Daughter of Darkness (17 page)

There was no talk of any of this at dinner. Marla went on with a nonstop description of her school day and how boring the kids in her class were. I knew she was doing the same thing I had been doing before now. She was trying to justify not having anything to do with any of her classmates or participating in any of their events by denigrating them, making them sound like complete undesirables. Maybe it made her feel better for a little while, just as it had made me feel better, but that wouldn’t last. I wanted to tell her, but I knew that would bring down thunder and lightning, especially from Ava.

After dinner, I watched some television with Marla, both of us putting off doing any more schoolwork. Ava had shut herself off in her room. I had no idea what she was doing, what she was feeling after what had happened to her last night. She had no best friend to talk to on the phone, and even if she had one, she certainly couldn’t have talked to her about any of this. There was only me now. Why didn’t she see that? Why was she so hard? I certainly would go to her, even now, even after the nasty things she had said.

We were different in many ways, and not all of them made her better than me or more equipped for whatever futures awaited us. She wasn’t anywhere near as good a reader as I was, nor was she as interested in reading or art and music. I never heard her talk about a movie she had seen or a television show. Despite the act she put on for me, for everyone, I thought, Ava was the loneliest person I knew.

Was that what awaited me, loneliness? If ever I had wanted to talk with Daddy, to hear him say comforting, wonderful things, it was tonight. Every once in a while, I looked out toward the stairway, expecting him to come down, but he hadn’t by the time I decided to go to my room to finish up what work I had left. Marla lingered behind me for a while. I heard her go to her room. All three of us had our doors shut, each of us locked away as if we enjoyed solitude. I knew I didn’t.

Although I wasn’t tired enough to sleep, I went to bed and just lay there staring up at the ceiling, listening for any creak in the floor above, any sign that Daddy had awakened. The house was so quiet. I was reminded of so many nights like this when I was much younger. Marla wasn’t here yet, and Brianna was still with us. Neither she nor Ava would spend many nights doing anything with me. Now that I thought about it, I had never realized how lonely I already was back then, how much I depended on Daddy to come by or ask me to do something with him. No wonder he had become my whole life. Our talks, the gifts he gave me, the clothing and jewelry, the books he told me to read, all of it made up the foundation of what I had in the way of family events and pleasure. Later, when I attended school and saw and heard how much other girls my age were doing and enjoying, I did feel my isolation more, but Daddy seemed always to be there to help keep me from sinking too low.

Could he help me now, now that I was older and needed him even more? At least, I thought I did. According to Ava, I would soon be so independent I would need no one and nothing I didn’t get for myself. There was
that moment coming for her, the same moment that had come for Brianna, when she would break away, leave us, leave Daddy. Brianna had not come back for even a day. Would that be true for Ava as well? Could I do that, leave and never see Daddy again? Right now, I didn’t see how.

These depressing thoughts weighed heavily on me. I grew tired.
That’s good
, I thought. I wanted to go to sleep and forget. Mornings always made things look better. Tomorrow, I hoped, would be no different.
Good night, Daddy
, I thought, looking up at the ceiling.

Just as I reached to turn off the lamp on my side table, I heard what sounded like scratching on one of my bedroom windows. At first, I thought it might just be the branch of an untrimmed bush caught in a twisted wind, but when I looked, I saw the clear outline of someone standing in the shadow just outside. He was in darkness, so I could not make out anything else about him. Was he a ghost or one of those young men I had once seen in a nightmare? When he tapped on the glass, he brought himself closer, and I gasped.

It was Mark.

How had he found out where we lived? I had told no one at school, and Marla certainly wouldn’t have told anyone. It was one of the most forbidden things to do. He tapped again, much louder this time. I got out of bed quickly, fearful that he would draw someone else’s attention. He stepped back as I opened the window softly. He was wearing a black leather jacket and black pants to camouflage himself in the darkness. I looked past him and didn’t see any car.

“How did you get here?”

“I walked, miles.”

“Why? What are you doing here?”

“I was rereading
Romeo and Juliet
, and I thought I’d come to plead at your balcony, but you’re on the first floor,” he said. “How can I be dramatic if you sleep on the first floor?” He looked up as if we had a balcony and reached toward it. “Lorelei, Lorelei, where art thou?”

“Shut up, you idiot. How did you find out where I live?”

“A determined lover would find ways,” he replied. “Come out with me for a little while.”

“Are you crazy? You’re going to wake my family and get me into big trouble. Go away, Mark.”

“I can’t,” he said. “Your beauty has paralyzed me. I can’t even move, especially now that I see you in your nightgown, your face glowing with the starlight.”

“How did you know which room was my bedroom?”

“The heart knows exactly where to go, Lorelei. Lorelei. Your name is magical, melodic. I’m drunk on the sound of it. Come out with me. Just for a little while. Give me a chance to win your heart.”

“No,” I said. “You’ll get me into very big trouble now. Please leave before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late,” he said, moving closer. “I’m no longer in control of myself. I can’t help myself. I can’t leave unless you come out and spend a few minutes with me. Come.” He beckoned. “Come out, Lorelei. Enjoy the night air, look up at the stars, and dream a little dream with me. Come out. I promise I’ll leave, but you won’t want me to leave. Parting, remember, is such sweet sorrow.”

His words were suddenly mesmerizing. He reached in and gently took my hand.

“Come,” he urged. “Please.”

I felt myself moving toward him. His eyes were suddenly luminous, a soft blue. He brought his left hand to my shoulder.

“I’ll lift you out. In my arms, you will be as air,” he said, and his hands went to my waist. I could feel his fingers tightening. He brought his face closer, his lips inviting mine, and then, just slightly at first, I saw his teeth, sharp, pointed, growing.

What happened next happened so quickly that I questioned whether it had happened at all. A darker, thicker shadow fell over Mark and then metamorphosed into Daddy. He was bigger and wider than I had ever seen him, even when I saw him that time when I was only four. He enveloped Mark as if his body had turned into a great cape and lifted him away from my window. Mark’s grip around my waist loosened quickly, so quickly I thought his fingers had turned into water.

I didn’t hear a groan so much as a muffled scream. I stood there captivated by the struggle that went on in front of me. It didn’t last long, I’m sure, but it seemed to go on and on. Daddy’s grip on Mark was too iron-clad. He gave up trying to break out of it and instead pushed against Daddy’s face in a desperate attempt to keep Daddy’s teeth from reaching him.

It was as if Daddy were struggling with a clump of butter, however. He moved swiftly, undeterred, until he was on Mark’s neck. Then I heard the scream, the piercing sound that vibrated everything around them, made
trees tremble, woke sleeping birds, and seemed to shatter the stars. Mark folded just the way a punctured balloon might. He seemed to lose all his bones, his skeleton crumbling into dust under his skin.

Daddy held him in his arms like a bag of clothes, turned, and glanced at me. I was unable to move. Daddy’s face was so distorted, every feature widened and stretched. Although there was no anger in it directed at me, it was still terrifying to see. I tried to swallow back the gasp that was stuck in my throat, but it wouldn’t move. He said nothing. He simply turned and walked into the darkness.

Moments later, the door opened, and Ava came in. She turned on the lights. Never had I seen her look this frightened, this close to tears. She stood there in her nightgown, staring at me and the window, seemingly unable to move. Before I could say anything, Mrs. Fennel came in behind her, glanced at her, and then walked over to the window and closed it.

“Go back to bed, both of you,” she said.

I started for mine, but Ava didn’t move.

“Ava!” she shouted. “Go!”

Ava woke from her trance. She looked at me and then turned and left the room.

“You won’t be taking Marla to school tomorrow,” Mrs. Fennel said.

“What happened?” I asked. Was I awake? Was this a nightmare?

“You’ll learn everything tomorrow. It’s over. Don’t worry. Just get some sleep.”

“Get some sleep?” I almost laughed. “How do you expect me to go to sleep now?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she went into my bathroom, got a glass of water, and returned, handing me a tablet. “Take it. You’ll sleep enough. Go on,” she ordered.

I plucked it out of her palm and swallowed it with some water.

“Is Daddy all right?”

She turned off my light.

“Is he?” I cried out.

“Yes,” she said, and left me in the dark. I gazed at my closed bedroom window. She hadn’t seen it or didn’t care right now, but there was a splatter of blood on the glass. I turned my back to it and closed my eyes. I pressed on my eyelids to keep them from springing open. It was still too terrifying.

There was no one in the room, no one to hear me, but I asked anyway.

“What just happened?”

9
 
Nightmare

When I awoke, I just lay there looking up at the ceiling. I wanted everything that had happened last night simply to be a nightmare. As with any nightmare, it would linger a while, but it would soon dissipate like smoke and even be hard to recall. I would go to school and see Mark winking at me in the hallway, pretending to be suffering because of my rejecting him, and later find him passing me a note full of additional personal references. I would laugh at it. I would continue to obey Daddy and keep Mark at bay, of course, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the game, the tantalizing and dangerous game that, despite all the restrictions, filled my day with some excitement.

I would tell no one about the nightmare, because that would only keep it alive. I didn’t want to see those images ever resurrected, but it wasn’t easy to push them aside. He had looked so gallant, exciting, and romantic to me. His voice had been softer, his lips so inviting. And when he put his hands on my waist and began to lift me out of the window, I felt myself softening, losing all forms of resistance, and eager to be taken.

Every sexual impulse that had tantalized me and
drawn me toward a deeper longing and desire had come alive and was now full blown, screaming to be acknowledged and served. I so wanted to be a slave to my sex and let it, like some invisible strong hand, seize my spine and whip me about until it had shaken any and all restraint from my body, reluctance pouring out of every cell until I was completely lost in Mark’s kiss.

Surely, no young woman was ever mesmerized more quickly and then more willing to give herself completely. A look across a room, a glance with an accompanying sexy smile, a kiss blown through pursed lips, a soft whisper caressing her ear, sent a tingling from her breasts to her thighs and made her weak and hungry for love, but none of that came close to the power of Mark’s voice, Mark’s magnetic eyes.

I wanted him in me, part of me, absorbing and controlling me. I wanted him to put me on like a glove and hold me against his chest and heart for as long as he liked. No warnings, no lessons in prudence, could withstand the onslaught of wave after wave of his sex growing harder and deeper inside me. And not once during all of this did I think I was losing anything of myself. Not once did I feel the slightest abuse or imagine the slightest regret.
I am where I was meant to be, longed to be
, I thought.
Take me. Take me now.

I was lost in the fantasy for a few moments, but happily lost. It filled me with warmth. I felt as if I were snuggling in my large comforter, even though I had begun to roll it away. I thought about remaining in bed longer, but then I turned slightly and saw the blood on the window again. It was as if a rock had been thrown through it, the
shattering shards flying all about. Cold air came charging in behind it, pouring over my warm, sensual thoughts and feelings, drowning them, extinguishing them the way a fireman’s hose would extinguish a fire.

I heard my door opening. Mrs. Fennel stood there looking in at me.

“Still in bed? Your father is waiting for you in the living room,” she said. There was nothing in her voice to indicate anger or sadness.

“Is everyone else up?”

“Dressed and waiting,” she said, and left.

I got out of bed quickly, went into the bathroom to rinse my face in cold water, and then barely ran a brush through my hair before hurrying to slip on a pair of panties, get into my jeans, and throw on a school sweatshirt while sliding my feet into a pair of sandals. I stepped into the hallway and paused, realizing how very quiet it was. Usually, by this time, I would hear Marla talking or some sounds coming from the kitchen. I practically ran toward the living room. When I entered, I found Ava sitting on the sofa with Marla. Mrs. Fennel was in Daddy’s favorite chair, and he was standing with his arms folded, gazing out the window, his back to everyone. Rarely was Mrs. Fennel there with us when we sat with Daddy. Daddy turned when I entered. They all looked quite glum.