EVO Universe 1: The First (6 page)

“All that shit is under lock and key behind a combination safe in our bedroom which she doesn’t know, and I always put it away after we do the deed! So don’t blame me for this! How we know she didn’t find ole Bugs Bunny up in your dresser draw?!” bit back Martin.

“What?” Marcia looked at her husband as if he was crazy.

Agnes palmed her face wishing not to know about her sister and brother-in-law’s love life right in front of them.

“Don’t think I don’t know why we keep replacing batteries in the remote every two weeks! I’m surprised you can feel “anything” down there!” Martin came with his best insult.

Agnes eyes widened and wished she were deaf at that point.

“Like I can’t feel your little…,” Marcia was about to go way below the belt.

Agnes not wishing to stick hot pokers in her ears stepped in to cut her off, and brought reason back to the room, “All right! Yawl need to cool off, leave this house…take the little ones out for about an hour…go for a drive and leave me with Rebecca.”

“Agnes…” Marcia started with her older sister tone.

Agnes stopped her again before she could go on a rant about how she had been a mother longer than her, “Marcia…you’re my older sister and I love and respect you, but for once I am begging you. Take your husband, and the kids…leave the house and let me talk to my niece. You are angry and hurt, and you’re not thinking straight right now. Go out…clear your head, come back, and talk to your little girl after I’ve spoken to her.”

An awkward silence filled the room between mother, aunt, and father.

“Please. For me,” Agnes pleaded.

“Well why can’t we just wait outside on the porch?” jumped in Martin.

“Because yawl are going to start up again, and the neighbors will be up in your business. You want that? Just give me
one
hour…please. You called me here to help. Let me help,” pushed back Agnes.

Reluctantly both Marcia and Martin caved in to Agnes taking their younger son, and newborn girl to get take-out. Agnes drew a short sigh of relief as she prepared herself to deal with another prickly situation.

She could hear her niece’s uncontrolled sobbing as she walked down the hallway to her room. She entered the young girl’s room to find Rebecca curled up in the corner of her canopy bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face in between them weeping hysterically, both remorseful and frightened about what she had done.

Agnes approached her as one would a timid little fawn, “Rebecca?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Rebecca cried repeatedly.

Agnes knew she needed motherly arms and a soothing touch right now. Not that her sister was not a good mother, she was a great mother, and so was her father Martin. However, even great parents can sometimes fall short when it comes to situations of humiliation and pride, especially when it comes to their own child. Inhibiting them from thinking straight, something greatly needed to get the root of the matter. She was calling on the ability and strength of a good extended family, to step in against the rise of chaos.

Agnes took her in her arms and held her tight kissing her on her forehead, while stroking her back like her mother did when she was little, “It’s okay honey…everything is okay.”

“Mom and daddy hate me,” she bitterly wept.

“Nooo…honey….no…they could never hate you,” she reassured her, “They love you dearly; they’re just shocked and upset because they know what happened in school is not like you. They know, like I know that you are a good…girl…and you always will be. ”

She kissed her on her head to calm her down, and took a deep breath before preparing to coax her into telling her about what happened at school, “Now I know…you didn’t learn what you did at school by yourself…I know that…so I need you to tell me…who taught you. Was it a school friend?”

Rebecca meekly tried to coil away from her aunt, “I can’t…”

Agnes held her hand caressing it to calm her again, “Honey, if it was a school friend, we need to talk to her and find out who taught her. And if it’s an adult who taught you, that person is not a nice person, and they cannot hurt you. I won’t let them, your mother and father definitely will not let them, but we have to know who they are so that we can stop them from doing this to you and other girls. All you have to do is give me a name baby…please tell me…who taught you this.”

Her words only made Rebecca start to cry again even harder while pulling away, “I can’t auntie…I can’t…he said that you wouldn’t understand, and that you’d hate me…I can’t!”

A cold sick feeling came over Agnes upon hearing her niece’s words, “Honey…why would I…hate you? Who said I would hate you?”

The little girl did not have to say anything else as Agnes looked into her eyes, her shaking hand cupped her mouth as she felt like vomiting right there on the spot. Her whole body began to shake while tears no longer controlled ran from her eyes as she pulled her little niece closer to her to look into her eyes. In her heart, she knew the truth; she just had to see it to be sure.

“When baby? When? Please. Tell me. When?” Agnes voice quivered along with the rest of her body unable to stop the shaking burning sensation running through her.

“Last year…when I started coming over to help watch Mike and Stephanie…” Rebecca timidly said, “One night you were working late…he came home and saw I was sad, because the girls were teasing me at school for having a small chest, and the boys liking them more.”

It was clear she wanted to stop, but Agnes face was begging her to continue, “He said he could teach me a trick so that the boys would like me even if I didn’t have a big chest. He showed me a cartoon with a school girl doing it.”

“Oh god…baby no…no,” Agnes began to cry.

Her words though unintentional, shattered her body and spirit beyond repair in one shot.

“He said I could practice with him…and that it wasn’t sex because he wasn’t sticking it between my legs,” she squealed, “He said you and mommy use to do it, but you wouldn’t understand because you were adults now…I thought I was ready.”

“Oh God! No! No! No!!” Agnes screamed scaring Rebecca all the way back up against the wall of her bed.

Doubled over Agnes could not stop screaming clutching her belly while she stomped her feet trying to break the floor beneath her. Her gut felt like someone ripped it open with a serrated knife right in front of her.

“Auntie! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” cried Rebecca expecting her aunt to pummel her.

Agnes grabbed her as gently as possible pulling her back over to her looking at her sternly with tear drenched eyes, “Don’t
ever
…say you’re sorry to me…you hear me…you did nothing wrong…do you hear me? You are…a
good girl
…and you will always be a good girl…in my eyes. Don’t
ever
apologize to me again…is that clear?”

Rebecca nodded as she continued to cry, Agnes hugged her as tight as she possibly could emitting a gut wrenching bawl. She then released her grabbing her book bag opening it pulling out a notebook and pen. Quickly she jotted something down so her niece could not see, ripped the page out folding it up, and handed it to her niece.

“When your mother gets home give this to her. Do not open it…just hand it to her and no matter what happens. I love you. Do you hear me? Stay here and do not leave this room until your parents come home. Do you hear me?” Agnes looked her in the eyes as Rebecca meekly shook her head understanding while taking the note from her aunt.

Agnes got up in a daze walking out of her niece’s room into the living room. She looked at her mother’s old grandfather clock which read 4:45 PM. Derek got off at five, he picked the kids up at 2:30 PM, took them back to work with him, and would be coming home soon. Her sister begged her not to tell him what happened because of the embarrassment. She had to get home before he did, but first she ran upstairs to her sister’s bedroom.

She did not know if it was God or the Devil himself that allowed her to drive home over the speed limit without being pulled over, but she got there before him, and waited on the front porch steps of their house as he drove up with their children. The whole time she just sat there looking at the ground.

Derek was the first to get out of the car with a concerned look on his face to see his wife in what appeared to be a state sitting on the steps of their house, “Babe? Baby? You all right?”

She did not even have to look at him. His voice set her off as she raised a chrome Colt 1911 with a pearl grip handle and fired a shot hitting him in the left shoulder. She remembered at one of her sister’s many drunken bridge games she showed it to her as one of Martin’s brand new pieces he bought for his collection. He always kept a piece out as his gun of the month while the others stayed under lock and key. She remembered Marcia showing her how to load and fire it. She prayed it was still out when she went into their bedroom looking for it.

It was a lucky shot, she had never fired a gun before, the recoil was tremendous even from a seated position, but she still managed to hit him. She did not hear the screams from the neighbors outside on their lawns running for safety, nor the scream of her husband as the shot spun him around. All she could hear were the screams of her children in the car.

“Mommy! Daddy!” bawled little Michael as Stephanie sobbed uncontrollably in the back passenger booster seat.

“Stay in the car and do not come out for anything!” screamed Agnes to her children as Michael cracked the door open to get out.

She turned to Derek attempting to get away with blood gushing from his left shoulder as she took aim with two hands this time and fired three more rounds from the Colt. Two missed while one managed to hit him in his lower back, the children screamed and wailed as they watch their father go down not understanding what was happening.

“Stay in the car!!” she shrieked one final time to them as she trudged over to Derek lying in the dirty street covered in blood sobbing as he crawled to get away.

“Oh god…god…help me!” he cried out as his wife now stood over him with gun in hand.

“Turn over,” she ordered him.

Derek continued to crawl with snot and spit running from his mouth and nose dripping into the blood on the street looking for sanctuary where there was clearly none.

“I said turn over!” she screeched.

Reluctantly Derek turned over to look at his heart broken enraged wife pointing the Colt with three more rounds left in it.

“Did you touch Stephanie?! Did you touch her?!” she shrilled as her hand shook aiming the barrel at his skull.

“No!” Derek wailed begging for his life, “I swear to god no! Agnes! Please! Please!”

“My niece?!” her voice was almost half-gone, her eyes bright red from the tears that would not stop falling, “I gave you everything! My love! My body! I gave you children! I gave you everything! She’s a child! My sister’s baby! She trusted you! She trusted
me
! What didn’t I do that you had to take her innocence?! What did I do?! Tell me Derek?! Tell me!”

With tears in his eyes and his body getting cold from the loss of blood, Derek Miller would give his wife of seven years an answer that would not only kill her, but also change their lives forever, “You…got old.”

It was not so much, what he said, but the look in his eyes when he said it. The look that was as bright as day; he had done this before; well enough to never be caught. She had heard about these things, been taught the signs to notice if one was in a house harming a child. She had the misfortune of running into two of them during her career in which she had to notify the proper authorities. Here right in front of her, one of those things was actually her husband.

She allowed this thing to make her fall in love, get on top of her, sliding inside of her sharing her most intimate details, marry her taking ten years of her life. Create a family together while being a part of her extended family only to destroy it. How could she miss this? How did she allow this thing to get pass her?

She did not know if she was laughing when she pulled the trigger, she does remember pulling it over and over again even when there was nothing in the clip. It was old Mrs. Harper from across the street that had the courage to hobble over and take the gun out of her hand before the police finally arrived. In the note that Agnes left with Rebecca for her sister she wrote, “This is not Rebecca’s fault. She is a good girl. I failed you. I am sorry for everything.”

In her eyes she had brought the monster into their family, she who had dealt with the redeemable and the unredeemable on the daily basis, rescued countless children from all manner of abusive situations could not see the beast that slept in her very bed. She had to put him down; she had to make it right.

The Austin Texas legal system did not see it that way. She might have gotten away with an insanity plea had she just shot him once from when she was sitting on the porch, but the district attorney painted a picture of a cold and calculated execution. He pressed that no act of vigilantism could go unpunished no matter the justification. It also did not help her case that majority of the jurors were male.

The emotional testimony of her niece and family, co-workers, neighbors or church parishioners speaking on her behalf about her character did not sway them a bit. All they saw was a woman taking the law into her own hands killing her husband in cold blood, something best not to be encouraged. Despite the best efforts of the defense, the jury found Agnes guilty of murder and sentenced her to forty years to life in prison with eligibility for parole after twenty; ten years for each extra bullet she fired into her husband.