Page 16 of Requiem & Reverie

I throw the laptop off me, wanting to get away from that face, but it’s too late. It’s already seared inside my mind, and when the unbidden memories claw at me, I have no choice but to let them take me.

6

Voss

Seventeen years ago …

“Please don’t leave me!” The Girl’s voice echoes through the room, the sound of it tightening my muscles.

My heart is beating so fast inside my chest, I can hardly draw in a breath.

If Carl finds me, he’ll lock me in the closet again. Or worse.

But I can’t leave her in the cellar alone and risk he’ll hurt her.

“How did you get down here?” I ask.

Lips downturned, she lowers her head. “I was …. I stopped at a gas station, on my way to a … friend’s. And … a guy …. He looked like a nice guy …. He told me there was a kitten stuck inside a drainpipe behind the building. So, I ran to look. The last thing I saw were the wheels of a vehicle, because I was lying on the ground.”

A cold sickness twists in my stomach. I’ve seen too many animal carcasses to know whatever he plans to do with her isn’t good.

He never catches and releases.

“I don’t know if I can carry you out of here. He’ll catch us.”

“Please. My dad … he’s a police officer. If you help me, I can help you get out of here, too.”

What if her father thinks I had any part of this, though? How can I trust she won’t tell him that I helped Carl stash her away down here?

On the other hand, what if she doesn’t?

“Just wait here a second. I’m going to see if I can get help.” None of the neighbors have ever really cared to investigate my living conditions. They’ve always kept to themselves. But this girl …. She might be something new. My ticket out of here. A chance to get away.

“No! Please! Don’t go!”

“Shhh! He’ll hear you!”

The music still plays above, the muffled sound of James Hetfield blasting through the floor. He does this when he’s doing something in his room and doesn’t want me to come around. Like humping his mannequin, or masturbating to hardcore porn. The kind that’s made my stomach turn, on the few occasions I’ve walked in on him.

Twisting back toward the girl, I contemplate whether, or not, I could carry her up the stairs. She’s pretty slim, but so am I. Plus, she’d be deadweight.

I’d be better off running to the kitchen to dial 9-1-1.

“Okay,” I whisper over the hammer of an electric guitar. “Be quiet. I’m going to call the police here. You be sure to tell them … that I didn’t do this, okay? Tell them I had no part of this.”

“I promise.” Her voice is shaky, like she’s about to break down. “Please just get me out of here.”

With a nod, I turn back toward the staircase, panic beating down my spine with every step I take toward that vacuous door. The music blares on, offering a small measure of protection. Something like an invisible lookout.

It’s not until I reach the top of the stairs that the door swings open, and I tumble backward, down the stairs, until the cold cement smashes into my spine.

The agonizing ache spirals up the back of my skull and into my sinuses, and the room turns blurry for a moment, with floating circles, which I attempt to dissolve by screwing my eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” the girl whispers, and when I open my eyes, the view is sharper than before.

Carl stands at the top of the stairs. From my angle, his form is imposing, like a giant looking down on a defenseless mouse. The cold hostility in his stare sends an icy chill across my skin. It’s the last I see of his face, before he pulls his mask over it, hiding himself, and closes the door behind him.

Stairs creak, and even though my ankle is throbbing, I hoist myself up onto my elbows and back away from him. Across the room, I drag myself, the gritty concrete biting into my elbows, until I reach the room that houses the girl.