Appetite for Innocence: A Dark Psychological Thriller Page 4

  He said I could uncuff her on her third day which turned out to be a huge mistake. I thought she was going to gouge my eyes out the way she came after me. I had to smack her in the face. She didn’t leave me any other choice. I put her back in the ties. She promised to stop after that and I was foolish enough to believe her so I let her out again. This time, she went berserk like an animal, running up the stairs to the door and pounding on it. She screamed for three hours without stopping. Paige kept going up next to her, talking to her in her calm, sweet voice, urging her to stop, but it was no use. She was determined. She screamed until she lost her voice, but she didn’t stop there.

  She ran down the stairs and started tearing stuff up. She flipped over her cot and did the same to Paige’s. Paige stood off to the side in amazement. She’d never seen anyone act this way, but I had. She took all of the food Paige had placed on the nightstand and started throwing it. She tried to rip the toilet out of the ground and I had to step in because I couldn’t have her messing up our place.

  “Enough!” I ordered.

  She didn’t even look at me. Just kept spinning around the room, tearing chunks of foam off the wall and throwing them. She ripped my sheet down from the ceiling. That’s when she went too far.

  I grabbed her by the arm and whipped her around. I slammed her against the wall, pushing my face within inches of her. “Listen to me. You’re going to knock this off and you’re going to knock this off now.” She glared at me like she was a wild animal, but I was stronger than her. She was smaller and weak from not eating. “If you hurt me, he will kill you. If you hurt Paige, he will kill you. If you don’t act right, he will kill you. This shit is not a game.”

  My words sucked the fight out of her. I let go of her shirt and pushed her backward. She collapsed onto the floor in sobs. Paige ran to her side, kneeling down beside her. She put her arm around her. “Please, just calm down. I don’t want him to hurt you.” Paige cried right along with her and they clung to each other like old friends.

  I went to work on rehanging my curtain.

  ELLA

  (THEN)

  I hate her. Every time she comes into our space, I want to stab her. How can she be a part of this? Maybe I should start eating so I can get strong enough to fight her, but the thought of food still makes my stomach heave. She doesn’t understand that I’m not trying to be difficult by not eating. I just can’t.

  She goes upstairs every day now. He summons her over the intercom and she skips up the stairs all happy. She only smiles when she hears his voice. The only thing I can think of when I hear his voice is the way he said, “Excuse me, miss,” when he pulled up alongside me.

  A few minutes ago, he summoned her upstairs and after a while he called Paige too. A cloud of fear passed her face when he said her name. She walked to the landing and hesitated with each step she took. What do they do up there?

  It’s the first time I’ve been alone and I want to see what’s in Sarah’s room. I’ve come to think of it as her room as if the sheet is a real wall separating us from her. I hobble over there. She hasn’t untied me again since I freaked out a few days ago. I’m hoping my legs will shrink from not eating and eventually, I can just wiggle out. I’ve been trying to loosen them every night after they go to sleep. I listen for the sounds of Paige falling asleep before I start. It’s easy to know when she’s out because she snores. I don’t know about Sarah. I can’t hear her, but it doesn’t matter anyway because she can’t see me.

  I think I’m making progress. My ankles seem skinnier already and the ties feel like they have more give. I’m going to get out of them and when I do, I’m going to figure out a way to get out of this hole. There has to be some way.

  I push back the sheet and hop through. She has a twin-sized bed pushed up against the wall, not the weird cots Paige and I sleep on. There’s a fluffy, yellow comforter with a bunch of pillows laid on top of it, so much more comfortable than the flat pillows and thin, white blankets we get. Her room is filled with Rubbermaid plastic containers, even a few big ones with drawers in them. There’s a tiny refrigerator and a small microwave on top of it. I rummage through the food in containers next to it. There’s tons of cans of soup, but she hasn’t shared those. All this time they’ve been trying to feed me crackers and bread, I could’ve had something warm. I hate her even more.

  The walls are covered in pictures she’s torn out of magazines. They’re all landscapes. Exotic places that look beautiful. Oceans and islands. Waterfalls and mountains. I wonder if she’s been to any of these places. Does he ever let her out of the house? Does she leave when she goes upstairs? What kind of a father makes his daughter help with his hostages? And what kind of a daughter is okay with this set up? Has she always been down here? Does she have a mom? Is there a woman upstairs? I’m going to ask Paige about it when she comes back downstairs tonight. She’ll tell me. At least she’s helpful.

  I’m not sure how long they’ll be upstairs so I start rummaging through all of her things as fast as I can. She’s got stacks of black sweatpants and white t-shirts. It’s what they wear every day. I’m still in my running shorts and Nike t-shirt. I’ve worn them for almost a week now. I’ve never smelled so foul. I’m sure it won’t be long until I’m wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt too.

  How do they stay clean? They never shower. As far as I know, there’s no running water down here. They don’t even brush their teeth. Well, Paige doesn’t brush her teeth. For all I know, Sarah might brush hers.

  There’s other boxes with loads of coloring books. They’re the new kind of coloring books for adults, but she’s got kids’ coloring books too. There’s another container filled with markers, crayons, glue, and art supplies.

  I find all sorts of goodies and things. Lots of books. The entire Twilight series and every Harry Potter book. I grab one of her Twilight books and I don’t even like Twilight. I didn’t see any of the movies, but I don’t care. I just want to have something of hers. It’s not fair that she has everything and we have nothing.

  I hop back to my side of the room and tuck the book underneath my cot. She’s not as powerful as she thinks she is. I lay back down on my bed, satisfied with my small victory and go back to doing what I always do—plotting my escape.

  ELLA

  (NOW)

  It feels good to have Mom with me. I keep looking over at her just to make sure she’s still here and feeling relieved each time she is. She talks to me weird now and I’m not sure I like it. It’s the same voice she used when I was a little girl, like I’m a toddler again, as if somehow I’ve grown backward.

  “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

  “Can I get you anything, cupcake?”

  “Things are going to be okay now, Ella Bear.”

  And it’s always in a soft, low voice right above a whisper as if she talks to me too loud, something terrible will happen like I’m made of porcelain glass or something. I want to tell her to stop, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

  There’s a knock at my door and everyone in the room turns to look. A short woman with wild, curly hair sticking up all over her head walks through the door. She’s wearing a long flowing skirt that drapes all the way down to her ankles, stopping at her Birkenstock sandals. Blake and Phil rush forward to greet her, forming a semi-circle around her. They speak in hushed whispers and she nods at whatever they’re saying. After they’re finished, she walks over to my bed and stands beside it. She sticks out her hand, making the bangle bracelets on her wrist jingle.

  “I’m Randy. I’m a victim’s advocate with the FBI.” Her eyes are dark, nearly black and framed by full eyebrows that arch up almost playfully.

  I reach out and shake her hand. Mom comes around to meet her on the other side of the bed.

  “I’m Jocelyn, Ella’s mom. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mom smiles but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Not like it used to.

  Randy shakes Mom’s hand. “I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances.” />
  “It’s okay. I’m just happy to have someone here who can help us,” Mom says.

  Randy turns her attention to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay,” I say just like I say each time anyone asks.

  “Ella, would you mind if I talked to you by yourself?” She peers at me. Her gaze is so intense it’s like she can see right through me.

  I turn to Mom. Panic washes over me. I don’t want her to leave. I just got her back.

  “I prefer to stay while you talk to her,” Mom says as if she can read my mind.

  “I understand how you feel, but sometimes kids find it easier to talk to me without their parents,” Randy says.

  Mom stiffens. “There aren’t any secrets between us.”

  “Ella, how do you feel about that? Are you comfortable with having your mom here? It’s okay if you’re not.”

  “I want her here,” I say. I’m not sure I ever want her away from me.

  “Okay, then.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and points to the end of my bed. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  “Sure. That’s fine,” I say sneaking a glance at Mom. She looks bewildered too.

  She flips off her sandals and plops down on the bed, folding herself cross-legged on the edge. Her skirt fans out around her. “This is a lot to take in. Can I tell you a little bit about what my role is in all of this and explain what’s going on?”

  I nod.

  “Basically, I’m here for you. That’s the simplest description of my job. I work with kids who’ve experienced trauma. Kids just like you. My role is to help them navigate their world afterward. Sometimes the things that happen after something bad happens can be just as traumatic or even more traumatic than what they went through. I’m here to help you manage your emotions and not get too overwhelmed with everything going on around you. I can also answer any questions you have.” She pauses, giving me a chance to speak. I don’t have anything to say. Not yet, anyway. “Right now you’re at Olive Memorial View Hospital in Simi Valley. Has anyone told you that yet?”

  I shake my head. If anyone told me, I don’t remember it. All I remember is the terror. The soul-sucking fear that he was only a few steps behind me and was going to grab me at any moment. Even after they’d locked me in the back of the squad car while we waited for the ambulance, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding and I couldn’t stop shaking. I kept picturing him shooting all of the officers then breaking the squad car windows and killing me. There were only a few officers at first and we were all alone on the road. Every sound made me jump.

  “Do you know where Simi Valley is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s in California. Part of the San Fernando Valley. I’m sure you’ve heard of Los Angeles before, right?”

  This time I nod. Everyone knows about Los Angeles.

  “Well, Simi Valley is about thirty miles outside of Los Angeles.”

  Mom jumps in. “When can she go home?”

  Randy turns to look at her. “It’s difficult to say at this point. She’ll be in the hospital for a few days to treat her injuries. She’ll have officers standing guard over her room around the clock so you can rest assured she’ll be safe while she’s here. The FBI is on the scene and since it’s a kidnapping case that crosses state lines with a minor, the local authorities will be turning the case over to them. They’ll still be helping with the case, but the FBI will be in control of it from now on. They’ll be the ones who authorize her to go home.”

  “Have they found the psycho who took her?” Mom’s eyes flash with anger.

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  The color drains from Mom’s face. “Do they know who he is? Any idea where he is? Where he went? Who he knows? Is he connected with anyone? Do they have any leads?”

  Randy raises her hand to stop her questions. “Take a deep breath. I know this is scary for you too, but it helps if you stay calm for Ella. The best thing you can do for her is to take care of her and let law enforcement take care of finding him.”

  “But, they’ll find him, right? They’ll find him?” I ask. “He’s got to be coming back to the house soon. He can’t stay gone forever.”

  He’d left us before but never longer than a few days. Sarah always seemed to know how long he was going to be gone. I don’t know if he told her when he was leaving or if she figured it out on her own, but she never worried about him coming back.

  “Has anyone told you what’s going on?” Randy asks.

  I look to Mom for answers. She’s studying Randy intently, hanging on her every word.

  “The only thing they told me when they called was that they found her and she was safe. I didn’t ask any other questions except the fastest way to get to her.” Her eyes fill with tears. She’s lost a lot of weight. Her clothes hang on her and her cheekbones stick out. There are bags underneath her eyes.

  This time Randy takes a deep breath. “The house was on fire when the officers arrived on the scene. It looks like he torched the place.”

  Panic claws at my chest. “Did anyone get out?”

  “Yes, thankfully, the other girl made it out. She was there when the officers arrived. She’s here in the hospital too.”

  “Was it Paige?”

  Randy tilts her head. “Paige? Who’s Paige?”

  “One of the girls.”

  “There was another girl besides Sarah?”

  My stomach flips. “Yes, Paige. She was there too. Did she make it out?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about another girl. Did you tell the officers that?”

  “I asked the police officers about her.”

  “The ones in your room when you first got here?”

  I nod, too scared to talk.

  “Blake!” Randy calls out.

  Blake cracks the door and pops his head through. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

  “There’s another girl. There was another girl with them in the house.” She runs her hand through her hair.

  “You have to find her!” I scream at him. “You have to find Paige! You have to! Please!”

  I can’t stop screaming. Mom rushes to my side and wraps her arms around me. I throw them off me, pulling away from her. She tries to hug me again. I swat her hands away.

  “Don’t touch her,” Randy says quietly.

  Mom flips around. “Don’t tell me what to do with my daughter,” she snaps.

  But she listens to her and leaves me alone. She stands twisting her hands in front of her. Tears wet her face. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. My body rocks back and forth.

  “Honey, Ella, it’s going to be okay.” Her voice is thin and desperate. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

  It’s not. Not if Paige is dead. Not if I’m the one who killed her.

  ELLA

  (THEN)

  Paige is different when she returns from upstairs. The smile is gone from her face along with the light in her eyes. She doesn’t even look at me. She clutches her stomach as she shuffles to her bed and lays flat on her back once she’s there, her hands by her sides, unmoving. Her body is stiff like she’s in a coffin.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper like there’s someone who might hear us.

  She doesn’t respond. Just stares at the ceiling, unblinking.

  “What happened?”

  Again, nothing.

  I stand motionless next to her. I want to reach out and hold her, but I can’t with my ties. I’ve gotten used to my ties and stopped being afraid of them. Until now. I want them off me. I can’t go another minute without moving my body freely. Once I ran a cross country meet with the flu and like I always do, I sprinted to the finish line, but when I got there and tried to catch my breath, I couldn’t. I couldn’t take in air and no air could escape. I felt like I was choking. They told me I hyperventilated. I feel the same way now except this time my coach isn’t here to assure me that I’m going to be okay and Mom doesn’t rush over to hold my hand and tell me to focus on the so
und of her voice. Instead, it gets worse. I grow more frantic. My muscles stiffen, clenched towards my body and I’m shaking like I might be having a seizure.

  I stare at Paige. She doesn’t move. Why is she just lying there? She knows I can’t breathe. I’m going to die if I can’t catch my breath. I stop struggling. Just give in to it and relax into the darkness.

  When I come to, I’m on my stomach, laying on the carpet between my cot and Paige’s. She hasn’t moved from her position.

  “Sarah?” I yell.

  I’m not sure why I call out for her. I never have before but I don’t know what to do about Paige. Maybe she’s acted like this before and Sarah knows what to do. Paige is the only thing that makes me feel normal and I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t snap out of it.

  She doesn’t answer. I move over to her room and peek behind her sheet in case she’s ignoring me. Her space is empty. I hop back to Paige’s cot and kneel next to her.

  “Hey, are you okay? Please talk to me.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my hands. “What’s going on? You have to tell me. Maybe I can help you.”

  She finally speaks. “Nobody can help me.” Her voice is flat.

  “Please, you’re scaring me. What did he do to you? What happens up there?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Paige, I’m begging you. Just sit up. Talk to me. Please.”

  She drags herself into sitting position. “Fine. You really want to know? He’s a dirty old man who likes teenage girls. And not just any teenage girls. Special ones.”

  Special ones? I’m not special. There’s nothing unique about me. I’m totally average. I don’t get invited to any of the cool parties. None of the popular kids even talk to me. I spend my weekends reading, watching old movies, and helping Mom out in church on Sunday.

  “What do you mean, special?”

  “Virgins. He likes virgins. That’s his whole deal. That’s how this thing works. He takes us so he can be our first. It makes him feel special. Important or something. I don’t really know. He’s a freak.”