The Sacrificial Daughter (30 page)

"Amanda, John...my good friends," a soft voice came out of the dark. The words turned Jesse's attackers into living statues. They froze with wide eyes straining to see who had spoken.

Jesse, with a groan, forced her body up so she could see who was coming as well. She was just as afraid as the others, more so in fact. Was Harold come for her already?

No, it was Ky. He strode out of the forest in that slow action of his and stood just feet away. A silence settled on the little clearing. Jesse slumped back down, it was the only way she could speak...or breathe.

"Help...me..." she whispered, "...please."

Ky didn't. He ignored her all together. "Isn't that the book I gave you two years ago? Amanda...my friend."

Amanda began backing away from Ky as if he had the plague and in a second Tina and the brown-haired girl followed suit.

"Get the hell out of here, Ky," whispered John. "This doesn't concern you."

Ky laughed. It was a low chuckle that held the breadth of his misery. "All death in this town concerns me. You...my best friend...know that better than anyone."

"Shut up!" John growled. He was furious, but afraid as well and took a few steps back. Ronny was right there with him. "Stop calling me that. We're not friends and never were. I hate you."

More laughter from Ky. This time genuine. "That won't save you, John Osterman. Because I don't hate you, I lo..."

"Shut up!" John cried. Now he backed away in earnest and within seconds the five teens were halfway across the berm, running from Ky's very odd words. Only then did Ky rush over to Jesse.
Snick
. Out came his switchblade; he began sawing at the duct tape.

"You're going to be ok," he whispered. "Just whatever you do keep your mouth shut."

This was the easiest thing for Jesse to do, she could barely breathe. When the tape was cut away she fell into a ball on the ground desperate for the least breath.

"Come on!" Ky said after a minute. He wasn't looking at her; his eyes were up staring into the forest. He was looking for Shadow-man. His fear focused Jesse enough for her to climb to her knees but that was as far as she got before her head began to swim. The dark forest began to spin and she was afraid she was going throw up.

The feeling vanished however, when she looked up to see Ky slinking away through the trees.

"Ky...please...don't leave me," she blubbered, uncaring about the tears running down her face, or the pain that burned with each breath. All she cared about was her fear of being abandoned. Of being left for the Shadow-man.

Ky raced back holding a finger to her lips. "He's here," the words were so quiet that even so close she could barely hear them. "I thought I heard something on the path, so you have to stop talking."

Jesse nodded and Ky turned away. He was leaving her again! She grabbed at his coat in desperation. "Please...don't..."

Now Ky grew frantic and placed a cold hand over her mouth. "I can either guide you to safety or be here with you when you die. Those are your choices." Jesse let go of his coat; her hands fell back in the snow as if she were already dead. He began again in a low whispering, "Follow me...if I stop, you stop. If you hear me say anything at all just hide as best you can."

When she nodded, he helped her to her feet and she wobbled on rickety legs, clutching his arm with both hands until he pried her fingers away. Ky then became the Ghost, the boy ignored by all the world. As if she wasn't there, he turned from her and headed into the forest but not by the path. He struck out into the thickest part of the woods and watching him go made Jesse want to cry out to him again.

It was hard going for her. The hills seemed dreadful in their steepness and the craggy, root and rock-strewn earth tried time and again to trip her up. To add to that her head swam and her breath came in tiny sips; it was all she could do to keep up with him. He seemed so stealthy, while she lumbered from tree to tree, pausing at each to keep from falling over. As they progressed he completely ignored her; his focus was always up and out, picking his way through the brush in near silence.

Only when she stumbled on a loose rock and set it cascading down the hill they were on did he act like she was even there. Before the stone finished its short journey, he stole back to her. With wide eyes that were full of worry, he grabbed her arm with one hand while the other went over her mouth.

This wasn't needed to keep her quiet; knowing that the Shadow-man was in the forest with them was enough. A series of tiny, stealthy sound slipped out of the night from their right. Closer they came and Jesse felt her life draining out of her. She went weaker and weaker; soon she sagged into Ky's warm body in order to stay upright. He was afraid as well. She could feel him trembling beneath her cheek and his breath was hot and fast on her neck.

But for all his fear, Ky held her with something more than the moment called for. She knew this, it wasn't all in her head, and that's why his cruelty a few minutes later was so devastating.

The Shadow-man circled them. Harold walked unseen; the woods were too thick. In their dark clothing, the two teens were unseen as well and after a short time, Harold turned away and they could hear the light sound of his steps retreating down the hill.

Quickly Ky started moving again and now he didn't lead, but helped Jesse along. This help could not have been more painful. Jesse's left side, where her ribs were undoubtedly broken, screamed in hot agony with each step. She cried softly and moaned in a low voice when she could find the breath to do so, but Ky never slowed. He was bent on saving her life and seemed not to care about anything else.

Jesse should have been more grateful.

They came to the edge of the forest, a hundred yards or so up the street from her house and only then did Ky stop.

"Go and don't look back," he ordered in a growl. "And next time I see you in school don't follow me and stop trying to get me to look at you."

The second they had stopped, Jesse's head began to spin even worse than it had before and she tried to lean on Ky, but he pushed her away.

"Do you hear me?" he asked. "Leave me alone!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Jesse said. "I'm just trying to be your friend."

"Trust me when I say you're the last person I want to be friends with." His face no longer seemed handsome; rather it was harsh and bitter. Uncaring about her obvious pain, he shoved her out into the street where she struggled to keep her balance.

Why?
her mind screamed.

Why was he treating her so badly? Why were they all treating her so badly? Was she evil? Was she something so vile that she was worthy of their hatred?

Crying harder than she had before, Jesse fled to her house. The wood and glass was a refuge and she locked herself in. And her heart, she locked that up as well.

Ky had no right to treat her the way he had. How could he want to befriend Amanda and John and the rest of them...they were the evil ones, not her. It made no sense. The whole hating town made no damned sense.

In a mounting fury that turned her soul cold, Jesse went to her room and began slowly peeling away her clothes. New purpling bruises, blotched her skin. They ran up and down her body, and where they weren't in evidence, red welts stood out. It looked like she had been hit by a car. She ached down to her every bone and was quickly growing stiff.

From painful experience, Jesse knew there was nothing she could do about the ribs. A doctor couldn't put a cast on a fracture like that. Unfortunately, time was the only thing that would help and she could look forward to two or three hard months before she could sneeze again without crying out in pain.

The cut above her eye however, could and should be attended to by a doctor. It was now an inch long and Jesse could put the tip of her pinky in it. Her best guess was that it would take a dozen or more stitches to close it.

"Screw that," she said to the mirror. The girl she saw there was nothing like the Barbie-doll that had smiled out at her on Monday morning. The Barbie doll had shoulder length blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and clear unblemished skin. Her only minor defect was an interesting little tilt to her nose.

This girl wasn't the same. Her black hair was cut short, there was a new bruise and swelling on her left cheek, the cut above her right eyebrow was deep and mangled looking, and even the blue eyes were different. There was no longer a hint of optimism to them. Now they held only a profound hatred and a hunger for revenge.

With her hatred swelling so great within her, Jesse didn't think there was room for any other feelings inside of her, but she was wrong. She had room for shame.

When Cynthia Clarke came home a little while after Jesse, the girl hid herself and her battered face. She made excuses and refused to come downstairs. The same thing occurred when her father arrived. She insisted that she was tired and told him through her door that she was going to bed early.

This wasn't exactly a lie. Jesse was exhausted and after taking as many pain relievers as she thought her liver could handle she dropped into a fitful sleep. Every time she rolled over her ribs spiked in agony and no matter which way she laid her head, her face would start to ache after a while.

Just after six in the morning she gave up trying to sleep and went to her bathroom mirror to see how bad she looked. Not good. Yet not so bad either. If she had wanted to, makeup would have hid the purple-blue bruise on her cheek where John had punched her. It would have also covered up the blue moon under her right eye where blood had crept beneath the skin from her wound. Only she didn't want to cover up her injuries.

"Why should I pretend this didn't happen to me?" she asked aloud. "Why should I be the one embarrassed?" Jesse waited a second for her voice of reason to come up with something. It didn't. It couldn't. There was no reason for her to be the one embarrassed. It was the town and everyone in it that should be embarrassed.

Only they weren't. And that was where Jesse's anger really stemmed. "This town has no shame...they should all be ashamed of themselves!" she stormed at the mirror, and then groaned. It hurt to raise her voice. Jesse opened her bottle of Tylenol and popped six and then went to where her clothes lay in a heap. She'd wear the same outfit as she had the night before, not regardless of the blood and dirt covering it, but because of it.

Then she slipped out of the house on silent feet.

Why?
her voice of reason asked.
Why aren't you waiting for a ride?

"I don't want a ride," she whispered, stepping onto the trail that led to the berm. A ride would not only entail begging her mother, something she was sure she couldn't stomach at the moment; it would also mean endless stupid questions about her injuries.

"Besides, what are the chances that Harold is out?"

The forest seemed empty. It was quiet and still. The night before the air had been charged with fear, now it hung in gentle serenity. Jesse strolled unafraid to the trail and in a few minutes reached the scene of the night's crime. Streamers of dull grey duct tape hung from a tree, and a pool of dried maroon blood lay in the snow at its feet.

Jesse became sick with anger looking at it. They were going to kill her. That was their plan. She was supposed to have been sacrificed to their monstrous god—to appease it, to satiate its craving for blood, and keep it at bay for another year.

You should go to the police.

Jesse ignored the voice totally. Having been a part of small town justice too many times to count, she knew what a waste of time it would've been. Would the police really arrest five of their own? First cousins, nephews, and nieces of theirs? Not hardly.

For Jesse there was only one real justice and only one real way to protect herself. Jesse went in search of her lock and chain...the real purpose for her walk in the woods. She had decided that she wasn't going to go down without a decent fight the next time. The chain, curled like an ice snake, lay in a glitter of new frost right where she left it. She could feel its cold even through her thin gloves as she swung it about.

"Ohh!" she cried, clutching her ribs at the lance of pain. "Ow, ow, ow."

Jesse tried again, going easier, giving her body a few minutes to warm up. The pain limited her movement and she found that the only way she was going to use the chain effectively was in an overhand strike, hammer like. It would do. It would have to do.

You're crazy if you can think you can win a fight, chain or no chain.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Jesse said to the empty forest. "Run? Hide? Cower in fear? Not me...not me."

In her mind there was no alternative left but to keep fighting. That was just a given—they had tried to kill her after all. As bad as Copper Ridge and Denton had been, at least no one had tried that.

Giving the lock and chain a few more swings, grimacing all the while, she then went to stow it away in her right front pocket, only she couldn't. That pocket was filled with a bag of crushed Oreo cookies.

"You are so stupid," she whispered to herself, staring at the bag. Just like her, the bag had taken quite a beating. Why had she thought that cookies would make any difference? This town only understood pain and fear. There was no love here.

Jesse ate the cookies as she slowly wound her way through the forests. She kept to them, uncaring about the Shadow-man. After all she had her lock and chain; it would make a dent even in his huge head.

You're being stupid. Just because it's a pretty morning doesn't mean Harold isn't lurking about.

Jesse shrugged and dumped the powdered remains of the Oreos into her mouth. Truly right at that moment she wasn't afraid of Harold. She wasn't even nervous about the fight that had to come in the next few minutes. Time was ticking by…or perhaps counting down. It felt like she was walking toward her destiny. She knew what was going to happen...
they
would be waiting for her.
They
would tease and bully her, but they would never stop at that. The Shadow-man was still out there and it still needed a victim...its virgin sacrifice.

And she was even more of a candidate for that dread position now. She could tattle on them, after all. She had the bruises and cuts to show what had happened to her. They would be afraid of what she had already told her parents and what she was going to say to the police—but if Harold was to kill her then all that would just go away.

Then run. You can...

If Jess's voice of reason had anything else to say she didn't hear it. A sudden rush of blood in her ears seemed to drown out any thought other than vengeance she might have had.
They
were waiting for her. John, Ronny, Tina, and Amanda stood by the corner of the school watching the road, expecting Jesse to be dropped off by her mother.

Jesse stepped out of the woods, well away from the student parking lot and it was a few minutes before they noticed her. When they did, she calmly sauntered back under the trees, working her killing arm in large circles.

John would have to die first
, she thought. He led the little group across the grassy strip between the forest and the school, while Jesse slunk deeper into the woods. After John went down, Ronny would come at her quick...but he'd be afraid of the chain. He would stay back and because of her injury she couldn't over extend.

"Hmmm," she murmured. A puzzle. How to kill Ronny when he wouldn't commit? The dilemma didn't really bother her; she knew it would work its way out, somehow.

"Look at you, bitch. You got a death wish, don't you?" John asked. He said more than that, but Jesse barely listened. Her mind focused on his range, his bearing, his stance. How the others spread out, flanking him on either side. They looked anxious, especially John. He didn't look good—hung-over, and unkempt. Red rimmed his eyes from lack of sleep or worry. Jesse and her chain would fix both of those problems.

The chain was heavy in her pocket and despite it having been snugged up against her, it sat cold on her bare fingers. No gloves for her now. Jesse wanted perfect control of the chain.

John yabbered on for a minute or more, threatening, explaining how she wouldn't be lucky this time, but she said nothing. What was there to say? He had tried to kill her less than twelve hours earlier and he would try again. She saw his feeble-minded plan in his eyes and it was essentially the same as the old one. The only difference was that now Jesse understood the rules they were playing with. This wasn't about teasing, anymore. This was life and death...and a very hard death at that.

So she said nothing and waited, her body a tense spring ready to unleash its vengeance. Finally, her silence goaded him into attacking. He came at her mean and full of menace and she smirked knowing that he would die.

At the last second her weapon came out of her pocket and she let the chain slip between her fingers like a rope of cold hard intestine. The sight of it stopped him in his tracks—just what she wanted. Jesse leapt forward to dash his brains in with that heavy, heavy lock at the chain's end.