Behind Closed Doors

TW: Language, sexual violence, child suffering, suicide, all things horrific.

“Have you seen this boy?” The woman behind the chained door shook her head at the creased photograph.

“He’s six here," Anna urged, "but he's closer to eight now.”

“Ain't seen him. Sorry. Truly I am,” The woman hung her head closing the door.

Anna had almost gotten used to it, the slamming doors, the constant barrage of no’s, dejected looks momentarily sharing her horror, then straight back to daily life with the squeak of a hinge and the click of a lock. That's just what normal people do. Life goes on, for most. Times she wished she could close the door on it, say goodbye, give up. But what kind of mother would that make her?

Sliding the photo into her inside jacket pocket she pressed it to her chest, where he belonged. 

Men huddled on the apartment steps, threw dice and glared at her as she left. Women shouting from sash windows at kids playing on the street shook their heads at the sight of her. Sorrow? Pity? Repulsion? She didn't know nor care. By reputation alone most everyone in Hartsville knew her, or of her. She'd become as much a lost soul as little Jimmy, except no one hunted for her. Not anymore. 

Released without substantial evidence is how the lawyers explained it. Not innocent. Not guilty. Somewhere in between and cast into the worst court of them all, the public. Half the town, and all her family, blamed her for Jimmy’s disappearance, and half again thought she murdered him. Some things just don't rub out after printing. 

Drawing deep from a cigarette, she leaned against the rust bucket she called a car, and home, its windows crowded with the few possessions her former husband allowed her to have. Gazing up and down the street she considered how much longer she could do this, how many more shoes could she wear through, how many-

“Hey you.” 

Anna turned, searching for the smooth voice. A tall figure lurked in the alleyway opposite, features hidden by the descending sun, intentions none the plainer. Cocking an eyebrow she pointed to her chest.

“Yeah you, come here.” Waving her over, he disappeared into the poster tattered passage.

Discarding the cigarette she made a show of tucking her four day fresh white tank top into her equally dirty jeans. In reality she ran a hand under her cargo jacket, making sure the snub nose would be easy to pull. Only a fool came into The Devils Basement as the locals called it, unready, unprotected, or more worrying, unwilling to do what might be needed to be done.

Steadying her breathing, she edged between the cars, and made for the mystery man. 

Standing at the other end now, one foot on the crumbling red brickwork, arms folded, eyes closed, his head tilted to the gathering clouds. 

“What do you want?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“Not me,” he didn't open his eyes.

“Well who?”

“Boss man.”

“Should that mean something to me?”

“Maybe.”

“It doesn't, now what's this about?”

“He needs a job doing, says you’re the woman for it ”

“Sorry, don’t do job interviews in back alleyways.” She turned, throwing a dismissive wave over her shoulder.

“Here now woman, before you go, he wants you to have this,” he extended a closed fist, finally opening his eyes. She stepped back, squinting in disbelief at his yellow stare blazing like the mid summer sun.

Nonetheless, curiosity sunk its teeth into her, “What's that?”

“A gift. If you like, more be waiting after a ride in that car down there.” Nodding toward the perpendicular laneway, Anna leaned out all cautious like to spot a rumbling estate wagon.

“Who’s in that? And where would it take me?”

“Trust me woman, you ain't going to care after you see this,” he waggled his fist.

She extended a shaking palm, his fingers unfurled, her heart stopped. Then hammered, temple thumping loud. Impossible. Stomach knotting, hairs spiked the length of her neck. How? Dizziness overcame her, faint, happy, angry. It was all too much. Tears welled as she lifted that tiny yellow watch. The one with the cracked Power Ranger face Jimmy flipped open and shut when he got nervous. Terrified of the answer, yet hoping it to be true, she turned it over. J.C engraved on its back. Jimmy Crawford. Her Jimmy. 

She took off before her reeling mind could catch up, and within seconds flung open the car door. She knew the kind of mother she was. Relentless.

***

The bag over her head didn't scare her, nor the machete wielding woman next to her, not even the fact they’d been driving for at least an hour now. No, what scared her was herself. She just jumped without thinking. Anyone could have faked that watch, it was common knowledge he wore one the day he disappeared, but not the engraving Jimmy did with a nail. Or was it? She wracked her memory…

The car slowed to a stop, another stop sign, traffic, the cops?

With a mechanical click the doors unlocked, swung open, and someone seized her elbow, “Let’s go woman.” 

Her bated breath gathered like dew under her nose, stones crunched under foot, then a hinge complained as what sounded like a heavy metal door groaned open. “There's steps here.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to take this thing off,” Anna asked, trying to add a little unfelt humour to her voice.

A sharp jab between her shoulders was the only reply. She didn't ask any more questions, humourous or not.

The descent stretched impossibly long, like the moment you see a child falling but are too slow to react. With each step the heat grew inferno hot, sweat matted her hair, dampened her top, stung her eyes. Where were they taking her? What did they want? 

Another door opened, the stench of sweat and sewage hitting her harder than a bat. Then music, laughter, glasses clinking. Prodded onwards, silence fell in her wake. Pushed into a chair she grunted, canvas bag whipped from her head, she panted the stale air.

The room flickered, tiny flames dancing behind red glass scattered across a discord of tables. Everything blurred as if staring through a heat wave. Licking her lips, she tried making sense of the shapes. Like a head swelling adrenaline rush, everything stopped swaying and came rushing into sobering focus.

Hunched over a curved counter, a man fished juicy maggots from a writhing jar then dropped them slurping into his toothless mouth. Two skeletal thin women wearing nothing but dog collars curled at the feet of an obese man rubbing goose fat through his hair. Young men howled at a geriatric pole dancer whilst an amputee burn victim served curdled milk. All the while a man on a small stage played dirty blues on a gore splattered guitar, face a snarled rictus, fingers bloody stumps. Vomit climbing her throat, blood draining from her face, she gripped the round table as a drowning man may grip driftwood. 

"Jesus Christ!"

"Not quite." She spun to the chocolate rich voiced stranger opposite. He wore a smoldering cigar on thin lips, a sneer in his ember eyes, yellowish smoke drifting from flared nostrils.

"You this Boss man?"

He nodded.

Courage boiled from the gun in her waistband, "Where's my boy!"

"Around," he waved a hand festooned with many rings across the debauchery on display. "You'll see him when the time's right, when the deal is done." He leaned from the shadows, elbows making the table creak. 

"Prove it. Prove he's here."

Yellow Eyes dropped a tattered ball of fabric into Boss man waiting palm, then he threw it at Anna. Unrolling that faded superman t-shirt her chin trembled. Jimmy's t-shirt. What happened to him? Did these people hurt him?

She swallowed her fear and the urge to run, Jimmy was here. After two years she finally found something, something more terrifying than these foul bastards, hope. 

"What do you want? Where did you get this?" she cuddled the disintegrating garment.

"No small talk?"

She held his burning gaze.

"Fair enough. He was wearing it when we found him."

"Where?"

"Not far, right under your nose actually. A neighbour."

"A fucking what!" She leapt up, anger hammering her chest.

He held out his hands, "Calm Anna, I'm here to help Anna,"

"Help? Why?"

"Let's say I've a soft spot for the innocent and outcast," He gestured to sit, she complied. "Although it's not the only reason, you see I provide a service to our little community of Hartville and you, well you are two birds one stone. Wouldn't it be nice to stop running, get the vengeance you deserve."

"Vengeance? I just want my son, please…" her voice broke, unstoppable tears falling .

"You'll want revenge," Boss man studied his nails without a care in the world. "A local woman came to me, told me of a man, a terrible man, patrolling the local parks and schools, said he was offering sweets and toys to her nieces to get into his van. Smart girls ran away. The police however did little, the law is weak that way." He paused, puffed his cigar and blew smoke into Anna's face.

"So I sent some of my hounds," he nodded to Yellow Eyes and Machete, "to rain some hell on this pervert. Thing is, it was clear that his house, his deviate prison, was being used by more than just him. A ring as they say. We searched the premises, found poor Jimmy chained to a bed frame in the basement with two others, little more than malnourished sex dolls." Anna's stomach turned, terror and anger searing her insides. She wanted to hurt someone. Anyone.

"A little torture goes a long way Anna, remove a little flesh and tada, the pervert gave up the names of his accomplices. Would you like to know who they are?"

Jaw clenched she hissed the word, "Who?"

"I'll give you three names, you do what needs to be done, you'll see your boy again. We have a deal?"

"How will I get back here, I don't know–"

"Levi will go with you," Yellow's eyes winked at her. "So is that a yes?"

No sooner had she agreed than that damn canvas bag was pulled over her head once more.

***

Anna dove into the station wagon's back seat, ears ringing, heart thumping, throat choked with the metallic aftertaste of gunpowder. Levi smiled between the seats, “Damn Miss Crawford, you a cold bitch, no hesitation, he opens the door and you–”

“Just fucking drive already!” Anna barked, balling the cuff of her jacket and rubbing at the crimson mottling her face.

“Ha, ok, you the boss tonight.” 

Anna stared out the rear window at the tree lined street and white picket fences speeding by, concerned neighbours stumbling into the road to investigate the woman wailing over her husband's body at forty six Broken Ridge Avenue. Little did they know the service Anna just did for them. Eradicated suburban filth. First of three. 

She rested the revolver on her knee, somehow it felt lighter, as if that one bullet carried away the weight of her suffering, her loss. But he wasn't lost, he was waiting for her. Something unexpected curled the edge of her lip.

“You smiling Miss Crawford?” Levi asked into the rearview mirror. “You are! Cold bitch, you're going to fit real nice.”

She shook her head, dismissing both comment and grin. “Who’s next?”

“Edward…

***

“...Calhoun.” Anna repeated the name, tracking her finger down the apartment buzzer's name plates. “There you are.” 

Two short buzz's, a click, a cough, then, “Hello, who's there?”

“Mr Calhoun, sorry to disturb you,” she already picked a name from those displayed, “this is Jessica Longsteen I've lost my key, again, and you were the first to—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The electrical hum of the magnetic release sent a chill down her spine, not fear, but anticipation. One step closer to Jimmy.

Four flights of stairs, one long worn carpeted hallway and she stood outside his peeling door. Patiently she waited for a latino couple to get on the elevator, then knocked, placing a hand over the spyglass. Floor boards groaned from within, a chain rattled, a bolt slid, and she found herself staring at a stout unshaven man in his fifties wearing a blue telecom’s shirt.

“What can I do for you missy?”

“This is for Jimmy!”

His eyes stretched fearful wide, at the name, the crazed redhead at his door, or the gun inches from his face, it didn't matter. Pull, click, bang. His last thoughts sprayed over the cracked plaster inside, his body collapsing as though its bones turned to mud. 

For a second she watched him, hopeless, pathetic, no longer a danger. She breathed deep. One to go.

***

“Miss Crawford, yo, Anna, Anna!”

Startling awake she grabbed Levi’s poking hand, blinked into focus then looked about. She lay in the back of the car, a cul-de-sac of two storey houses loomed outside, quiet with barely a light on, the moon hanging low shimmering off their slate roofs. Anna stretched, cracked her neck, then shook her face. 

“How long were we driving, I can't believe I fell asleep.”

“It's the adrenaline, big come down, happens all the time. I took the long way here, had to avoid prying eyes, that last one definitely got some flashing light attention. But this is it here Miss Crawford.” Levi pointed out the side window, to a silhouetted figured light by the glow of a computer screen typing into the small hours.

Anna sucked her teeth, sniffed, pulled the lapels of her jacket, then checked her gun. Dirty bastard was probably on some chat site, pretending to be a teen girl or some other filth.

“You ready?”

“And willing,” Anna answered, shuffling and gently closing the door. She caught sight of her reflection, frazzled and blood specked, and an idea fizzled into being.

She grabbed her arm, dragged her leg and hobbled towards the downstairs window. It didn't take long for him to spot her. Taking off his glasses he twitched the curtains.

“Mister, please,” she whimpered, “I went off the road round the corner, I..I need…”

Holding up a hand, he dashed from the room, a porch light sparked to life and the front door opened.

“You ok Lady, what the hell—”

He spun roaring as the bullet tore through his shoulder. He tried dragging himself back across the perfectly manicured lawn, but it was useless. The hammer fell, back of the head, he jerked, spasmed, fell still. It was done.

She smiled running back to the car, she could already feel Jimmy in her arms. Her sweet innocent little Jimmy. 

***

The macabre cabaret garnered no interest this time around, and she stared straight at Boss Man when the canvas bag was removed.

"My boy," she said, not a request, placing the revolver on the table before her.

He smiled, swirled a glass of red wine, drank, then nodded to no one in particular. 

Eternity stretched out before her, biting her lip, fingers drumming the scarred tabletop, she couldn't quite believe it. She'd finally found him.

Two great bulking neckless forms lumbered from the shadows, a metal box held between them. It thudded onto the table before her. Boss Man grinned tapping its top.

Giggles simmered behind her as she lifted the lid with trembling hands. Tears exploded, lip quivering, shoulders shaking. There was no mistaking it, those cheekbones, large hollow eyes, even the skin dried and rippled as it was. She touched his forehead, sweeping away a dirty blonde fringe and kissed him.

She pulled his cracking and snapping corpse into her arms, his jaw swinging open in one last horrific scream. Falling to her knees she pressed him close to her chest, where he belonged.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" she spluttered between sobs.

"I said you'd see him again, here you go." Laughter rose like hyenas on the hunt, the unwashed bodies pressing coffin close around her.

"It's ok honey," she whispered to her son, rocking back and forth. "I got the bastards, I got them–"

"Two of them anyway," Boss man sneered.

"What?"

"I said there were accomplices, I didn't say all three were. You humans are so eager to jump to your worst instincts."

"Oh dear god, oh god–"

"He can't help you Anna, we have a long standing arrangement," he finished the wine with a lip smack.

"Why are you doing this to me? You're monsters, all of you!"

Boss man leaned forward, "Didn't I say I've a soft spot for the innocent, poor Jimmy suffered because of you, you're the monster who left her six year old son alone in the park whilst you scored some smack!"

She wailed, "I'm clean now, I'm…" It seemed pointless to try to explain, it wasn't going to bring him back.

"What the fuck are you?" she roared.

"You know already, you've always known. And now you're mine, forevermore."

To a cacophony of laughter she lowered Jimmy's remains back into the metal box, slowly closed the squeaking hinge, said goodbye, and gave up.

Her finger wrapped around the trigger, the barrel cold beneath her chin. Perhaps in death she could be a better kind of mother.

"See you soon son."

***