Bottom Feeder (21 page)

“
DJ, will you watch the
door?” She disappears inside the closet. I am too curious not to
follow.

Maddy crawls into a tiny space behind
the large mirror.

“
Enjoying the view,
asshole?” Dixon mumbles.

I step further into a closet that
appears to be the same size as my bedroom.

“
What are you
doing?”

“
Oh!” Maddy pops up,
patting her shirt and shorts down to make sure there is no extra
skin exposed. “Actually, can you help me? I can’t get this
up.”

I drop down beside her. Maddy’s hands
are shaking as she passes me a small screwdriver and points to a
floorboard.

“
I can’t seem to stop them
from shaking,” she whispers to herself.

The piece of wood slides up with ease,
revealing a plain brown box beneath the planks. She pulls up two
more pieces of wood, removing one box then another. I drop the
boards back into place.

She maneuvers the small space and
crawls out.

This time, I really do check out the
view, picturing her in the contents I found in the top dresser
drawer. I fight the urge to pull her back with me.

Sighing at these feelings I don’t
understand, I take fifteen seconds longer in the closet to calm
down.

“
I have to grab something
from the library. I’ll be down in a minute,” Maddy says. She stuffs
the boxes into an overnight bag and wraps the strap across her
body. I guess Cordell will not be inspecting this one.

Dixon and I are left alone in her room
with a tension thicker than molasses pouring in the winter. I start
down the stairs when he grabs my arm. I look at his hand like it is
seeping with poison.

Control your temper,
Monroe.

“
I hate you,” he
says.

“
Don’t sugarcoat anything
on my account.”

“
You are what Maddy would
describe as ‘dirty dishwater’. Nice and clean and sudsy on the
surface, but greasy and pure dirt underneath.”

“
The fuck does that have
to do with why your hand is on my arm?”

Dixon removes his hand slowly, but
doesn’t back down. “It has to do with the fact that you are going
to hurt her. You will deliver that hurt in a pretty, shit-covered
package . . . and she is not even going to hate you for it. Do you
know why she’s not going to hate you?”

“
You don’t know
anyth—”

“
Because that girl is made
of something stronger than the rest of us. You will never break
her. Remember that, Monroe, when the asshole side of you decides to
make an appearance.”

I saunter outside to wait for Maddy
without a second glance at Dixon. He doesn’t have a clue what the
hell he’s talking about. He knows nothing about me.

“
That’s everything,
Daddy,” Maddy calls from the front door as Cordell finishes with
the last suitcase.

“
Come give your old Daddy
some sugar before you go.”

She siphons a smile and
rushes across the pavers. Cordell embraces her with a resolve and
knowledge that he will never see her again. Because, in fact, he
will
never
see
her again. As the two exchange goodbyes and
lies
promises of seeing each other
soon, something nasty curls deep in my stomach. I know a bad
feeling when I get one.

Mama was right: other than the
obvious, there is definitely something fishy going on with this
situation.

“
Call me as soon as you
get to Paris.” Maddy presses her head against Dixon’s
chest.

The ache in my gut feels something
like jealousy.

Wait. What?

Dixon wraps his arms around her,
kisses the top of her head. “I land Tuesday morning.” He squeezes
her tighter and whispers something, making her giggle. “Love you,
mean it,” he declares loudly.

“
Love you, mean it,” Maddy
returns.

The ache is almost unbearable. Maybe
I’m just hungry. Or bipolar.

Cordell
harrumphs
. Dixon bravely
glowers at him, then me, kisses Maddy’s cheek, and hops into his
Bronco.

I adjust the seat and mirrors of the
BMW and breathe in the new car scent. It smells like leather and
enough heaven to be sinful. I’ve got to get out of Georgia. The
epithets are taking over.

Cordell leans inside the
window. “Hold up your end of our agreement, son. I guarantee I’ll
make due on my promises.” Dropping his voice, he adds,
“
As if your life depended on
it
.”

I nod once and turn up the
radio.

After a few fake tears from
Cordell—Maddy didn’t seem to shed any—we are finally on our way to
North Carolina. The four and a half hour drive presents itself as a
relaxing welcome to my bizarre week at home. The military may be
crazy, but it provides a sense of structure that I need in my
life.

“
Jackson,” Maddy says
quietly, “Do you mind if I sleep for a little while?”

Her face looks as if she has not slept
in days. “Not at all.” I turn down the music.

“
I don’t mind.” She turns
the radio up again and reclines the seat, curling into fetal
position.

When her shirt rises the tiniest bit,
revealing a purplish bruise, I have the urge to reach over and
comfort her somehow. I seem to be having a lot of urges
today.

Maddy quickly reaches back to smooth
her shirt down and mutters a sleepy, “Sorry.”

I shake myself and these crazy
thoughts, focusing my eyes on the road and my mind on the task I’ve
been given.

Maddy

He grabs the leather strap
from the back of his office door and chases me down an endless
hallway. My blood-stained feet stick to the cool tiles with each
strike of the soles.

I have to run. He
needs
the chase, craves
the chase. If I don’t run the blows are more vicious.

I am shoved from behind.
My face pounds against the tile.

“
No!” I yell too loud. The
echoes send a never-ending “Nonononono” through the
house.

The claws of a monster rip
my shirt, my skin. The monster is faceless but I know him. I know
the smell of him, the feel of him, and the vile taste of him. My
personal boogeyman.

I watch as blood pools
around my head, taking a moment to remember that the tile floor is
for me. Hardwood and carpet stain easily. Evidence of blood doesn’t
show on tile.

At Daddy’s insistence to
learn how to work with my hands, I helped him lay the flooring. I
even picked out the color, Etruscan Gold. Now all I see is my blood
racing along endless miles of cold ceramic.

Larry straddles my back
and presses his cheek to mine, the smell of Jim Beam and Polo
Double Black clouding any coherent thoughts.

My chest
heaves.

“
Never say no to me,” he
whispers.

If I don’t say no to his
advances, it will be like giving permission. He knows this. Uses
the knowledge to fuel his out-of-control fire. I will
always
say
no.

Before the word forms on
my tongue he strikes me, closed-fist, on the side of my head. My
ears ring.

Another blow.

My body becomes numb
searching for unconsciousness. Good. This is survival
mode.

Larry stands, rolling a
string of profanities off his revolting tongue before kicking me
repeatedly.

I don’t care. I’m already
numb. I feel nothing.

As long as they are safe I
can do this. I can take this.

I pray to endure the pain,
the darkness, without screaming. Without fighting back. I learned
quickly that fighting back only makes it worse.

He lifts me by the neck.
Drags me to the room beneath his stairs. My room. Only this time,
instead of darkness, a stage light shines a blue tinge on Violet,
Dixon and Jackson. They are sitting on fold-up chairs, each hand
and foot tied to the chair separately. A zip-tie is wrapped around
their face and head to secure a greasy rag inside their
mouths.

The monster steps to
Jackson and pushes his head back. Punches him. Pulls the zip
tighter.

Bending to Jackson’s eye
level, Larry snarls, “You just remember I had the bitch
first.”

He tosses me at Jackson’s
feet.

He pulls a hunting knife
from his boot and plants the blade on Violet’s throat.

Jackson

Great. An hour into the drive and I
discovered I now hate roadtrips. They just might be a method of
torture.

When Maddy finally begins to stir, the
sound is bliss. Anything other than the white noise of the
interstate is bliss.

“
Larry,” she
moans.

What. The. Fu—

“
Larry!” The second time
is a shriek. “Stop! Nonononono!
Please
stop.”

I tap her side lightly. Maddy springs
out of the seat and grabs my free wrist. Her right hand clutches my
throat.

“
You okay?” I ask with
deliberate caution. The control grip she has on the pressure point
of my wrist hurts like a mofo, the grasp on my throat tightens.
Where the hell did she learn this? “Maddy?”

A sign of recognition crosses her
face. “I’m so sorry. I was . . . I . . .”

“
Dreaming.” She inspects
my neck and wrist. “About Larry,” I add.

Closing her eyes, she sinks back.
“Nightmare.”

“
He’s
disgusting.”

“
Got that
right.”

“
Something is going on
between you two. Even Dixon knows.” The correlation isn’t my
business but Duvall is one creepy bastard.

“
He is a monster,” she
says, eerily calm. “
Never
link him to me in that way again.”

“
Then what
is
your connection to
the boogeyman?” Maddy’s answer is a look that could freeze boiling
water. Oh. “He . . . he’s a . . . he did . . .”

Maddy’s voice is barely above a
whisper, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“
How long has he been
doing this?”

“
You
can
not
tell
anyone, Jackson.”

“
What about
Cordell?”

“
My daddy is his own breed
of monster.”

“
Tell me.”

“
If I talk to you, you’re
in this. There’s no way out. You’re surely not a good enough liar
to fake
not
knowing.”

She must get her sugarcoating methods
from Dixon. “Tell me everything,” I say. “When did it
start?”

“
Before Mama
died.”

“
Did he make. . .
?”

“
He made me do a lot of
things.” Maddy hesitates, searching for the words to finish. “Daddy
practically forced me into Larry’s house to keep him company after
his wife died. He thought Larry had ‘grown fond of me’ because I
helped him.”

“
What happened to his
wife?”

“
Let’s just say she
suspected what kind of monster he was—
is
.”

The amount of law
enforcement on Cordell’s payroll must be endless. Now
my
name is on the same
payroll. Awesome.

“
We only met a week ago,”
I say, “but I . . . well, there seems to be a lot of weight on your
shoulders that shouldn’t be there. I can’t fix it—probably no one
can—but I’ll listen. I may be an asshole sometimes, but you can
trust me.”

“
This world is Cordell
Carrington’s chess board,” Maddy replies without emotion. “The
pieces are expendable. There will always be someone out there
willing to be bought and molded by him. Like it or not, Jackson,
you’re his pawn. He trusts you, but I don’t. I can’t. But since I’m
never going to see you again after this week, nor am I returning to
Georgia, I can’t find it in me to care if I can trust someone.
”

Maddy is quiet while I mull that over.
She’s right. I cannot deny any of it.

She stares blankly out the window,
watching the lines of the interstate pass by.

Again when she speaks, she
is void of emotion. “I took over the duties of Larry’s wife:
cleaning, cooking and other
things.
Details aren’t important. Those memories are suppressed in places I
have no reason to explore. If I think about them too hard, they
resurface. The other stuff stopped when my body began to change.
After that I became his personal punching bag. He hit me before, of
course, but everything seemed to escalate. Like getting older was
something I could help. I can never get back what he has taken from
me. But that’s okay. I’m strong enough now to take this
burden.”

“
Is that who gave you the
bruises?”

She focuses on her
clenched hands. “I will take getting hit over the other
stuff
any day
.
Those wounds heal.”