Part 20 (2/2)
For the child the world was always dark. Several shades of dark but always so.
She could smell herself. She could smell the others. So that she knew she was different from them but in what way she couldn't tell exactly except that she was hairless and they were not and they seemed to have no ability to grasp at things and hold them the way she did. Her teeth were long but theirs were longer. The pads on their feet were tougher. They were long and lean and she was thick and squat.
These things aside, they were family.
So that when she heard their rage and outrage it became hers too - and she braced herself against the wood behind her and waited for the shapes and shades of darkness to change from dark to darker. Which meant movement. Intrusion.
Perhaps the hand that stung.
She heard a low growl behind her and realized her mistake, that there were not three dogs in here but four, yet there was no time nor any way for her fix that because the dog outside was inching closer and closer, Genevieve hoping against hope that a growl was all she was in for and when the thing inside the doghouse leapt out at her roaring - the thing that had no eyes but only empty eye sockets, its skin like dirty melted pink wax, human, yes, but built like some kind of pit bull human, yes, but built like some kind of pit bull - when the child-thing sunk its teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder and its yellow cracked claws into her arms all she could do was to reach back with her roped hands and try to pull it off her and scream and scream. - when the child-thing sunk its teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder and its yellow cracked claws into her arms all she could do was to reach back with her roped hands and try to pull it off her and scream and scream.
”Brian! Hose Agnes!” his father was shouting and so he did, Brian having a fine old time here, catching the dog full in the face, backing her off and listening to Rat-on scream.
”Okay, sis,” he yelled, ”let's see what you got!”
Inside the house Belle heard the screaming and so did her daughter and Darleen wouldn't let go of her, she was holding on for dear life and Belle's ribs were doing their own screaming. Finally she pushed her away and held her at arms' length.
”Darlin'? Baby? I want you to go back to your room right now. Lock the door and don't come out. Don't come out unless it's momma or Peggy, okay?”
She was squirming in Belle's grip, tears running down her face.
”Noooo...I want to stay here... here...with you...” you...”
”You can't, honey. Now do as I say. It's really, really important. Okay?”
She let go of her and turned her around and gave her a little push. Darlin' ran for the stairs.
Then she turned too to find out just what the f.u.c.k was going on.
The child-thing was tearing at her, ripping at her back with its fingernails, tearing through her clothing to the naked flesh beneath and she heard herself mindlessly saying get away get away get away get away get away get away and pus.h.i.+ng at it and whipping around so that finally she landed on top of it, heard the and pus.h.i.+ng at it and whipping around so that finally she landed on top of it, heard the whoosh whoosh of air out of its lungs and smelled its awful breath full in her face but it let go of her and for a moment she was free. of air out of its lungs and smelled its awful breath full in her face but it let go of her and for a moment she was free.
She turned and scuttled back until she hit the chain-link cage and realized that all that flailing had done one good thing at least, she had some play in the rope that bound her - her left wrist was coming free. She tugged on it, clawed at it. She tried to stand but there seemed to be no strength in her legs. The child-thing was slinking toward her just as the dog had done. It was growling. Then barking at her. Some shrill approximation of a bark anyway.
You're not a dog, she thought, she thought, you're human. you're human.
And somehow it was all the worse for that.
She tried to stand again and fell and pulled at the rope. Her face was wet. She realized she was crying and that was when the child-thing leapt forward and sunk its teeth into her ankle. She felt bones break inside and shrieked and lurched forward, felt adrenaline rush through her like a hot burning liquor and suddenly her left hand was free of the rope and she slashed at the thing and clawed where its eye should be - the empty socket - and the child screamed a child's shocked scream and its hands went to its face. Then it shook its head like a wet dog and leapt again, blood and spittle flying.
It clawed down the length of her belly and gripped gripped there deep. And no dog could do that. No dog could reach into her and grip there and haul itself the length of her while its other hand clawed into her breast to pull itself up further and the last thing she heard before its teeth found her neck was the father saying there deep. And no dog could do that. No dog could reach into her and grip there and haul itself the length of her while its other hand clawed into her breast to pull itself up further and the last thing she heard before its teeth found her neck was the father saying turn it off, son turn it off, son and knew that to be endgame - the end of Genevieve Raton and the last thing she thought was - and knew that to be endgame - the end of Genevieve Raton and the last thing she thought was - Dorothy. Dorothy.
Brian turned the water off and looked at his father. His father simply stood there, arms at his sides, expressionless.
Then he watched the dogs go at her.
THIRTY THREE.
The Woman hears it all. The screams, the voices of the dogs, the voice that is like a dog's but is not a dog's and which briefly puzzles her. But what puzzles her most is this girl who has freed her legs and then her left wrist. Who touches her gently and yet is very afraid.
The girl reaches up to the Woman's right wrist and then draws back her hands. Her hands are trembling. The girl is afraid to release her completely.
The girl has good reason.
I must be out of my mind, she thinks. But is anyone in their right mind here? Certainly not her father or her brother and she has serious doubts about a mother who has gone along with all this - not only this woman in front of her but her sister and her own rape and pregnancy. Hiding her pregnancy. When the time comes you'll go to Aunt Joan's When the time comes you'll go to Aunt Joan's she said. she said. No one need ever know. No one need ever know.
Insane. Stupid. Miss Raton knew already.
So are you going to do this or not? she thinks.
Yes, you are. And d.a.m.n the consequences. If she f.u.c.king kills you it might just be a relief.
She takes a deep breath and reaches up.
The Woman is free. She shakes her arms and hands which throb with pain as the heat of blood flows into them. She girl stands motionless before her like an animal in the wild which would wish to make itself invisible. But the girl is no animal in the wild. For a single moment the girl is able to meet her gaze.
Then the woman's hand darts suddenly out as though to punch or stab her in the belly - no, in the womb womb, in that most secret part of her, the part of her which has been violated by her father night after night, over and over so that she sees herself sobbing in her bed, sees herself sweating beneath him, and fearful that Darleen will wake she hears the bed creaking, she feels herself holding her breath against the smell of him, the stink of him, the woman's hand seeming to stab deep into the shame and pain that is her fertile womb.
And coming to rest there.
Gently moving, slowly. This is a caress.
Peggy can't help it, she begins to cry.
It's as though she's seen a miracle. Felt a miracle. a miracle.
And she thinks, maybe I have. maybe I have.
”Oh my G.o.d, Peggy!” her mother says from behind her. ”What in G.o.d's name have you done?”
Climbing painfully down the front steps she saw that the cellar door was open and she thought is that it? Is that who's doing all that screaming out there in the barn? Has Chris finally decided to feed the d.a.m.n woman to the dogs? It's crazy but no crazier than anything else he's done lately. So she decided to check.
And now she stands at the top of the stairs and sees her daughter down there with her looking up at her as though dazed and the woman free of her chains and coming at her like a bullet from a gun.
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