Legacy

Chapter 24: Courtney Meinzer

Michael has only enough time to read three chapters to me before he has to leave for work. Something about his lunch break being almost over. At that, my stomach growls and Michael tosses me a sandwich he had in the fridge. It lands right next to me. He's already gone before I can ask him to unwrap it for me.

I carefully fix it between my fingers and thumb, avoiding the burn on my palm, and peel the wrapper away with my teeth.

After gobbling down my lunch, there's nothing to do except continue to read.

The burns all over my body still hurt, but I've gotten numb to all of it by now. Just so I can feel something- anything, I curl my fingers around the chain keeping me grounded to the bed. The burn on my palm feels like it's on fire all over again, but I don't let go. Instead I pull as hard as I can. I choke on a pained sob and punch the hard wall.

The stupid chain still won't budge. "SON OF A BITCH!" I bang my clenched fist against the dresser so hard that it crashes face first to the floor. "FUCK!"

It's a good thing that the dresser was set up right next to the bed. I scoot all the way to the edge so the chain is stiff and stretch out my good arm until I can curl my numb fingers underneath it. I pull as hard as I can to no avail. It's way too heavy.

"Shit," I hiss, slapping the yellow painted wood in frustration. I have to bite my lip as my palm burns wildly. The glare I usually save just for Michael crosses my face as I stare at the fallen dresser.

I gasp when I notice some of the yellow paint chipped away to reveal the wood beneath.

No. Not chipped. Scratched. Letters.

I have to squint hard to make it out: Courtney Meinzer, 1996.

Meinzer? That name sounds so familiar.

I wrack my brain for any explanation, but come up with nothing. What if Michael comes down and sees this mess? He'll punish me again, or something worse.

I put my good foot on the edge of the dresser closest to the wall and bite my lip as I press down with all my might. The burning feeling in the sole of my foot causes me to let out a sharp scream. I'm able to use just enough leverage to raise the dresser high enough to hook my fingers over the top edge and push it back to an upright position.

Whimpering, I brush my thumb over the burn on my foot. The pain slowly numbs and I thump the back of my head repeatedly against the wall.

"Courtney Meinzer," I grunt as a painful tear slips down my face. "Who were you?"

~~~~~

By some miracle, I'm able to catch a few hours of uneasy sleep before Michael returns. After we eat dinner (which he has to spoon feed me because of my useless hands), he gives me the option to come upstairs and spend the night with him in his bed, to which I respond with a request for him to go fuck a blender.

That, thankfully, gets a laugh out of him. "I'd much rather fuck you," he counters with a smirk as he sits down next to me on the bed. I freeze as his cold hand slinks under my broken arm and snakes beneath my shirt to feel my stomach. "Speaking of which," he bites his lip as he leans in the whisper in my ear: "d'ya think we made somethin'?"

I shiver at his words and try to push him away without putting too much stress on my injuries. His hand clamps around my wrist and I gasp at the sudden feeling.

"Wanna make sure we do," he purrs into my ear, sliding his hand down my stomach towards my shorts.

"Get away from me." My voice is croaky as I hold back tears. I nudge him hard enough that he pulls away with a laugh. "Please," I add, keeping the back of my hand pressed against his broad chest.

I can't let myself forget why I'm here. Michael wants me to give him a child, and I have no choice but to comply with that demand. Unless I want to end up like my dad, or Wes... or possibly Courtney Meinzer.

I'm sure Michael would love nothing more than to peel the skin away from my knuckles and pull my teeth one by one...

Michael grabs my hand and plants a firm kiss on the bandage before getting up from the bed and leaving me for the night, also leaving the light on; that asshole.

~~~~~

"Help!" The strained feminine voice rings out through the empty basement. I bound over to the cell door and stick my head between the cold iron bars.

I can't see the poor girl hidden by Michael's back as he reaches for his tools.

"Please-" she yells as my captor raises the knife high above his head. "Don't-" He laughs as he brings it down on her and I see the fresh blood splatter against the white wall. The girl screams even louder than Wes did when his left eye was ripped out of his skull.

"MICHAEL STOP," I scream, banging my hands on the bars.

He turns around slowly with a sneer. Blood paints his face like a gruesome Rorschach test. The knife glints and he brings it down on her again. The scream this time is so much louder.

"STOP!" I can barely here my voice over the girl's screams. "PLEASE!" I drag out the word as long as possible. "I'll do anything!"

Michael rolls his neck and shoulders and turns to look at me. His smile stretches from ear to ear as he swaggers over to the door. I feel one of his hands completely cover one of mine and squeeze hard. "I know you will," he says lowly, tapping the slick blade against my nose. I glare up at him. "But first," he turns and walks back to his victim.

I watch in horror as he turns around and his hand wraps tightly around the girl's skinny neck. He lifts her up off the floor like she ways about as much as a rag doll. Her hair shields her face like a mop and I can't see anything beyond the brown waves.

"Any last words, Courtney?" She only chokes and kicks her legs frantically as Michael grins back in my direction.

"NO," I scream as the knife digs deep into her abdomen. The blood gushes and splatters to the floor like a river. When she stops moving, Michael tosses her body right in front of me. I slump down and reach a hand through the bars to brush the hair away from her face. I scream and slide away as I behold my face, gaunt and lifeless against the white floor.

"You don't wanna end up like her, do you Morning Bird?" The cell door opens and I bury my face in my hands that are now sticky and red with her-my blood.

I suddenly feel the cuff around my ankle tug hard and I'm dragged back towards the bed. All I hear is the clanking of the chains. My nails bend and crack as I claw at the ground, trying to crawl away. My breaths come out in sobs as tears slide down my face.

Cold hands wrap around my shoulders as I'm yanked up to a standing position and I feel Michael's hot breath against my ear. "Take off your shirt," he orders.