Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home (4 page)

"Mom."
 
Sarah grabbed the banister and took a single step.
 
"What's going on?"

"Nothing!
 
Just go outside."

Byron placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.
 
"Sarah, I'm afraid you'll have to stay inside.
 
Come upstairs, now, or I'll shove your sister and she can meet you down there."

The silence stretched.
 
Janet wanted nothing more than to shout at Sarah to run, to get away.
 
But Janet looked into Elizabeth's eyes and saw the horrific terror in them.
 
Elizabeth had never truly been scared before.
 
It was Janet's job to protect both of her daughters, tell them she would always take care of them.
 
Guilt gnawed at her as she said nothing.
 
If she told Sarah to run, Elizabeth would be hurt.

Sarah slowly walked up the stairs.

Janet had no words.
 
She simply took Sarah in her arms and cried.
 
The sight of her mother crying and her sister in distress brought out the tears in Sarah.
 
The three hugged in the middle of the hallway at the top of the stairs.
 
Byron shook his head as he looked down at them.

"How touching," he said.
 
"Now turn off the faucets.
 
Watch me redecorate this room."

The Fields family huddled in the corner and cowered as Byron went to work.
 
The girls cried as he invaded the one room in the house that was theirs.
 
He emptied the drawers, rummaged through the closet.
 
The girls shrieked as he tipped over their bunk beds.
 
Elizabeth cried for her father.
 
Janet pulled them close.
 
That was all she could do.

Byron grabbed a stuffed animal of Winnie the Pooh from the toy bin.
 
His face was full of disgust as he examined the toy.

"Of course you runts would like Winnie the Pooh.
 
I've always hated that narcoleptic, honey-stealing son of a bitch.
 
There's nothing like teaching kids it's okay to steal shit that doesn't belong to you."
 
He held up the bear.
 
"It's ironic, isn't it?
 
He's a symbol of why we're all here today."

Janet was afraid to speak.
 
If she wasn't certain before, the hatred in Byron's eyes as he held the children's doll convinced her he was insane.

"It's…a kid's toy."

"It's bullshit."

Byron tossed the toy, narrowing missing Sarah's head.
 
Scanning the room, he seemed to admire the damage he'd done.
 
The girls' room, the culmination of their likes, tastes, and personalities, was ruined.
 
Items everywhere, their beds across the floor, the dresser on its side.
 
Some of the drawers were broken from where Byron tossed them.
 
Sarah kept picture frames with last year's vacation to the ocean next to her bed.
 
They lay broken on the floor, the pictures torn.

"Look at it this way," Byron said.
 
"If you live from this, at least you'll have plenty to keep you busy."

"Mom, is he going to kill us?" Sarah asked.

Janet's eyes met hers, and the fear in them assaulted her.
 
She reached over and squeezed Sarah's hand.
 
She forced a small smile as she wiped a tear from her daughter's cheek.

"We'll be fine."

Byron laughed with disdain.
 
"There you go again with that lying shit.
 
Parents should be politicians.
 
Little girl, your mother is lying, and there isn't a Santa Claus—"

"I
said
…we'll be fine."

Byron stopped tormenting Sarah and stared at Janet.
 
The fear was gone, at least for the moment.
 
She visualized killing Byron in her head.
 
Beating him, running him over with the car, stabbing him over and over with a knife.
 
Those dark thoughts gave her strength.

Byron only smiled.

"Okay, well, it looks like I'll just have to have a talk with Ed when he gets home.
 
We're all done up here, ladies.
 
Let's go downstairs."

He held his hand outward, gesturing patiently.
 
Janet felt like a prisoner as she led her children downstairs.
 
Byron didn't go first.
 
He didn't let the three of them out of his sight.
 
But Janet knew he'd make a mistake eventually.
 
When he did, she would attack him with everything she had.

"So, we have a lot of time to kill," Byron said.
 
"What do you ladies do for fun?"

Janet stood near the corner chair.
 
Sarah and Elizabeth crowded near their mother as much as they could.
 
She kept a hand on both of them.

"We…like to play outside," Elizabeth said.

"Well, that's not happening.
 
What else you got?"

"Sometimes we play Monopoly."

"Hmm, that's something.
 
But I think your Mommy might not be in the mood for board games.
 
And, to be honest, I'm not a good loser."

Sarah took a step forward.
 
Janet kept a hand twisted in her shirt.

"Why don't you just leave?"

Janet's breath hitched in her throat.
 
"Sarah…."

Byron approached, his gaze lowering to meet the child's.
 
"What was that again, little girl?"

"Just leave us alone!
 
We didn't do anything to you."

"That's true, you didn't.
 
But your father is a piece of shit."

Sarah balled her fist and tried to throw a punch.
 
Janet pulled her back just in time, not that it would have done much harm to Byron anyway.

"Don't talk about my father!"

"Sarah!"
 
Janet grabbed her around the shoulders.

Byron laughed and smiled.
 
"You've got quite the attitude there, girl.
 
But how long do you think that attitude would last if I—"

"No!" Janet said, stepping in front of her daughters.
 
"Whatever you're going to do, do it to me."

Byron studied her without saying a word.
 
A look of curiosity flashed across his face.

"Braver than I thought, willing to take a shot for the spawn."

She braced herself for whatever violence he had in mind.

"Any mother would."

"No, they wouldn't."
 
He crossed his hands behind him and paced the living room.
 
"Mort—…
people
are, deep down, nothing but cowards.
 
I've killed quite a few mothers in my time.
 
One of them actually dropped her child to slow me down while she was running from me."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it.
 
People…well, they're just not very good."

"I'd die for my children."

He pointed at Sarah and Elizabeth.
 
"Keep those two on a choker chain, and we won't have to test that."

"What are you going to do?
 
Keep watch over us all day?"

"Well, I'm not playing Monopoly, that's for sure.
 
You can sit on the couch over there and knit, cross your legs, take up space, whatever it is you do.
 
The kids can play, I don't give a shit."

Silence followed as Byron sat in the corner chair.
 
He scooped up a loose piece of newspaper he threw earlier and spread it through his hands.

"So," Sarah said.
 
"We can play here in the living room?"

"You can play, sleep, drool, I don't care."

"Can we go get a toy from upstairs?"

"Whatever."

Sarah grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her to the stairs.
 
Janet reluctantly backed up and hovered over the couch.

"Hey, Sarah," Byron said.

The child stopped and turned.

"Be quick, now.
 
It was a while ago, but I remember when I was your age.
 
I thought I was smart, but I really wasn't.
 
You're probably thinking of climbing out a window, or something like that.
 
Let me be blunt.
 
I'll hurt your mother if you're not back down here in two minutes."

Sarah stared at him, her expression a mix of anger and fear.
 
Her lip twitched as a tear ran down her cheek.

"If you hurt my Mom—"

"I'm counting to one-hundred twenty in my head."

Sarah turned and ran up the stairs, dragging Elizabeth behind her.
 
Janet felt helpless as she slowly sat on the couch and crossed her ankles.
 
Glancing at Byron out of the corner of her eye, he was lost in the newspaper.
 
She searched the living room, her own thoughts racing.
 
The front door was ten feet away.
 
It seemed so easy to simply run.
 
But she'd have to coordinate her children.
 
They'd have to be ready to move with her.

The phone hung on the wall just inside the kitchen.
 
If she could simply make a five second call to the police station, or even Mary, her neighbor.
 
They could get help.

"It won't work," Byron said.

Janet glared at him.
 
"What?"

He didn't bother looking up from the newspaper.
 
"I locked the front door, both locks.
 
Unless you're telepathic, which I've only met a few, by the time you put together the
run
plan with the little ones, ran to the door, unlocked it with shaking hands, I'd already be there.
 
The littlest one, Elizabeth, in case you wanted more detail.
 
She's the smallest and weakest.
 
One little twist of her finger, and you'd drop to your knees."

Sarah shot to her feet.
 
"If you—"

Byron jumped up as well, so fast Janet thought he was rushing to strike.
 
She held her ground.

"Sit down!" he shouted, raising his voice for the first time.

She hesitated before doing so, locking eyes with him.

"And I've already cut the phone from the outside," he said.
 
"You can't call for help.
 
Even if help came…I'd kill them, too.
 
Their deaths would be on your hands."

"Who…are you?"

He smiled.
 
"I'm Byron.
 
Now, the best thing for you to do is sit there and be a nice, adorable little housewife.
 
Keep your mouth shut.
 
Keep your kids' mouths shut.
 
That's not that hard, is it?
 
And by the end of tonight, everything will be back to normal.
 
You'll be cooking ravioli and riding your husband."

Janet tried her best to force her emotions aside.
 
The terror, the anger, the apprehension.
 
She needed to
think
.

"How long have you been watching us?"
 
He finally looked up over the paper.
 
"You knew Sarah's name."

"Holy shit," Byron said, arching an eyebrow.
 
"She can actually look at the world around her.
 
Not many of you people can."
 
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
 
"Long enough.
 
Long enough to know you pretty well.
 
Definitely long enough to know you've got a birthmark on your upper thigh."

Her face turned red as she shifted uncomfortably.
 
"You don't know anything about me."

He smirked.
 
"You love your family, you love being a housewife.
 
You love your mother, can't stand his father.
 
Sometimes you watch your girls play in the backyard, and you hate the fact they're growing up.
 
You're afraid they won't need you.
 
I'm guessing that's because when your father used to beat you, your mother did nothing, forcing you to grow up faster than children are meant to."

Janet felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach.
 
Memories rushed back to her, memories she'd spent so long repressing and controlling.
 
Her father standing over her, whipping her over and over with his belt, all over a spilled drink at the dinner table.
 
Her mother sat not ten feet away, doing her best to pretend it wasn't happening.
 
Only one time during the beatings did mother and daughter's eyes meet.
 
Janet silently begged for help, for compassion, for anything.
 
The only thing her mother could offer was a quick frown before she turned away.

"Ah," Byron said.
 
"That twitch, right there.
 
Ed doesn't know, does he?"

She said nothing.
 
The kids ran back down the stairs, each with a few toys in their arms.
 
Sarah glanced back and forth between the adults, worry in her eyes.
 
Janet gave her a smile to suggest everything was okay, even though nothing was further from the truth.

Byron leaned back in the chair.
 
"Don't worry, Janet.
 
If you behave, and keep your children behaving, by the end of the day, you can continue keeping secrets from your husband."