The Sacrificial Daughter (29 page)

After thanking Carla, Jesse got out the car and was inside her house in a matter of seconds. Nothing in their conversation had alleviated her fear of Harold Brownly, instead it exacerbated it. If Harold could slip away from the police and kill right under their noses, how could she expect to feel safe anywhere?

Even in her own home. Jesse checked and rechecked every door and window, knowing all the while what a futile gesture it was. Her doors were not made of cold iron, they were made of wood. A single blow from one of Harold's great shoulders would level them and leave her at his mercy.

It seemed almost safer in the woods. There she could run. Even with her bum ankle she could probably out distance Harold. He was huge and likely didn't have the stamina to keep up with her.

But he's crazy.

Right as always. Crazy people could do crazy things. In her mind's eye she could see Harold stalking her relentlessly—tirelessly, as she grew weaker from exhaustion. He would come on just as he had been for years, and all it would take was one misstep and she'd be down with a broken ankle and then...

With that thought in mind and a cold sweat down her back, Jesse went to the kitchen and picked out a good sturdy knife, one that could disembowel a man. It was a good knife, but against Harold it still didn't seem like much, yet it was all she had. She took it with her to her room and there began a vigil that would last for hours.

She watched and waited. She watched nothing; the two houses were black and blank. And she waited, but for what? For Ky to show up and ignore her, or for Harold to show up and notice her? Neither seemed too appealing.

You're waiting until it's time to fight.

Wrong. Jesse wasn't going to fight. A fight would put her out there...at the mercy of the killer.

I thought you were worried that the killer could get in here?

Jesse growled at her voice of reason. "What good would a fight do either way?" she asked aloud to the empty room. A fight with a girl like Amanda held danger either way, win or lose. If Jesse lost, it would just mean more and more aggravation and would lead to more fights. If she won it could mean that she'd have to deal with Ronny and John, both of whom did not look to be above fighting a girl.

She had not counted on two such losers hanging around Amanda when she had first confronted the blonde on Monday. She had figured that Amanda and her big mouth would be a good lesson learned for the rest of the girls in Ashton high: don't mess with the new girl. Yet now a win over Amanda might very well spark revenge from her two wanna-be boyfriends.

There is option C.

Right...maybe. Option C was what boys sometimes did. When boys fought there was a good chance that they'd be friends afterwards. It didn't make sense and it didn't happen every time, but it
did
happen sometimes. It was as if the fight had to occur for the friendship to occur.

But how did it happen? Maybe they talked afterwards, about sports or girls. Jesse hopped down from her desk where she had been perched and began pacing. As she paced, she began working her neck around, loosening up.

She could do this she decided. She would beat Amanda up...but not too badly...and then sit her down for a chat.

"Maybe I should bring a snack for afterwards," she suggested to the girl in the mirror, while checking the scab over her right eye. It wouldn't do for the wound to open up during the fight. Blood in the eye didn't hurt, but it was distracting. It would hold, she decided.

"A snack is a good idea," Jesse replied to herself, changing out of her shirt. The red satin was just too nice. She slipped on a form fitting black lycra top. It was slick and would be hard to grab a hold of. Next she took off her jungle boots and redid the ace bandage about her ankle.

"Wait! Am I really going to do this?" she asked. "Am I really going out there?" Jesse went back to the window and looked out again. Her voice of reason was silent. She had cause to go out and cause to stay. At this point, all she could do was shrug. When she did, Jesse saw her reflection in the window mirror the movement and this set off a warning bell of alarm.

If she could see herself reflected that meant someone outside could now see in through her window. Quickly she ran to the wall and swatted the light switch down. The room went darker than she had expected and she looked over at the orange glow of her alarm clock: 4:48 pm.

Harold's house was still dark.

Was he in there looking up at me?
she wondered. The thought gave her the chills.
Or was he out in the woods searching?
That thought was worse. As long as he was out lurking about in the woods, Jesse decided that she wouldn't leave the house; it was just too dangerous.

Ky came home at half past six and ten minutes later a light came on in Harold's house. Was that coincidence?

Jesse didn't know. She did know a gnawing sense of anxiety that grew as the minutes slipped by. Just after seven o'clock, she saw Harold's large shadow begin to pace, just as it had the night before. This brought on a near fevered pitch of nerves. It meant that she really no longer had an excuse not to go out; it meant that the fight was on.

With a big chest-rattling sigh, Jesse hopped down again and began her own pacing. She would gradually warm up for the next half hour, then grab a couple of handfuls of Double-stuff Oreos put them in a baggy and head down to the berm. It was a good plan. It was a good, nerve-wrecking plan. It was one thing to fight, but it was another to fight at night and it was a whole other ball of wax to fight with an insane killer in the neighborhood.

Was there an alternative? Of course there was, but it wasn't one that Jesse relished. It involved endless hazing, nasty teasing, and being called chicken at every turn. It meant that she'd be looked down upon and with reason.

"A coward dies a thousand deaths while the valiant tastes death but once," she said.

You misquoted that. It's actually...

"Shut up," she said to herself.

Ten minutes before she was to leave, Ky's house went dark. One by one the lights went down and Jesse practically had her nose pressed against the window to see why. There was no way to know from where she was and no likely reason popped into her head. Now her attention was concentrated on Harold's house. If his house went dark too, there was no way that she'd leave, chicken or no chicken. Even if he stopped pacing, she wouldn't go.

A minute later her watched beeped at her. Fight time and Harold still walked back and forth. She hesitated for two full minutes and a large part of her wanted him to stop so she wouldn't have to go... so she would have an excuse to stay and cower.

'Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.' That is the actual quote.

"Fine!" Jesse snapped at herself, and ran from the room. She stopped in the kitchen, grabbed her Oreos and left, still stuffing them into a baggy.

In seconds, she was practically invisible. In her black attire she blended in with the night and the soft tread of her boots was barely audible even to her own ears. She was a ghost herself as she slipped down the trail. With the knowledge that Harold was at home, Jesse didn't fear what lay before her and hurried down to the berm as quick as she could.

Now that she was moving she calmed considerably. So much so that she was just thinking about inviting Amanda back to her house to freshen up after the fight, when she caught sight of the berm. On it was a lone figure and even from a hundred yards away Amanda's blonde hair stood out against her dark coat. As promised she was all alone.

Now Jesse slowed and took huge breaths trying to focus her mind and control her anxiety. In a minute, she was ready and slipped the heavy chain and lock out of her pocket and laid them next to a tree by the path. No weapons was the rule.

"Show time," she whispered, striding out onto the berm. "Go in fast—keep your weight forward—keep her on her heels." She hissed instructions to herself as she walked. At thirty yards, with her eyes focused on the blonde, Jesse began unbuttoning her long coat.

For her part, Amanda just stood waiting quietly. She barely even moved, as if she wasn't the least bit anxious. The only sign that she was in any way uneasy was in the fact that she was smoking a cigarette. The red-orange ember flared briefly as she brought it to her face and then it went flying to skip across the thin ice of the pond.

Jesse watched its progress and when she looked back to Amanda her breath stopped in her throat.

Far down the berm behind Amanda a shadow came out from the edge of the trees. It seemed a very large shadow, too large to be a normal person. The sight of it smote Jesse's heart, leaving her clutching her chest in fear. The Shadow-man was there!

All thoughts of fighting Amanda left her in that one split second—her mind was only taken up with thoughts of fleeing. Yet she would not abandon the blonde girl, no matter the animosity between them.

"Amanda! Behind you!" she screamed. In what felt like slow motion the girl turned and stared down the berm. Jesse started backing away, but Amanda only stood as if frozen by the sight. Jesse took two more steps away, her feet seemed uncontrollably light. They wanted to fly from there as fast possible and it was everything Jesse could do to hold them down. Yet Amanda wouldn't budge.

"Run!" Jesse ordered. However, the blonde didn't, she only turned and smiled a hard white smile at Jesse. The grin and the pale face around it were like cold death, and were totally incomprehensible. Jesse's mind boggled and contorted on itself. Surely Amanda was afraid of the Shadow-man, everyone was...

Just then the huge shadow coming forward became more distinct and she saw that it wasn't one large man, it was two people dressed in black. Understanding struck Jesse and she spun away from Amanda and her death's head smile. She made to run, only the sight coming from the other end of the berm stopped her and turned her feather light feet to bricks: two more people were heading toward her from that direction as well.

There was nowhere to run. The berm was maybe twelve feet wide; it would be impossible to juke her way past two people on such a narrow strip. Her only other option was to take a chance that her weight on the newly frozen pond wouldn't send her through the ice.

That's not an option!
Her voice of reason was also the voice of panic. The waters of the ponds needed at least another week to thicken before they would be skate worthy. To go out too soon would be to face the coldest death imaginable.

Amanda seemed to be reading her thoughts. "I wouldn't go out there if I was you," she said strolling forward. "You'll go right to the bottom. You ever go through the ice before? That pretty coat of yours will suddenly weigh a hundred pounds and it'll suck you down."

Just then her three-quarter length coat felt heavier on her shoulders. She knew if she did go into the water the cotton/wool blend would act as sponge...and it would feel like a straightjacket. The coat would make it seem like she was struggling in black tar rather than water and she would get tired so fast...

Uncertainty raged within her. Every path seemed to lead to pain or to death. Ahead of her were three people, led by Amanda. Behind her only two. Jesse turned and fled down the berm toward her home. She had no real hope she'd get by the two people blocking her way, but at least it was closer to land. That was all that was important to her panic-stricken mind. She had no clue what Amanda planned to do to her, but going into the ice-cold water was her greatest fear...yet seconds later she found herself standing on its flat surface, watching long cracks forming around her.

In a dead sprint Jesse ran at the two people on the north end of the berm. As she drew closer, the dark revealed John Osterman's thin face and Amanda's ugly friend, Tina. Jesse made her move toward Tina.

It was poorly thought out and obvious. If she had faked toward Tina and then juked back to John she might have escaped. Instead she tried to dance her way between Tina and the water's edge and was mostly successful. However with the margins of safety so thin, 'mostly' didn't cut it.

She got past Tina, however John smashed into her, sending her stumbling out onto the ice. Somehow she managed to stay upright and with horror she watched the ice send out white lines, zigzagging out from beneath her feet. She stood petrified, so afraid to move that she could barely breathe.

In seconds Ronny, Amanda, and the mousy girl that Jesse had kicked in the stomach in their fight in the bathroom, joined John and Tina on the berm above her. They stood blowing out white plumes of breath and grinning at each other.

"What do you want to do with her," Ronny asked in a gleeful vicious manner. He looked like a sick kid who had just trapped the neighbor's cat and was considering whether to shave it or tie a rock to its tail.

"What we came here for," John replied. "But first..."

He left the words out there and Jesse's mind screamed,
But first, what?
"W-w-hat d-do you want?" Jesse's voice shook. Her whole body shook.

"You wanted to fight?" John replied. "We're here to fight." He waved his arm at the little group.

Jesse shook her head. "All of y-you? Th-that's not what w-we agreed to."

"You fight one of us, you fight all of us," John said. "Now come on, you don't want to stand out there all night." As much as she feared the ice, the alternative seemed worse and so she stood her ground.

"I'll get her in," Ronny said. He bent and picked up a large stone the size of a brick and threw it. Jesse cringed down into a squatting position thinking that he was actually throwing the stone at her, but he wasn't. He threw it high in a gentle arc and it landed next to her, embedding itself in the ice, sending out lightning bolts of white lines.

The ice groaned beneath her feet. "No! Please...don't." She begged as Ronny stooped for another stone.

"Then come on in," John said reasonably.

The water was sure death in Jesse's mind, but a beating by the five of them wasn't much of an alternative. "I'll fight...if that what you want. B-but one at a time."

"No way," Tina said, the cold and excitement putting a quiver in her voice. "She's just saying that so she can run."

"It's ok, she won't get past us," John said, holding out at hand to hush Tina. "You want to fight us one at a time? You start with me." John stepped back from the edge of the berm and shooed the others back as well. They fanned out, two on either side of him, making it impossible for her to make a run for it.

"Ok...ok...j-just step back," she said. John was still too close, only about five feet from the water.

"Sure thang," he said, backing up. He was all confidence, while Jesse felt her insides vibrating like mad. She wasn't going to win this, there was no way. He was too big, too long. With his reach, she'd have to get in close. The idea made her want to heave up her dinner just thinking about it.

Yet what choice did she have?

Jesse slid with small fearful movements to the edge of the berm and then stepped onto the rocks. Immediately, she felt a sense of relief. Her pent up breath now came in great gasps which had her enemies laughing at her. She let them laugh without saying a word; she needed all the time that she could get and those few precious moments helped to clear her head somewhat.

"Come on, Bitch. Let's do this," John said, eventually.

Jesse nodded and then rolled her shoulders up and back; she was stiff with stress and that was no way to go into a fight. If she had any chance to win, she needed to be loose, relaxed, and above all quick. He had size and strength; she had speed and experience. Jesse had fought nineteen times in the last five years and that wasn't counting little scuffles like what occurred in the bathroom. In her mind fights weren't fights unless blood was drawn.

Yet for all her experience and speed she knew deep down that she was going to lose. In boxing and wrestling they didn't have speed categories, they had weight categories and for the simple reason: big people beat little people. And John wasn't just a little bigger than her. He might have been thin but he was a head taller than her and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds.

John stood in a relaxed fighting stance; left foot forward, hands low...too low. If he were fighting a worthier opponent, those hands at chest height would have doomed him. They showed he was over-confident, unfortunately that wouldn't last. He would learn. She would teach him.

Jesse came up on the balls of her feet, her supple jungle boots bending beautifully; her hands were positioned at the proper height: just below the level of her eyes. She began to dance in her fighting stance like a boxer, left to right, which brought on gales of laughter from Ronny and John.

The girl in black said nothing to this, she just took the extra seconds to do her best to relax and focus. Her heart beat too fast in her chest; her breathe came out raggedy.

"Get her, John," Tina goaded.

What a nasty smile she wore! Jesse gaped at the blood lust displayed on the girl's vile face. In all her time as the hated one she had never seen anything close and if Jesse had a second to dwell on it, she might have been petrified by the horror of it. However John came on quick and Jesse had to focus, or go down.

He toyed with her—a quick feint that she saw coming. She danced away in an exaggerated movement. This repeated itself a second time, but they both knew that it wouldn't on the third. He knew he would attack for real, expecting her to dance away again and she knew that she wouldn't.

Just as he stepped forward and brought his left arm around to level her, she danced in. Her momentum and his came together at the point where her fist met his chin. The impact charred her all the way up her shoulder; it was expected and she torqued her upper body, following the first punch a fraction of a second later with a hard right. This mashed his lips under her fist.

John's head reeled back and Jesse followed up the one-two with a looping left hook. She was too short. His momentum was now back and the strike, which might have sealed the deal for Jesse, only barely clipped him on the chin. And then his arms were up flailing at her and he stepped back with a shaken look in his eyes.

That was the high point of the fight and the very reason why Jesse thought only a fool of a girl would ever voluntarily fight a boy, especially one bigger than herself. This wasn't Hollywood where a hundred pound girl with twigs for arms could knock out an NFL linebacker with a single blow.

This was fact.

Jesse had used all her strength in both punches, had connected squarely right where she needed to and still John was standing. In a second, his eyes cleared of his shock and then they began to fill with an embarrassed anger. He wasn't going to toy with her anymore.

John came on again: hard, vicious, aggressive. He was much stronger than Jesse, while she was only slightly quicker, yet she evaded his first two blows with relative ease because of the way he was so obvious in his attacks. She would've ducked out of the way the third looping haymaker as well, if she hadn't been suddenly pushed from behind.

Hands shoved her into the path of the blow and it landed awkwardly but heavily on the side of her head. She went spinning to the ground by the force of it, but she wasn't down for more than a second. Fear of fighting on the ground...of being pinned by her much larger opponent...of being raped, had her up as quick as she could. Jesse hated the feeling of being pinned by a boy. All her guile, speed, and skills were useless and always the specter of rape filled her mind. After all, what sort of boy would fight a girl to the point of beating her to the ground and then climb on top her...only one kind.

Jesse used her momentum and was up, dancing left then right as she looked for an opening to strike. Unfortunately, her first two punches had taught John to keep his hands up and he seemed well out of reach.

Angle, angle, angle!
her mind screamed at her. Against an opponent so big, there was no way she could go toe-to-toe; she had to attack from the side. She kept up her dance—left, right—right, left—left-attack! Her punch seemed to shock him in its speed, but it did little to hurt him seriously, and worse, as he flung out his long arms, one hand snatched a hold of her fancy black coat.

He reeled her in with it and before she saw what was coming his fist connected with her right eye. Suddenly she lost feeling in her feet and her legs were those of a drunken sailor. Jesse tried to remain up right, she tried to stay in the fight, but without her speed she was just a punching bag for John.

Seemingly out of the black of the night a huge fist appeared and struck her on the left side of her face, turning her around and around until she felt the rough berm on her back. Then like a pack of wild dogs they were on her kicking and stomping.

"Enough! Stop!" Amanda called out and just like that the beating ended and the pain began. The second Jesse had gone to the ground she had balled up to protect herself, and many of the blows had landed on her back and ribs. Every breath was like fire.

"Come on, pick her up!" John ordered. Hands grabbed her and she felt herself lifted from the ground.

She wanted to scream,
Not the pond, please!
Yet it was all she could do to take the tiny puffs of air that slipped between her clenched teeth.

They did not take her to the pond and throw her in. It was not a relief. Instead they carried her to the end of the berm and held her up again a good-sized tree. Tina held one arm, John held the other and Ronny pulled out a grey roll of duct tape.

Amanda stood in front of her and held the strangest thing in her hand. It was a book. John snatched it out of her hands and opened it for Jesse to see what was inscribed on the inside cover:

Happy Birthday!

Your friend,

Kyle.

Blearily Jesse stared at it. The words had no meaning to her. "What?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"It's your birthday," John said. "Isn't that nice. And it must be Harold's birthday too, because we're going leave him a little gift...you."

"No...please," Jesse begged. Tears streaked down her face and in her fear she found a little more breath. "Please, John...don't."

Grimly he shrugged as Ronny began rolling the tape around Jesse's splayed arms. "Then who should die?" John asked. "Me? Hell no! One of my friends? I don't think so. You're the stranger here. You're the outcast. Who would really care if you died? I don't even think your parents would care. Where is your father...Mister high and mighty? Shouldn't he be here to save his only child?"

Jesse's head and chest went limp and she hung by her outstretched arms. She was finding too great a strain to hold herself up and breathe at the same time. "I...don't know...where..." she croaked out an answer. "Please...don't..."

"Sorry," John said. "This is the way it's going to be. But just look on the bright side, when Harold comes and bashes your head in, you'll be saving someone else's life."