Arson's Captive Read online

  That one warms me up from the inside out and makes me love Daddy so much. He even buys me ice cream when he is in a good mood and promises we will move to a good house soon.

  This one though is very angry and always sends chills down my spine, and all the blankets in the world are not enough to warm me up.

  “Stop? I’m just getting started, honey.” The sound of a harsh slap along with something heavy dropping on the floor echoes through the night, and I can’t hold back the tears dripping all over the book as I cover my ears, scrunch my eyes, and pray to God for some kind of help.

  A nun who visits our school says if our hearts are pure, he will always listen.

  Clasping my hands together, I whisper above them.

  Please, God, help my mom. Please make Daddy fall asleep, so he’ll stop being mean to her.

  Please, please, please.

  But instead, Dad continues to scream, “You whore! How long have you been cheating on me?” Another harsh slap. “Did you enjoy fucking the neighbor behind my back?”

  “Nothing happened. You’re drunk again!”

  “Don’t lie to me.” I remove my hands when silence falls in the house, and my heartbeat speeds up, my palms getting wet, because I know what it means.

  Daddy is reaching for the belt.

  Throwing away the blanket, I run quickly to the door and open it a little, peeking into the living room where Mommy kneels on the floor, coughing up blood. Daddy picks up the remote, increasing the volume of the TV so no one will hear her screams.

  Once a lady from the apartment downstairs came to us threatening to call the police if my mom didn’t shut up. On that night, Mommy cried into the pillow while Daddy continued to beat her with the belt over and over again, because she shamed him in front of a neighbor.

  I’m not sure what that means either; how does she shame him if he is the one who hurts her?

  But Mommy doesn’t let me ask these questions, always shushing me so I never ask Daddy. But maybe I should. Maybe then he will stop loving the brown liquid he calls whiskey so much, which transforms him into all the monsters from the scary stories boys tell at school.

  Mommy’s really quiet sobs snap my attention back to the present, where I see Daddy lift the bottle, gulping it swiftly as he raises the belt. “How many times do we need to do this, you ungrateful bitch, before you have your fill of other men?” He strikes her hard on her back, and Mommy bites on her fist, her shoulders shaking while the loud crack sound hurts my ears.

  I step in her direction, but she catches my gaze. She mouths, No, to me and waves me away with her hand as Daddy delivers another blow, this time to her stomach, and she cries out, falling back and breathing heavily, doing her best to stay as silent as possible.

  “I should have listened to my mother and never married you. I gave up my life for you, my family, the money!” he yells, and I turn around, closing the door. Tears fall and fall from my cheeks, and Daddy continues to hit her with the belt buckle over and over again. “They told me to never marry your poor ass, but who knew you’d cheat on me!”

  Crack. Crack. Crack.

  “Stop, please stop,” she begs, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, I hear him flick the lighter and my heart stops only to then speed up in my chest, because I know what will come next.

  I open the door again and rush into the living room despite Mommy asking me not to, but Daddy is about to drop it on her so it will burn her skin.

  He says those will help her understand to behave better in the future, like a mark that shows who is the owner of the cattle.

  His exact words.

  I wrap my hands around my sobbing mommy, and Daddy’s hand pauses as his glassy eyes focus on me. “Get away, Callista,” he orders me. “Go back to bed.”

  “No,” I reply stubbornly, even though fear travels through me, making my teeth clack against each other, but I only tighten my hold on Mommy. “You are hurting her again.” He steps back at my words, but then anger crosses his face while he takes another gulp, the bottle swaying back and forth in his hand.

  “Tell your daughter to go back to bed.” He addresses Mommy this time. A raspy breath slips past her lips before she plasters a smile on her face, palming my head and whispering, “It’s okay, honey. Nothing is wrong.”

  She says it even though blood is smeared over her lips and huge bruises under her eyes blacken, not to mention how her hands shake.

  Mommy is lying, and she always does it for my sake.

  “No,” I stubbornly reply once again and press myself closer to her. “Hit us both, then,” I say although my mouth wobbles and I scrunch my eyes, afraid of Daddy’s next move.

  Silence stretches around us except for the TV blasting through the apartment, and I peek one eye open only to see something flicker on Daddy’s face before he takes another gulp, dropping onto the couch. “Take her to bed and we’ll finish it after,” he tells her without even glancing at me, just flipping the sports channels, ignoring us both.

  I help Mommy get up, her knees wobble twice before she steadies herself, and we slowly walk to my room, where she shuts the door behind us, sliding to the floor, resting her back on it while crying into her palms.

  I sit next to her, placing my head on her shoulder and crying right along with her, because all this breaks my heart.

  Are all families like this? Where women cry in the night, flinch during the day, afraid to say any wrong word in fear of getting hit by the men?

  “I’m with you, Mommy,” I whisper to her, and for some reason that only makes her cry harder. She lifts her face from her palms and picks me up, placing me on her lap, rocking me in her arms. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  My brows furrow at this. “Why are you sorry?”

  My ear is pressed to her heart while she rests her chin on top of my head. “Because I should have protected you from this. But I’ll do better.” I don’t understand what she means, but I notice her weird tone, the one she usually has when she comes to some kind of decision.

  I don’t dwell on it for long though, because my eyelids droop as she continues to rock me, singing lullabies in my ear until I fall asleep.

  “Sweetie, wake up.” I shake my head at Mommy’s voice, burrowing my nose into the pillow. “Come on, sweetie.” She pats my back, and I wonder why she wants me awake.

  Shouldn’t she rest with me on my bed after Daddy’s treatment? It sometimes takes her days to get better.

  “I don’t want to,” I whimper, trying to turn on my other side, but Mom rolls me back, ordering harshly this time, “Get up, Callista. Now!” I finally do, blinking in surprise when I see it’s still dark outside and she is wearing her jogging clothes.

  A heavy bag hangs on her shoulder as she gives me a dress along with my school shoes. “Put it on, sweetie, and let’s go before he wakes up.” I’m still drowsy but sit up on the bed, wiping my eyes with my knuckles while Mommy helps me remove my pajamas and throw the dress over my head, hastily putting it on.

  Then she kneels, wincing a little and rubbing her stomach. Daddy must have kicked her too. She laces my shoes. “You have to be very quiet right now.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, but she just presses her finger to her mouth, and we go to the door.

  She grabs my hand and with a deep breath, we step into the living room where the TV is still showing a football game and Daddy snores on the couch, his belly rising and falling funnily.

  Mom mouths to me to go to the door, and she tiptoes to him, sliding the keys from inside his pocket.

  It’s like she is barely breathing as she leans over him, ready to step back when he murmurs something and wraps his hand around her wrist. I cover my mouth with my hand to keep quiet.

  Fear crashes over me, because if he wakes up and sees that Mommy wanted to go somewhere without his permission, nothing will stop him from hurting her even more.

  Mom stays frozen to the spot, not even blinking while he murmurs something again, then shifts a little to the side and loosens
his hold on her.

  She exhales and then runs toward me, opens the door, and ushers me outside, locking him in. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t pick you up. Please be as quick as you can, okay?” she asks me, and I nod, not understanding at all what’s going on but knowing I have to help Mommy.

  After what she has done now, Daddy will probably kill us both.

  We run through the night to the bus station where she covers my head with a hoodie and does the same with her own. After we go inside, we sit in the far corner at the end.

  I don’t say anything until the bus pulls off, because that’s when she exhales in relief, resting her head on the seat and dropping her arm over me, kissing my forehead. “Where are we going, Mommy?” I ask again, wanting to know about all this. I lean my head back to meet her gaze and for the first time in a long while see her smile.

  I think the last time was when Daddy bought her flowers for her birthday, but it didn’t last long, because on the same night, he beat her while dragging her to the stove to burn her arm for being so beautiful. “On an adventure.”

  I blink in surprise and then exclaim, “Like in the books?”

  She taps my nose and nods. “Just like in the books.” She leans toward her bag, taking a colorful brochure from there, and shows it to me. “Look, this is our destination.” It says we are going to heaven on earth. “It’s a special place for people like us.”

  “People like us?”

  Her smile slips for just a second, but it’s back when she wiggles the brochure. “People who were hurt by someone who was supposed to love them.”

  “Will Daddy come there too?” I’ll never admit it to Mommy, but I will miss him. I always feel bad for loving him, even if he is always good with me.

  Shouldn’t I hate him for what he has done to Mommy? At the thought of never seeing him again, my heart pangs painfully, but I’ll never say it out loud.

  “He will never find us again, Callista. We will be free.” She clutches the brochure harder. “This place will give us freedom.” With that, she closes her eyes, humming in tune with the music filtering through the bus as we ride in the night along the highway, nothing but darkness and endless road outside the window.

  Resting my cheek against it, I blow on it, creating fog to write on, wondering what he’s doing right now.

  Goodbye, Daddy.

  Maybe with us gone, he will finally be happy, because he won’t have Mommy to blame for his family hating us.

  We decide our fate by making choices that affect us in ways we can never take back.

  On that day, Mom made her choice.

  A choice that forever changed our lives.

  Callista

  With a gasp, my eyes snap open only to close again when bright light from above blinds me. Wincing, I shift my head to the side, wanting to escape the harsh intrusion, but frown when my cheek rubs against concrete.

  I splay my palm next to me, lifting a little only to drop on my side again and cry out when pain ricochets through my body, sending prickles from my spine to the tips of my toes.

  Breathing heavily, I bite my tongue to still another cry wanting to erupt. It never brings me any good to display any kind of emotion in front of the monsters who call themselves my family.

  My tears only serve for more punishment, because according to Pastor, I should appreciate the lessons they all give me when they beat me with leather belts until I black out.

  I move my jaw from side to side and exhale in relief when I don’t detect any traces of pain there then try to get up again, finally sitting up and propping my back against the wall.

  The concrete is oddly warm under my bare feet, and that’s what makes my eyes flutter open again. I adjust my vision to my surroundings and blink in surprise.

  This room bears no similarity to Pastor’s spacious torture room—with golden light flickering all over the altar while the marble floor shone brightly smeared in the blood from my wounds.

  A sacrifice he had to make every month. According to him, it broke his heart to hurt me, but how would I learn otherwise?

  Instead, I’m in a glass cage with no way of escape. However, it’s a very unusual one, since it’s placed in the middle of a bigger basement or room. I’m not sure which, because there is a silver pole along with a metal table outside the cage that has several different weapons displayed on it.

  Gasping, I get up on my knees only to whimper from the ache in my joints, and then the rattling of a chain registers in my ears and the smell of chlorine causes my nose to twitch.

  Glancing down, I see a heavy manacle wrapped around my ankle, while the chain itself lies beside me. Judging by the pile it makes, it has to be long enough for me to walk around the spacious cage that consists of one small table, and a toilet in the right corner closed off by the small wall—but for whose benefit, I don’t know.

  It’s not like the freaking walls don’t show you what’s going on inside anyway.

  “What’s all this?” I murmur, placing my fingers on my throat as each word scratches against it, desperately begging for water, as I notice a bottle on the table.

  Willing all my strength into a fist, I push up, albeit groaning all the freaking way. It’s then I notice I still have on the awful white dress Father makes everyone wear, although it’s smeared in dirt.

  What in the ever-loving hell is going on here?

  Is this some kind of new torture cell he’s been working on and I haven’t seen it before?

  Is it reserved for harsher punishment than just beatings? After all, I tried to escape yesterday, running away from the so-called fate everyone lives by in this place.

  Do they intend to keep me here until I understand the error of my ways and beg on my knees for God’s forgiveness for the sins I’ve committed?

  Like not wanting to marry Marcello.

  I almost laugh out loud at this, because no way am I going to do it; living by the rules has brought me no good anyway.

  I prefer to die here once and for all instead of existing in the misery they’ve created for me.

  Walking toward the table, I drag the chain with me, wiggling my ankle a little so the metal won’t scratch my skin so much. There, I pick up the bottle, flicking it open and ready to take a deep gulp, but pause with it midway when a sudden thought strikes me.

  What’s if it’s drugged?

  Usually after punishment, they have a woman there ready with hot towels and honey tea waiting by my side, along with a clean dress. They never want anyone else to see my distress so others won’t ever question the heavenly place they all live in.

  But since everything about this time is different, down to the filthy dress on me, I drop the bottle back on the table where the liquid spills all over it, dripping on the floor. I step back, wrapping my hands around my nape, hectically thinking about a solution here.

  If they didn’t beat me as usual but placed me in this cage instead, do they still expect me to marry Marcello?

  They must have planned one expensive wedding as a way of showing off to the people if they think I’ll agree to this charade after my last stunt.

  I’ll never defeat them; of this I have no doubt, because despite what everyone here thinks of me, I’m not dumb.

  But I won’t surrender without a fight, keeping at least my dignity in this rotten place that reeks of deceit and human greed that has no place amongst all the holy deeds they speak so highly of.

  Coming closer to the glassed wall, I touch it lightly with my fingers and then fist my hand, hitting it hard, ignoring the pain traveling from my wrist to my shoulder. I shout, “Let me out of here!” I’m about to bang again when a harsh alarm echoes through the space, so loud I have to cover my ears from the incessant, piercing noise while it continuously rings, almost deafening me.

  I go farther into the cage, hoping the sound there will be dampened, but it doesn’t matter as it seems to come from every corner.

  I hunch down, still palming my ears, and start to repeat different names of h
erbs in my head, hoping to block the outside world that drives me insane. When the sound finally stops, the silence is so heavy I wonder if I’ve just gone deaf.

  Blinking, I remove my hands and exhale in relief when I confirm it indeed has truly stopped, but then air hitches in my lungs when my eyes land on a man standing behind the glass wall, his stare so intense it makes me want to find any cave or hole in this place and bury myself in it, avoiding his presence.

  For it seems the man is a demon sent to the pit of hell by the devil who has decided to claim my soul.

  The first thing I notice about him is his blue hair that ends just below his ears. The tips of it are orange as if he is trying to recreate fire sliding down and growing rapidly, so each wave of his hair makes it seem like his freaking head is burning.

  My gaze slides lower to his crystal-clear silver eyes, though it’s not the color that has my attention but the look in them.

  Absolutely dead, with no emotion whatsoever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a stare on anyone, and I’ve known some despicable humans in this world.

  His skin is tanned, and he has various weird tattoos all over him, as if he is trying to cover up something with them, and I wonder if he has more under the V neck of his shirt.

  He is tall, probably around six foot five, with his broad shoulders stretching his black shirt and black jeans covering his muscled legs.

  Pressing a button on the wall that makes it slide open for him, he walks inside, his heavy boots thumping loudly on the concrete floor, and that’s when the impact of his presence fully hits me.

  The cage shrinks in size with dangerous and dominant energy swooshing over me and sending chills down my spine. Fear slowly creeps over my skin, and I press myself harder against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go as he walks closer, never once taking his gaze away from me.

  And then I see him flipping something through his fingers repeatedly, before he stops and flicks the lighter on.

  The sound and the fire blazing from it instantly transports me back to my father doing the same right before he hurt my mom, and without thinking, I do something I promised myself to never do in such a situation.