Kidnapped

Disobedience (Revised)

Chapter 4: Andrew

My heartbeat drummed against my chest so forcefully I thought it was about to burst free and explode. That outcome, however, was preferable to any punishment my dad might put me through if he knew what I was doing.

I concentrated on my feet. One misstep and the girl might blow our cover with an unexpected cry of alarm. She sucked in a deep breath, a reaction from crying like she did. My heart stung at the fresh memory of her tears. The screams and crying were always the worst when my dad was working with the girls. They brought back a not-so-fresh memory that was best left alone. One that I prayed would be forgotten every day. Not that God would ever listen to me, not with what I've done.

I'm damned. I thought. I'm going to Hell to spend the rest of eternity with my dad. A cold chill raced down my spine at the thought. Nothing would really change, so there's no use in trying now.

Another spasm of breath racked her body, and her body tensed nervously. 

"Relax," I said under my breath. She went limp again, but her eyebrows pulled together fearfully when we crossed the main room and my dad's voice carried over from the kitchen.

"She's not ugly, right?" My dad sounded exasperated, like a traditional parent wondering why his son wants to wear a dress instead of pants. "We even let him pick her. She is quite literally his choice of girl and he hasn't even taken her clothes off."

"It is his first time." There was an underlying tone of fear in Skip's voice. That's the only reason my dad kept him around. Skip was terrified of my dad.

He had a right to be.

Curiosity won me over when I reached the bottom step of the stairs. I paused a moment and listened.

"Well, he isn't doing anything that I taught him." He cursed and a short pop issued from the kitchen. He was opening a beer.

"He could just be experimental," Skip offered, "maybe he wants to make his own legacy."

"I want MY legacy!" Something slammed and a chain reaction of startled jumps went from me to the girl. Unable to relax any further, the girl was stiff as a board in my arms. I glanced at the kitchen before ascending the steps to the upper floor.

I could still hear my dad and Skip talking when I made it to the room, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I kicked the door with my foot and their voices died out as it clicked shut. The girl leaped from my arms and scurried to the opposite wall, staggering over the mattress. Pushing her back against it, she watched me fearfully.

"Are- are you okay?" I asked hesitantly. I took a slow step closer and she retreated further down the wall. I realized I just wanted to be close to her. To comfort her.

Wrong. WRONG!

"I- I asked you a question." I forced my eyebrows together and tried to curl my lip to mimic my dad.

"I'm-" she paused, unsure how to answer. "I'm- alive."

"Stop moving." I ordered, straightening my slumped shoulders. She froze against the wall. "Good. Now- now come here." I pointed at my feet like I was commanding a dog.

"Now!" I raised my voice when she didn't move. Slowly, she peeled herself off of the wall and took a few steps in my direction. "I said come here. Not there. Here." I pointed at the ground in front of me again. She braved a few more tentative steps.

"Don't make me repeat myself." I snarled, sounding surprisingly like my dad. She heard him in my voice and hurried directly in front of me. She smelled like sweat and fear.

"What would your mother think?" She asked quietly.

"What?" I swallowed hard.

"Your mom" she repeated timidly. "What would she think of you doing this to me?"

A picture of my mother flashed through my eyes. She was sitting on the couch, reading, while I was playing on my GameBoy, resting my back against the couch.

My eyes stung, and I blinked away the threatening tears. I snapped back into the present, locking eyes with her. She quickly looked down and I realized that I didn't know what I wanted to do with her next. My lips twitched with commands that I could've given, but couldn't think of.

"You don't have to do this." Her voice was still soft but I could tell her confidence was returning to her. 

"Shut up." I said roughly. Her mouth shut for a brief moment before opening again. We stood there, facing each other but unable to look one another in the eye. I knew what I could do with her, and I knew what I should have done with her. She belonged at home, fighting with her dad at the very least. Safe at night and blissfully unaware of monsters like my dad.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Ashley," she said hesitantly.

I nodded. "That's a pretty name."

She furrowed her brow, uncertain of how to respond. She looked at me and for the first time her blue eyes pierced me like a knife. "You're-" she swallowed hard, "you're not cruel. Why?"

Again, my mother's kind face graced my thoughts. A lump formed in my throat.

"Shut up," my voice was  hoarse.

"There's something different about you," she pressed. "You can escape this life. You can escape him."

"I said shut up." With both hands I gripped her throat and shoved her back against the wall. She cried out in alarm and clawed at my hands. I didn't squeeze for fear of actually hurting her, but I needed her to stop talking. Her pleading words brought back memories and sins that were best left alone. 

"C'mon," her volume increased, "I can see through your 'tough-boy' act. You don't have to do this!"

"Yes," I tightened my grip on her neck just enough to frighten her. "I do. Now shut up."

The cloud of fear evaporated from her face and the will to survive blazed brightly in her eyes.

"You're not going to make me," she said, almost to herself. Her slender fingers wrapped around my wrists and pulled my hands away from her neck.