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

"You're a monster," Elizabeth said.

He smiled.
 
"You're right.
 
I am."

"Girls," Janet said.
 
"Quiet down, now."

Another shadow.
 
Janet glanced up as she reached for the dustpan.
 
Mark stood outside with his face pressed to the glass.
 
Janet's heart pounded in her chest.
 
She nearly mouthed the word
Help
, but noticed Byron looking at her.
 
If he'd turned his head, or even simply looked in the reflection in the refrigerator, he would see Mark.

"I see Elizabeth is eating a nice, hearty meal," he said.
 
"Where's mine?"

She grabbed the sandwich from the counter.
 
Before heading to the table, she eyed the tea as best she could.
 
Her inspiration suddenly seemed foolish to her.
 
The tea looked normal enough.
 
But what if he took one sip and threw it across the room?
 
Certainly rat poison didn't have a good taste.

It was too late to turn back.
 
She harshly set the lunch in front of Byron without a word.
 
Her mind raced on what to do next.
 
She had to act naturally.
 
Although she wasn't thirsty in the least, she went back to the counter to pour herself a glass of tea as well.

"Good sandwich," Byron said.
 
"I can see why old Ed keeps you around.
 
Of course, the fact that you're still pretty flexible probably doesn't hurt, either."

"Mom, can I have something to drink?" Sarah asked.

"Here, kid."
 
Janet heard a glass slide across the table behind her.
 
"You can have some of mine.
 
Call it a peace offering, just to show that all your little mean comments didn't hurt my feelings."

"Sarah," Janet said, whirling in place.
 
Sarah held the glass halfway to her lips.
 
Janet's tone came across stronger than she intended.
 
"You know you can't drink tea."

Sarah paused, saying nothing.
 
Elizabeth happily continued to eat her sandwich.

"What?" Byron said.
 
"The bitch doesn't like tea?"

"The caffeine," Janet said, surprised at how easily the lie came out.
 
"It keeps her buzzed all day.
 
Come on, sweetie, you know better.
 
Lemonade or water.
 
What would you like?"

Confusion touched Sarah's face, but only for a moment.
 
The truth was no one drank more caffeine in the house than Sarah.
 
But she didn't object, didn't contradict her mother's lie.
 
Janet felt overwhelming pride as Sarah set the glass back on the table.

"Sorry, Mom.
 
Lemonade, please."

Byron laughed, but it wasn't a laugh of joy.
 
He was taunting Sarah, laughing
at
her.

"Oh well," he said, taking another bite of his sandwich.
 
He slid the tea back in front of him.
 
"More for me, then."

Janet sat across from them.
 
She desperately wanted to sit next to her children, but knew Byron wouldn't allow it.
 
She had to settle for reaching across the table and holding Elizabeth's hand.

Excitement blended with apprehension as Byron took one long swig of tea.
 
Would he keep drinking it?
 
She didn't know exactly what she was looking for.
 
Would he get sick?
 
Die right there at the table?

"Damn," he said, staring at the glass.
 
"What did you put in here?
 
Bourbon?"

"Just sweetener," she said, smiling innocently.
 
She wanted to keep his mind off the tea, keep him drinking absentmindedly.
 
"So, what's next?
 
You're just going to torment us until my husband gets home?"

"Ah, Janet."
 
Byron smiled, darkness behind his eyes.
 
"Still trying to come up with some plan to win the day?"

Another drink of tea.

"No.
 
I'm past that now.
 
I just want to know what's going on.
 
Are you going to watch us all day?
 
You have to sleep sometime."

His demeanor changed.
 
The condescending smile drifted to a scowl.
 
His eyes narrowed, and he nearly snarled.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?"

More tea.
 
The glass was nearly empty.

Mark once again stepped from behind the house, peering into the kitchen.

"What are we doing here?" Janet asked.
 
"What do you want with my husband?"

Byron tipped the glass all the way back, draining the last of the tea.
 
He set the glass on the table and stared at her.
 
Janet kept her thoughts clear.
 
She didn't know what would happen, but if he as so much had to bend over to vomit, or cough violently, she'd be ready.

"You really don't know," Byron said, as if he were amazed.
 
"Well, you couldn't accept the truth.
 
But let's see if you understand this.
 
Sometimes things aren't what they seem, and the world isn't what you think it is."

"Now what does that mean?"

"Stop the act," he said.
 
"Stop trying to engage me,
get to know
me.
 
All you're looking for right now is to see how I'm feeling, if I'm going to puke all over your table, or even fall over dead."
 
He leaned forward on his elbows.
 
The girls tried to lean away from him.
 
"What do you think, Janet?
 
How do I look?"

Her hands turned clammy as she broke into a cold sweat.
 
"I…I don't know what you're talking—"

Byron reached out and turned the empty tea glass in his hand.

"I've had better rat poison," he said.
 
"But this wasn't too bad."

He shot to his feet, and Janet responded in kind.
 
Grabbing Sarah by the wrist, he took a step back, and Janet felt like she was the one who would be sick.
 
She walked around the table to approach, but a look from Byron froze her in place.
 
Elizabeth rose from her chair and tried to pull on Byron's arm.

"Let go of my sister!" she shouted.

Tears ran down Sarah's face.
 
"Mom!"

"Don't do anything," Janet pleaded.
 
"It was my idea.
 
Please!"

He took another step back, dragging Sarah with him.
 
He shook his head.

"I thought you were smart, Janet.
 
But obviously you're just another dumb, foolish mortal."

Janet's jaw dropped as Byron opened the sliding glass door.
 
Still holding Sarah, he stepped outside and reached out to snatch something.
 
She barely got to Elizabeth and took her in her arms when Byron dragged both Sarah and Mark inside the kitchen.

"No!" Janet shouted.
 
"What are you doing?"

"I didn't want to keep the future lovebirds apart."

"Let me go!" Mark shouted, thrashing in Byron's grip.

"I can't do that, killer," Byron said.
 
"You're a part of our wonderful party here now.
 
Would you like some tea?"

"And you call me foolish," Janet said.
 
"His mother will come looking for him.
 
What are you going to do then?"

Byron laughed.
 
"The longest she's gone without even thinking about him is eight hours.
 
She knows where he is, having fun with his little girlfriend in their clubhouse.
 
We've got plenty of time before old Mary pries herself away from the couch and her sex toys.
 
Don't worry, Janet, we've got everything under control."

"Byron, please," she said.
 
She hoped using his name would reach something within him.
 
"You don't want to hurt these kids."

"Stop talking.
 
You have no idea what I want."

Mark had trouble keeping his balance, but managed to stomp on Byron's foot as hard as he could.
 
Byron didn't flinch.
 
He simply leaned down to stare into the boy's eyes.

"Look here, killer.
 
I know you probably watch a lot of action movies.
 
You figure you can be the big hero, save your little girlfriend and her family.
 
But let me tell you—"

Byron didn't finish his sentence.
 
He barely moved out of the way in time to avoid being smashed in the face with a glass.
 
Mark's stomping of Byron's foot, as ineffective as it was, gave Janet the distraction she was looking for.
 
She'd grabbed the empty glass and took the two steps across the kitchen.
 
Swinging as hard as she could, she had every intention to shatter the glass across Byron's head.
 
If the glass didn't break, she would beat him until it did.

But Byron saw her coming, and pulled his head back just in time.
 
The missed attack sent Janet sailing, stumbling over her own feet.
 
She could barely process what happened.
 
A hand shoved her from behind, and the next moment her wrist was on fire.

Janet was lying on her back.
 
Byron had subdued her easily.
 
Her wrist was twisted at an odd angle, pinned above her.
 
His knee pressed into her ribs, forcing the air out of her lungs.
 
She tried to twist and struggle, but Byron applied more pressure to her wrist.
 
She cried out in pain.

"Now, now.
 
Hush, Janet."
 
He looked up and pointed at the children, who stood in a line.
 
They were all in various states of tears.
 
Elizabeth reached out and nearly stepped forward, only for Sarah to pull her back.
 
"If any of you move an inch, I kill her.
 
You'll see your mother dead, before your very eyes.
 
It'll be an image that stays with you for the rest of your miserable lives."

The children didn't move.
 
Mark reached out and took Sarah's hand.
 
Elizabeth continued to bawl.

Byron returned his attention to Janet.

"You keep pushing the limits of my patience."

"Byron, please—"

"Don't speak.
 
The less you say, the less chance you have of pissing me off.
 
Just remember, you did this.
 
You brought this on yourself."

He struck her.
 
Only once, to the side of her jaw.
 
The last sounds she heard before she blacked out were of her daughters crying.

The first sensation Janet was aware of as she gained consciousness was the softness beneath her, followed by the dull pain in her head.
 
She opened her eyes, but the world refused to slide into focus.
 
Everything was a blurry haze.
 
However, Janet didn't need vision to know she was lying on her living room carpet.
 
Many hours had been spent stretched out, playing with her girls, even eating on that carpet.
 
She laughed with her children while Ed relaxed in the corner chair, reading the paper or watching television.

How she wished she could return to those simple times again.

"Ah, you're awake."

Byron's voice was to her left.
 
Muffled whining and crying was to the right.
 
The smell of urine touched her nose, pulling her completely from her sleepy daze.

A sob nearly escaped as the details of her surroundings began to sharpen.

Byron had moved the chairs from the kitchen to the living room.
 
Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mark sat side by side.
 
Their hands were bound behind them and to the backs of the chairs with duct tape.
 
Their feet were also restrained.
 
Rags had been taped around their mouths.
 
They whimpered and cried as their panicked stares met Janet's, begging for help.
 
Janet couldn't help them.
 
She couldn't even comfort them.

"Oh my God," she muttered, her eyes welling up with tears.
 
"What have you done?"

Byron sat in the corner chair, relaxing with his hands behind his head.

"Stop with the dramatics.
 
I tied them up.
 
I didn't cut off their little fingers, at least not yet.
 
And do you hear that?"
 
He cupped a hand to his ear.
 
"Silence.
 
Except for a little crying and bitching.
 
And of course, killer over there pissing in his pants.
 
If everyone here would have just been silent the whole damn day, I'd be in a much better mood.
 
But no, you tried to bash my head in, Janet.
 
I was going to let the rat poison slide, just because the look on your face was so damn funny.
 
But now, I don't know—"

"Please."
 
Janet pulled herself to her knees and clasped her hands together.
 
Moving suddenly made her ill.
 
A wave of nausea nearly made her vomit.
 
"I'm begging you.
 
I'm sorry.
 
I won't try anything else.
 
Please, just free the kids."