Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home Page 3

  Byron only smiled.

  "Okay, well, it looks like I'll just have to have a talk with Ed when he gets home. We're all done up here, ladies. Let's go downstairs."

  He held his hand outward, gesturing patiently. Janet felt like a prisoner as she led her children downstairs. Byron didn't go first. He didn't let the three of them out of his sight. But Janet knew he'd make a mistake eventually. When he did, she would attack him with everything she had.

  "So, we have a lot of time to kill," Byron said. "What do you ladies do for fun?"

  Janet stood near the corner chair. Sarah and Elizabeth crowded near their mother as much as they could. She kept a hand on both of them.

  "We…like to play outside," Elizabeth said.

  "Well, that's not happening. What else you got?"

  "Sometimes we play Monopoly."

  "Hmm, that's something. But I think your Mommy might not be in the mood for board games. And, to be honest, I'm not a good loser."

  Sarah took a step forward. Janet kept a hand twisted in her shirt.

  "Why don't you just leave?"

  Janet's breath hitched in her throat. "Sarah…."

  Byron approached, his gaze lowering to meet the child's. "What was that again, little girl?"

  "Just leave us alone! We didn't do anything to you."

  "That's true, you didn't. But your father is a piece of shit."

  Sarah balled her fist and tried to throw a punch. Janet pulled her back just in time, not that it would have done much harm to Byron anyway.

  "Don't talk about my father!"

  "Sarah!" Janet grabbed her around the shoulders.

  Byron laughed and smiled. "You've got quite the attitude there, girl. But how long do you think that attitude would last if I—"

  "No!" Janet said, stepping in front of her daughters. "Whatever you're going to do, do it to me."

  Byron studied her without saying a word. A look of curiosity flashed across his face.

  "Braver than I thought, willing to take a shot for the spawn."

  She braced herself for whatever violence he had in mind.

  "Any mother would."

  "No, they wouldn't." He crossed his hands behind him and paced the living room. "Mort—…people are, deep down, nothing but cowards. I've killed quite a few mothers in my time. One of them actually dropped her child to slow me down while she was running from me."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Believe it. People…well, they're just not very good."

  "I'd die for my children."

  He pointed at Sarah and Elizabeth. "Keep those two on a choker chain, and we won't have to test that."

  "What are you going to do? Keep watch over us all day?"

  "Well, I'm not playing Monopoly, that's for sure. You can sit on the couch over there and knit, cross your legs, take up space, whatever it is you do. The kids can play, I don't give a shit."

  Silence followed as Byron sat in the corner chair. He scooped up a loose piece of newspaper he threw earlier and spread it through his hands.

  "So," Sarah said. "We can play here in the living room?"

  "You can play, sleep, drool, I don't care."

  "Can we go get a toy from upstairs?"

  "Whatever."

  Sarah grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her to the stairs. Janet reluctantly backed up and hovered over the couch.

  "Hey, Sarah," Byron said.

  The child stopped and turned.

  "Be quick, now. It was a while ago, but I remember when I was your age. I thought I was smart, but I really wasn't. You're probably thinking of climbing out a window, or something like that. Let me be blunt. I'll hurt your mother if you're not back down here in two minutes."

  Sarah stared at him, her expression a mix of anger and fear. Her lip twitched as a tear ran down her cheek.

  "If you hurt my Mom—"

  "I'm counting to one-hundred twenty in my head."

  Sarah turned and ran up the stairs, dragging Elizabeth behind her. Janet felt helpless as she slowly sat on the couch and crossed her ankles. Glancing at Byron out of the corner of her eye, he was lost in the newspaper. She searched the living room, her own thoughts racing. The front door was ten feet away. It seemed so easy to simply run. But she'd have to coordinate her children. They'd have to be ready to move with her.

  The phone hung on the wall just inside the kitchen. If she could simply make a five second call to the police station, or even Mary, her neighbor. They could get help.

  "It won't work," Byron said.

  Janet glared at him. "What?"

  He didn't bother looking up from the newspaper. "I locked the front door, both locks. Unless you're telepathic, which I've only met a few, by the time you put together the run plan with the little ones, ran to the door, unlocked it with shaking hands, I'd already be there. The littlest one, Elizabeth, in case you wanted more detail. She's the smallest and weakest. One little twist of her finger, and you'd drop to your knees."

  Sarah shot to her feet. "If you—"

  Byron jumped up as well, so fast Janet thought he was rushing to strike. She held her ground.

  "Sit down!" he shouted, raising his voice for the first time.

  She hesitated before doing so, locking eyes with him.

  "And I've already cut the phone from the outside," he said. "You can't call for help. Even if help came…I'd kill them, too. Their deaths would be on your hands."

  "Who…are you?"

  He smiled. "I'm Byron. Now, the best thing for you to do is sit there and be a nice, adorable little housewife. Keep your mouth shut. Keep your kids' mouths shut. That's not that hard, is it? And by the end of tonight, everything will be back to normal. You'll be cooking ravioli and riding your husband."

  Janet tried her best to force her emotions aside. The terror, the anger, the apprehension. She needed to think.

  "How long have you been watching us?" He finally looked up over the paper. "You knew Sarah's name."

  "Holy shit," Byron said, arching an eyebrow. "She can actually look at the world around her. Not many of you people can." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Long enough. Long enough to know you pretty well. Definitely long enough to know you've got a birthmark on your upper thigh."

  Her face turned red as she shifted uncomfortably. "You don't know anything about me."

  He smirked. "You love your family, you love being a housewife. You love your mother, can't stand his father. Sometimes you watch your girls play in the backyard, and you hate the fact they're growing up. You're afraid they won't need you. I'm guessing that's because when your father used to beat you, your mother did nothing, forcing you to grow up faster than children are meant to."

  Janet felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. Memories rushed back to her, memories she'd spent so long repressing and controlling. Her father standing over her, whipping her over and over with his belt, all over a spilled drink at the dinner table. Her mother sat not ten feet away, doing her best to pretend it wasn't happening. Only one time during the beatings did mother and daughter's eyes meet. Janet silently begged for help, for compassion, for anything. The only thing her mother could offer was a quick frown before she turned away.

  "Ah," Byron said. "That twitch, right there. Ed doesn't know, does he?"

  She said nothing. The kids ran back down the stairs, each with a few toys in their arms. Sarah glanced back and forth between the adults, worry in her eyes. Janet gave her a smile to suggest everything was okay, even though nothing was further from the truth.

  Byron leaned back in the chair. "Don't worry, Janet. If you behave, and keep your children behaving, by the end of the day, you can continue keeping secrets from your husband."

  Janet knew he was lying. She was smart enough to know Byron would leave no witnesses, no survivors. An opening would present itself. Byron was obviously sharp, observant, but his eyes couldn't be everywhere. She'd be ready for that window of opportunity.

  She would kill him, before he could
kill them.

  "I don't have to talk to you," she said.

  "That's fine. I'm not really much of a social person."

  NOON

  An hour passed. Byron didn't say a word as he kept watch over Janet and her daughters. Elizabeth handled the situation they found themselves in better than her sister. She played with her dolls and hummed quietly, trying to engage Sarah. Sarah was fidgety, looking back and forth between Byron, the front door, and her mother. Janet sat on the floor and played with her children, wanting to keep them as distracted as possible.

  As the noontime sun poured in through the front window, Elizabeth curled up on the carpet and went to sleep. It wasn't an unusual sight. She often took a nap while they watched evening television.

  "Hey," Byron said from the chair. "Wake her up."

  Janet regarded her sleeping daughter, running a hand gently through her hair.

  "What? No. She's napping. She isn't hurting anyone."

  He leaned forward. "I said, wake her up."

  "Why? It's one less person you have to stare at, one less person you have to threaten."

  "Interesting logic. But let me say it a third time. Wake her up. I don't like people sleeping around me."

  Janet didn't react right away. She simply watched Byron, trying to figure out where his anger was coming from. She wanted to categorize him as crazy, and leave it at that, but there was something else to the man.

  "Fine," he said, rising from the chair. "I'll do it."

  "No." Janet shot to her feet, guarding her daughter. She stood mere inches away from Byron. The top of her head lined up with his chin. She lowered her voice. "If my children weren't here—"

  "Ah," he interrupted. "But they are here. You chose to have them. They make you weak. They let people like me control people like you. Now, wake up Sleeping Beauty."

  Janet knelt next to Elizabeth and gently shook her shoulder. It took a moment for the girl to rouse.

  "Elizabeth, wake up, sweetie."

  The girl let out an irritated moan as she sat up. She hugged her mother around the waist.

  The Fields family stayed close together. Byron looked at each of them, a disturbing grin on his face.

  "So, who's hungry?" he said. "Hey there, Mommy, why don't we all go in the kitchen and you make us something good to eat?"

  "I'm not hungry," Sarah said.

  "Well, I am. So you can all watch me eat."

  Janet's mind raced at the possibilities. The kitchen was full of potential weapons. Knives, frying pans, glass. When the opportunity came, she would end the siege.

  Byron followed them into the kitchen. He was so careful. He never led the way. He was always behind, always watching, always kept everything in front of him. Who was he, and what could he possibly want with her husband?

  "What do you want to eat?" Janet asked.

  "Peanut butter and jelly. And don't skimp, either. Lay that shit on thick, like it was mortar and brick." Janet's heart sank as he led Sarah and Elizabeth to the table, separating her from her daughters. "What about you two brats?" He gestured to Sarah. "Oh, that's right. You said you weren't hungry."

  Janet watched helplessly as he sat them at the table. Another man even laying a finger on her girls ripped at her chest.

  "Mommy," Elizabeth said. "I want to help you make sandwiches. I always help you."

  "I'm afraid not," Byron said, pulling out a chair for himself. "You two will be sitting right here with me." He sat in between them. "You see, your Mom is trying to figure out a way to deal with me in that tiny little head of hers. I wouldn't put it past her to grab the large knife from that drawer on the left there, and come charging at me. But with you two on both sides of me…." He stretched his arms, letting them rest on the back of the girls' chairs. The sight made Janet sick. "I doubt she'll try anything."

  Her hands shook as she turned her back on them. She moved slowly, deliberately, trying to think of anything to do. She grabbed several plates from the cupboard and the bread from the corner of the counter.

  "Is grape jelly okay?" she asked.

  "Is there any other kind?"

  "Well, there's strawberry."

  "That's just gross." He addressed the girls. "You two don't eat strawberry jelly, do you? That's nasty. That's nastier than what your parents do at night."

  She whirled to glare at him. He met her glare with an unconcerned smirk.

  "I don't like strawberry jelly," Elizabeth announced, her face scrunching up in disgust. "I tried it once. It was all stringy and icky."

  "Smart kid," Byron said. He looked in Sarah's direction. "What about you over there, sunshine? Grape jelly?"

  Sarah folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not talking to you."

  Byron laughed shortly. "Also very smart." He looked back to Janet. "Well? What are you waiting for? Sandwiches don't make themselves."

  She turned back to the counter and went to work. A tear escaped as she felt her options dwindling. She was surrounded by makeshift weapons. The rolling pin near the stove, the cutting board to her right, the knife in the drawer, just inches below her hand. They were all useless, as long as he was in between her children.

  As she spread peanut butter across the first piece of bread, a shadow crossed the counter. Janet froze in place. She'd experienced that shadow so many times, on so many weekends. It would interrupt their breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all hours of the day.

  Mark, Sarah's new little best friend, was just outside.

  Closing her eyes, she listened behind her for any sign that either Byron or her daughters were aware of their visitor. No one said a word. The girls typically didn't notice whenever Mark peeked in through the sliding glass door. They were too busy arguing or speed-eating their meal. Janet prayed silently that they would continue to be oblivious.

  Maybe Mark could save their lives.

  She turned casually, still holding the butter knife in her hand. No one stood at the back door. Still, she knew he was there, where he always was, two feet to the left of the glass, just out of view. He would peer into their home again any second, looking to see when Sarah would come back outside.

  "What does everyone want to drink?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay even. "Iced tea, water, lemonade?"

  "I'm not thirsty," Sarah huffed.

  "Could I have some iced tea, Mom?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Aww," Byron taunted. "So well-mannered. Fix me up some tea, Janet."

  Janet finished one sandwich and set it on a plate. Moving to the fridge, the shadow once again invaded the kitchen before disappearing. She could almost see it in her mind. Mark would stand at the glass door, making a shield around his eyes to steal a look. Then he'd dive to the side, embarrassed to admit he was waiting for his friend.

  How could Janet get a message to him without Byron knowing?

  "Are you okay over there?" Byron asked.

  Janet scoffed as she poured a glass of iced tea.

  "Like you care about how we're doing."

  "You're right. I don't. I care more about the dog shit I nearly stepped in on my way here this morning. But…there is one thing I do care about, and it's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I figure by the time you make it, I might actually die of old age. You want to move your ass over there?"

  "I'm going as fast as I can."

  She set a plate and cup in front of Elizabeth, and tried to give her youngest daughter a comforting smile. Byron merely stared at her, a sly, almost condescending smile on his lips. Janet risked a quick glance over his shoulder, toward the sliding door. She saw nothing, but guessed Mark was still there, out of sight.

  Her hands shook as she made a second sandwich. If Byron would simply look away for a moment, maybe she had a chance. All it took was a frantic hand signal, an exaggerated facial expression, anything at all to tell Mark they were in trouble.

  Her shaking hands finally got the best of her as she took the step toward the table, carrying Byron's sandwich and tea. The glass slipped from her hand and shattered on
the floor, sending fragments and tea in all directions. The girls jumped, while Byron let out a chuckle.

  "Wow, Janet," he said. "You're about as graceful as a damn hippo."

  "Don't call my Mom a hippo!" Elizabeth shouted.

  "I didn't." Byron turned her attention to Elizabeth, her cheeks flush with anger. "I said she was as graceful as one. Learn to pay attention. You people…you never pay attention."

  "I'll help you clean it up, Mom," Sarah offered, rising to her feet.

  "You'll sit your little ass right back down," Byron said. "Sit down."

  "It's okay. I've got it," Janet said, her voice barely a whisper.

  Sarah continued to argue with Byron as Janet opened the cabinet under the sink. They kept towels close by for the occasional accidental spill, which with two children happened often.

  "You're not a nice person at all," Sarah said. "When my Dad gets home—"

  "He'll do nothing. Come on there, little girl, you're sounding just like your mother. And, I hate to say it, your mother isn't very smart."

  The argument raged on as Janet's eyes fell on the white bottle near the back of the cabinet. Several months ago, rats had built a nest in the utility shed in the backyard. Janet remembered how angry and fearful she was when the girls came across it while playing. No one was hurt, but a rat ran across Elizabeth's feet, sending the poor girl into a near panic attack. Janet insisted Ed do whatever he had to do to get rid of them.

  The rat poison still sat where Ed left it.

  She almost reacted without thinking. Her left hand grabbed the dirty towel, her right the bottle of poison. Moving quickly, she tried not to think about the risk she was taking. Amazingly, Byron and Sarah continued to argue behind her. Janet almost wondered if Sarah was doing it on purpose. She stood up and hovered over the last glass of tea she'd prepared. Anxiety settled in as she opened the bottle and poured the powder into the glass. Doubt gnawed at her. How much did she need to use to kill him? Maybe she didn't need to kill him, just make him very sick. Would he even drink it? Did it still look like iced tea?

  Giving the tea a quick stir, she dropped to one knee to place the poison exactly where she'd grabbed it. As she wiped up the tea and swept loose glass, she waited for what she thought was the inevitable. Byron had seen her, and her little plan was for nothing. She maybe even doomed her family.