Please note: this story was provided by the author and published as is.
I stared into the bathroom mirror at my own dispirited reflection and sighed, undoing the pins that held my hair up and slipping them into the pockets of my skirt. Jack had invited me over to his house for our third date and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about him. Granted, he’d been nothing but pleasant, funny, and charming so far: a perfect gentleman. All the same…I couldn’t help thinking that something seemed off about him. He was almost too good to be true, a golden-haired prince who had stepped straight out of the pages of a fairytale.
There you go again. You’ve always wanted to date a genuinely nice guy, and now that you’ve found one, you’re making up excuses to stop seeing him. Do you want to end up with someone like Robbie again?
“No, no way,” I said aloud. “That’s not what this is. Jack’s just…” Too charming? Too handsome? God, I was being ridiculous. I didn’t want to date anyone like Robbie ever again. Memories of him still sent chills racing down my spine, even though he’d been dead for over three years now. One of my former neighbors told me that he’d been struck in a hit and run accident while crossing the street.
Our six-year relationship started when I was sixteen and he twenty. Every second of it had been hell. I’d been the perfect victim–young, naive, newly orphaned–and he’d set about systematically destroying my self-esteem and isolating me from anyone else who could’ve helped me. I still had long, twisting scars around both arms from the time he’d thrown me through the glass doors that led out to our backyard.
I left Jack’s bathroom and walked down the hallway that led to the living room, hurriedly smoothing out the wrinkles in my skirt as I went. Even before Jack had given me the tour earlier, I’d noticed that his house was very modernist. It was made out of glass and steel, with clean boxy lines. It was a good thing he lived deep in the woods, far from everyone else, because if he’d had any neighbors, they definitely would’ve complained about his house ruining the whole “rustic cabin in the woods” aesthetic.
Rain pelted the ceiling and windows furiously, and a fresh peal of thunder made me flinch. I quickened my pace, eager to get back to the warm and well-lit living room where Jack and a lovely bottle of red wine were waiting for me. I knew he’d have more amusing anecdotes about his patients to tell me.
And then I heard it. A scream.
Dread pulsed through my stomach, and I paused, listening intently. It had come from my right. A flash of lightning showed me the door to the garage. Jack hadn’t taken me in there during his “tour,” but he’d pointed it out. I suddenly thought of a very different fairytale I’d once read, one accompanied by a series of illustrations. They’d shown Bluebeard’s newest wife opening the forbidden door, glancing around furtively as she did so…only to freeze in horror at the sight of his previous wives dangling from the ceiling, their blood staining the wooden floorboards red.
I stared hard at the rectangle of darkness that was the door to the garage. “Maybe it’s an animal. Maybe something wandered inside, like a raccoon. Or maybe it was the wind…” I hadn’t even realized that I was talking aloud, but the sound of my own voice anchored me, brought me back to reality. The certainty that I’d heard a scream, a human scream, faded away.
I ran a hand through my hair and huffed out a disgusted laugh at myself. I clearly needed that glass of wine. Alright. I’d let Jack know that some kind of animal had wandered into his garage, and we’d go investigate togeth–
“HELP! Someone, please h–” A rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of the words.
Terror momentarily locked me in place before my feet unfroze. I lunged towards where I’d last seen the door to the garage, groping for the doorknob. As soon as I stepped inside, bright fluorescent lights clicked on and blinded me. When my eyes finally adjusted, I had to clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a horrified scream.
A dog kennel had been placed in the corner of the room. Inside of it was a woman, pale and emaciated. She had long brown hair and a spray of freckles across her nose. The small size of the kennel forced her into a perpetual crouch; she had barely enough space to lift her head up to make eye contact. Through cracked lips, she whispered, “Please help me.”
My mind consumed with panic, I ran towards her and knelt down to unlock the kennel door. I wasted precious seconds tugging at it uselessly before realizing that a padlock was attached, keeping the door securely shut.
“Fuck!” I spun around to look for something that could help. I hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of the room until now, too preoccupied with the dog kennel and its occupant, but the room was mostly bare. A metal table had been left in the center, right over a drain set into the concrete floor; stained leather straps dangled from it. There was a stack of plastic crates next to it as well. Every crate was filled with various implements: scalpels, scissors, forceps, needles, knives, and bone saws. Even though I’d been looking for something like a knife, my steps still involuntarily slowed.
Don’t think about why these tools are here, I told myself. Focus on getting her free. I picked up a knife that was nearly as long as my hand, with a serrated edge, and sped back towards the kennel.
It was hard to meet her eyes–they were so full of terror and pain–but I managed it.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I promised. Crouched down next to her, the similarity between us struck me anew, but she was younger than I’d initially estimated. Not a woman in her late twenties, but in her late teens.
She drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Okay.”
“Who did this to you?” Alright, dumb question, given that this was Jack’s house, but it was hard to believe that everything he’d shown me tonight had been a lie. How could anyone be so monstrously good at faking compassion, as though it was a costume that he could put on or take off at will? It went past acting and into a whole other realm of lunacy. I thought back to the way he’d smiled at me and revulsion crawled over my skin.
“He said he needed help carrying his groceries…he was using a crutch, so I s-said…” The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent sobs. She wrapped her fingers around the bars of the kennel as if for support and looked away from me, her hair obscuring her face.
“Shhh, it’s okay. What’s your name?”
Created by: Danny Ingrassia
“Ella.”
“Okay, Ella.” I handed her my phone and started sawing at the bars of the kennel with the knife. “See if you can call 911.” How long had it been since I’d told Jack that I was going to the bathroom? What if he found me here? I had no doubt that he’d be able to overpower me; he was over six feet tall and I was all of five feet and two inches.
“It says that there’s no signal.”
“Keep an eye on it.” The bar I’d been sawing at broke in half. For the first time, I allowed myself to believe that we’d make it. Once I got Ella out of this dog kennel, we’d run for my car. And we’d keep driving until we reached a police station. I pressed down the knife on the next bar of the kennel with renewed vigor; I didn’t need to break all of them, just enough that she’d be able to crawl out. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?”
“This is awkward,” said Jack from behind me. I scrambled up and whirled around to see him standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. He looked completely at ease, as if we were sitting on his living room sofa and chatting over a glass of wine. “I didn’t think that you’d, you know, break into my garage. That’s pretty rude.”
“I called 911,” I said, trying not to sound as terrified as I felt. “The police will be here soon.” That would get Jack to back off, right? I tightened my hold on the knife, but I didn’t know if I could actually use it on him. Or on any human being. Despite myself, I thought of Robbie. Minutes before he’d thrown me through the glass doors, I’d been folding his laundry. I’d tried to stay out of his way as much as possible that week because I’d known that he was having a hard time at work, his temper bubbling to the surface more frequently than usual. But I couldn’t avoid him forever.
That night, he’d walked into the bedroom and asked me why I’d left a pile of his clothes lying around in the kitchen, and what the hell was I doing lazing around all day while he worked his ass off for me? Not daring to argue, I’d apologized, but that hadn’t been enough. His face had twisted into a mask of rage, and he dragged me towards the doors by my hair. The next thing I clearly remembered was the sensation of flying weightlessly through the air, holding my arms up in a futile effort to protect myself.
Looking up, stunned and bleeding, to see Robbie advancing towards me with his hands curled into huge, hairy fists. If our next-door neighbor hadn’t called the cops, he would’ve killed me. The shock of that realization had been like being slapped awake after spending years trapped in an endless nightmare.
Jack gave a world-weary sigh, as if I’d just said something remarkably stupid. The smile faded from his face, his eyes turning into blue chips of ice. I was suddenly aware all over again of how tall he was, and how he seemed to loom over me even from across the room. “Uh-huh. I gotta say, you’re not a very good liar, Alice.”
Ella whimpered and dropped my phone with a loud clatter. I lifted my chin. “I’m not lying. When they get there, you’ll go to prison for a long time.”
“Right. Well, as thrilling as this has been, I’ve other things to do tonight. Alice, use the knife on yourself. Ella, shut up.”
His voice washed over me strangely, burrowing deep into my skull. My arm moved without any input from my brain and flipped the knife around. I tried to stop, or at least slow, its movement, but someone else had assumed control over my body now. Slowly, the tip of the knife dipped and rested against my left hand. Panic gnawed at me with sharp cannibal teeth. I told myself to stop, to let go of the knife, to point it back towards Jack.
Instead, I stabbed the knife right through my left palm.
Sharp, glassy pain filled my entire world; I was dimly aware that Jack had said something else, but I didn’t know what. Black waves swept over my vision. You can’t pass out. If you do, it’ll be you in that dog kennel next. I came back to myself in increments, clinging to the ropes of consciousness tenuously. I’d collapsed at some point. The knife lay on the ground a few feet away. I managed to raise my head enough to look for Ella.
Jack had opened the door of the dog kennel and she was cowering inside, cringing away from him. Her face was white as exposed bone. He picked up my phone and slid it into his pocket. Then, he said to her, “Get on the table and tie yourself down.”
Her arms lifted up once, twice, before falling down by her sides as if all the strength had run out of them. Tears streamed down her face, and her eyes were wide and panicked even as her feet obediently carried her over to the table.
A terrible idea began to take shape and substance in my mind. It was insane, totally impossible. But I had no other explanation for why Ella was obediently following his every command. Why we both had. I’d just stabbed myself through the hand because he’d–he’d told me to. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, hadn’t been able to fight it at all. I’d just lost control over my body, as though Jack had reached out and manipulated invisible puppet strings attached to it. How the hell was I supposed to stop someone who could do that?
Jack turned around and looked at me. There was nothing human in his eyes, nothing I could appeal to. I recognized that expression of black emptiness; I’d seen it on Robbie’s face many times before. Usually right before he hit me. That look told me that no amount of pleading or crying would change his mind. It had never changed Robbie’s. He was going to hurt me and I was going to die. If not tonight, then very soon.
“Go into the dog kennel and stay there,” he said. The command pushed at me insistently, invisible hands that pushed at me as though I was made of clay.
I frantically sifted through one solution after another as my legs dragged me towards the kennel. Blocking my ears might work. If I couldn’t hear him, his voice wouldn’t affect me. But there wasn’t a pair of earplugs conveniently nearby, and I couldn’t keep my hands over my ears while I tried to defend myself or Ella.
Whatever you do, you need to do it before he locks you into the dog kennel. Because you’re not getting back out after that.
As I crouched down in front of the kennel, I bumped my injured hand. White stars of agony danced across my vision. By the time they cleared away, Jack had picked up a scalpel. Ella had seen it too. She made a muffled moan, breathing in quick ragged gasps. Time was running out. I’d promised Ella that I would get her out of here. I’d promised.
Guttural screams filled the air, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back my own tears. Robbie’s snarling face appeared in my mind’s eye. Even years after our relationship had ended, I’d struggled to pick up the scattered pieces of the person I’d been before he stormed into my life. I’d believed him when he’d told me that I deserved his vitriol and beatings, that no one else would ever care about me. It had taken nearly dying for me to realize that he would never change, no matter how many apologies or promises he made me.
For the first time tonight, I felt something stronger than fear: rage so intoxicating that I was nearly drunk on it. Rage that I’d trusted Jack, and that I’d somehow stumbled out of the clutches of one monster and into the next one. I reached into the pockets of my skirt and found the hairpins still there. I wasn’t going to die like this. Not after surviving everything that Robbie had done to me.
In one quick motion, I stabbed the hairpins through my eardrums. A high-pitched ringing sound filled my head, and the room seemed to spin around me. I swallowed convulsively past the piercing pain and prayed that I hadn’t done irreparable damage to my hearing. But it worked. The compulsion that had forced me to stay in the dog kennel was gone. My body was back in my control.
When I felt as though I could move without immediately throwing up, I started to crawl out of the dog kennel and towards Jack. Halfway there, I stopped and scooped up the knife on the floor. Jack hadn’t noticed anything, too absorbed in whatever he was doing to Ella. His body blocked her from my view, but I could see rivulets of blood running down the metal legs of the table and swirling down the drain.
As soon as I was only a few feet away, I pushed myself up onto one knee, then another, and shakily stood up. The room still spun around me in dizzying circles, as though I was on a spinning carnival ride, and I swayed on my feet for a few seconds. I was going to pass out. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. I took a tottering step forward, and as if sensing me behind him, Jack began to turn around.
I stabbed the knife into his arm. He must have cried out, and his lips were shaping words, but I still couldn’t hear anything over the ringing noise between my ears. As he realized that, the arrogance drained away from his face, leaving terror and panic behind. I looked past him and saw what he’d done to Ella. He’d carved open her abdominal cavity, peeling away layers of skin and fat until she resembled so much butchered meat.
A red mist descended over my vision. Time had run backwards, and it wasn’t Jack standing in front of me but Robbie. Robbie screaming at me with his face set in a mask of fury and his arms extended to grab me. I plunged the knife into his body over and over again, unable to stop myself. No, unwilling. A savage euphoria took hold, and my entire world narrowed down to two points: the vibrating impact of my knife sinking into flesh and the warm blood spraying over my face.
I kept going until the handle of the knife had become slippery with blood and Jack had collapsed. Sweat stung my eyes, but I didn’t blink, too afraid that this was just a trick. I waited for him to get back up. To stab me with the scalpel his right hand still clutched. But as the minutes passed, nothing happened. He wasn’t going to get back up. And he had my phone.
I forced myself to reach out and search through his blood-sodden pockets until I found it. And then I turned towards Ella, hobbling closer to her. Incredibly, she was still somehow alive, although her eyes were glazing over.
“Hang on,” I said, unable to hear myself over the ringing in my ears. “We’re getting out of here, remember?”
With difficulty, I made my way out of the garage and into the hallway, trailing one hand against the wall to remain upright. I kept my eyes fixed on my phone until a single bar popped onto the screen. Euphoria still rushed through me, the same euphoria I’d only ever felt once before: when I’d run Robbie down.