Page 13 of Phoenix

Niamh (Jessie), 11

Past

I must have fallen asleep somewhere along the way, exhausted by the adrenaline that has been coursing through my veins at a vast rate of knots. Now that I’m awake again, it’s pitch-black outside, and we seem to be traveling through a small hamlet of houses. There’s a dark outline of trees all around us and only the moon to shed any kind of luminosity. It sounds like there’s gravel underneath the tires and the three small buildings that we appear to be pulling up to are just as dark as the woods all around us.

Realizing we are coming to a stop, my adrenaline kicks in again, pumping through me so hard, I release an involuntary gasp.

“Oh, hey, sweety, good news,” my abductor says to me through the rear-view mirror, “we’re home!”

“Home?” I manage to ask breathily, my voice shaking so violently, he turns around with concern.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you. I gotta tell you, there isn’t a chance in hell I’d let you walk back home in the pouring rain by yourself. It’s a good thing I came by. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever let something as precious as you out of my sight at all!”

I shut my eyes tightly over what he just said before looking around, desperate to find some other form of life, but there’s literally nothing. There isn’t even a rustle of leaves or a hoot of an owl. Perhaps I’ve already died, and this is some weird kind of purgatory.

Once the car rolls to a complete stop, I lean back into the seat and remain rigid, as still as a statue. I hold my breath, watching as he carefully unfastens his seatbelt, removes his driving glasses, and carefully places them in a specific pocket of the car, switches off the Sat Nav, pushes the sun visor up, and presses the button to unlock the doors. Everything is done with complete precision, without any hint of urgency; all of his actions are meticulously planned without fault, and it only makes him all the more eerie.

When he eventually disembarks from the car, slowly making his way over to my side of the vehicle, I consider trying to bolt for it. However, my body refuses to play ball, so I remain fixed in stunned horror. Even when he opens the door, leans over to unfasten my belt, and holds his hand out for me to take, I cannot move. He smiles, then takes my hand and pulls my arm so I am forced to follow.

“I know you’re nervous, sweety, but your brother’s going to be so pleased to finally meet you,” he says with his syrupy voice and parental smile, “it’s all he can talk about!”

I try to imagine this ‘brother’ he keeps talking about, picturing some middle-aged man who is going to do horrible things to me. Or perhaps he’s not even real at all, just some figment of this crazy man’s imagination. I remember Tammy’s brothers showing us an R-rated movie once, full of blood, guts, and other horrible things, including children like me being murdered and then coming back from the dead. I feel like I’m about to reenact that film in real life, only it won’t be special effects, but actual blood spurting from my veins.

I say nothing, for I couldn’t even if I tried, especially when he practically drags me across the stones and into the house that’s sitting in the middle of the other two. It’s only when we’re up close, I notice the properties look derelict, lifeless, and no doubt completely empty. I really am alone out here with this psycho and possibly some other monster.

The door creaks open like any good horror film door would, and he turns on the light to reveal…a normal house. It shocks me at first to see plain white rooms with soft furnishings, magazines, and even fresh flowers on the table. I half expected the place to look like the interior of an abattoir or the house from that horror film I was forced to watch, complete with splatters of blood up the wall. However, this place looks like the inside of a house from one of Mom’s ‘Beautiful Homes’ magazines.

“Come on, sweetheart, this way,” he says as he leads me through the living room, along a corridor, and to a door that he has to unlock.

Once it swings open, I notice it’s much darker than the rest of the house, and being that it leads to an old staircase, I realize it’s actually the entrance to the basement. The walls are concrete grey, with pipes running around the perimeter, and the rickety wooden staircase is nothing short of a cliché from an old movie when I walk down behind him.

“Hey, Jake, look who I’ve brought home for you!” he calls across the room, where I see a double bed, a small lamp, tiny windows, and various appliances dotted around the place. However, the weirdest thing I spot is a boy, a teenager who should probably be in high school. He suddenly stands up, running his hand through his hair with a pale complexion that doesn’t seem natural to him. In fact, he looks just as scared as I am. Has he been taken too?

When we finally come face-to-face on an even level, we both eye one another with caution, all the while Daddy flusters about trying to pick up pieces of what I assume is Jake’s clothing off the floor, tutting as he does so.

“You could have tidied up for your sister coming, son,” he says with a smile on his face, “you guys are going to have to share a room down here together.”

At his words, I feel my eyes bulge in terror, and I begin trembling, but when I look back at Jake, he closes his mouth and subtly shakes his head at me, warning me to not say anything. When I stare into his eyes, I sense a softness that I often see when I look at my dad. It puts me a fraction at ease, right up until Daddy pulls me up alongside him again, hugging my much smaller body squeezed against his side.

“It’s been a long day, sweety, so I suggest you get some rest. I’ll get you some new clothes in the morning and we can all sit down together for a family lunch. How does that sound?”

I make no noise at all, just remain rigid inside of his grip. Jake looks worried by my lack of response so jumps in before Daddy notices my absolute terror.

“Y-yeah, sounds good, Dad,” Jake stutters uncomfortably, “I’ll look after Sis, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wonderful. I tell you, you both make me so proud.” Daddy beams down at us, almost with tears in his eyes. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

Jake’s eyes widen at me, prompting me to give him a response before something horrible happens.

“Goodnight,” I manage to whisper, desperate for him to leave before my tears betray me.

Neither Jake nor I move while we listen to him walk back across the floor, up the rickety stairs, and finally open and close the door behind him. Only then does Jake look back down at me, still cautious, still unsure as to how to best respond to the shivering wreck before him.

It takes about ten seconds of us staring at one another before I finally erupt into sobbing and wailing in front of this stranger, letting it all out before I implode. At first, he hangs back, just watching with confusion marring his soft eyes. But when I show no signs of stopping, he eventually throws his arms around my back and pulls me in close, comforting me with soft shushing sounds like my mom does. It only makes me cry harder.

“Hey, hey, what’s your name?” I say nothing, just keep crying against his t-shirt. “That’s ok, my name’s Jake, I’m fifteen, don’t have any brothers or sisters, but once had a dog called Mutt,” he laughs awkwardly. “He was a real stinker of a dog, but I loved him. I took him swimming once, but he ended up half drowning, so I had to wade out and rescue him all the while he scratched me to pieces. Stupid dog. Do you have any pets?”

My crying has died down a little and I shake my head to answer his question. Dad’s allergic to animals so I had to make do with Stanley. I wish Stanley would show himself now, even just for a moment to give me hope. But he doesn’t. Like hope, he’s not real.