BoneMan's Daughters (36 page)

Like Celine said, “You want to get ahead in the world, you have to play by the world’s rules.” And Celine did.

In this world Alvin was as much an angel as he was the Satan he professed to be. And although Bethany was fearful of him,
she was also very aware of his power to save her, and as the hours slogged by she found herself wishing he would return. She
thought she understood him nearly as much as she understood herself now, which wasn’t very much, granted.

The odd thing about her feelings was that she understood that they’d been manipulated, but this knowledge didn’t help her
stop them. Being the daughter of a Naval intelligence officer had filled her head with the stories that Ryan talked about
when he was home. She knew about Stockholm syndrome, an acute sociopathic response to intense trauma, usually expressed by
victims identifying with, even siding with, their oppressors.

Ryan had once told her about a project or operation called Red Cell that he’d been involved in. Naval Intelligence had pretended
to be terrorists, taken over a class of midshipmen, and psychologically tortured them for twelve hours. The class members
began to suffer psychological breaks as soon as six hours into the ordeal.

Stockholm syndrome, individuals’ desperate attempts to become like their captors. On a lesser scale it was why good German
citizens followed Hitler, Ryan said. Or why any person might compromise his or her convictions without realizing he or she
was doing so to be accepted. To be wanted.

The world was suffering from Stockholm syndrome.

She knew that something along these lines was happening to her, but knowing you’re worthless doesn’t give you value any more
than knowing you are a captive sets you free.

Given the choice she would either cut Alvin’s throat or thank him, depending on whether she was being sane or not. Cutting
his throat was sane, very sane.

Thanking him with a soft kiss was anything but sane. So was she insane? Was she really that far gone?

Yes. Yes she was. Because there were times that she really would do anything to please Alvin. Like now, right now Alvin didn’t
strike her as being so bad at all, really. Not really, now when you considered the alternative, which was broken bones and
all. He’d shown her mercy, hadn’t he? Or was she just—

The lock rattled softly and Bethany jerked upright on the bed. The door swung open.

She watched, shocked by the suddenness of Alvin Finch’s entrance as he walked to the lamp and lit it without bothering to
shut the door behind him. Not that he couldn’t easily cut off any escape attempt in two strides.

He faced her, shirtless, breathing in long, loud pulls. His skin was the color of watered-down milk, silky smooth, with faint
hints of veins on his upper chest. His cotton slacks were held up by a black belt that was cinched tight just below his belly
button, higher than she was accustomed to seeing except on older men, and he wasn’t old.

He wore black shoes that had been recently shined.

Alvin was showing off, she realized. Her captor thought enough of her to go to some trouble to be sure she was impressed.
She’d struck a chord with him the last time, maybe surprised him with her boldness. Nothing else made sense.

Encouraged, Bethany felt an uncommon urge to rush over and throw her arms around him. Monster or not, he alone had the power
to save her. This was his pit. She still couldn’t see his deep-set eyes well, but she imagined that he was eying her with
kind desire. Though it would also be stern. He knew what he wanted.

Alvin walked back to the door, locked it, then approached her. “Will you stand up for me?”

Stand up?

She slid her legs off the bed and stood, strengthened by the adrenaline now coursing through her veins.

“Will you step out into the middle of the room?”

She did so. He walked behind her slowly. Then around her left side. His hands carefully lifted her T-shirt and he stared at
her bared side for a few seconds before lowering the top. She could smell his lotion and found herself drawn to the refreshing
scent.

There was no way to know how long he would stay this time. He might simply inspect her and then leave her alone with her emptiness
again. She couldn’t let him do that, not this time.

Alvin stopped in front of her, naked down to his belt. “You are a very special girl,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” she said, searching for the right words. She couldn’t seem to think clearly so she said what she’d been thinking
in her nightmares.

“And I know that you’re hurt. You killed your mother because she made you feel bad for not being as beautiful as she was.
That’s why you killed the other girls.”

He stood still. But she could see into his eyes now, and she saw no denial. Only those bottomless pits of black.

“But I’m different, Alvin. I’m more like you. I’m the one beautiful thing that you can have. I can thrive in your world and
we can be together.”

When he still didn’t respond, Bethany stepped forward and reached for his right hand. She touched his fingers. Held his hand
and drew it toward her. Against her belly.

“Is that what you want? Hmmm?” She said it lightly with complete sincerity because she knew that she would gladly fall into
his embrace to escape the helplessness of her captivity.

“You don’t want to hurt me, Alvin. You want to love me.”

She pulled up her shirt and placed his cold, trembling hand on her belly. “I can be yours, all yours. That is what I want,
Alvin.”

He left his hand on her skin for only a moment, then pulled it away. “Is that the way a father would treat his daughter?”

Of course! She was still looking at the world through her eyes. In his eyes she was a daughter and he wanted to be her father,
he’d said as much. How stupid of her to assume that because he was a man he would be interested in seduction.

Yet it
was
a seduction, just not a sexual seduction. Alvin wanted to lure her in as his own. And he wanted to be loved the way a daughter
loved a father. But Bethany didn’t know how to love a father. The thought began to panic her.

BoneMan stood over her, breathing steadily, showing no signs that he was disgusted with her.

“You see, that’s the problem,” he said. “All the fathers are liars, and none of the daughters know what it’s like to loved
by a father. Or how to love one.”

“Then why do you come in here without a shirt on?” she asked.

“I wanted to impress you. Your skin is so much like mine. We are already the same. I could be your father, Bethany.”

“But you confuse me,” she said. “How can you expect a girl to do what you need her to do if you send so many mixed signals?”

“What do you mean?”

“Walking in here without anything covering your chest, knowing full well that your skin is so beautiful, for example. Or leaving
here, talking about how much you would like to break my bones. It’s hard to tell if you love me or hate me.”

“That’s because I love you and I hate you,” he said without a hint of anything but pure sincerity in his voice.

“I… I thought you liked me.”

“I do. But I find myself wanting to break your bones at the same time. It’s hard, you know, standing in the same room with
you and not letting my desires take over.”

“So you really want to kill me?” she cried.

Their eyes seemed to be locked in a trance, finally broken by BoneMan, who looked at the door.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you be afraid to walk down the street with me?”

She wanted to be truthful and had to think.

Alvin faced her again. “Would you be grateful to have me by your side to guide and love you while others looked on?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?” she returned. “Isn’t that what everyone does? Pretend to be someone they aren’t? Driving
their fancy cars and wearing the latest fashions? They all sleep with the devil every day.”

“Is that what I am?”

“You told me that you were Satan. Isn’t that how you think of yourself?”

He was back on his heels and Bethany assumed it was her boldness and unapologetic acceptance of him that he found so jarring.
This was her advantage.

She took a step closer and placed one hand on his shoulder.

“You’re already like a father to me, Alvin. In some ways more than my own father was ever a father to me.”

“Do you mean that?”

“You have the power to save me,” she said. “To protect me. Isn’t that the least a father can do?”

He frowned for a moment, then stepped over to the blocks of wood on the wall and spoke quietly.

“I’ve brought him here.”

“Brought who here?”

BoneMan ran his hands along the cross. “The man who has pretended to be your father. I brought him here yesterday.”

“Burt Welsh?”

“No. I killed that one because he was a liar. I brought the other father of liars.”

Ryan?
She felt her heart skip a beat.

“He abandoned you, didn’t he, Bethany?” BoneMan turned around. “Now you’re all alone. So I brought him to you.”

“You… you brought Ryan here?”

“He’s in your old bedroom.”

She felt as if he’d struck her with his fist. Ryan, here?

On the one hand she wished this kind of entrapment on no one. On the other hand she found herself thinking he deserved it
more than she did.

And the idea that she could even think such a thing disturbed her more than either thought.

Still, in her state of insanity, trapped in Alvin’s world, there was some truth to her feelings.

“I can see that it bothers you,” he said.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Should I?”

“No. No one deserves to die like this.”

“You can’t have two fathers.”

In the end it all came back to that. To having a daughter.

“Is it really so important to have a daughter? You’re overreacting.”

Alvin Finch stood very still and at first she thought that he wasn’t responding because she’d asked a good question. But then
she saw that his jaw was locked and his hands shivered by his sides. Maybe he wasn’t speaking because he was fighting off
waves of rage. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she just stood there while he shook.

Then Alvin walked up to her, lifted her left hand, gripped her pinkie finger between his own, and snapped it.

Pop.

Pain screamed through her hand and up her arm, but she clenched her jaw and stared at him, refusing to make a sound.

He dropped her hand and backed away. “I’m sorry, but that was a stupid question.”

Tears stung her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. But she held her eyes on his face, determined not to show her fear. She
wanted to ask him how he could even think about being her father if every time he got angry he broke her bones. Instead, she
apologized.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s too much to ask a young girl to understand why her love is so important. I should just kill you now.”

“Then you’d never know what it was like to have a daughter,” she said, taking her broken finger in her good hand.

The man’s chest was now covered in a layer of sweat that had mixed with lotion, leaving thin white trails as it ran down his
body.

“Would you rather I kill your mother?”

“No. It would hurt me more than you breaking my bones. If you want a daughter who knows how to love, then you can’t expect
me not to love the mother I already have.”

“I’ve watched your mother. She is a witch and my mother was a witch.”

“That doesn’t mean you can kill her!” Nausea from the pain in her hand crawled up her throat. She stepped back to the bed
and sat to still her dizziness. “You can’t just kill people because you’re jealous of what they have.”

“I can do far more than you think I can. That’s who I am. The man who calls himself your father has never been by your side
when you needed him. I would never let you out of my sight.”

His reasoning had its own kind of compelling sense. “But that doesn’t mean Ryan deserves to die.”

“Only I have the power to give you and your father life. You’re in my world now.” He took a deep, catching breath. “If you
don’t want me to kill your father, then he has to stop being your father, because you can only have one father.”

She was confused by the train of emotions that now ran through her exhausted mind. Her hand ached and her mind struggled to
stay on a particular line of thought.

“I want to break your bones, and I want to break his bones,” BoneMan said. “I hate you and I hate your father even more for
being your father. But more than either of those things, I want to be your father.”

She swallowed, no longer able to follow his thoughts. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want you to hurt him. The way I would hurt him. And then I want you to send him away so that he will never want to come
back for you.”

“How… how do you expect me to do that?”

“The way I would do it.”

“I can’t do what you do.”

“You already do. I am Satan and you’re my daughter. Now we’re just going to be honest with each other.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then I will do what I always do. It might be best anyway.”

She didn’t know how to respond to what he was suggesting. She could express her outrage, but after six days in this hole,
even her outrage was confused with eagerness to please him. She could argue with him, but she didn’t want to anger the one
person who could save her.

She could agree to his terms, but she didn’t think she could bring herself to actually hurt anyone for any reason. Certainly
not Ryan. He was a lousy father, but no one deserved this except maybe her.

Or did he? No, of course not.

“Could I have some water and some food?” she asked. “I haven’t eaten in a long time.”

The question seemed to sidetrack him.

“If you were my daughter I would never let this happen to you,” he said.

DARKNESS HAD FALLEN. Ryan Evans knew this because the room had grown pitch-dark again, the third night since he’d awoken in
the room. So, if he was right, he had been in BoneMan’s basement for two and a half days now.