Psycho Inside Me (17 page)

Thou shalt not steal.

Crap, I’d forgotten for a moment that the rest of the world didn’t stand behind my self-induced mission. Not only was I stealing, I stole from a little girl. But even the sin didn’t stop me from eating her food. I was hungry.

Maybe, if I got the chance, I’d return someday and give her some cookies or something to repay her. At the moment, though, I was more concerned with my plan to get information on Matthew. Even just the smallest piece of evidence against him would warrant my revenge. I’d never forget the creepy factor he’d exuded when he walked into that room.

I’d never felt more like a victim than in that instant. He’d left me feeling vulnerable with his damn wink. A wink! Shouldn’t I be more jaded than to allow a simple wink to make me feel sick and nauseous and like my control was slowly wicking away into the air.

A quick peek out the window revealed the lights in Matthew’s house had been turned off. He must be turning in for the night. I looked at the pile of bedding, then shrugged. Okay, whatever. And I
climbed into the small corner, nestling under the collection like I’d belonged there for so long.

The walls filtered the neighborhood sounds and, surprisingly, I fell asleep staring at a little black hole in the far corner.

~~~

I couldn’t breathe and grabbed at the object covering my mouth and nose. Wrapping my hands around a man’s wrist and forearm, I kicked and struggled against his hold. But I couldn’t get free. Varying sized spots speckled my vision.
My strength failed me as I continued sucking for air from his flesh.

Then
, in less than an instant, cold air rushed my face and I instinctively gasped. The heat of his hand had disappeared. I thrust myself to the sitting position, hand on my chest, my heart pumping at a furious pace.

Matthew crouched in front of me, the friendliest smile on his lips. His clasped hands hung over his knees and he bounced on the soles of his feet.
With complete sincerity covered in oily overtones, he arched his brow. “Don’t make a sound. I should’ve known you’d find me. You strike me as a willing one. I bet you didn’t fight at all but afterwards you felt guilty so you cried rape. Is that it?”

I tried pushing to all fours, but he grabbed my wrist and leaned into me. “I don’t think so. You’re coming with me.”
Releasing my arm, he grabbed my foot. He backed out of the tiny interior, dragging me with him. The snack food I’d eaten a while ago rolled in my stomach like a rock.

Not a word escaped me. I couldn’t cave to him. Somehow I had to escape.
He pulled me, and I twisted, holding onto anything I could grab. My nails scraped at the wooden floors, one snagging and then tearing off. I kicked at him, his hand holding my leg with fingers digging into my muscle.

Oh help. I almost screamed. Almost.

“You little bitch.” He crawled up behind me and grabbed at the hair that had fallen out of my makeshift bun. Wrapping it around his fist, he lifted my head up and slammed it to the floor. I turned my face at the last second, and the slam to my right side dazed me, leaving me confused and hurting. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the hit caved in that side of my face.

He pulled me to
the edge and half-over before I snapped out of the hit. I had less than a second to gather my bearings. If I fell, he’d most likely drag me by my hair to wherever he was going.

With his hand on my ankle, I searched for the ladder rung to get my balance.
Once I stabilized myself, I followed him, my breathing struggling to catch up. Yeah, I was pretty sure I’d left my main organs in a quivering mass amongst the pillows and blankets. How had he known I was up there and what the hell had just happened?

Nobody knew where I was.

Yeah, the night hadn’t been thought out very well.

Chapter 17

Matthew dragged me across his neighbor’s lawn and into his backyard. I held in my cries each time the backs of my heels hit a bump or rock. I hadn’t worn my boots that day. Hell, I hadn’
t come prepared at all.

With his arm wrapped around my neck, he didn’t give me room to
even consider escape. Every few feet, he’d growl in my ear. “Come on. You’re going to get what you deserve.”

A very scary feeling swept over me. He’d be my last attempt at vengeance. He’d be my last anything.

At the backdoor, he pushed me up the stairs in front of him. I tripped on a barrel of hand gardening tools, shovels, trowels, cultivators, and small screwdrivers. He shoved me through the screen door. Releasing me, he allowed me to slump to the floor where I braced my arms to keep from slamming face-first into the cool tile.

The ominous click as the door closed brought my eyes up. We’d entered the
kitchen. I sat next to the table beside a chair. Taking in my surroundings like Deegan had taught me wasn’t feasible at that point. Something in Matthew’s eyes promised me he’d make me scream. It was a promise I didn’t want fulfilled. He twisted the deadbolt into place.

Sweeping his arms wide, he encompassed the kitchen with his comments. “Well, this is the kitchen. The rest of the house is fairly boring.” He moved across the floor to a solid-looking
wall decorated with a picture of ducks – Mallards, I think, judging by the deep green heads. Positioned above it was a standard television monitor with a black and white picture or… holy shit, the little girl’s tree house next door. No wonder he’d known I was in there. The man wasn’t only a revictimizer but he got off on watching little kids play.

A new need to note every move he made pinpointed my attention squarely on him. He pressed
on the top corner of the wall beneath the monitor, bent his fingers and pulled.

Matthew slid the wall open. I inhaled sharply, careful to keep my volume down.
The wall slid open like some freaky James Bond movie. Or worse – a Saw movie. If he had to hide the place we were headed, I wouldn’t make it out of there. Plus, Deegan had taught me to stay out of rooms and places that didn’t have more than one exit or entrance – windows, doors, anything that made the room more than a box – and a secret passage didn’t stay secret with a window in it.

I almost whimpered, but he couldn’t make me cry out… I w
ouldn’t let him.

Even though I was his captive, I had to turn things around or Deegan would go to prison and I… well, I most likely would be dead.
Because that’s the only way I’d allow myself to be held. Dead.

Matthew stood at the opening which framed a finished stairwell, white walls and a sleek brown railing. A warm light backlit his dark features and even darker sweatshirt and jeans. Who would’ve thought such a good-looking man would be one to watch out for?

“Come on. You know you want to see what’s down there. You’re going to be begging me soon, if I don’t take you now, aren’t you?” He nodded, curling his fingers toward himself. “Yeah, you will. You’re the begging type.” Melodic and soft, his voice sounded so sure. He worked as a counselor. Maybe he knew. Somehow he took what he knew about me and figured out what I wanted? I’d read about that before… profiling or something. But it didn’t make sense. I’d never even told him my name.

I never begged.

Ever.

His voice hardened. “Stand up and get over here.”

Fear sliced through my nerves, and even though I tried telling my legs to stand, to get off my ass and get over there, nothing worked. A weird hazy numb feeling covered me. I clenched my jaw. Oh crap. He stalked toward me, reaching out and, oh the pain as he dug his fingers into the round part of my shoulder.

I closed my eyes as he lifted me. His other hand clamped on the other shoulder and he shook me slightly. His breath wafted over me, laced in liquor. “You get moving now, or I’m going to give you what you want here on the floor.” He thrust me toward the stairs and I stumbled forward.

Grabbing hold of the wooden rail, I took a second to gather myself. Fear. I had to gain control of my fear. Nothing was different. Adapting to the predator’s surroundings was how I got out of the situations. Keeping a relatively calm head and not panicking. I could do it.

I exhaled, looking down into an equally well-lit hallway. With the secret panel in the wall, I expected it to be dungeon-like and dirty down the stairs. But the warmth in the lighting and the cushiony carpet beneath my feet threw off my expectations. Like a game. Everything about him seemed
like an oxymoron. Like a beautiful poisonous flower. Or a zombie baby.

Rubbing of the panel on the floor as he closed
the door gave me another second to process what I was doing. No plan to that point. I needed to get out of there so the next time… well, so the next time I’d be prepared. And alive – a very important necessity.

The walls closed in on me. I blinked, trying to make the claustrophobic sensation go away.

He grabbed my elbow and propelled me down the steps. Thirteen of them.

I didn’t want to leave the stairs. Something about them gave hope, like if I left them, my only way out would disappear. What if I couldn’t find the door again?

It wasn’t musty or even slightly stale smelling the further we went. Instead there was a distinct scent that reminded me of flowers that were delivered when my mom died. They had filled the house and every time I’d walked by, a wave of perfume had all but slapped me across the face.

Not my favorite smell.

The not-knowing worked on me. Each step grated my control. “What are you going to do?”

His laugh filled the space around us.
“Whatever I want.” His swagger had a cocky bounce to it like John Travolta’s in Saturday Night Fever. A girl had been raped in that film, too. Things were not looking up.

We reached a doorway which he unlocked
using a key hanging from his neck. He replaced the key under his shirt and turned the knob.

The smell of dry urine, feces, and sweetness like that of rotting fruit struck me. I swallowed the vomit I’d gagged into my mouth. Nothing would get me used to that odor.

But the sight… oh, no… I couldn’t comprehend the cages, the locks, the buckets in the corners. I didn’t want to acknowledge the young girl sitting on a bale of hay in one cage or the even younger boy backed against the wall as he watched us enter.

Matthew’s first mistake was showing me other victims.

He pushed me alongside him with a hand at my back. “I don’t care what you do while I’m gone. You’ll have to share a room with her. She doesn’t talk. Much.” His laughter again shattered anything good in the air, chasing my anger up. To the girl he pointed his finger. “Tell her the rules. If she breaks them, it’s on you.”

She didn’t react. Her ratty, lopsided hair hung over a bony shoulder poking from under a thin t-shirt. Pajama bottoms too dirty for me to recognize or make out the design displayed her pale flesh through torn holes in various
places. Dirt around her eyes and trailing in streaks down her cheeks made me choke on a sob.

The little boy was a little cleaner and seemed more afraid. Fresh bruises colored his cheeks and on his neck with vivid purples and blues.
His right eye had swollen so much, it didn’t open. Tufts of hair poked up around his head. His fingers scratched at the wall at his back, like even subconsciously his body tried to escape.

“Come on, little girl. You know you came here for this.” And he winked. At me. Like a fun little game was in the works.

His second mistake – little girl.

I ground my teeth, catching part of my cheek. The coppery taste of blood sharpened my focus. The girl in the cage didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge us. She stared dully at the limp straw under her.

If I didn’t take the upper-hand right then, I’d never get another chance. Surroundings… come on. Buckets. That’s all within sight. I had no backup, no help with anything.

Unlocking the combination padlock to the cage, he turned to me, smirking. He reached out and clutched my wrist with fingers confident in their power. The padlock hung from the bar haphazardly as if dangling for the next set of instructions. He dragged me inside – one step, two steps. It was then or never. If he locked that door on me, I’d never get out.

An image of Deegan behind bars for the rest of his life superimposed over the girl on the hay. I couldn’t handle never.

With one hand on me, Matthew sn
apped his fingers at the girl. “Hey, you!” She blinked hard and, standing, began removing her clothes. He looked at me to watch my reaction, while standing inside, half a step more than me. I stared wide-eyed, momentarily confused at what was going on. Oh, man. I couldn’t take it.

I returned his gaze, dropped my right leg back and then lifted it – smack – slamming my knee directly into his nuts.

He doubled over, grabbing his crotch and gasping for air.

But I didn’t wait.
I slammed the door shut on him, clicking the lock shut. He knew the combination, but that would take precious seconds to twist the knob. Seconds I could use… would use.

He rushed to the cage entrance, reaching for me. I backed away and glanced behind him at the girl. If I wanted to save her or the boy… or myself, I had to run. And run fast.

Run, Cassie!

Spinning to the door, I opened my stride and pushed through, not wasting time to shut it. Already the clinking of the lock on the metal bar warned me he’d be right behind.
Come on, Cassie, RUN!

He roared in anger, drawing whimpers from both of the children in their prisons. I wanted to go back, but just pushed harder, faster.

Arms pumping, I tore through the hallway, up the stairs, and scrambled at the door. He’d shut it and I had no idea how to open it.

From behind me in the hallway, the door slammed shut.
“You little bitch!” His yell marked his progress. He’d made it to the hall. He only had one way to go and probably wasn’t rushing since he knew I didn’t have a fricking clue how to get out.

Dammit!

My stomach twisted, my lungs couldn’t
fully expand. I couldn’t open the door but I’d sure as hell try to go through it. I backed up down the steps, down two, crap, no three, and rushed up them, slamming my shoulder into the paneling. It had to be thin… it had to be thin. I ignored the ache when I connected.

Only sheetrock with a basic frame, the panel cracked. I pulled back my fist and pummeled the space I’
d weakened. The tearing of my knuckles didn’t faze me. I pushed through, hammering the wall.

“You can’t escape.” He hit the wall as he came closer. The steady thump and thud as he walked energized my heart and I tried to keep up with the rhythm.

I moved to the top step and kicked and kneed at the weak spot, making the hole big enough I could roll through.

Behind me, Matthew had reached the bottom st
air. I stepped over the paneling and into the hole, barely able to fit through. The slight size of the opening offered little comfort, but I’d take it. He’d never fit.

He grabbed for me, fingers moving at my arm for some kind of grip
, pinching and scratching. I jumped out of reach. His eyes stared at me as he reached for something, probably the release to open the panel. I couldn’t go too far when I left the house. He’d dispose of those kids so fast.

I patted my pockets. I had to call the police. I needed help. Where the hell was my phone?

Matthew’s sing-song voice rang through the hole. “Looking for this?” He flashed my cell at me.

Groaning, I backed further into his kitchen. I had to get out of there. Immediately.

“You dropped it in the tree house.” A slight click suggested he’d accomplished releasing the panel. But trying to slide it open became impossible with the damage I’d done to it. Rage colored his face almost purple and spittle formed at his mouth. “If you leave, I’ll kill them… both of them. I’ll do it.”

And the narrowing of his eyes
assured me his threats were in fact promises. They’d die because I was too afraid to follow through with what I’d gone there to accomplish.

He had to have a
house phone. I’d use his. Most houses still had landlines in the area. I continued backing toward the door, scanning the kitchen for a phone. Mounted to the wall to my right, a sleek white piece mocked me. Just within reach.

I yanked the handset down and dialed nine-one-one
. Pressing the phone to my ear, I returned my gaze to the furious Matthew.

He yelled, kicking and slapping on the sheetrock that I’d already weakened.

The phone rang.

“Put that damn phone down, little girl!” Little girl. There it was again.

I lifted my chin. The phone rang again.

His voice
dropped to a purr. “Don’t do it. Don’t you dare.”

A voice on the other end of the line said. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

I held my stare steady. Even my own voice didn’t have the audacity to quiver. “Help. I don’t know the address I’m at, but I’m about to kill a man who has two children chained in the basement. Hurry.” I let the phone drop to the ground, still connected to the wall. The cord’s curly construct bobbed it along the trim on and off the tile. They’d trace the call. Hopefully, she took me seriously. I meant what I’d said. I was going to kill the son of a bitch.