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Authors: D. H. Sidebottom,R. M. James

Fragile Truths (28 page)

BOOK: Fragile Truths
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Frankie

 

I had hoped my body would give me the luxury of keeping me unconscious throughout this whole ordeal, at least until someone popped on the lights but it wasn’t to be.

I kept my eyes closed although I could sense the foreboding darkness slinking around me like a living being. It was sucking all my energy as I struggled to breathe. The slow rise and fall of my chest was the only recognition that I was still alive and not in hell. The cold concrete underneath me was as icy as my blood; my life sustenance solidifying inside me to trample the route fear took.

 

“I’ll get it Momma,” I shouted towards the kitchen as I heard the light tap on the front door. My small bare feet slid along the polished floor as I skipped to the door. Bern, my raggedy ted scurried behind me as he hung from my hand and I chastised him for being too slow.  “You need some wheels Mr Bern, and then you’ll be able to race me.”

I chuckled to myself as I twisted the large brass key in the lock and pulled on the heavy white door.

“FRANNIE!” Momma screamed. I swung round to her as a large hand cupped the top of my head.

 

I gasped for breath, my heart pounding as the images and memories taunted me, mocked me. Torments filled my head, cruel hisses summoning the blackness closer. The guilt it unearthed was crippling me.

 I dragged a heavy hand to my throat as it restricted, digging my fingers into my neck, my desperation attempting to claw holes through my skin to alleviate the compression as my ribs began to slowly crush my lungs.

 

“Run, Frannie, Run!”

Fingers dug into my scalp as I watched momma race across the hallway towards me
.
“Baby, run to me” she pleaded as she held out her arms.

I didn’t understand what was happening. Was I in trouble for opening the door? Momma had always told me not to, but she had been on the telephone, chatting to someone so I thought I would help. “He’s a bad man, Frannie. RUN!”

Her face exposed all of her fear and I knew she wasn’t playing a game.

I struggled under his hold, his fingers too firm on my head as I wriggled beneath him. I remembered what daddy had showed me so I rammed my elbow back and kicked back with my heel, catching his shin sharply. He was a tall man, and my height gave me an advantage as I connected the sharp bone with his privates.

He groaned and let me go. I flew towards momma, terror pushing my legs harder than ever as I raced the remaining distance between us to get to her.

As soon as I reached her she scooped me up and changed direction, her feet sliding on the floor like mine had. She drifted like daddy’s red car at the track as she careered round the corner and belted down the hallway. “Whatever happens, Frannie, you stay in here. You do not come out!” she told me firmly as she opened the cellar door and pushed me in.

“Momma?” I sobbed as a tear dribbled down her rosy pink cheek.

“I love you, baby. Always.”

The door closed and I hadn’t even had a chance to tell her how much I loved her.

 

The sobs were horrendous, scratching at my throat as I pressed my hands to my chest and pushed against the pain with the heel of my hand. “Momma,” I cried as the shadows crept towards me. “Please…”

I turned as much as I could on the floor and felt with my hands for the door. My fingers hit wood and I slammed my palms against it, pushing as I banged on it. “Please! Please…”

I managed to scramble my feet further in, drawing my knees up to my chest so I could protect my body from the shadows as I prised my fingers into the tiny gap under the door. “Please help me!”

I was rocking now, my body moving to an involuntarily rhythm so my brain could concentrate on something other than the blackness, a humming was rattling my dry lips as my mind folded in on itself and protected my sanity.

Snot was dribbling down my lips as tears cascaded down my face. I scratched at the door, digging my fingers into the wood as I attempted to dig myself out. My fingernails split and broke with the ferocity I tore at it with, my cries hysterical as I raked at the wood in despair.

 

“Momma?” I whispered as I heard voices outside the door. There was more than one man now as I heard momma cry out in pain.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“You lie.” He spat before momma screamed again.

I looked around, trying to adjust my focus to the darkness as I looked for something to hit them with. I moved to the left and my foot hit air as it dropped into nothing and my body followed.

Pain tore through me as I bounced down the old wooden steps, each one battering a new part of my body and bruising it immediately. I cried out as I landed and my ankle twisted beneath me.

Laughter echoed around the house as momma’s loud cries tore at my heart. “Don’t… please…” I sobbed as I covered my ears with my hands and squeezed my eyes shut.

 Grunting and groaning bled into my ears as momma wept. I was nine but I understood what they were doing to her and it made my cries louder. It was so dark that I daren’t move in case I fell down the three other steps that veered off to the right.

“Where is he?” A stark male voice shouted angrily.

“I… I don’t know!”

“Tell me or you will pay.”

“I tell you, I don’t know!” My mother pleaded.

She screamed with so much agony that I could practically feel each fist and each thump that was rained down on her slight body.

“He doesn’t care about you, you stupid woman!” Another one of her screams pierced the air and my heart. “Well if he can’t pay in cash, he pays in other ways.”

“Please,” she pleaded as her voice shook with her desperate sobs.

“Too late, Bubba!”

She screamed one final time, and then silence descended. I knew she was dead, my heart confirmed it as well as the silence.

 

I could feel the stickiness of my blood seeping from the ends of my fingers as I continued to claw at the wood. I tried a different tactic and sought to dig my way through the concrete floor and go under the door. The rough stone was scraping away the membrane from the pads at the end of each finger as my nails no longer protected the thin skin. Fingerprints would no longer cause me a problem.  My brain knew it was a hopeless task yet I was so desperate I would try anything, even trying to squeeze my body through the tiny sliver of space under the door.  

 

“Francesca?” A quiet voice came from the other side of the door.

“Oh God,” I stuttered. “Please… please get me out.”

There was a pause before Jude spoke again. “I can’t do that I’m afraid but it isn’t because I don’t want to, I just don’t have the key.”

“Jude, please. Kill them, just kill them and get it, please.” I knew I wasn’t rational; my mind was snatching at straws and envisioning any situation just to help me. Death and slaughter wasn’t something I had ever condoned but right now I didn’t care. I would kill with my bare hands just to get out of the pit swallowing me whole.

“Fran!” He chastised as his voice became stern and angry. “Listen to yourself. This isn’t you. You’re letting them destroy you. You’re allowing them to extinguish all that you are.”

“But…” I sobbed and rested my forehead on the door as exhaustion drained any fight I had left.

“No buts, Tiger. This is your chance to beat this. Use this to strengthen yourself.” I closed my eyes as his fingers slid under the gap and rested against mine. The touch was slight and barely there but as soon as my brain acknowledged it after the hours of torturing itself it bolted a faint shot of lucidity into me and I blinked, snatching my hands back promptly.

“What do you care anyway?” I narrowed my eyes and sucked in a breath against the choked sob, “Is this some sort of trap?”

“What? No of course not. I’m not even allowed near you but I’m here so stop being infuriating and listen to me.”

I sniffed and wiped my hand across my face to mop up the tears but a more sticky substance slid over my skin and I knew my face would now be covered in blood as well as snot and tears. “I want you to concentrate on your strength, Fran. Everything you’ve been through, you’ve lost your finger for Christ’s sake and you’re allowing a little room with no light to break you. That’s just stupid.”

I knew he was right. I knew my phobia was weak and cowardly but I couldn’t even begin to control the raging terror threatening my sanity. “Jude, I…”

“Shush. I want to tell you a story.”

I closed my eyes again and slumped against the door in surrender. There was no way out. If I kept my eyes shut I could just pretend I was in bed, asleep. I forced my mind to believe the small night light that was in the corner of my bedroom was slid to low. One of my brave nights where no nightmare haunted me and then I concentrated on his voice, trying to settle the thrum of my pulse in my ears so I could hear him better.

 

“A little girl with thick blonde hair cascading down her back and a mass of freckles covering her pretty face was trapped so deep within the ogre’s castle that she had no means of escape. He had found her and fell in love instantly, her virtuousness calling to him from where he had found her picking bluebells and snowdrops from deep within the forest.”

 

I wasn’t sure if his tale was crippling me more or saving me. My heart began to flutter as the memories of my dad’s stories assaulted me and I replaced my fingers under the door searching for his to comfort the ache inside me.

 

“The ogre knocked on her door daily, never entering against the girls wishes, but she always refused him entry. She hated him, despised him for locking her up. All she wanted to do was pick more pretty flowers and sit in the sunshine, her toes wiggling in the little brook she had come across the last day she had been free.”

 

I sighed as I pictured the little blonde girl, the cool water caressing her feet, tiny fish swimming around her and tickling her toes as she giggled in the sunshine. A small smile lifted my lips as I concentrated on Jude’s voice and the rest of the tale.

 

“After around six days of knocking on her door, the ogre asked the little girl what her greatest joy was. ‘My love is for music,’ she answered him through the thick wooden door. At once the ogre began to sing, a soft melancholy song of sorrow and sadness that broke the little girls heart with each word sung. His voice held so much woe and suffering that she couldn’t help but open the door.”

 

I leant further against the door, my heart in my mouth when I feared for the little girl. He would eat her up, I was sure of it. That’s how these stories ended, fairy tales weren’t made of dreams, there was always something sinister and depraved that happened in them; little red riding hood’s grandma gobbled up by the big bad wolf; the little pigs houses blown away by the wolf; Cinderella beaten by her sisters.

Whoever wished for the fairy tale wedding really hadn’t thought about it very hard and I scoffed to myself when I realised I had always been one of those fools.

 

“The ogre gasped as the little girl walked from her room and took the ogres hand in hers, his large fingers wrapping around her tiny ones as he held his breath. She smiled at him, a smile so sweet it squeezed a tear from his eye. ‘You sing very sadly’ she said to him. ‘I want to teach you happy songs.’ The ogre looked at her forlornly, ‘but I don’t know how to be happy.’ His sadness broke the little girl’s heart. She tugged on his hand and encouraged him to follow her. ‘I will show you happiness,’ she said as she led him from the house and into the forest. She guided him to the brook where she took off her shoes and socks and sat beside the water to dip her toes. Patting the space by her side she encouraged the ogre to copy her. He hesitantly dipped his toes in before finding courage to sink his feet deeper. A salmon jumped from in the water making the ogre jolt and scurry backwards. The little girl smiled at him, settling his nerves slightly, ‘It’s just a salmon. Don’t be afraid,’ she told him. The ogre turned to her and frowned, ‘but I have never seen one before so it scared me.’ The little girl giggled and shook her finger at him, ‘Just because you don’t know something or someone, it doesn’t make them bad. It just means you have to get to know them before you understand their ways.’ The ogre smiled in return then gasped and touched his lips. “I have never smiled before, little one. You taught me how to smile.’ The girl laughed and shook her finger at him again, ‘No ogre, you always had the ability to smile but you never found things to smile at.’ He smiled again then reached forward and smoothed the stray piece of hair blowing against the breeze. ‘And you taught me how to fall in love,’ he whispered. ‘No,” the little girl shook her finger again. ‘You taught me to fall in love, ogre. You taught me that just because you don’t know someone, it doesn’t make them bad and you gave me things to smile at.’ The ogre tipped his head and studied the little girl, ‘Then we have helped each other,’ he whispered. She nodded her head, ‘Yes we have.’”

 

“Did they live happily ever after?” I asked when he went quiet.

“No, she pawned his gold, re-mortgaged his castle and went to live in Amsterdam.”

I chuckled and shook my head but there was only silence that greeted me. “Are you still there?” I whispered.

“I am. And so are you.”

I couldn’t resist smiling. “Then we have helped each other,” I stated, repeating the ogre’s words.

“In so many ways, Tiger.”

His voice was sad and his guilt hung heavy in my heart. “Why are you doing this?”

Even though I was barely touching his fingers, I felt him tense. He was silent for a while before he sighed, “My story is too long to tell, Fran. Maybe someday.”

BOOK: Fragile Truths
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