Shelter, Chapter 14: Destruction, Part 1

by Glassbottom

Sorry I left things hanging for so long. Personal complications get in the way of the creative impulse. You don't know how many times I tried to sit down with these beloved characters and carry on, but here I am. Thank you for all the e-mails and support.

You heard what she said. Do you need to rewind? Play back the tape.

She's asleep and you're not waking her up again to ask her...

"...I want you to kill him."

As simple as that. Out of the mouths of babes, or so they say. Someone does you wrong, you seek a solution. What better solution than the permanent one!

And if he had done all of things Billie said, why wouldn't I want to kill him? How many times in my miserable childhood had I wanted to kill my stepfather Ray? This man Jack had tried to rape the little girl I love. When I thought of him with her, doing things to her, touching her...

But then, wasn't I the same? Wasn't I the same as him, just another predator? Hadn't I picked her up, taken her to an ice cream parlor, taken her to a remote location and started kissing and grabbing on her, me, a total stranger? Hadn't I seduced her, used the situation to my own advantage, used her need for love and affection against her?

Wasn't that worse than anything he had done?

Was I for real or was I pretending? Did I really love this girl, a twelve year old girl, with real honest love, the kind that bled, the kind that needed, the kid that screamed, the kind that followed you down the street wherever you went, the kind that put a tune in your head that wouldn't go away, the kind that made you dream and made you glad you weren't dreaming...

NO, I wasn't like that fucking bastard.

I was in love with my girl.

I gently slipped out of Billie's embrace and out of the bed. I was shaking. I went to the bathroom, had a pee, and then proceeded to hang up towels and move candles. The whole time I couldn't get this... this... this Jack out of my mind. I had pictures, ugly pictures going through my head of Billie sucking his cock... of him putting his cock in her mouth and fucking it... of him touching the pure, sweet flesh he didn't deserve...

I washed my face. I looked at myself in the mirror in the candlelight? Was I a killer? Was I a murderer? I didn't know. But oh, did I ever want him dead at that moment! So much so that as I cleaned up, wandered about with these thoughts as if in a trance, what kept coming to mind was why was I even thinking about this?

I got dressed. I got dressed and sat down and I tried to come up with a plan. Billie was down for the count, sleeping peacefully. I sat on the bed and watched her sleep. I lit a cigarette and puffed on it slowly. The tears began to drip down my cheeks as I reached over with my left hand and moved the hair back from her brow, caressed her face, her shoulders, admiring all that she was, all that she could one day be.

Yeah, why was I even thinking about this? I had the chance to do something right, a chance to make up for what was done to me, a chance to make up for what I had done.

First light, I would go out there, get in my car and head down that road. First light... But I still needed a plan. I didn't even know what sort of situation I was walking into. Would Jack be there? Would the house be there? Who knew. The tornado had done a lot of damage, probably more than I was imagining.

Would I take a knife? Maybe something big and hard? Where was a fucking baseball bat when you needed it? It all came down to what I was willing to do, what I was strong enough to do. I wished I had a gun. At that moment I realized why they made guns so hard to get and why they were too easy to use if you had one. You could just pick it up and fire away in anger.

My sweet Billie slept all warm and naked beneath the covers. She had come to me that night so wet and cold and now she was truly safe. I wanted to keep her that way. I wanted to make her happy. I couldn't take away what had already been done to her, but if only I could...

The phone rang. It wasn't right next to me. It was all the way in the kitchen. But it still surprised me. And I had no fucking idea who would be calling me that time of the night... or morning.

I went to it, rubbing my tears away, immediately on my guard considering how many laws I was breaking. I wondered if I should even answer it. Five times... then six.... Whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

You know, maybe it was one of my friends from Jenkins checking on me... or maybe they needed help. It rang again and I picked it up. I slowly put the receiver to my ear. There was silence... then I heard breathing...

"Hel – lo," I said.

"Hello?" she said. It was a little girl's voice, sounding out of breath. Young. Younger than Billie. "Is this Georgia?"

"Yes, it's Georgia," I said, and even though I was pretty sure I knew who it was, I asked, "Who is this?"

"My name is Sara," she said. "I'm Billie's sister. You... 'member me?"

"Sara," I said, "of course I remember you, sweetheart. Where did you get my phone number?"

"From Billie..." Sara said. "She had it wrote down in a notebook 'n' said if I ever needed to call you ever..." she gasped. "Have you seen my sister? Have you seen... Billie?"

"Sara, she's safe," I said. "She's with me and she's just fine."

I just blurted it out, blurted it out without thinking, knowing that it was what she needed to hear. But what if her mother, what if Jack was there? My crimes were multiplying by the minute.

But the little girl at the other end of the phone gasped and began sobbing, and I knew I had done the right thing telling her. Oh, I so wanted to be there to hold her, hearing her on the phone like that. I could just imagine her shaking. I wanted to put my arms around her and calm that shaking.

"Now, Sara, you can't tell anyone, you know," I said. "Nobody, not until we figure something out, OK? You see, your sister doesn't want to come home while Jack is still there. She hates him. And for odd reason. He is a bad man who does bad things to little girls. You should stay away from him. "

"It's too late," the little girl said. She was still breathing fast into the phone. Obviously, if she was relieved about Billie being alive and safe, there was something else unsettling her calm. And those three words had just given me a sick feeling.

"Sara, are you OK?" I asked.

"No," she said, "I'm not OK."

"Where is your mom, sweetie?"

"I don't know," she said. "Still out lookin' for Billie, I guess."

"And you're at home with Jack?"

"Yeah..." I heard her sob.

"Sweetie?" I asked calmly, trying to get her to calm down.

"Yes."

"Where is Jack?" I maintained my calm, though inside I was ready to explode.

"He's... he's... he's... on the floor... "

"What's he doing there?" I asked.

"There's lots of blood," she said.

"Is he alive?" I asked the scared little girl.

"I think... I think I killed him."

(to be continued)