The Lost Girls Chapter 8 Cornered

Jenna held her hand over her mouth, trembling. Her fingers slick with tears she swore she could hear them landing, she heard her heartbeat pounding at the back of her head. She swallowed the lump in her throat and curled her body further into a ball. The space under the stairs was crowded with boxes of photo albums knick knacks, Christmas ornaments and baby clothes that were beginning to disintegrate. She cried silently until the footsteps had gone passed the triangular door under the base of the stairs and up over her head to the second floor. She could still hear the dog rooting in his food dish, crunching loudly on the brown pellets.

She sat there, with her bloodied knees pulled close to her chest, shaking and listening for a long while. When everything was silent overhead, and the dog had seemingly laid down to rest, she pushed gently on the thin wooden door and peaked through the opening. Listening ears pert, Jenna crawled from the space into the living room. She moved like a ghost through the house, checking the front door first, she was greeted by a foursome of locks. Each window was nailed shut and covered in a thin layer of plastic, the kind that keeps the wind out in winter, or people in.

Frustrated, she made her way to the back door. In the kitchen, Walker lay on the mat by the sink, a pile of yellow fur, his head lifted lazily at her presents and his tail thumped on the mat. She glared in defeat at the locks on the back door and sat down beside the dog and rustled his fur. Walker nuzzled closer to her leg and sniffed at the half healed scabs on her knees. He licked at them gently, stopping when she cringed.

“I gotta find a way out of here.” She whispered. Walker laid his head back down, his old eyes heavy from the day. Jenna sat there, stroking his hair for a while, until her worries were sedated and she felt herself grow tired. Her little head felt the weight of all her worries begin to tuck themselves away. Slowly, she closed her eyes and sank into a fitful sleep.

It was morning time in the blink of an eye, Jenna woke to the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Yellowed light filtered in through the dirty windows and landed warmly on her cheek. She squinted, confused at where she was until she remembered and felt her heart shrink down within herself. Walker began to stir, still nestled beside Jenna’s small form, his breathing steady and a small comfort as panic began to set in. She had no where to go.

Quick to her feet, she looked around the kitchen frantically. She yanked open the first drawer she could reach, utensils clattered like a shattering window as the draw crashed open. Jenna tried the next one, coming upon a plethora of plastic measuring cups and tin cookie cutters. Sweat formed on her brow and Walker had stood up, startled at the sudden commotion. She pulled the last drawer open and finally found a profusion of cutlery. She snatched the closest one, a stainless steal steak knife, the thick black handle felt oversized in her small hand. Jenna gripped it, her body shaking, she spun at the sudden shift of energy in the room.

The man stood at the threshold, his arms crossed over a beefy chest, his stature short but imposing. A shadow of dusty brown hair clouded his face, his jaw round and weak, he smirked, a mix of amusement and anger.

“Good morning, Little Rat” The man broke the silence. He looked at the knife, eyebrows raised, “Well that’s no way to greet your new family.”

Jenna stood, legs braced, hair wild, seething. “You, you are not my family.” The man took a slow step towards her. “You disgust me. You are a monster!” She threw the knife at the man, it flew the remaining feet that divided them and landed squarely on the door of the cabinet beside him. It made a loud thawk! Walker wimpered and Jenna could feel her nerves retreat to the back of her throat. The man smiled, “You’re feisty, more than the last one that’s for sure.” He plucked the blade from the cabinet door and wiped the paint chips from the metal on his shirt. “I think it’s time you met Momma.”

Chapter 5 Daddy

Jenna had waited for the man to get far enough away from the house before popping the grate off from the wall. She had used the end of her zipper clasp and fit it into the flathead screws that held the metal cover onto the wall to get into the wall, now she twisted each pointed end of the four screws from inside her hideaway. One by one the screws released from the wall and clattered to the floor. She sucked her breath in each time, half expecting the man to walk through the door at any moment. She squeezed herself through the rectangular hole, the soft wispy fabric of her windbreaker caught on the metal edging of the hole and a thin strip tore clean off of the jacket. She stopped to pick at it quickly but left it when she saw lights flashing through the crack under the back door. Hastily, the grate was shoved back in its place, she pocketed the screws.

Jenna crawled on the gritty floor over to the door and listened, her eyes wide, everything was completely silent until boom! A reverberation of thunder sounded throughout the house. Golden light flashed under the door again, followed shortly by another deafening clap. She jumped away from the door, not realizing it was the storm until a moment after. All of her bravery slipped away as she sat, shaking, tears raced from her pale green eyes. Her whole body shook violently and she breathed deep heaving breathes, her heart sputtering and clenching. “Oh God, please get me out of here.” She cried for her bed, with her Moana blanket and matching pillowcase mum just bought her for her eighth birthday. She cried for the smell of breakfast each morning, scrambled eggs and jelly on toast, her favorite. She cried for her mommas’ hands, rubbing her back to sleep each night for as long as she could remember. She thought of her sisters, Daphne would be freaking out by now, Cloe would be worried but forever complacent and optimistic that the cops would do their job. Izzy wouldn’t have noticed anything had changed, she was just over one year old. Jenna sucked in air hungrily until her heart slowed. She thought of her dad, who had died 3 years ago, and she pictured him there, sitting beside her in the dark. She closed her eyes and imagined him, in his old blue t-shirt with the one pocket that always had a sticky note in it to remind him of what momma had requested from the store. “Help me Daddy.” She whispered, salty tears gathering on the edge of her lips. She pictured his short brown hair, cut military style because he never outgrew the habit. His smile big and wide and genuine. Warmth flooded her as calm replaced panic within her little body. She wiped the tears away with the corner of her jacket and stood up for the first time in days. There wasn’t enough head room in the wall space to move around on foot, she hadn’t noticed how sore her legs were until she tried to use them. She wobbled for a step and her tummy growled loudly. Her eyes met the deadbolts on the door in dismay. She knew by the sounds she had heard when the man left that there must be a matching row of locks on the other side. She pulled on the door knob slowly, millimeters at a time, afraid of what was on the other side. The solid barrier gave no hope of peaking through any windows. The door held fast, stuck. “Dangit!” She swore under her breathe. Turning, she saw her next option. She settled on plan B and pushed the plywood inner door aside, it moved without a fight and swung open into a small dated kitchen. The cabinets were a muddy tan color, the tile a chocolate brown with occasional red square thrown in. A round bowl-shaped yellow ceiling light hung precariously by a single brown wire in the center of the room. Besides a large black microwave, a black metal chair and a few dog toys, the space was empty. She opened the first cupboard she saw, the hinge squealed in protest. Six boxes of cereal greated her. Coco krispies, Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch. All breakfast cereal winners in her book and apparently the man had a sweet tooth because the next two cupboards held a mountain of junk food. She grabbed a Nutty Buddy Bar and a handful of beer pretzels and stuffed her pockets full. Without stopping to think she opened the refrigerator, and greedily drank from a bottle of orange juice. Drops of tart liquid ran down her chin as she chugged. With a sigh of satisfaction and crazed thirst finally quenched, she replaced the bottle in its spot on the top shelf and moved on with a higher sense of urgency now that she had something in het stomach, she could think straight.

Her eyes grazed around the lower level of the two story home. The open floor plan led the L shaped kitchen directly to the living room where a beat up fawn colored couch and a new leather Laz-y boy chair sat a few steps away from a small flat screen TV. A trio of remotes rested on the arm of the chair, ready for their charge to come home and watch his nightly Frasier.

She made her way quickly to the front door and found herself facing only one lock that hung open on its ring. Her hand gripped the doorknob to leave when a loud rattle came from behind her and the backdoor crashed shut.

Chapter 4, Hide

Daphne finished her tea and sunk further into the high back chair, her wavy brown hair was alive with static against the old wool fabric. Shoulder length strands hung half dry from the heat of the wood that Mr. Hubbard kept diligently stacked on the flames of the fireplace. She stared at the flicker of orange and red, purple and black as they danced to a rhyme she couldn’t hear and her eyes welled with heavy tears. She scowled, weak. She couldn’t be weak, not now, not when Jenna needed her most. She sucked in a sharp wavering breath and swallowed her sorrow. She let it settle in the center of her stomach and she focused on it there, turning and molding it into a burning rage that smothered the fear, it drowned out the tears and she left it there to grow. What she needed now was a battle plan, because she was at war, she didn’t know with who yet but she was a clever girl, she would figure it out. Mr. Hubbard’s support was greatly appreciated, the man may not have been very physically able, but he was smart as a whip and took no one’s lies as truth. He would call out anyone on their tricks and she needed his humor to remind her that this could end well, that there was hope yet. They sat there in silence for a long while until finally she felt strong enough to continue. “West End came up dry for any info, but Mrs. Keller said she thought she saw Jenna on her way over to the diner around noon last Saturday. I didn’t find anything else useful I don’t think.” She hung her head, her hands clenched. What was she not seeing? She could feel something poking at the back of her memory but couldn’t separate the thought. “Well that’s a start, and we know she was wearing her blue jeans, that funny yellow sweater and the red winderbreaker yes? How about her shoes love, did you figure out which pair was missing from home?” His voice was steeped in honey, he treaded carefully as to not upset her any more than she was. “The blue and purple sketchers, the ones that light up when you stomp your foot.” Daphne replied quietly.

Her whole body shivered at the thought that she hadn’t noticed when Jenna had left, she hadn’t answered the millions of questions her youngest sister fired at her as she sat on her bed, talking on the phone to Micah. She had shooed the little girl away in annoyance. What had she asked her? Daphne let out a heavy breath. “I should get going home Mr. Hubbard, thank you for the tea.” She set the cup down on the table and went to stand. “Daphne,” Mr. Hubbard stood up, she looked at him trying to keep a strong front. “This is not your fault child. You did not do this, and there is nothing that could have been done. But we will sort this mess, you have my word.” He said it reassuringly. She nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, pulled the hood of her yellow raincoat over her coffee colored hair. She stepped out onto the doorstep and let the rain pitter patter on her shoulders as she started her walk home.

Her boots smushed into the fresh cakes of mud and she pulled her feet one at a time from the suctioning of each step. She could see the moon now, a fat pumpkin of light that was shining on the tops of each tree. Beams of moonlight cut through the naked branches and highlighted the freshly fallen leaves that lay in windswept flourishes on the forest floor. She fished her flashlight from her pocket and clicked the on button. The memory of something important continued to scratch at her thoughts but refused to present itself, her brow burrowed as she tried to coax it out into view. Just then, a loud crackle of thunder broke in the sky, followed shortly by a firework of lightening. She had counted the moments between the clap of thunder and the light, the peak of the storm was only a few minutes away from her now. She quickened her pace along the path when she saw another figure ahead. She went to call out when a pair of hands grabbed her by the back of her coat and she felt a mass of fingers quickly cover her mouth. “You don’t want to call to him dear, trust me.” Daphne recognized the voice from somewhere. The hands pulled her off of the path and urged her to sit behind a large boulder. She sat, shaking until the hands revealed their owner, Mr. Dorren, she knew him only as Ashley Dorren’s father. He had run one of the busier stores in town for years, was the local soccer coach and had most notably lost his mind last year. Ashley had gone missing, run away the police had claimed, but Mr. Dorren had begged them to investigate further. He had posted photos of Ashley’s 6th grade photo on every community board, every light post, had handed them out at every town meeting for months. Then one day the police chief had had enough and ordered him to take them down, that the case was closed and to stop “dragging it out”. Mr. Dorren had curled himself up in a ball in the middle of the towns busiest road and screamed until they took him away. Daphne felt a wave of sadness replace her fear, this was not a man that would hurt anyone. He saw the anger drain from her eyes be replaced by confusion and moved his hand from her mouth. “Please don’t scream, the man on the trail is no good Daphne, do not call for him.” He was crouched beside her behind the large stone, his once midnight hair had turned ashen and grew in long wild tendrils down to his shoulders, a beard covered most of his face. His eyes were surrounded by deep lines from weather and worry. He placed a single finger on his lips “shhh.”

Footsteps crunched on the sticks laying on the path, closer and closer until a cold voice bit through the air “Someone over there?” The man called from a few yards away, his flashlight shining dangerously close to the boulder they hid behind. “Stay hidden, please, promise you won’t leave here until we are both gone.” Mr. Dorren whispered over the sound of the rain. He was completely soaked but did not seem to notice. “I promise. But can you tell me what’s happening?” “Not today Daphne, another time, but do not walk to woods again at night.”

Mr. Dorren stood, his body was quickly enveloped in the white glow of the man’s light. “What are you doing out in the rain Drew?” The man stepped closer, inspecting the pathway behind Mr. Dorren. “You already know what I am doing Allen.” He sounded suddenly much braver than when he had told Daphne to hide. A sunshine yellow retriever sat himself directly in the mud and waited silently next to his owner. “Haven’t seen anything…unexpected…tonight Have you Drew?” The man questioned him carefully. “Not a thing but the rain, I’m on my way home now, I suggest you be heading back before the lightening strikes you down.” Drew Dorren spoke loudly over the growing storm. Thunder sounded only a few miles out now. The man scowled and patted his hand on his shotgun, making sure it was still there. “I’ll be on my way.” He said, turning back down the trail he had come from. “If you see anything, out of the ordinary, I’ll make it worth your while to let me know first.” The man said before walking away, Walker followed him, tail wagging. “God, you are completely oblivious aren’t you, some guard dog you’ve been.” Allen spoke to the dog, who only looked back happily at his master.

Mr. Dorren signaled for Daphne to stay, and then disappeared into the forest. A flash of lightening showed his form before it vanished behind a mass of trees.

Chapter 3, He’s Home

“Such a good boy, who’s the best doggo? You are, you’re my good boy.” Jenna cooed thru the grate in the wall to the pile of golden fur on the other side. Walker listened with perked ears and an occasional tail thump. “You are a sweet boy aren’t you, and you’re gonna get me out of here.” She flicked a cashew thru the vent and it landed on the floor, it joined a mini pretzel stick, half a peanut and a piece of Chex cereal. The zip lock baggie of trail mix was quickly depleted and the golden retriever wasn’t retrieving. “Come on old boy, don’t you want a treat?” She whispered thru the grating before resting her forehead on the hard drywall with a sigh of frustration. She closed her eyes and felt her pockets again, a lone M&M sat nestled within a bundle of dryer lint. She separated the candy and held it in her palm for a moment and then tried again. “Here boy, I just have the one, it’s wicked yummy though, come here boy!” She pinched the candy between two small fingers and held it thru a small crack in the grate. Walker was just out of reach, resting a few feet away, Jenna needed the old dog to trust her, she had plans for him.

She held the chocolate in her fingers, the metal of the grate dug into her knuckles and sent warning signals to her brain to pull back but she wouldn’t. She whistled lightly, just enough to perk the dogs ears back up and with a raise of a golden eyebrow he opened his eyes and glanced over at the offending noise. His nose twitched and his ear flicked back, Jenna held out the candy, her heart pounded against her windbreaker. She closed her eyes and felt the chocolate begin to melt when suddenly a warm, scratchy tongue was wrapping itself around her hand. She opened her eyes and the candy was gone. Walker stood, wagging his tail, licking his chops clean in front of the grate. Specks of dried mud flug themselves off of his tail fur and landed in The Guys steel toed boots that were paired next to a set of worn white Nike runners, a black gym bag and a pair of tall muck boots.

“Good boy, that’s a good boy!” She smiled weakly as the dog licked at the melted remnents on her fingertips. She scratched at the top of his nose, in that spot right between his glossy brown eyes. He pushed his face closer to the grate and leaned into her touch. The smell of wet fur filled her nose as a door on the other side of the house clicked shut.

The jangle of keys being placed in a glass dish followed by the rustle of a coat being hung, the deep thunk of heavy boots on hardwood. Jenna listened with her breath held and her chest tight, she waited for the sound of deadbolts sliding open.

“Jessie’s girl, oh I wish that I had Jessie’s girl.” The Guy sang to himself as he made his way around the front of the house. The refrigerator door suctioned open and Jenna could hear the sound of a jug of milk, maybe juice, being opened and poured. Such a familiar, comfortable thing, something she had heard every morning of her life, sitting at the long pine table next to her siblings for breakfast. Her stomach growled. The cap was placed back onto the jug. Mail was sifted thru, she heard him chuck some into the bin with a curse “Fucking junk.”

Walker’s tail wagged lazily, he licked the last of the trail mix from the floor and crunched it between his pink gums. He moved away from the grate on the wall and camped himself by the makeshift plywood door, waiting for it to open so he could journey outside. Jenna pushed herself against the far wall within the crawl space, fear consumed her. She pulled her coat tighter around herself for comfort. Her breathing seemed to echo in the space, she swore she could hear her heartbeat beating against the drywall. One deadbolt was opened, a second being fiddled with. “Who’s ready to go outside? Not you short stuff, don’t get your hopes up, you little lady, are gonna be here for a long while.” His voice was indistinguishable from any other common middle aged man, gruff and soft depending on the note, but his had a back current of annoyance to it. Annoyed with what, Jenna didn’t know and she didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out how she had slighted this guy.

The third and last lock was opened and the door swung open slowly, the bottom dragged against the lamenent, leaving another long rounded scar on the flooring. Walker’s tail wagged faster, the dog paused for a moment and looked back at the grate, he turned back to the open door and his master standing there. The man’s jaw dropped. “Well would you look at that, she must be a damn magician. Where did she go boy?” Walker stepped closer to The Guy, tail lowered but still wagging slowly. He nuzzled his master’s leg and sat down directly on his feet. “Not telling huh? Well we’re in for a late night old boy.” The Guy patted the dogs head and pulled a crumpled pack of Virginia Slims from his front shirt pocket. He slid a thin white cigarette into his mouth and put the box back into it’s designated spot. He hadn’t smoked in close to three years now, but damn it all he needed the feel of it on a day like this. “One thing after another, can’t catch a break just this once can I.” He mumbled to himself or the dog, all the same as Walker never talked back. The Guy slid his muck boots on and kicked the dryer that sat next to the back door. The metallic sound bounced around in the drum of the dryer and shook the wall behind it where Jenna sat hidden within.

The deadbolts were opened one by one and he stopped to look around the room one more time. Everything was just as he had left it, in an organized but ever dirty state of a divorced, overworked, neglectful man. “Shoulda put a bullet in her when I got her. Fucking useless. It’ll be worth it. It’ll all be worth it.” He reassured himself before grabbing his cap and his hunting rifle, he clipped Walkers florescent vest around the dogs chest and lit the cigerette. The door slammed shut and he was gone.

Chapter 1, The Girl in the Wall

She stumbled up the earthen path, it was clearly defined by craggy rock and soft green moss on either side which was a stroke of good luck for Daphne because the rain hadn’t let up in two days.

She could see her breath on the cool night air, breaking through raindrops and occasionally lit up by the rotating glow of the lighthouse ahead. She had trekked up and down this same path, up to the lighthouse and then later back down to her parents modest cape home for 17 years now. She had learned to ride a bike on these paths, snuck out her window and ran to her first boyfriends house on this path, saw her first Lady Slipper bloom on this path. Now, her familiarity with its twists and turns was her safety net, even without the light, she could still find her way. Her face ran with tears of rage and her skin prickled at the chill, she had been out for hours at this point and her legs burned and begged for her to head home. Her flashlight swung from left to right, never missing a single crevice or indent in the soil. As she walked, with her flashlight shining, she pictured herself as her own lighthouse, a beacon of light for those lost in the dark, struggling to find their way through the fog. And not far away, someone was squinting in the dim glow of a hidden moon, trying to follow the small torch of light.

Jenna had been missing for four days now. For an eight year old, that was an eternity. Her knees bled from deep wounds that she nursed tenderly with an old cloth she had salvaged from a corner of…well what ever this place was. Her small hands worked quickly to tie and knot the strip of red cotton around the worst of it. A bolt of pain coursed through her, she bit down on her lip to keep from calling out. Calling out to who, no one was here, she was alone as far as she could tell. Growing up in a house with four siblings, and being the youngest of the bunch, she had never once known silence, let alone solitude.

Wherever she was, it was quiet almost always, save for the tick of what she guessed was an old heater on the other side of the wall turning on. She could feel the warmth of it on her spine which rested against the naked backing of boarded drywall that enclosed the small space. She could touch wall to wall by just stretching her legs out and she guessed that it was some sort of crawl space that hid her. She picked M&Ms from her jacket pocket and ate them slowly, sucking on each one until the coating melted away and the chocolate sat on her tongue. She hadn’t had real food in two sleeps worth of time, the only measurement of time she had here in the dark was measured by how many times she had slept. She tried to stay awake as much as she could, listening to every creak of floorboards overhead, every door clicking shut, every squeak of the refrigerator in the house as it was opened and shut. Her belly grumbled.

She had crawled from the little yellow room where The Guy kept his golden retriever and his boots. It smelled like wet dog in there and the floor was encased in a thin layer of soil. She had laid with the dog and rolled her thin fingers around his soft fur for comfort the first two nights she had been at The Guys house. He had left Walker in charge of keeping an eye on her while he left to do some errands, but the dog had failed his mission of being anything but an old lazy pillow.

The deadbolts on the old white wooden door that led outside sat five in a row, all bolted and then clipped shut with individual padlocks. The doorway into the dining room which was adjacent to the back entryway he had stored her in was blocked by a makeshift plywood door that only ever opened from the other side. She had given up prying at the deadbolts and had pulled the grating away from the sickly yellow wall and prayed as she squeezed herself through the rectangular hole in the drywall. There she had sat and waited for the right moment to make her way out again, but first she had to get Walker on her side.