The Face Behind The Mask

28

While regaining consciousness, Kelsey had fuzzy recollections of Beth's scream, the sharp sting of a needle in her neck, the pillowcase pulled over her head. She remembered banging her shins as she was shoved into some vehicle. She recalled flailing for a door handle, anything to get out. She remembered moving in slow motion, kicking hard at first but the fight dying. She remembered the feel of latex gloves on her arms, the zip-ties cinching her wrists, kicking, kicking, and then darkness.

She smelled the stink of a sewer, the sensation of a cold, stone wall on her back. She couldn't open her eyes. Something pinned her in place. But what place? Her eyes slid back and forth against her heavy eyelids. And then she felt a breath on her throat and a soft kiss on her cheek.

She drew back, forcing her eyes to open at last. Through a glassy fog, she saw him crouching in front of her. A man. Someone she didn't recognize. Greasy hair pasted against a pale forehead, he leered at her through thick-framed glasses. In the darkness, his white face shone like the moon.

He whispered, "See there? You're okay."

Horrified, she withdrew, her senses slowly engaging. She was curled up on a folded blanket atop a soiled pet bed, wedged into the corner of some dark room, a cinderblock tomb. A flashlight directed at the ceiling provided the only illumination.

She screamed. The yelp reverberated off the walls. He clamped his gloved hand over her mouth. "That hurts my ears." He slowly released his grip, his eyes wide and menacing.

She became aware of the cold. Her feet were bare and he'd removed her shorts. She drew back her legs, trying to cover her underwear with the hem of her sweatshirt.

The man got to his feet. In his hand was a scrunchie. "Put this in your hair," he said.

She was paralyzed.

"I said put this in your hair."

She locked him in a panicked stare, her eyes bulging, her throat raw from screaming.

"Put it in your hair. Or put it on your wrist. Like a bracelet." He gestured with thin, slender blue rubbery fingers.

She took the scrunchie and slipped it onto her wrist above the red-striped indentation left by the zip tie. She fixed her eyes on the threatening, unfamiliar man. He wasn't a large man. Like a rabid animal, he looked disoriented and terrified yet poised to attack.

"You're so pretty," he said. "You were always pretty." He squatted and as he examined her, she felt the pull of his hungry eyes. As he leered, his lower lip trembled. "So much prettier than those other girls. I could see it. I could always see it." He stood, looking down at Kelsey. For a split second, his face contorted in a grimacing facial tic. "It's going to be so good. So good. You'll see." He rocked ever so slightly back and forth from foot to foot.

In a meek voice, Kesley said, "I don't know who you are."

Like a switch had been thrown, he raged. "I've been invisible to you. Right there. Right there right in front of you. And you pretend you don't see me!"

The grimace came three times in rapid succession. He paced away, fighting to compose himself before emerging from the shadows. "You ruined our anniversary. But I'm giving you another chance. Put that thing in your hair! Like you always do..." He shouted, "Put it in your hair!"

She pulled back her hair, eyes trained on him. She couldn't make her fingers work.

"Make it look nice," he said. "Is that so much to ask? Just to be nice?"

"No. No, it's not."

He cried out in frustration. "That's not right. That looks terrible! Awful! Fix it! Fix it!"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm trying."

"Put it on your wrist! Look what you've done to your hair. That's not right. It's a mess!"

She slipped the scrunchie over her hand onto her wrist and then ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the knots.

He watched her, the anger seeping out of him. "Those others. They weren't anything." He pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. "Not even close. It's always been you, Skyden."

Kelsey flinched at the mention of her mother's name. In as calm a tone as she could muster, she said, "I'm... I'm actually not Skyden."

He placed his hands on his hips, crouching slightly, the tendons in his neck straining, his moon face becoming pink. "I know when people are playing games to confuse me. Don't you..." Another grimace cut off his sentence. "All right. All right, then. That's how it has to be. I told you I'd give you another chance. But even you. Even you." He reached for something in the dark.

She fought to clear the Ketamine fog from her brain.

He fumbled with a cheap canvas shoulder bag and then produced a syringe.

"Let's not do that," Kesley whined.

"You don't get to say what we do. You don't make the decisions. I make all the decisions." The grimace warped his face in two rapid twitches leaving a smudge of saliva on his lips.

"Wait" She raised a hand. "Just tell me what you want. We don't need that."

"What I want? Tell you what I want? I told you. I want to be with you on our anniversary. I want you to see me."

"I see you. I see you."

"I want you to be nice."

"Okay. I'll be nice." She softened her voice. "What's your name?"

"Damn you!" He roared. "You go straight to hell!" A series of grimaces seized his facial muscles, tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Kelsey cowered. "I'm really so sorry."

"Turn and face the wall!" He mopped the tears from his face.

"I'm so sorry. Please."

"I don't want you to look at me anymore." His voice cracked. "Turn and face the wall."

She lowered her head.

"Turn away. Face the wall!"

She turned her head slowly, her muscles tensing in anticipation. She felt the claws of despair ripping from the inside out. In this dungeon, it was as though she no longer existed.