Fearless One
Shad’e Zuiweta
It has been six hours into the day with no word from Donnie. Ms. Lima reported last seeing him under a large tree in front of the school at Voorshilt Elementary to shield himself from the scorching sun of mid-summer July while he waited for his mother to show. She had been running late to pick him up along with the other parents. Instinct told her to bring him inside to the office, but she didn’t and Mrs. Lima regretted it. This was a time before school’s required identification and buckled down more on safety with teachers and students.
Talbert Defroh slowly drove up a dirt road that led to a two-story abandoned house with dilapidated steps and rusty railings covered in desiccated vines. Donnie gasped and pressed his nose against the glass of the car window. The house wasn’t in the least bit attractive, and looked like something straight out of a horror flick. Something more of the Adams Family. He took a long swallow and a tingling sensation shot up his spine.
At this moment he had regretted opening the car door and riding off with his papa. Something had been off with him the minute he rolled down the window. From every demand he threw at him and every crackle in his voice that followed those demands. Donnie fidgeted with his backpack as they got out of the truck and walked toward the house.
He regretted every minute he spent not listening to the words his mother said about putting safety first. It was all rubbish to him at that time and it went in one ear and out the other. He thought it would be okay to ride along with someone he trusted like his papa. This hadn’t been the case. Even the ones we least expect can be wolves in sheep’s clothing.
? ? ?
Shhnnk! Fupp.
Donnie remembered those sounds very well. The constant digging and rattling noises were similar to that of the ones his mother would make, tending to her garden although it was evident it was not her. He got used to these noises dating back to the summer of July 1982. The faint smell of burnt wood chippings tickled Donnie’s nostril hairs while his eyes peeled through one of the partially opened windows of the backdoor to the house that led outside.
He examined the mud from the rain that covered his papa’s shoes and coveralls as he shoveled the damp earth. Not again, he thought. Not another woman. What else could he have been out there doing? Donnie’s eyes narrowed in on his papa tossing over a heavy object of some sort into a hole he had dug.
“Help me.”
Donnie immediately looked over his shoulders. He could hear a faint voice that sounded terrified, and knew it was a woman’s. He followed her call for help down to the basement. He pulled the string to turn the lighting on above him and was taken aback by what he saw. A woman who was almost a replica of his mother laid on the cold hard concrete panting heavily with a look of desperation, shackled by iron manacles at her bruised ankles and her zip-tied hands behind her back that startled him. He turned to her, watching the heavy flow of her tears contour her pale cheeks, ruining the fine mascara that streamed through her defined feathered lashes, forming a black river of ink.
“Please, you have to help me.”
Donnie took a step back. “I’m sorry. He’ll get me if I help you,” He whispered weakly.
The woman tried squeezing her hands through the zip ties to free herself from bondage, but it only panged her to do so. It was no use. He took a deep long swallow and glanced at the painful markings that covered his arms and legs. The woman wasn’t without scars herself. He felt that it was wise to be bold, but unfortunately all he could do was empathize with her.
“Everything will be okay.”
The woman shook her head and cried. “No, it won’t. It’s been days since I’ve eaten and I’m so hungry.”
“Um, but I, I…can’t.” He cleared his throat to avoid stumbling over his words. “I’ll bring you something back.”
A half-eaten peanut butter sandwich with no jelly that his papa made earlier for him was on the counter with nothing to quench his thirst. It had been a couple of days since the feeling of dehydration had fallen upon him and it felt like there was a blockage smack dab in the middle of his throat preventing him from salivating. His stomach twisted into a fist full of knots. Although he was hungry and terrified himself, he tried not to show any signs of weakness.
“This is all I have.” He said, through parched lips. Donnie placed what would probably be his last supper for the day at her side. “But here, you’re welcomed to eat mine. I have to go now.”
“Wait!”
Donnie stopped just before reaching the door at the top of the stairs and looked back at the helpless woman. “Yes ma’am?”
“You must find a key and something to get me out of here.”
He took a long deep breath. “I will try.”
On a small vintage stand was a television that sat a distance from the kitchen area that struck his attention. The wooden floorboards creaked above him with every step his papa took. His shoulders sank into his chest and his face hardened in concentration as a portrait of a local beautiful woman with ginger hair and amethyst eyes, recently reported missing, flashed across the evening news. The reporter finally stated her name; Claire Hobiam.
His body was as still as a statue as the anchor rambled on. She was an exact description of the woman in the basement-the twelfth youngest woman to go missing over the past couple of months. She could have been the younger sister of his mother if she had one. Most of the women who went missing were identical to his mother and that’s what bothered him more.
Her disappearance had increased a ton of attention in the community and had heightened the fears among residents living in the county of Hamilton in Chattanooga, Tennessee, a city along the Tennessee river of the Appalachian Mountains. His concentration had been cut short when his papa suddenly stormed downstairs and plopped down in the recliner. Blue and white lights glared through the iris of his papa’s eyes. His face flushed a bright red and his mouth set in a hard line as he impatiently rocked back and forth holding a Miller Lite.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something boy. What’s wrong with you?” He gulped down half of the bottle of beer.
“Oh no…I was watching television.”
Photos of Donnie were then plastered across the news as a boy that had been missing for three years. His papa sat up tall. The worst was presumed, but Donnie’s family hadn’t given up hope. Straddles of curly red hair swooped along his cool mint eyes, and large polka dots in a row of three like tic tac toe spread across each of Donnie’s cheekbones in the photos. A look-alike of him but his personality was nothing like him of course.
There had been numerous sightings of him over the years at Freddie’s Mart on US-165. in Little Rock, Arkansas. A search party was en route to scour that entire area and possibly several others.
“Donnie Defroh, who would be twelve years old today, was last seen being snatched by a small-framed Caucasian individual with a hawk tattoo on his arm. Authorities suspect the father Talbert Defroh, 49, who fits the description, may somehow be involved with his disappearance.” The reporter added.
Donnie watched as his mother appealed to the public once again with his grandparents at her side. She wiped her face as the tears from her eyes kissed her cheeks. She spoke with confidence through several microphones of reporters extended outward almost nearly poking her in the face. Flyers had been posted and the reward had upped a good $200,000. One thing Donnie never forgot was his mother’s beauty even when she was sad. It would be something that would bring him much closer to Claire.
Mom, I’m here. Donnie knew his mother couldn’t hear him. He wished that he could reach through the television and tell her the location of his whereabouts, and that she was right-his papa had indeed taken him, and he was nuts! His bushy eyebrows drew inward with a gaping mouth, listening to her give a speech for someone to come forward with information.
A laugh bursted from his papa’s lips. “She deserves everything she’s getting after what she did to me.” He leaned close to whisper, “She will never see you again.”
Donnie’s shoulders slumped. “Why do you hate mama so much? And what did she do to you?” He lifted a brow. “What did any of these women do to you?”
“Why don’t you mind the business that pays you.”
Donnie felt so much hatred for his papa for taking him away from her and the home he loved. Was it because of their divorce? He wondered if the one friend that he had made still lived in the same neighborhood and even if his room was as the same as he had left it that morning. Tension was building. Fogging the rim of his papa’s glasses. By the time the news finished, he was banging himself upside the head with clenched fists like a nutcase, wondering what he should do next.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”
Donnie cringed at the sound of his voice. His eyes searched the room for somewhere to hide.
“One, two, three, four-” He counted until he reached twelve and rose from the recliner wiping the alcohol from his shaggy beard that was drenched in alcohol. He ran down to the basement and it didn’t take any time before he returned with the woman.
“Let’s go now.” He uttered in a dark raspy tone, taking the woman at his side.
“No! get your hands off me,” The woman cried, visibly distraught.
She fell to her knees screaming and clung to the sides of the door frame to keep from being dragged outside. She wiggled her petite body to get away from his clutches and the heavy chains followed close behind her. Donnie wanted to help, but like her, he too was a prisoner. He had even been bullied in school and could never find it in himself to stand his ground. His papa had trained him not to step so much as one foot out of the house. He looked onward as the woman’s screams fell silent through the misty haze which made it difficult to see anything.
“Papa! Papa! Please don’t!” There was no stopping him. He knew she wasn’t coming back. None of the women had returned.
Shhnnk! Fupp.
Several hours passed and those sounds came. Donnie had a gut feeling he was outback doing the deed again. He ran down the basement stairs and kneeled before a large board and slid it to the side, removing a wooden- shaft spear, six feet long with a narrow sharpness that preserved a marvelous, pointed head. After finding it a few months ago, he had kept it hidden there ever since.
He knew what he had to do for his freedom. The only way he knew how to conquer the demon, was by confronting it. It was better to be prepared than not at all anyway. Donnie tiptoed up the flight of stairs and held on tightly to the spear with sweaty palms, trying not to lose grip. He heard his papa’s loud footsteps return. The rattling of the front door’s knob scattered him to the kitchen where he had no choice but to place the spear in the corner beside the fridge.
Donnie hurriedly lined up against the wall like a soldier waiting for the commands of his captain surprised, when he returned with Claire who was unconscious. This was unusual. Had he deviated from his normal routine permanently? .Donnie stared nervously into the distance trying not to panic that he had no time to hide the spear.
“Donnie boy, where r’ ya?” He asked, unfastening his coat.
“I’m right here, papa.”
“Gimm’e a beer from over yonder.”
“Yes papa.”
He opened the fridge, searching up and down for a fresh bottle of beer going from one shelf to another. The crumbling sounds of his papa’s fist pummeled hard into the wall and left a massive hole in the center. Pieces of sheetrock covered his knuckles that sent Donnie backing scared into the corner. He could see that Claire had awakened from the sounds.
“Where’s ma’ beer, boy!” He hollered angrily and raised his fist when Donnie quickly held it up.
“Here it is. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, papa.”
“It’s about time. You’re way too slow.”
He snatched the beer from Donnie’s hand and just as he was about to walk away Donnie asked, “Why do you hate me so bad? I’m your son and I’ve never done anything to you!”
“Because every time I look at you, I..I.. see nothing but your mother. There’s no part of me in you.”
Those words angered Donnie. He had gotten distracted by the key he discovered sitting on the countertop- the key to their freedom.
His papa shoved him to the side. “Get out of ma’ way boy.” He grabbed a couple more beers from the fridge and was back in the recliner again. Donnie felt relieved that the spear hadn’t been seen. Gently, he ran his hands down his bare legs and fingered the bruises where his father had beaten him the weak before. Looking at those bruises he would give anything to have freedom.
Donnie waited until after his papa flipped through a few channels and had drunkenly fallen asleep, to carefully retrieve the key. He could hear loud grunting noises coming from his papa as if he were in some sort of nightmare. Donnie hadn’t been able to save the other women, but if he could save one then it would make a difference.
He gathered the spear as his papa slept and crept quietly over then rushed him with it, aggressively thrusting the spear as deep as he could into his side until he couldn’t anymore. Blood was seeping heavily through his shirt and into the crevices of the floorboards. Donnie decided that now was the time to break away. He and Claire were no longer going to be his victims, caged like animals.
“Dammit!”
The pain sent his papa sprawling to the ground in agony and a cold icy predatory gaze fixed upon Donnie. He willed himself to stand and quickly grabbed him violently by his shoulder and then slowly, he raised his other hand to the ceiling when Donnie thought fast and drove his hand inside the wounded area with all his strength. The excruciating pain caused his papa to let go and Donnie ran over to the woman.
“Hurry!” Claire shouted.
Donnie was a jittery nervous wreck. The keys jingled in his hand while trying to free her from the chains that restrained her ankles. For a moment, his shaky hands wouldn’t allow the key to go forward in the hole until finally, the lock clicked open. They made a break for the front door while his papa screamed in pain. They stopped dead set in their tracks and turned around to see him bleeding profusely on the floor.
Claire grabbed the spear by the recliner. “It’s time to put an end to this.”
“And what are you going-”
His words were cut short from the blood spurting from his mouth. She stabbed him right in the heart, piercing him with the spear several more times so much that she had lost count. Donnie watched as his papa laid on the floor incapacitated with sightless pearl black eyes-eyes that stared off into vacancy. “Even after everything, I forgive you.” Claire pulled Donnie back. “Come on kid, we’ve got to go now.”
They stood together at the bottom of the steps with tears clouding their vision. The birds seemed to be chirping a cheerful song as if spring were approaching. Each naked tree had taken on the form of golden chestnut. It never felt this good to feel the endless stream of fresh winds at their cheekbones behind freedom.
Broken sticks, scattered acorns, and scraggly twigs in the bounties of mother nature. It had been good enough to keep the rain at bay. A cement grey walkway led away from the house, but there were no other houses in sight. Only tall trees with knobby roots lashing against one another. He inhaled the fresh air of the outside world and a tinge of damp rotting wood then human instinct kicked in.
“Were free!”
Claire nodded, traumatized by the ordeal. “Thank you for everything. You’re a brave boy.”
Their arms wrapped around one another.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
She looked around for a while then she unsnapped the hook from a jeweled necklace resting on her collarbone. “This was once my mother’s.” She handed it to Donnie. “It was to remind me that I am never alone, that in any situation, I should remain strong. It’s yours now.”
He blinked, feeling at the jewel’s smoothness. On the metal backing engraved the words, fearless.
He purred into her chest like a lost kitten that had found its mother. To feel such warmth, like he could truly trust again meant everything. His legs shifted forward pumping fresh rivers of adrenaline into his veins. It had been a hell hole and what had been three years of imprisonment, felt like an eternity. Donnie’s bare feet sank into the earth. The crisp faded leaves crunched between his toes as he ran towards the sounds of barking. He ran so fast that Claire, who could barely keep up, fell behind. Cadaver dogs were out in the wooded area sniffing around and an officer nearby, spotted what appeared to him as a child in distress.
“Over here! Donnie shouted, waving both hands. “We need help!” He rustled into a warm embrace of the officer’s comforting arms and felt himself floating.
“You’re safe now son,” said the officer. He cried tears that he had never cried before. It took wisdom and courage to finally be able to do things he thought he could never do.
Shad’e Zuiweta
It has been six hours into the day with no word from Donnie. Ms. Lima reported last seeing him under a large tree in front of the school at Voorshilt Elementary to shield himself from the scorching sun of mid-summer July while he waited for his mother to show. She had been running late to pick him up along with the other parents. Instinct told her to bring him inside to the office, but she didn’t and Mrs. Lima regretted it. This was a time before school’s required identification and buckled down more on safety with teachers and students.
Talbert Defroh slowly drove up a dirt road that led to a two-story abandoned house with dilapidated steps and rusty railings covered in desiccated vines. Donnie gasped and pressed his nose against the glass of the car window. The house wasn’t in the least bit attractive, and looked like something straight out of a horror flick. Something more of the Adams Family. He took a long swallow and a tingling sensation shot up his spine.
At this moment he had regretted opening the car door and riding off with his papa. Something had been off with him the minute he rolled down the window. From every demand he threw at him and every crackle in his voice that followed those demands. Donnie fidgeted with his backpack as they got out of the truck and walked toward the house.
He regretted every minute he spent not listening to the words his mother said about putting safety first. It was all rubbish to him at that time and it went in one ear and out the other. He thought it would be okay to ride along with someone he trusted like his papa. This hadn’t been the case. Even the ones we least expect can be wolves in sheep’s clothing.
? ? ?
Shhnnk! Fupp.
Donnie remembered those sounds very well. The constant digging and rattling noises were similar to that of the ones his mother would make, tending to her garden although it was evident it was not her. He got used to these noises dating back to the summer of July 1982. The faint smell of burnt wood chippings tickled Donnie’s nostril hairs while his eyes peeled through one of the partially opened windows of the backdoor to the house that led outside.
He examined the mud from the rain that covered his papa’s shoes and coveralls as he shoveled the damp earth. Not again, he thought. Not another woman. What else could he have been out there doing? Donnie’s eyes narrowed in on his papa tossing over a heavy object of some sort into a hole he had dug.
“Help me.”
Donnie immediately looked over his shoulders. He could hear a faint voice that sounded terrified, and knew it was a woman’s. He followed her call for help down to the basement. He pulled the string to turn the lighting on above him and was taken aback by what he saw. A woman who was almost a replica of his mother laid on the cold hard concrete panting heavily with a look of desperation, shackled by iron manacles at her bruised ankles and her zip-tied hands behind her back that startled him. He turned to her, watching the heavy flow of her tears contour her pale cheeks, ruining the fine mascara that streamed through her defined feathered lashes, forming a black river of ink.
“Please, you have to help me.”
Donnie took a step back. “I’m sorry. He’ll get me if I help you,” He whispered weakly.
The woman tried squeezing her hands through the zip ties to free herself from bondage, but it only panged her to do so. It was no use. He took a deep long swallow and glanced at the painful markings that covered his arms and legs. The woman wasn’t without scars herself. He felt that it was wise to be bold, but unfortunately all he could do was empathize with her.
“Everything will be okay.”
The woman shook her head and cried. “No, it won’t. It’s been days since I’ve eaten and I’m so hungry.”
“Um, but I, I…can’t.” He cleared his throat to avoid stumbling over his words. “I’ll bring you something back.”
A half-eaten peanut butter sandwich with no jelly that his papa made earlier for him was on the counter with nothing to quench his thirst. It had been a couple of days since the feeling of dehydration had fallen upon him and it felt like there was a blockage smack dab in the middle of his throat preventing him from salivating. His stomach twisted into a fist full of knots. Although he was hungry and terrified himself, he tried not to show any signs of weakness.
“This is all I have.” He said, through parched lips. Donnie placed what would probably be his last supper for the day at her side. “But here, you’re welcomed to eat mine. I have to go now.”
“Wait!”
Donnie stopped just before reaching the door at the top of the stairs and looked back at the helpless woman. “Yes ma’am?”
“You must find a key and something to get me out of here.”
He took a long deep breath. “I will try.”
On a small vintage stand was a television that sat a distance from the kitchen area that struck his attention. The wooden floorboards creaked above him with every step his papa took. His shoulders sank into his chest and his face hardened in concentration as a portrait of a local beautiful woman with ginger hair and amethyst eyes, recently reported missing, flashed across the evening news. The reporter finally stated her name; Claire Hobiam.
His body was as still as a statue as the anchor rambled on. She was an exact description of the woman in the basement-the twelfth youngest woman to go missing over the past couple of months. She could have been the younger sister of his mother if she had one. Most of the women who went missing were identical to his mother and that’s what bothered him more.
Her disappearance had increased a ton of attention in the community and had heightened the fears among residents living in the county of Hamilton in Chattanooga, Tennessee, a city along the Tennessee river of the Appalachian Mountains. His concentration had been cut short when his papa suddenly stormed downstairs and plopped down in the recliner. Blue and white lights glared through the iris of his papa’s eyes. His face flushed a bright red and his mouth set in a hard line as he impatiently rocked back and forth holding a Miller Lite.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something boy. What’s wrong with you?” He gulped down half of the bottle of beer.
“Oh no…I was watching television.”
Photos of Donnie were then plastered across the news as a boy that had been missing for three years. His papa sat up tall. The worst was presumed, but Donnie’s family hadn’t given up hope. Straddles of curly red hair swooped along his cool mint eyes, and large polka dots in a row of three like tic tac toe spread across each of Donnie’s cheekbones in the photos. A look-alike of him but his personality was nothing like him of course.
There had been numerous sightings of him over the years at Freddie’s Mart on US-165. in Little Rock, Arkansas. A search party was en route to scour that entire area and possibly several others.
“Donnie Defroh, who would be twelve years old today, was last seen being snatched by a small-framed Caucasian individual with a hawk tattoo on his arm. Authorities suspect the father Talbert Defroh, 49, who fits the description, may somehow be involved with his disappearance.” The reporter added.
Donnie watched as his mother appealed to the public once again with his grandparents at her side. She wiped her face as the tears from her eyes kissed her cheeks. She spoke with confidence through several microphones of reporters extended outward almost nearly poking her in the face. Flyers had been posted and the reward had upped a good $200,000. One thing Donnie never forgot was his mother’s beauty even when she was sad. It would be something that would bring him much closer to Claire.
Mom, I’m here. Donnie knew his mother couldn’t hear him. He wished that he could reach through the television and tell her the location of his whereabouts, and that she was right-his papa had indeed taken him, and he was nuts! His bushy eyebrows drew inward with a gaping mouth, listening to her give a speech for someone to come forward with information.
A laugh bursted from his papa’s lips. “She deserves everything she’s getting after what she did to me.” He leaned close to whisper, “She will never see you again.”
Donnie’s shoulders slumped. “Why do you hate mama so much? And what did she do to you?” He lifted a brow. “What did any of these women do to you?”
“Why don’t you mind the business that pays you.”
Donnie felt so much hatred for his papa for taking him away from her and the home he loved. Was it because of their divorce? He wondered if the one friend that he had made still lived in the same neighborhood and even if his room was as the same as he had left it that morning. Tension was building. Fogging the rim of his papa’s glasses. By the time the news finished, he was banging himself upside the head with clenched fists like a nutcase, wondering what he should do next.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”
Donnie cringed at the sound of his voice. His eyes searched the room for somewhere to hide.
“One, two, three, four-” He counted until he reached twelve and rose from the recliner wiping the alcohol from his shaggy beard that was drenched in alcohol. He ran down to the basement and it didn’t take any time before he returned with the woman.
“Let’s go now.” He uttered in a dark raspy tone, taking the woman at his side.
“No! get your hands off me,” The woman cried, visibly distraught.
She fell to her knees screaming and clung to the sides of the door frame to keep from being dragged outside. She wiggled her petite body to get away from his clutches and the heavy chains followed close behind her. Donnie wanted to help, but like her, he too was a prisoner. He had even been bullied in school and could never find it in himself to stand his ground. His papa had trained him not to step so much as one foot out of the house. He looked onward as the woman’s screams fell silent through the misty haze which made it difficult to see anything.
“Papa! Papa! Please don’t!” There was no stopping him. He knew she wasn’t coming back. None of the women had returned.
Shhnnk! Fupp.
Several hours passed and those sounds came. Donnie had a gut feeling he was outback doing the deed again. He ran down the basement stairs and kneeled before a large board and slid it to the side, removing a wooden- shaft spear, six feet long with a narrow sharpness that preserved a marvelous, pointed head. After finding it a few months ago, he had kept it hidden there ever since.
He knew what he had to do for his freedom. The only way he knew how to conquer the demon, was by confronting it. It was better to be prepared than not at all anyway. Donnie tiptoed up the flight of stairs and held on tightly to the spear with sweaty palms, trying not to lose grip. He heard his papa’s loud footsteps return. The rattling of the front door’s knob scattered him to the kitchen where he had no choice but to place the spear in the corner beside the fridge.
Donnie hurriedly lined up against the wall like a soldier waiting for the commands of his captain surprised, when he returned with Claire who was unconscious. This was unusual. Had he deviated from his normal routine permanently? .Donnie stared nervously into the distance trying not to panic that he had no time to hide the spear.
“Donnie boy, where r’ ya?” He asked, unfastening his coat.
“I’m right here, papa.”
“Gimm’e a beer from over yonder.”
“Yes papa.”
He opened the fridge, searching up and down for a fresh bottle of beer going from one shelf to another. The crumbling sounds of his papa’s fist pummeled hard into the wall and left a massive hole in the center. Pieces of sheetrock covered his knuckles that sent Donnie backing scared into the corner. He could see that Claire had awakened from the sounds.
“Where’s ma’ beer, boy!” He hollered angrily and raised his fist when Donnie quickly held it up.
“Here it is. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, papa.”
“It’s about time. You’re way too slow.”
He snatched the beer from Donnie’s hand and just as he was about to walk away Donnie asked, “Why do you hate me so bad? I’m your son and I’ve never done anything to you!”
“Because every time I look at you, I..I.. see nothing but your mother. There’s no part of me in you.”
Those words angered Donnie. He had gotten distracted by the key he discovered sitting on the countertop- the key to their freedom.
His papa shoved him to the side. “Get out of ma’ way boy.” He grabbed a couple more beers from the fridge and was back in the recliner again. Donnie felt relieved that the spear hadn’t been seen. Gently, he ran his hands down his bare legs and fingered the bruises where his father had beaten him the weak before. Looking at those bruises he would give anything to have freedom.
Donnie waited until after his papa flipped through a few channels and had drunkenly fallen asleep, to carefully retrieve the key. He could hear loud grunting noises coming from his papa as if he were in some sort of nightmare. Donnie hadn’t been able to save the other women, but if he could save one then it would make a difference.
He gathered the spear as his papa slept and crept quietly over then rushed him with it, aggressively thrusting the spear as deep as he could into his side until he couldn’t anymore. Blood was seeping heavily through his shirt and into the crevices of the floorboards. Donnie decided that now was the time to break away. He and Claire were no longer going to be his victims, caged like animals.
“Dammit!”
The pain sent his papa sprawling to the ground in agony and a cold icy predatory gaze fixed upon Donnie. He willed himself to stand and quickly grabbed him violently by his shoulder and then slowly, he raised his other hand to the ceiling when Donnie thought fast and drove his hand inside the wounded area with all his strength. The excruciating pain caused his papa to let go and Donnie ran over to the woman.
“Hurry!” Claire shouted.
Donnie was a jittery nervous wreck. The keys jingled in his hand while trying to free her from the chains that restrained her ankles. For a moment, his shaky hands wouldn’t allow the key to go forward in the hole until finally, the lock clicked open. They made a break for the front door while his papa screamed in pain. They stopped dead set in their tracks and turned around to see him bleeding profusely on the floor.
Claire grabbed the spear by the recliner. “It’s time to put an end to this.”
“And what are you going-”
His words were cut short from the blood spurting from his mouth. She stabbed him right in the heart, piercing him with the spear several more times so much that she had lost count. Donnie watched as his papa laid on the floor incapacitated with sightless pearl black eyes-eyes that stared off into vacancy. “Even after everything, I forgive you.” Claire pulled Donnie back. “Come on kid, we’ve got to go now.”
They stood together at the bottom of the steps with tears clouding their vision. The birds seemed to be chirping a cheerful song as if spring were approaching. Each naked tree had taken on the form of golden chestnut. It never felt this good to feel the endless stream of fresh winds at their cheekbones behind freedom.
Broken sticks, scattered acorns, and scraggly twigs in the bounties of mother nature. It had been good enough to keep the rain at bay. A cement grey walkway led away from the house, but there were no other houses in sight. Only tall trees with knobby roots lashing against one another. He inhaled the fresh air of the outside world and a tinge of damp rotting wood then human instinct kicked in.
“Were free!”
Claire nodded, traumatized by the ordeal. “Thank you for everything. You’re a brave boy.”
Their arms wrapped around one another.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
She looked around for a while then she unsnapped the hook from a jeweled necklace resting on her collarbone. “This was once my mother’s.” She handed it to Donnie. “It was to remind me that I am never alone, that in any situation, I should remain strong. It’s yours now.”
He blinked, feeling at the jewel’s smoothness. On the metal backing engraved the words, fearless.
He purred into her chest like a lost kitten that had found its mother. To feel such warmth, like he could truly trust again meant everything. His legs shifted forward pumping fresh rivers of adrenaline into his veins. It had been a hell hole and what had been three years of imprisonment, felt like an eternity. Donnie’s bare feet sank into the earth. The crisp faded leaves crunched between his toes as he ran towards the sounds of barking. He ran so fast that Claire, who could barely keep up, fell behind. Cadaver dogs were out in the wooded area sniffing around and an officer nearby, spotted what appeared to him as a child in distress.
“Over here! Donnie shouted, waving both hands. “We need help!” He rustled into a warm embrace of the officer’s comforting arms and felt himself floating.
“You’re safe now son,” said the officer. He cried tears that he had never cried before. It took wisdom and courage to finally be able to do things he thought he could never do.
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