Authors: Arden Aoide
The fair
Ophelia!—Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins
remembered.
–
William
Shakespeare, Hamlet
James couldn't scrape, burn,
scrub, or otherwise remove the taste from his mouth. It clung to the back of
his throat, thick and heavy, even as his throat was throbbing and raw from
excessive coughing.
It had been
two days and he was not rid of it. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat.
He dipped his
toothbrush in a cup of vodka, and brushed every place it would reach, but the
taste was still there, clinging like the dirt that will soon be caked under his
fingernails. Burying those fuckers alive was only one option out of many.
Tea tree oil
on his toothbrush helped temporarily, and he lost all patience with his gag
reflex. He welcomed the taste of stomach bile. He savored the taste of blood
with its metallic bite.
But he was
constantly reminded. If a lobotomy was an option, he’d consider it. But then he
wouldn’t be able to exact revenge if he were incapacitated.
But maybe
when their ashes settled, and Sofia and his son were cared for, then he would
end this torment. Unless revenge was so sweet that living would be preferable.
He didn’t care much at that point. He wouldn’t allow the distraction.
He'd tried
dish soap and bleach the previous day, but the tea tree oil burned the most. He
reveled in the heat of it, but after a while, the abominable taste returned.
The reminder of his humiliation burst from each bud on his tongue, betraying
him. The sweet, the sour, the savory, the salty, and the bitter.
He would burn
them.
He vomited
and cleaned his mouth thoroughly, but every time the taste returned and coated
his entire tongue. The thickness plagued him. So, he would start right back
over, looking for other ways of ridding himself of the reminder of being on his
knees.
His mind was
strong, and in this moment of weakness, he cursed it. He knew if he were of
weaker spirits, he would be dead or cowering.
James told
Sofia that he was ill and stayed in an old bedroom far from the master's suite.
He told her to steer clear. She was at a delicate time, and he dreamed of their
perfect son. He would not chance the fetus coming to harm. And he didn't know
if he had anything catching. Certainly, after all his self-medicating, he
would've killed any virus meant to do harm, but he could admit his knowledge
didn't expand into things he would never experience. James hated being wrong,
but more than that, he hated being a victim when the witnesses were still
alive. It was intolerable.
While he
wanted to keep Sofia and the baby safe from the unknown, he didn't want to face
anyone at that moment. He'd been forced on his knees by a Sodomite. Forced to
have that filthy dick in his mouth. And forced to have seed on his tongue and
down his throat.
He was going
to fucking take him apart. It was going to be long and torturous. He was going
to suffer every which way suffering was possible.
And James
would create new ways of torture.
It was
difficult to plan coherently while he was so full of rage. He needed to create
the perfect Hell, and the thought of being God and the Devil, and every waking
nightmare made his own torture a bit more endurable.
By the end.
The.
End
. By the fucking end, James would make his own assault worth
every second. They would've all been dead at his hand eventually. He would make
them watch while he filled Clara the same way he himself had been, then he
would let them watch as she struggled to breath. He would let them see her last
breath, then he would slit their throats after. His traitorous son last. He
normally enjoyed thinking about it, but it wasn't near enough now.
It wasn't
even close.
But a plan
was elusive. There was blood and he could imagine stifling screams by tearing
out their throats. James wasn't a doctor, so he would need to see if it was
easy or impossible.
He would do
it in the hunting lodge. Jared and his wife would need to be taken care of
first, but James had no interest at the moment in penciling in their demise. He
would take care of them swiftly. Their bodies would be on the floor when the
others arrived.
Or maybe, he
would just burn it. He would take Sofia to Austin for a nice weekend before the
baby, and come home while she slept. He'd have them all drugged before he left,
so they couldn't escape...
James sat
down on the toilet lid. He was feeling increasingly light-headed. Sometimes he
stopped breathing and was reminded to do so again when his heart would flutter.
He couldn’t
live like this much longer. He knew he was making himself sicker and sicker
with all the chemicals. If he didn’t watch out, Sofia seemed the type to rise
above her station and call for medical help, so he truly needed to be careful.
He didn’t want the gossip of the village, nor did he want Mrs. Lionel coming
around. He didn’t mind her keeping house and cooking when he wasn’t home, but
he had no small children, so she had better use of her time. She knew him as a
boy, and would never see him as a figure of authority. So, he’d let her play
mother on occasion. It seemed to please her.
After Grace
had died, he hired someone immediately before Mrs. Lionel could move in. He
reminded her that she was one of the teachers in the village, and those were
harder to replace.
Unfortunately,
she was on the other side of a good lesson plan with far too much free time. He
didn’t want Sofia to get used to any sort of help the woman could provide.
The less
people involved in their life, the better. She likely knew far too much anyway.
But James
couldn’t worry about that.
Jared sipped his coffee and
looked out of the kitchen window. He kept his eyes on the hole.
He needed to
fill it back up, but it reminded him of difficult choices he had to make. He
needed constant reminding. Not that he could ever forget, but he didn't want to
be free of it at all.
It also
reminded him that while his heart may never belong to him again, it would
continue to live.
She
would continue to live.
He couldn't
get preoccupied with what might come after the end result, or it might distract
him.
It had to
come later.
Three nights
down. Hundreds to go. Jude would be staying with him. After what Raphe had
done, it was safer for Jude to stay as far away from their father as possible.
They had to be vigilant. They could not underestimate him.
“You did the
right thing by leaving her there,” Jude had reassured. He had offered to start
their drive back home from El Paso, and Jared didn't care to argue. He didn't
care at all.
Even though
Jude had left two behind, it had been assumed. Jared deceived Shula.
“I
know
it was the right thing
‒
”
“I would have
done the exact same thing had it just been Clara.” Jude spoke with conviction.
“We are strong because we recognize our limitations. Now is not the time to be
ashamed or proud of them. We see them. We name them. We put them aside. We
gather our strength while the parts that weaken us are safely put away
‒
”
“But Shula
isn't weak.”
Jude smiled
at him. “She's likely stronger than we are put together, but she makes you
weak, and that's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I want to be
strong for her.”
Jude was
silent for a moment. “And this is how you do it. Strength is learned. It’s
doing what needs to be done no matter what.”
Jared didn't
know what he was after. He'd thought it was reassurance, but he was feeling far
too argumentative. “But men are meant to be strong.”
“I bet you
could ask a dozen different men to define what it means to be strong, and you'd
get a dozen different answers.” Jude never believed he could be a comfort to
his brother, or even a comfort to anyone, and he felt useful right then.
“Then what is
strength to you?” Jared asked.
Jude exhaled.
It was a tough question. “It changes with each circumstance. In this case, it's
me going back to Agnes Oaks to deal with Father, in any manner necessary, and
needing my family to be safe in the meantime.”
“But you
didn't deceive them.”
“I would have
if I needed to.”
“So, they
gave you no fight?”
“Clara would
have Raphe, and Raphe, he sort of escalated everything. He'd be dead inside
twenty-four hours, so I needed him gone. He understood.” Jude knew he was in
danger too, so he would need to be more careful than usual.
“What
happened?”
Jude sighed
and shook his head. “When Raphe was kept up at that house in Greenville, before
Clara, the man who was working with Father had a son called Daniel. He and
Raphe were lovers, or as Raphe puts it: “I had a bit of that Stockholm
Syndrome, a chronic case of boredom, and I'm fucking irresistible, especially
to those closet types”.
“What does
that even mean?”
Jude laughed.
“I have no idea. That fucker.”
“Did Father
find out about them? Or Daniel's father?”
Jude nodded.
“Father did. He made Daniel suck him off.”
“No!”
“Father
finished in his mouth, but cut off his oxygen.”
Jared gasped.
“And Raphe had seen it all.”
“Yes. Which
leads us to now. The night before last, Raphe did the same to Father. At
gunpoint. He regrets not killing him, but we needed to respect Sophia's plan.”
Jared laughed
lightly, if a bit maliciously. “That's insane. Wouldn't Father just deny it at
first, until he had a working plan to get rid of him?”
“Yes, he
would. But there was a witness. A...supportive witness.”
“Oh Jesus,
Jude. You'll be staying with me.”
“I was going
to ask. I'm already packed. Father would shoot me from the kitchen window if he
saw me going back to the house.” Jude looked over at Jared quickly. “Don't you
see? Is it cowardice for Raphe to run? And what if we wanted to stay in Mexico?
Would that make us weak?”
“No. It just
means we want to live as long as we can with our loved ones.” That was an easy
one for Jared.
“All
questions of strength, of love, of weakness, of reverent prayer leads back to
that one observation.”
“Ah. Yes. It
is that simple. I guess.”
“So, in light
of that, if the reason you left Shula there without warning ...was because your
intention was to have a long and happy life with her, then you aren't a coward.
You knew it would be difficult to leave her, so you planned accordingly.”
“She is not
going to see it that way.”
“I think she
will, if she doesn't yet. Not that you're off the hook. She'll still hurt, and
you'll spend awhile making it up to her. But I'm sure she gets it.”
“Why can't we
just stay there? I'd give all of it up. We have Sophia to send us our money.”
Jared knew it was a weak argument, but he wasn't seeing any advantages in
returning to his empty home.
He was
ashamed of himself. He hoped Shula would never see him like this.
“Sophia is
worldly. She knows what Father will likely do. If we leave and stay away, he'll
keep a closer look at our money. See if we've left any clues.”
“How do you
know so much about this?”
“Raphe. He
explained that Sophia will be doing strategic withdrawals from your account, a
transfer or two between ours just so it's active. He's assuming it will be in
Texarkana. This should keep Father busy if he goes looking.” They still had
hours and hours to go, but they would be able to fine tune some plans. Get all
possibilities out in the open and prepare for them.
Jared nodded.
“So coming home protects all of us. Because even though Father will leave
everything to Sophia and the baby, he would do his best to find us, but if
we're home, he'll put a good deal of energy into us. Mainly cutting us out, so
we need to be appropriately angry. His ego will need it.”
“Right. And
by that point, Sophia will be ready to have the baby
‒
”
“And then we
will kill Father,” Jared said grimly. “We don't have a choice. We do it quickly
and cleanly.”
“It seems too
good for him.”
Jared sighed.
“It is. But we aren't him.”
Jude was
silent for a few moments. “We aren't him.”
He sounded
like he was trying to convince himself.
Shula had far too many words
to describe what she felt.
Devastated.
Irate. Broken. Thrown. Brief moments of lucidity and understanding.
And now
despondency.
She
understood. She knew. He didn't need to tell her why because she didn't blame
him.
But she
didn't come back from that river to be without him. He knew she was a fighter.
But it didn't matter. And she got it. But she hated it.
She wanted to
be his strength, but more so, she wanted to bring him to his knees.
So, she
needed to choose. She would still make him suffer, but it would be cruel to
manipulate him on the front lines when her safety was what made him strong and
brave.
She couldn't
fault him for that.
But she was
still so hurt. And she didn't know how to make that go away even when she knew
he did what he did because he wasn't capable of a proper goodbye.
It was
excruciating.
Raphe
explained how she and Jared could communicate, and she was too afraid to see
any message. She was too afraid she would lay a carcass of guilt at his feet.
And while he halfway deserved it, she couldn't distract him from his tasks.
So, she
wouldn't say anything, yet.
Because she
didn't have anything to say.
It had been a
week, and Jared had sent one email. It hurt that there was only one, but it
would have annoyed her if he’d sent more. She wasn’t ready to speak to him.
The lie was
an open festering sore and she didn’t know how to heal it. To ask him if he’d
do it all over again, she knew the answer. He would. Because he loved her and
couldn’t bear her hurt.
They were so
young. There were so many things she didn’t quite understand, but maybe
meekness and obedience was easier. Maybe that was how women in Texas survived
their emotions.
It would be
exhausting to be hurt all the time, so she could see living a life of no love,
and the ease of it.
But she was
in love. And the pain of it was all consuming.
Jared:
I'm the weak one. Know that if nothing
else. And if I didn't think we'd be together, safe, in a matter of months, I
would be there with you.
It's easy to
hate me right now, and as much as I want you to be understanding, I'd prefer it
if you'd just hate me.
It almost
felt manipulative. And she was tempted to type back that all was forgiven, just
to throw him off.
But she
didn't have anything to say to him just then.
She spent a
lot of time watching Clara and Raphe. They adored each other and she didn’t
understand how Jude could fit into that. They spoke of him quite a lot, and
missed him terribly.
But they had
each other.
She does
write to Jared on the computer. She found a paper and pen to be easier, but she
was getting the hang of it. She writes him and deletes every message. They were
all redundant and not any new information.
One day soon,
she hoped to send something that might comfort him, but she wasn’t there quite
yet.
She tells him
she understands why him leaving her was a good decision.
He still lied
to her.
And not
because he didn't want to hurt her, but because it would hurt him to have to
confront her.
Night time is
the worst.
Both Raphe
and Clara have a warm body.
She has to remind
herself that Jared is alone as well. That he misses her. She composes notes in
her head.
I need you to
come get me. I won’t be any trouble.
You won’t
even know I’m there.
What would
you do if I was outside your window right now.
Pretend I’m
watching you.
I won’t be
here when you come get me.
I hate you.
I hate that I
love you.
I can’t
breathe.
Please, come
get me.
She sleeps in
until Clara wakes her for breakfast. She is slow to get up. They include her in
the conversation. They don’t tell her that her pain is irrational because they
know that anger is the easier than devastation.
So, she
continues to remind herself of that anger.
Halfway
through the second week, she finds another computer being set up downstairs.
Raphe was near naked, typing quickly. He looked up at her briefly, but went
back to typing.
“I asked
Sophia to send another computer, so that you can have one just for you. We talk
to Jude quite a bit, and I think it could serve as a distraction for you.”
She was
silent and he looked up quickly again and smiled impishly.
“There’s a
camera right here.” He pointed to the top of the screen. He can see you. And
you can see him. And…you can take this to your room, and you can torture him in
the most unforgiveable ways.” He sighed. “But you’re a good girl. I know you
wouldn’t do anything like that.”
Shula stifled
a laugh. It was the first she’d had in far too long. She was fairly shy, so she
wasn’t sure what she was capable of, but if Jared needed it, and convinced
her…well, maybe later. She still needed her anger.
But that day
was better. And Raphe looked all too pleased with himself, when he handed it
over. “Oh. Also. If you are wanting to get off, just type in what you like. You
can start with just ‘sexy videos’ if you want to start a bunny trail.”