The One You Feed Page 5

  His skin felt tight with irritation. He had to get through the bubble she lived in. He didn’t know why he wanted to; she was nothing special. Dana was small and frail, her blond hair hanging limply to her shoulders. A true plain Jane.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t get away.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  Garrett pointed to the chair opposite him. “That’s okay. Did you tell them?”

  She sat. “Tell who?”

  “Your parents. Do they know where you are?”

  “No. I told them I was going to Tanya’s to study.”

  “They believed you?”

  Dana shrugged. “I think so.” She brushed hair from her face with a trembling hand. “Mum wasn’t home when I left. Marcus pestered me a little.”

  Something about her brother wasn’t right, Garrett felt it deep inside. She was terrified of him. “What’s Marcus going to do, ground you?”

  Dana looked as though she might cry at any minute. “No.”

  “But you’re scared of him.”

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me.”

  She pulled at her sleeve. “He gets mad sometimes. Loses his temper.”

  “Why not tell your parents if he hurts you?”

  “They don’t believe me.” She managed to smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I really wanted to be with you, I mean, be here, so I don’t care what he does about it. Can we forget about my family now? Talk about something else?”

  “Forgotten.” He stood. “I’ve already ordered, so I’ll just go tell the cook we’re ready.”

  He went to the kitchen where the lighting was much brighter than the soft glow of the dining room. As he pushed the door to the kitchen open, Garrett narrowly avoided a collision with a waitress as she burst through, arms laden with plates of food. Tony banged and clattered by the grill, his assistant doing everything he could to stay out of his way. Garrett hated working with Tony. He was a moron. No one could do anything right in his kitchen and he treated everyone like dirt. Luke liked him, but that was because Tony kissed ass.

  “Who is that?” his mother’s voice, a hard edge to it.

  Garrett turned. “Dana Parson.”

  His mom stood in the doorway, a stack of dirty plates in her arms.

  “What?” he asked.

  “She’s awfully young.”

  “She’s fifteen.”

  “I’d have put her at twelve.”

  “And?”

  “Don’t you think you should be dating a girl with more…? I don’t know. She’s not the type that would fit around here.”

  “It’s not like we’re picking out wedding rings.” Garrett grabbed the chit he wrote their order on earlier and clipped it to a wire that ran along the warmer. “She’s just a friend.”

  “I hope so.” Opal turned. She set the dishes in the big sink next to the door. Wiping her hands on her apron, she left the kitchen.

  Garrett forced his anger aside. Her opinion didn’t matter.

  In the dining room, Dana sat still, her back rigid, hands in her lap. His mother and the other waitress bustled around. Dana flinched each time one passed her.

  Garrett walked to their table. She startled when he came around to sit in his chair. “Why are you so jumpy?”

  “Am I?”

  “You look like you might run the first chance you get. I don’t bite.”

  She blushed. “Sorry. This is my first date; well I suppose it’s not really a date. I wasn’t assuming anything. I just call it a date because that’s what Tanya called it.”

  Garrett smiled. She wanted him; he could tell. “It’s a date. After all, we’re a guy and a girl about to eat dinner.”

  The previous summer he’d been with a couple of girls. The first turned out to be a total slut. She said no—short skirt and lack of bra told him she’d lied. He wished he could have really shown her he was a man, but he was so excited he finished before getting her panties off. She cried and carried on, but he set her straight. She refused to talk to him now, but he didn’t care. Sluts weren’t worth marrying. His dad said deep down every woman was a whore, though. They all wanted the same thing, even if they denied it. Marriage was basically a girl trading sex for money. She got a house and a nice life and the guy got sex whenever he wanted without having to beg for it.

  He’d have to take things slow with Dana. Decide if the work required was worth his time.

  He continued to drag bits of information out of Dana, and by the end of their meal, she smiled and stopped fidgeting.

  Garrett stood. “I’ll walk you home.”

  She paled. “No, it’s okay.”

  Dana stumbled as she rose. He put a hand out to steady her but let go when she flinched.

  “It’s dark,” he said. “My old man would tan my hide if I let you walk home alone. Don’t worry, I won’t walk you to the door.”

  “Okay.”

  Dana moved ahead of him, careful not to touch him with any part of her body. Garrett sighed. He’d be an old man if he waited for her to be ready. Catching his father’s eye, he nodded. Already drunk, Luke refilled his glass at the bar and scowled.

  They walked until they reached the bottom of the hill. A little smile curved Dana’s mouth and, for the first time, Garrett saw her expression relaxed and natural. Now and then, she’d shiver, running her hands up and down her arms for warmth. As they walked, houses and buildings thinned out and shadows stretched over the streets. They were relatively alone.

  Her house loomed above them. It was dark, except for a couple of lights in the upper rooms. The wind brought a strange smell to his nose, pungent. It reminded him of the time last year when the septic tank backed up, spilling shit and piss onto their lawn.

  He reached for her hand. Dana relaxed enough to hold his hand back. When they stopped, she tried to free her hand, but he held tight. She pulled away, forcing him to jerk her forward.

  “I have to go,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “Since you asked so nicely…” He pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, then when she relaxed, he forced his tongue into her mouth.

  Dana pushed at him, but Garrett squeezed. She’d probably never been kissed before. The thought made him happy. Proud. In seconds she stopped struggling, allowing him to explore her mouth.

  “You better go,” he said. “Don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  —

  Dana walked up the hill in a confused haze. Garrett both terrified and attracted her. She felt vulnerable, but at the same time, safe. It made no sense.

  As she approached the house, reality forced her back to the present. Marcus was waiting. She didn’t want to ruin the memory of her first date with whatever it was he had planned, but unless she stayed outside all night, she had no choice.

  The shrill whine of the rusted hinges as she opened the screen door seemed like a warning.

  Don’t go upstairs.

  She stopped in the kitchen. Her mother’s sewing machine sat in the corner, framed by moonlight. If she believed in such things, Dana might say that God was sending her a sign. She opened the drawer below the machine and removed her mother’s fabric shears.

  He’ll kill you.

  Or she’d kill him. Whichever happened, at least the torment would be over. Dana hid the shears in her shirt and crept toward the stairs. Everything—her sanity, her sisters’ safety, Danny’s—rested on what she did or didn’t do once she entered that bedroom.

  The first stair creaked. She winced. The bathroom light cast a thin white glow on her bedroom door. She placed one hand on the wall, her fingers running along the panels, dipping into cracks and scratching on the loosened nails. As she cleared the last of the stairs, she mustered every ounce of courage in her body and walked into her room.

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  Please don’t make me do this.

  Marcus sat up in her bed. Dana saw Jannie beside him.

  No.

  Jannie pulled the sheet
over her head.

  Dana couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Bea huddled on the edge of the double bed, far away from Jannie and Marcus. Jannie lay still, her nightie around her middle, panties bunched over her hips.

  Marcus stood. “Was he any good?”

  “Get out before I kill you.”

  Marcus advanced. “We had a deal, sis’. I don’t tell Mom, and you show me what you’ve learned.”

  “And you told me you’d leave them alone.” Dana had nowhere to go, the door behind her pressed into her back. Hands trembling, she felt the shears through her shirt. The tip pierced her ribcage. “I won’t be showing you anything and you won’t come in here ever again.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.” She pulled she shears out of her shirt. Her hands shook so badly they almost slipped from her grasp.

  “If you think a pair of scissors will stop me, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “You won’t do shit. Always the victim; that’s our little Dana. Why do you think I chose you? Not because you were special.”

  Dana blinked away furious tears and shook her head.

  “I chose you because I knew I could do whatever I wanted. You’re so stupid you don’t see the truth. You wanted me, admit it. Just like Jannie, you begged for it.”

  “Jannie didn’t beg you for anything. Stay away from her and stay away from me.” Dana glanced briefly at her sister. She huddled under her blankets. All this time, she wanted to protect them. It was the only reason she let it go on.

  Marcus was only inches from her now, the shears touching his bare chest.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret, dear sister.” He put his lips next to her ear his breath hot against her neck. “I’ve had them all.”

  He shoved her out of the way and opened the door. Stunned, Dana watched him go, the shears dangling in her right hand. She turned to face her sisters. She failed them.

  “Dana?” Bea’s voice broke her trance.

  “What?”

  “Don’t cry. We won’t do it again. Please, don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry with you guys.” Dana took a breath.

  Jannie sat up in her bed. “He told me if I let him tickle me under my nightie, he’d leave you alone.”

  Dana shook her head, still devastated by the enormity of her ignorance. All this time…

  “He lied.”

  —

  She had no choice. Dana toyed with the rope in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the rough knot at the end. The whole time she’d prepared, throwing it over the rafters, making the noose, which wasn’t as easy as the thought it’d be, loosening the hinges on the ladder, and waiting until she knew he’d be alone, she tried to talk herself out of it. Murder was murder, no matter what the reason. If they found out it was her, she’d go to jail.

  But he’d never stop. Never see the damage he left behind. Her parents wouldn’t stop him. No one could. This was the only way.

  “Dana?” he called from the ladder in the middle of the floor.

  “Up here,” she managed to keep her voice even. If this didn’t work… “I’m busy, Marcus. Leave me alone.”

  Marcus’s head appeared in the small opening in the floor. He smirked. Always smirking…

  “Why are you in here?”

  She shrugged. “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Us. The way I treated you lately was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

  Marcus climbed up two more rungs of the ladder. She walked toward him, rope behind her back.

  “What are you up to?” he asked.

  She kept her eyes on his shoulder. If she looked at him, he might see her intention and hang her instead, or she might change her mind.

  It couldn’t go on. She couldn’t go on.

  “Nothing,” she said, now inches from his face. “I want to call a truce.”

  “What kind of truce?” One more step and he’d be in the attic and her opportunity would be lost.

  Dana knelt so they were face-to-face. “I give you what you want and you leave the others alone. This time, though, you have to mean it when you promise. You can’t touch them anymore.”

  “What if I don’t want you?” he traced her mouth with his thumb. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want to do it. Promise.”

  He seemed to consider this as his thumb traveled down her chin, her neck, and then over her chest. “See, the problem is, I’m not really into you anymore. Jannie’s way better at doing what I like.”

  He liked blowjobs. Dana hoped he was lying. The very thought of Jannie—No. She wouldn’t let him distract her. This had to happen, even if he agreed to a truce.

  “So, you don’t want me?” she moved closer, bringing the rope in front of her. “Not at all?”

  “Maybe a little,” Marcus said. He grabbed the front of her shirt. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go to protect your sisters.”

  She swallowed hard. Marcus was unzipping his pants, lifting a leg to climb further into the attic. It had to be now. Dana lifted her arms, slid the rope over his head, and then pushed him. He barely had time to react, but she saw his eyes widen, his cheeks flush red, before he fell off the rickety ladder. He tried to regain his footing, but his frantic kicks dislodged the loosened hinges and the ladder fell to the floor with a clatter.

  She thought it’d be quick, but he didn’t fall far enough for his neck to break. She kept pushing him away from the edge of the opening as he struggled for air. At one point, the rope slipped and she thought he might get free of it, so she pulled it tight, bracing her feet against the edge of the opening in the floor and using every ounce of strength she had to make sure it choked the life from his body.

  Slowly, so damn slowly, his fight weakened and his face shifted from red to purple. He pleaded with her, croaked out promises she knew he’d never keep, and then, finally, he stopped moving.

  With shaking hands, she took the letter out of her back pocket and tucked it into the pocket of Marcus’s shirt. It explained why he took his own life. She hoped they bought it, because she couldn’t leave the attic. Couldn’t move at all. Someone would be home any minute. Her mom. Her sisters.

  Whatever happened, be it jail or worse, at least now she was free.

  Dana lost track of time. She sat there, knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, staring at Marcus’s head, his empty eyes, expecting him to move any second and attack her a final time, but he didn’t. Eventually, she heard the front door close. Her mother calling… footsteps on the stairs, a gasp, and then a scream.

  Marcus moved. Terrified he’d somehow survived, Dana screamed too. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.

  “Dana?” her mother asked. “What’s happened?”

  Dana continued to scream.

  “Oh my God,” her father’s voice. “What the hell…?”

  Her mother’s sobs mingled with her screams. Soon, Dana’s voice left her and the screams turned into an ugly, almost comical rasp.

  “What have you done, boy?” her father cried as he lowered his son to the floor beneath. “Christ, we need an ambulance.”

  “Barry, Dana’s up there still.”

  “Well, get her down.” He said. “Jannie! Call an ambulance.”

  Arms grabbing her legs. Pulling.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” her mom said. “What’s happened?”

  “He did it,” Dana said. “I told you he was—you wouldn’t listen… He wouldn’t listen.”

  Arms around her. Paper crinkling. Arms squeeze tighter.

  Her mother shook as she held Dana close. “Sweet Jesus,” followed by something unintelligible. “Barry!”

  Paper again. Then her father’s strangled sob as he read Marcus’ confession. “No. No. No.”

  “Dana, is this true?” her mother asked.

  Dana nodded, now hiccupping through rasps.

  “You didn’t…
” her mother paused and then took a breath. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”

  Dana couldn’t tell her that.

  “Christ,” her dad said. “Look at her. She’s barely ninety pounds. You think she’s gonna overpower a brute like Marcus?”

  “I just—it’s so unlike him.”

  “What’s wrong with these damn kids?” her dad asked. “Listen, this stays here,” he said to Dana and her mother. “He just… I don’t know, but no one sees this note. Hear me?”

  Dana nodded. Her mother did the same.

  “Lord in Heaven, what a mess,” her father said. “Oh, Marcus. What have you done?”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Now just look at that,” Jack Solmes said in his rough, wet gravel voice.

  Ronny turned to the table behind them. Three women, all around Ronny’s age, sat drinking shots and giggling loudly. He didn’t notice them coming in, but the crowd had doubled since they pulled into the truck stop an hour earlier. It was one of Jack’s favorite stops because, along with a place to park for the night, it included a bar and a motel next door.

  “So?” Ronny said returning his attention to his drink.

  “So?” Jack slapped the table and sent the salt toppling into Ronny’s lap. “That’s guaranteed pussy right there, kid. That’s so.”

  Jack was loud and crude, but the best friend Ronny ever had; maybe the only real friend. He didn’t let anyone pick on him, and treated him like a man. The only thing that bugged him about Jack was his eye for young girls. Jack was as old as Ronny’s dad and shouldn’t be looking at girls young enough to be his daughters.

  “Nothing’s guaranteed,” Ronny said.

  “They’re staring right at you, boy. You blind?” Jack grinned as he stroked his thick mustache. Ronny had tried to grow one like it, but so far it was pretty thin.

  “We gotta head out before five tomorrow,” Ronny said. “No time for that shit.”

  “There’s always time for that shit.” Jack stood, clapped Ronny on the back, and sauntered over to the girls.

  The sound of clattering plates, country music, and raucous laughter seemed to pause when Jack moved through the small dining room. Everyone, from the diners seated in the booths that lined the windows on one side, to the good old boys perched on stools at the bar in the back corner, stopped to look at him. After a moment, the noise resumed. A pretty blonde waitress winked as she passed Jack and received a friendly slap on her ass in return. Ronny had to admit; the man had a certain something about him. Over six feet tall and—Ronny guessed—more than two hundred pounds, Jack was a huge presence physically. Even if he didn’t have the charm to help him out, he’d be hard to miss with his oil-slicked red hair and sideburns.