Basement

By Amethyst Turner

Cold cement floor

Firmly locked door

Ragged breath

Thoughts of death

Pitch black dark

Beating heart

Hurt and fear

All are here

XXX

Davey was not at all looking forward to this.

He thought of the chief's thick face, ripe with prejudice and narcissism. Ah, no I didn't follow the protocol, sir. Yeah, yep, I pretty much went directly against your orders. That is in fact what I'm saying. Uhuh, I did everything but spit on the rulebook and put it on your desk covered in my own shit, yes. By the way, our missing person case is now kidnapping. Have fun with that.

True to his now lawless self, Davey had already tried everything he could think of to find Amethyst himself -- but he had to admit, his attempts were a little half-hearted. He'd always been taught to be especially wary of kidnappers. They were the crazy ones, the ones with the chainsaws in their kitchens that they liked to bust out after they invited you in for tea. They looked like kind old grandmas and, oh, that man who works at the post office. But nooo.

Clark had led him first left, then right. Down Maplewood Avenue, then back up it. Right across the intersection on the post road at rush hour. Then he curled up on the island between the crosswalks and put his paws over his eyes, something Davey had only ever seen him do before they found a dead victim.

He couldn't think about that, though. The only way he could make things right Annie, he knew, was to get Aimee back. Besides, he kind of missed her, too. Clark certainly did. He wasn't eating much, which worried Davey. His dog was getting older. If the basset hound didn't get enough protein, who knew how much longer he'd last?

Clark sat at his side now, completely silent. Odd, to say the least. That dog was always panting or snoring or snapping at the heels of passerby. Who was this lifeless blob of flesh puddled under his chair?

He put his hand under the seat, stroking his dog's head. No response.

Wouldn't it be awkward, he thought to himself, if my fat-ass dog died under this tiny little chair, and we couldn't get him out? We'd have to take it apart . . . then he'd have chair-leg imprints on his flab.

But such thoughts could not distract him from reality for more than thirty seconds.

"Mr. Springs?" The chief's secretary called. "You can go in now. Make it quick, though, we've got meetings stacked to the roof today."

He kept himself from scowling at her. "Okay. Thanks." He gave a soft whistle for Clark, snapping his fingers. The hound gave no response but one slightly raised eyelid. He rolled his eyes. "Wish me luck, then."

Clark lifted a paw as if to salute: it's been nice knowing ya.

XXX

Amethyst still felt dirty, although she'd just been cleaned.

Her skin crawled with what felt like tiny bugs, every hair on her arms and neck standing up straight. She was back in the dark corner again, completely alone this time.

Leafy had found Brandon in her waistband. "What's this?" He'd asked. She just shrugged. Then she was forced to watch, unmoving and eyes wet with absolute horror, as he beheaded the little bear with just his hands.

She wept for him, now. Alone in the darkness, she didn't care if Leafy heard. What had Brandon done to deserve that?

He'd even taken the broken pieces. She imagined herself sneaking out of the basement, across the impenetrable darkness, crawling up the stairs and sneaking past him. Finding her bear's severed head, bringing it to Annelise. Annelise knew how to sew. She could fix him.

Leafy had taken her dress away, too. "The smell," he'd explained to her. "Can't let that little sniffer dog catch up to us."

Us. She hated that word. No, she wanted to say. You, you're doing this. Not me.

She watched him burn the dress, not in the fireplace, but in a small batch of flames set in the kitchen sink. He explained that to her, too. "Smoke," he said, "would give us away."

Amethyst missed her dress. Maybe it was a size too big, but it felt soft and warm as a hug enveloping her while she wore it. Now she sat drowning in a giant nightgown that smelled of dust. It billowed around her, spilling on the floor. Her arms were half the size of the sleeves.

She especially disliked it because of what Leafy said when he put it on her: "This belongs to a dead lady. She's not happy that you're wearing her clothes."

I'm sorry, she thought to the dead lady. I don't want to. He made me. Don't be mad.

If she listened closely, she could hear the woman respond: Take it off, take it off, it's mine.

At least, that was what it sounded like to Amethyst. She wished she still had Brandon to hug and squeeze tight when she felt afraid. Now, all she could do was dig her fingernails into her own flesh, focusing on the pain to keep from crying. Only, it didn't hurt bad enough. She wished for her shard of glass, still tucked behind Scrubbles' ribbon.

Her eyelids grew heavy. Keeping them open became a battle against gravity. But she dared not sleep. Who knew what could happen before she woke?

XXX

Sophia held the crumpled paper in her hand, rolling it back and forth between her fingers. She needed to look at the address, but couldn't bring herself to unfold it.

She sighed. For the first time, she had serious second thoughts. All her life, she had just gone and done what she wanted to, usually with little to no consequence. She'd lived on the street -- what did she have to lose?

But now, she had something that could slip out of her grasp with one wrong move.

She thought of "accidentally" dropping the address, watching it disappear down the gutter. Going oh well and hitching a ride back to Arkansas. Back to Sunita.

The woman must be freaking out by now. Sophie wished she'd left a note, but it was too late now. Either Sun would figure it out, or she wouldn't. She had no control over it, now.

She took a deep breath. Uncrumpled the paper. Onwards, then.

XXX

Annie knew what kind of night this would be the moment Davey opened the door.

It would be a not-talking night. A quiet-dinner night, a grunts-for-answers night. He didn't kiss her hello, and she knew he wouldn't kiss her goodnight. She would try to comfort him, and perhaps he would let her. Perhaps he wouldn't.

Clark followed behind him, tail between his legs. Poor dog, Annie thought. He must have received a sharp scolding for something, or maybe Davey was upset enough that he just flat out yelled at the hound. Though large and strong, Clark had always been sensitive, especially when it came to Davey. Davey, his idol, his god. The one he lived to please. Even a single angry word from him to send the basset into a depression, however brief.

Davey kicked off his shoes, slamming the door behind him. His tie caught in it. He yanked the door open again, closing it even harder. Clark whimpered, shying away.

Annelise put on the most genuine smile she could produce. "Hey, honey."

Grunt.

She felt a little disappointed. Part of her had hoped he would give up his usual anger act and kiss her, or at least say hello. My baby just died! she wanted to yell at him. Hold me, you idiot!

She could still feel the weight of Davey Jr. in her arms if she stopped moving, just for a moment. Lying in bed, watching TV, even waiting for coffee to boil. He became real in those moments, breathing against her breast. She could reach down and stroke his hair, lean in and kiss his button nose. Just a mother rocking her baby to sleep. Just a baby, warm in her arms.

The anger welled up to a point where she couldn't stand to let him stomp away. He began to leave the room, but she grabbed his sleeve.

"Davey?"

He responded with a growl, eyes flitting onto his. For a second, she felt the fire of love for him smoldering in her stomach, trying to drown out the frustration and neediness that wanted to douse the flames. But it couldn't overtake the bitterness -- it soon fizzled down, tamed by the anger.

"Do not growl at me," she snapped.

"I'll do what I want to." His eyes flashed as he wrenched his wrist away from her. His hand raised in a violent jerk of the arm.

Before she could stop herself, Annelise found screams ripping from her throat. "Oh, don't listen to me," she called after him. "I'm just your wife! I just gave you my entire life, that's all, I just gave you my soul! I fucking loved you, Davey! Why do you do this to me?"

Quiet.

Davey blinked. His hand fell, grazing over her cheek, cold and dry. His eyes became foggy with tears. "You loved me?"

XXX

Minka didn't think she could eat. Her stomach twisted itself into precarious shapes, prompting her body to do the same. She'd shut herself in the guest bedroom, as not to disturb their hosts with her abnormalities.

She laid under the covers, twisted into a sobbing human pretzel. She tried to muffle her crying with a pillow, but screeches and sobs still escaped.

It was kind of the Springs to make them dinner, but Minka thought throwing up on their table would be even ruder than just forfeiting the event.

Rubin had gone with them. Every once in awhile, she would hear snatches of his voice, his deep Polish accent. This calmed her stomach for a moment, but then she opened her eyes to find Amethyst's teddy bears staring at her, and reality would crash down again.

The guilt was overwhelming. So many things she could have done differently. So many ways she could have stopped this from happening. Now, who knew what Amethyst had to endure?

Davey still hadn't gotten through to Amethyst's parents, but now that the case had gone through to the MPD, they would likely be in for a terrible surprise tonight.

Minka wondered about them. Part of her wanted to meet them, wanted to see the evilness swirling around their heads like dark halos. The other part of her knew they were probably normal people with problems, same as everyone else.

Rubin had become even more worried about her in the past days. He said he would take her to a doctor soon. Apparently, there were medicines for anxiety. She'd just frowned at him and turned away. This was no random affliction. She deserved every moment of suffering God had given her.

The Springs' house felt clean and welcoming. Minka thought of the orphanage, of the soiled sheets and thin mattresses, gritty floors and hair-clogged drains. In her old home, she could have never dreamt of this level of cleanliness. Annelise had changed the sheets; they felt downy and soft, smelling of lavender. Her bathroom was immaculate, the shower grout gleaming white and the sinks shined to silver.

Minka wondered if she could do it. She liked the image: her and Rubin, settling down somewhere pretty and rural, living together in a small cottage. She imagined waking up each day with no more to do than cleaning and cooking and making him happy.

But then, it must be hard sometimes. She thought of the fights Annelise and Davey must have, of the days when Annelise wouldn't want to make him happy. When she would wonder what more she could have done with herself, if she hadn't allowed herself to be labeled "wife".

Still, what a pretty picture. 

XXX

In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah it's gone
And I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here

-How To Disappear Completely, Radiohead