AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wants to kill her father. Is my sick mind making some connection with her over this shared brutality? Because there is a difference between Blue and I. Blue may think she wants to commit murder, but I have done it. Four lives I’ve taken. Her hands are still clean. I plan on keeping them that way.
I pick up the bottle to pour again but change my mind. I leave my glass and carry the bottle out of the room. I’ve been looking around the house while Blue slept today. It was a distraction. I move through the corridor past the kitchen which still has the light on. It’s the only light guiding me now as I make my way to the door at the end of the hall. It was locked and I wonder if that was for Matty because the key was on top of the frame. All it took was a quick sweep with my fingers to find it.
I take it from the same place now, fingertips coming away dusty, and insert it into the lock. It’s not like the lock on the door that leads to the cellar at my old house, Jericho’s home. That is bolted up tight and with good reason. This one is simply to keep a child out. What happened down here between Carlton and his cousin, Julia, was consensual, even if some would consider it wrong given their relation. It was two consenting adults fucking.
What happened in our cellar was about as far from consensual as can be.
I switch on the light and walk downstairs where there’s a small movie theater on one side. There’s a popcorn machine and a bar. The popcorn machine is empty, but a few bottles of liquor remain at the bar.
That’s not the room I’m interested in tonight, though.
There was another, this one locked just like the one upstairs. I guess they weren’t taking any chances of a child walking into it. Or maybe it was for Isabelle’s sake. They wouldn’t want to be found out.
I reach up to take the key from its place on the frame and unlock it. When I push the door open, a scent of basement comes over me. It nauseates me because it brings back memories. It smells like an underground, incomplete space. It is.
The ceiling lamp is burnt out so, using the light coming in from the outer room, I cross to the table beside the armchair to switch on the lamp there. It casts a soft, golden glow over the room. I bring the whiskey bottle to my lips and drink as I take it all in. It’s about the same size as the movie room, maybe a little smaller. The walls and floor are cement. No windows here. The only furniture in the space is that single armchair with the table beside it, a small area rug that is so dusty I can see my own footprints when I step on it.
A TV is mounted to the wall and in a cabinet below the TV are DVDs. I guess Bishop wasn’t streaming his porn. Inside the cabinet is a stereo that would have been cutting edge about ten years ago.
The one thing I find of interest is a wooden beam that’s probably been here since the house was built that has padded handcuffs hanging from the top. The armchair is set exactly right to view whoever is bound to it.
I take a seat in the chair now and drink my whiskey straight from the bottle.
Every house has secrets it keeps. What took place down here? Was Carlton Bishop fucking his cousin in here? Or was there some darker intent.
I get up, open the cabinet’s glass door where the stereo sits and push the button to turn it on. I’m surprised when a light blinks green, although there’s no reason it wouldn’t work, I suppose. There’s a stack of CDs. How long has it been since I’ve handled a CD? I look through Bishop’s collection and find one that’s fitting for my mood. Guns ‘n Roses.Sympathy for the Devil. I pop the CD into its pocket and hit play and I drink my whiskey as the familiar tune begins.
11
BLUE
Idon’t know why I try to sleep. I won’t be able to. All I can see when I close my eyes is that poor woman’s neck.
I wait about an hour after both cars drive off and when Zeke still doesn’t come up, I assume he left with his brother. I throw the covers off to head to the kitchen. I plan to make myself another sandwich but as I get downstairs, I hear music. I stop to listen. It’s a song I recognize but can’t quite name.
Barefoot, I creep toward the sound and see a door standing open at the end of the corridor. The light is on and when I reach it, I realize it leads to a basement. I can smell the musty scent of it and feel the damp, cooler temperature.
The song begins anew. It’sSympathy for the Devil. I used to love that song. I creep down the stairs and reach the bottom. The cement is cold on my bare feet. A light is on in one of the two rooms down here and I walk toward it.
“Zeke?” I ask, seeing the back of his head on the armchair.
He must not hear me, though. I walk inside, take in the sparse, strange room. When my gaze falls on the leather cuffs dangling from the beam in the middle of the room, I gasp and my heart hammers against my chest.
Zeke stands, places himself between me and the beam. “All basements hide secrets, don’t they?”
I shift my gaze to his. He’s holding a bottle of whiskey. If it’s the same one from the study, he’s drank about half of it. I study his face, see how his eyes are shadowed.
The song ends then starts to play again, clearly on repeat.
“What are you doing down here?” I ask because he looks a wreck.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He takes a drink from his bottle. I glance up at those cuffs again. He waits until I look at him again to ask his next question. “Are you scared?”
I blink, the mood having shifted. I lick my lips and shake my head. I’m not sure it’s true though.
“What is this room?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Carlton Bishop’s sex room? I don’t know.”
