Highway Part 37

Highway Chapter 20(continued)

When I entered, I heard the door lock behind me. The sound of the click startled me, but I didn’t let it show. My father was standing in front of a desk, looking over a large book. He didn’t turn, and I wondered if he heard me come in.

I could hear the rain outside come down harder, and the wind howled ferociously. I peered outside the small window, hesitant to look away, but curious about the storm. A flash of lightning lit up the mildly dark room, a large crash sounding almost immediately afterwards. I flinched slightly.

I had told Matt I wasn’t too fond of lightning, but I was actually very scared of it. It reminded me of nights I had spent alone, under a table. My father was still facing the desk, and I began to grow irritated. The man who had tormented me and my brother for so long couldn’t even look at me?

“Hey,” I called, making my voice as snarky as possible, “Are you going to stand there all night?”

He laughed under his breath.

“She speaks,” he said, “I had thought you might have gone mute. Your lack of reaction was surprising.”

He turned to me now, smiling. He had put on an eye patch now, covering most of the scar. Why was he acting so nice? He must have wanted something, but I didn’t know what. I hoped it wasn’t the reason the other girls were here, or he was even sicker than I had originally thought.

“Could it be that you perhaps don’t remember me? Sometimes young children repress memories.”

He asked, looking at me curiously. I wish I didn’t remember you, you scum. I don’t want to have any association with you.

“Oh, I remember you. I could never forget such a lowly piece of scum like you.”

The anger was keeping me alive, but I needed to be careful I didn’t push his buttons too much. He frowned, looking mildly upset. Then, he laughed. It was a loud, roaring laugh, as if I had said the funniest thing in the world.

“I knew you would grow up to be sassy. You’re a tough one, just like your brother.”

He wiped his eyes, leaning backwards on the desk for support.  Again, he was acting suspiciously kind for what he used to be. He obviously hadn’t changed, or he wouldn’t be running this operation. If anything, he had become even crazier. I proceeded with caution, attempting to gauge the situation.

I could feel the comb against my leg, but I wasn’t close enough to cause enough damage. Since the door was locked behind me, I would either have to get his keys or attempt to escape through the window as I had before. Either way, I would need an ample amount of time.

I also couldn’t make much noise, for I was sure the man was waiting just outside. His mention of my brother made me boil on the inside, but I forced it down. Ever since I had been with Matt, I had become much better at controlling my anger. I decided to use the voice he used to talk to uncooperative locals, but not quite as polite.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

He seemed to ponder the question for a moment before leaning back.

“Why? Because fate brought us back together, my dear.”

I bit back my retort.

“You see, I run this fine operation,” he said as he gestured around, “And we move around. I pick up naughty little girls who need help and give them new homes.”

He made it seem like a positive thing. His lunacy had definitely increased since I last saw him. He was sick, a perverted old man. Still, his eyes held that gleam of intelligence and cunning, and I knew him not one to be trifled with. He may have aged, but his mind was just as sharp. He had also seemed to have taken good care of his body, judging from his speed and strength when he punched Jack.

“I knew you were a sick bastard,” I said with defiance, “But I didn’t think you were this disgusting.”

He seemed discontent with my comment. There was no laugh following, and I wondered exactly where he drew the line. He was too hard to read, and so I couldn’t judge what did and didn’t affect him. He moved away from the desk, pacing around the room. My eyes followed his every movement, and I tensed in anticipation. He still wasn’t close enough for me to deal sufficient enough damage.

Suddenly, he stopped.

“The fact that you’re here means that you haven’t been a very good girl. But the case is different with you, Veronica,” he said, “I’m not going to find you a new home, because you’re going to come back to your first one. I’m sorry that I left you, because I haven’t been there to have the proper influence on your life. It seems clear to me now that you need me. You’ve become unruly and wild, and so I’ll just have to fix that.”

Before I could react, he slapped me, in the very same place as the man before. I tried to get up from where I had sunk to the floor to attack him with the comb, but I stopped myself. He had retreated just far enough away that I couldn’t reach him.

My face burned with agony, having been abused twice in the same day. Fighting back the reflexive tears, I spat at his feet. This was going to be painful, but I would just have to wait.

He looked at me hard, and I recoiled by reflex when he stepped towards me. Damn it, I thought. I hadn’t meant to show any type of weakness. My brain was strong, but my body wasn’t. He bent down on my level, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“You look beautiful in that dress, darling. Your hair looks better pulled back, you should keep it that way.” He said, a hint of madness seeping through his voice.

Just lean a little closer. He was so close, I could almost jab him right now. I had wanted to drag out the conversation in hopes of help, but this was already getting out of hand. Much to my disappointment, he stood up again.

“You know, with each passing day you look more like her. But you aren’t quiet like her; you’re more like your brother. Too spunky for your own good. The kind who doesn’t like to take orders. These things are good some of the time, but not in excess. And so, I will take it upon myself to embark on the noble task of saving you from yourself.”

He was a lunatic, and I knew it. He was insane, thinking himself a good guy. He wasn’t even drunk, or at least not that I could tell. He was messing with me, and I could start to feel my anger rising. He was waiting for me to give him a reason to beat me into submission.

I wouldn’t fall for his little tricks. I refused to play his game. I knew how to play, but it wasn’t as a pawn. I had known enough manipulation in my life to push his buttons too.

“Yes, you are such a noble man. If you can still even call yourself human. Do women run away from you now? My mother was a beautiful woman, but she would never marry you now. That face of yours is absolutely hideous, if I do say so myself. How do you even look at yourself?”

He whirled around, his face livid. Had I gone too far? He stormed over to me, picking me up from the ground. He slammed me violently to the wall, his hands at my throat. My head exploded with pain, and I felt myself become dizzy. I tried to reach for the comb in my dress, but I was trapped.

He shook me, saying, “You stupid girl! How dare you say such a thing to me! I killed your brother and I can kill you!”

The exclamation startled me, as I was not expecting such a violent response. He stopped, looking at my surprised face. He shoved me into a different wall, where I leaned for support. My back was scraped now, having been pushed against the rough concrete walls. He was standing across from me looking smug.

“That’s right,” he said. “So you remember that night? Your brother confronted me when you came back. I was irritated that he would challenge me, but you two left before I could respond. He always took you everywhere, trying to keep you away from me. Then your mother wouldn’t shut up, and so I made her. But your brother, he was a bit more difficult. He thought he could take me in a fight, and he was very wrong. He may have given me this scar with your help, but I still killed him. He was too defiant, but I made sure to take care of that. Will I need to do the same to you?”

I was furious now, and had given up any ideas of sparing him. I lunged, trying to tackle him in fury. I wanted to hit him as hard as I could, to leave him with more scars than my brother could ever hope to give. He caught my hands as I reached him, pulling me into an awkward embrace.

He had his hands on my wrists, arms wrapped around me so that I was facing away from him. I struggled to get out, attempting to elbow him.

“Don’t you dare talk about him! He’s too good for you! You don’t deserve to even think about him. Let go!”

He only laughed increasing his hold. He was still so strong. I was struggling with all my might, but I still couldn’t gain any leverage.

“But is it I who doesn’t deserve him? Are you sure you should even speak of such things?” \

What? What did he mean? 

"I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you crazy idiot.” I shouted, still struggling.

“Why, I only mean the fact that you helped me kill him.”

I froze. No, I thought. What was he saying? He noticed my rigid posture and leaned in, brushing up against my ear.

“Yes. You know it’s true,” he said, his voice sickeningly sweet, “You killed him as much as I did.”

I tried to draw away from him, but he was impossible to get away from.

“You’re insane!”

He chuckled, the vibrations against my back causing shivers of revulsion to go down my spine.

“Yes, my dear, I am in a sense. But you know I speak the truth. You rushed into the house after he had sent you out, and caused a distraction. He gave me the scar, but didn’t check if I was dead because of you. You were crying, and you selfishly called to him. If it hadn’t been for you that night, I would have died and he would have lived. I thank you.”

No. No. he couldn’t be serious. I wasn’t… I wasn’t the one who got him killed. He had stabbed him. But it was true that I had interrupted him.

“I was only seven!” I shouted to him, suddenly flashing back to that night.

All I could see was his blood, the wound, his beautiful smile. I was still, slack in my father’s grip.

“But a seven year old has been around long enough to understand responsibilities and follow orders. You were bad, and you didn’t listen. Look where it got you. You killed him. It was all your fault, and you know it. Why even pretend? Just accept you helped me,” he said.

He turned me around to face him, but I hardly even noticed. I had hurt him, it had been my fault. He would still be alive today. Why had I killed him? Didn’t I love him? He had done so many things for me, and this was how I repaid him.

“It’s okay,” my father said, “Because you only wanted to help me.”

He held my face in his hands, and I felt my tears start to fall.

“You killed him, and that’s bad. But I forgive you. It was a horrible act, one that broke my heart, but I still love you. Because you will always be my daughter, no matter what you do. You did it because you love your daddy. Isn’t that right? You’re daddy’s little princess.”

He pulled me into a hug. He still cared. Did I even deserve someone after my brother? He was warm, and his voice was gentle as he murmured something into my hair. But why did this seem so wrong?

I was confused, and I was becoming dizzy. The room spun around me and blurred. Where was I? Suddenly lightning flashed, and the room was illuminated. I was in the storage house, my father holding me. Why did he not smell right? He smelled like a basement, dank and musty. I felt like I should be expecting mint.

Why? Who smelled like mint? The image of Matt flashed into my brain. That’s right, I thought. He smelled like mint when he comforted me after a nightmare. What had that been about again? The flashes came back to me, coming as quickly as the lightning.