tip of a scissors just before it pierced through the walls of her abdomen.

Pain, so cold as Antarctica and so hot as the Sahara, sliced through her.

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

"Clarissa, wake up. "A voice called but it was faint.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, another at her back.

The scissors was still stuck in her abdomen but the voice of her foster voice has dimmed a bit.

"Wake up! "She heard the voice clearer and she followed it. She had to. That voice was her ticket out of hell.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Marley's tear stained face.

Second thing she noticed, she wasn't in her room and she was lying on Marley's thigh.

"It was a nightmare." She croaked. The tears on her face were already drying up.

"I know. "Marley whispered as if he was afraid to disturb the night. Or maybe, he didn't want his sister to hear the raw fear in his voice.

"This time, it was about Chuck. The day he stabbed me with the scissors. I was so scared. I thought I would die. It all looked real." Her voice was so low, it couldn't even pass for a whisper. But, Marley heard all she said.

"It wasn't real. Chuck's in jail now. For life. He has not even a single possibility of parole. Maria, she's in rehab. She won't come for you. You're safe. We're safe. " He said it as though he was reassuring himself too.

"I haven't had this nightmare in exactly six months and two weeks, why now? When I just thought I was becoming normal. " as she spoke, a lone tear slipped down her cheeks. She didn't rush to wipe it.

"My best guess, the recent murders and that gift triggered it. And Clarissa, you are normal. You've gone through a lot, yes. But that doesn't mean you're not normal like everyone else. Don't let them rule your life anymore. We're free. We're alive. Just live, Clarissa, live. Don't let them stop you. If you let them, then you've let them win." Gentleness laced each word. He felt the calmness he'd imbued in the words work on his sister's nerve. He felt her terse muscles loosen up.

He stroked her hair as he watched her slip back into a sleep he hoped wouldn't be fitful.

He had his own demons. His own nightmares. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that they were dreams because they often felt real. He often wished he had grown up sooner, he might've been able to protect Rissa. He would've been able to punch Chuck, their foster father whenever he tried to molest Clarissa. He might've been able to save Chance from himself.

The past was what they called it - The past. But, the future was yet to come. He could write his future. And with that, he would protect them - Clarissa and himself - from whatever the world threw at them.

After a few days at Marley’s apartment, Clarissa began to crave the solitude of her own house. Being there might offer her a sense of normalcy. She left after spending three nights,

Her house hadn’t changed a bit. It looked like it had since the last time she’d been there. She didn’t know why she expected it to look any different,

She flicked the light switch on and her bedroom lit up. Someone had done a bit of housecleaning, Claire probably. It seemed more like her thing. Her eyes caught the vintage record player on the book shelf. It had belonged to Chance. One of the few things she had managed to keep as a memoir after he had been taken to that mental institution, it reminded her of the few good times they had spent together before life happened.

She moved, like a wraith, to the shelf. The record disks, although, she hadn’t played them in a while hadn’t collected dust. She never let them,

Randomly, she picked a disk and set it to play on the record player.

Soon, a bitter sweet symphony filled the room. She remembered the song.

Life sure did know how to joke.

That morning, fourteen years ago, when she had found her parents, lying cold in their bed…that same song had been playing.

That song it seemed, always signaled the end of a particular phase of her life…. Or the beginning of another nightmare

*****************************

The Feds dropped by more than often. They hounded her with questions, some of which seemed quite stupid to her because she never had their answers. But, she understood that they were just doing their job. Clarissa knew they kept watch over her apartment, she knew they had cameras round her house despite her refusal to let them invade her privacy.

Flynn, on some days, was an ordinary friend, offering support when it was needed. While on other days, he was a stern looking FBI agent, issuing orders and making his subordinates grumpy. Despite everything, they had no lead whatsoever to point them in any direction. No other body had popped out in any trash or lake side. She let herself believe that the killer might have scuttled off to another town. It made her life seem a bit normal. That week, she slowly eased back into her normal routine.

Marley called her everyday and even sent her pastries and candies at work. The hulking brother could be a doting mother bear, who knew. Clarissa smiled at her thoughts.

The shrill noise of the telephone ringing snapped her back to the present. She picked the office telephone and placed the receiver beside her ear.

‘The coroner’s officer.’

No response. Only a cackle of static could be heard on the other side.

‘Is anyone there?’ she asked, mildly irritated.

Still no response and as sudden as the call had come, the line went dead.

She scrunched her brows in confusion.

Weird.

Replacing the receiver, she gathered a few files and placed them on the crook of her elbow. As she moved to leave her seat, the telephone rang again. This time, it seemed to reverberate round the room. She paused and leaned to pick the receiver.

‘The coroner’s office. How may I help you?’

‘you can’t help me if you wanted to.’ The voice on the other side drawled.

Clarissa’s eyes widened in shock and the files slipped from the crook of her arm and flew across the floor.

That eerie voice…

She’d never forget it. Never. Not when it haunted her dreams.

Her palms had gone clammy, her heart was beating erratically. She stood rooted beside the table.

‘You never wanted to play even when I wanted to.’ The voice on the other side continued.

‘Get away from me.’ She wanted to scream it out instead it had come out as a miserable whisper.

‘scared now, are we?’ a throaty, sinister laugh followed. ‘That’s exactly how I want you feel. Scared and weak and helpless.’

The receiver clattered to the floor as she made a dash for the door. She had to leave the office. It felt like his eyes were everywhere, everywhere, watching her.

She got to the door just as someone was opening it. Too late. she didn’t move fast enough to evade the collision. She felt the searing pain on her forehead before she let out a yelp of pain. The walls spun. In a distance, she could hear someone calling her name. she was falling, falling and falling. She never got to know if she hit the ground or not before the icy darkness claimed her.

The voice…

It had been the voice of her foster father.

CHUCK McGREGOR.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She awoke to beeping machines and the acrid odor of antiseptics. Her mouth was dry and her throat, a bit raw. She squinted at the bright light as she tried to open her eyes. Her vision was a bit hazy and the white light was blinding.

Someone must have noticed her stirring because a voice which sounded much like Flynn’s asked that someone get the doctor.

‘Flynn?’ She croaked.

‘I’m here. Don’t move. Marley went to get the doctor.’

‘How did I get here? What happened?’ Her head felt really heavy but her vison was clearer.

‘you’d like to stay down for a while. You took a nasty blow to the head and it knocked you out.’ Flynn explained.

Marley entered right behind the doctor. After a thorough examination, the doctor seemed convinced that she was fine so, he simply said ‘you can leave in an hour. if you get any persistent headaches, dizziness, visual distortions, make sure you find your way to the hospital. A blow strong enough to knock you out could do a lot more damage.’

With that, he left the room.

Clarissa winced as she sat up and carefully detached the heart rate monitor attached to her pinky. The beeping machine quietened.

‘I need water and someone had better started talking because my mind seems a bit hazy. I can’t seem remember coming here and all.’

Marley handed her cup of water with a straw.

‘You banged your head on the door. Barry Nordins sends his deepest apologies. He tried opening the door and he had no idea that you too were leaving the office. The guy was blubbering mess when you wouldn’t open your eyes or move.’ Flynn explained.

She sipped the water slowly. Some thing didn’t add up. She must.ve been leaving her office in a rush not to notice that someone was opening the door till she got hit by it. She shook her head.

‘seemed like you were in a rush though. The scattered files and the telephone receiver on the floor.’

She choked on the water almost immediately. She coughed to clear her airway while Marley patted her back.

She remembered.

The call. The voice. Chuck.

They all came rushing into her mind like a tricking stream.

‘it was chuck…’

‘chuck?’

‘who’s chuck?

The two guys spoke simultaneously.

She decided to answer Marley first.

‘Chuck? Yes. He called. Twice. I think it was him the first time. Though, no one spoke. It was weird because we don’t get misdirected calls. The line went dead after some seconds. Then ,he called the second time. This time, he spoke.’

‘Chuck’s in jail. He isn’t getting out anytime soon. He can’t pull off that sort of thing from the prison.’ Marley pressed.

‘well, I know what I heard.’

Flynn stared at the siblings, the way Clarissa seemed to shrink into the bed and the crazed look in Marley’s eyes. He could tell that whoever the Chuck was, they wanted him far away from their lives.

‘someone mind telling me who this Chuck guy is?’

Clarissa took to nervously clutching and unclutching the bed sheets. Flynn drew a seat closer to the bed and sat, hands crossed in front of his chest.

Marley huffed a sigh and began.

‘Chuck used to be our foster father. He took us in after the death of our parents. The state child protective and welfare service thought him to be an ideal father figure and his family ,the perfect family. But to the kids, that house was a nightmare.’

He swallowed audibly and everyone heard because the room had gone so still.

‘Chuck was abusive. While he hit Donny and I countless times…’ pause. ‘He molested Clarissa sexually. He’d come to her room at night and… touch her.’

Flynn heard Clarissa take In a shaky breathe.

‘she was ten when it started and it lasted for four years and no one knew. she told no one. Not till he stabbed her with a scissors because he thought she talked to her teacher about him.’

Unconsciously, Clarissa’s hand had gone to her abdomen .to where she still bore the scare of the scissors stab. That didn’t escape Flynn’s sharp, eagle stare.

‘She almost bled out but luckily, his druggie of a wife called 911 and reported that her foster child had stabbed herself with a scissors. she was so white when they carried her out of the room. Chuck was nowhere to be found for days. I thought she would die.’ Emotions laced the last sentence.

‘Chuck got caught anyway. The scissors had Chuck’s fingerprints and not Clarissa’s. we opened up about everything. It was hell, those times. Chuck was apprehended, prosecuted and convicted eight years ago. His wife has been in rehab since then.

Flynn’s face was a cold mask. Hard and unreadable. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and she didn’t ask either. Some things were better left unsaid, she knew that first hand.

Iron scratched tiles and the agent stood from his seat.

‘If all you’ve said is true, then we had better check on our friend in prison.’ While he spoke, he slipped his cellphone from the pocket of his Denim jeans. He called a number.

‘I need a certain man Identified immediately….’

Still speaking, he left the room, his thoughts with him and unknown to the other two.