Breaking the Chrysalis

Trigger Warning: drugs, sex, abuse, gore, mental health

Then:

Cold metal clanks against his teeth. His hand trembles. His finger nervously twitches on the trigger. His fingers are laced tightly through his hair. His eyelids are pressed shut. Beads of sweat shimmer on his forehead. His kids are huddled in the corner. Ages four and two, they cling to each other, one holding a blanket for comfort, the other a stuffed rabbit. Jack pulls the gun from his mouth to scream and curse before taking another swig of liquid courage. The young girls jump in terror at their father’s outburst. Red faces against blonde hair radiate fear, the youngest losing control of her bodily functions. The girl’s squeeze each other tightly, so small, trying to make themselves smaller as their father paces the room waiving a revolver, ranting over things they don’t understand.

Cool green grass tickles the bottoms of her knees as she kneels in the front yard, but she’s not amused. The July heat burns down on her, but it’s not as hot as her anger. She’s enraged yet concerned to the point of heart seizing fear. She’s screaming, crying, cursing, pulling at the grass in rage, pounding on the ground. The mixture of salty sweat and metallic blood are fresh on her lips. The vision in her right eye disappears as her eye swells shut. The shoulder of her yellow sundress has been ripped, exposing a breast to the onlooking neighbors who have gathered in their yards. Heather throws a rock through the living room window, glass shattering. She leaps to her feet and rages into the window with curses and threats as two patrol cars arrive at the scene behind her.

Deputies Miles Geller and Shane Voss step out of their cruisers ready to restore order. Visiting the Buchannan’s is nothing out of the ordinary. An abusive husband and feisty wife constantly disturbing the peace. It’s nothing that ever ends up with charges filed. From what they see of Heather, Jack did a real number on her this time, and she is all fired up. Both officer’s step out of their cars to the sound of gunfire and see Heather fall back away from the window. They rush the house with their weapons drawn and their bodies low. Deputy Geller covers the door as Deputy Voss checks Heather for a pulse. She is dead. Voss falls in behind Geller at the door. Deputy Geller announces their presence. Two more gunshots are fired before the deputies can force entry. When the deputies enter the room, Jack has the gun in his mouth. Deputy Gellar tackles Jack causing him to put a bullet through his cheek. Gellar wrestles Jack onto his stomach and cuffs him while Voss checks on the girls. Two-year-old Lily is dead, but four-year-old Lacey is holding on.   

Now:

The red glow of a cigarette illuminates her face as she takes in a deep drag. Darkness returns as she fills the air with smoke. Propped up in bed naked, she taps the cigarette lightly on the ashtray in her lap to knock off the loose ash then polishes off the glass of wine that she left on the nightstand during intercourse. She feels at ease for once, the tension gone like air released from an overinflated balloon, the racing thoughts, still.

“I went to see my father today. I know, I know, you always tell me that it’s a bad idea, but I had to meet him. I had to know why. You don’t know what it’s like to have something haunt you for so long and give you nightmares every time you close your eyes. I have always felt that day has been imprinted onto my soul, being my first memory and all,” Lacey says as she takes the mirror off the nightstand and cuts herself a line of cocaine. She runs her nose across the mirror and comes up fiddling with it, her eyes blinking rapidly.

“Ugh, wow! Anyway, mom and dad started off as high school sweethearts. They met in detention. How romantic, right? They were both drop-outs, didn’t have any skills, but loved partying. Selling drugs got them into every party while paying the bills. Dad was just as much a customer as he was a dealer. He said he never felt comfortable around other people unless he was wasted. It was mom who did all the drug pushing. According to dad, she was a forthright woman who demanded her way. Sometimes, a lot of times, dad took mom’s forthrightness personally. He said he felt like she was mentally abusing him at times. I think she was mentally superior to him and that threatened him,” she says with light laughter as she does another line.

“Things would get physical between them, dad fighting back the only way he knew how, usually drunk or baked. Mom was promiscuous, which wasn’t bad for business, but didn’t help things at home. Dad said he was never sure if either of us girls were his. I’m going to get a refill; do you want one? Never mind, I see you still have some. I’ll be right back,” Lacey says as she scurries out of the room with her glass.

Lacey fills her glass and leans back on the sink to admire the home. It really is a nice place. It is one of those modern jobs where the exterior walls are replaced with large windows throughout the expansive sunken living room except for where the fireplace is. It’s very open the way the kitchen, dining room, and living room all connect. The furnishings are expensive, a modern sheik. From her vantage point she can slightly see down the hallway where the family pictures hang. She smiles a faint smile, takes a sip of the wine, and heads back to the bedroom where she lights another cigarette and sits on the bed with her legs crossed, ready to continue her story.

“So, anyway, they were drug dealers. From what dad said, mainly pot and coke, but occasionally they would get their hands on enough various other drugs to push around town. They met a guy at a party by the name of Gene Skaggs, a rough looking biker who cooked his own meth. Mom and dad worked out a deal where they would sell for this guy. Mom got hooked on the meth… and Gene,” Lacey says as she downs the entire glass of wine and puts out her cigarette.

“The day of the incident was the day mom told dad she was leaving him… well, throwing him out and keeping everything. Supposedly, Gene was on his way over to make sure dad got out of his new home. Dad, high and drunk, decided mom wasn’t getting us girls. He felt he had nothing to lose, so his plan was to kill us girls and himself. Another inch lower and he would have succeeded in killing me, just as he did with my sister” Lacey says as she stands up and shimmies back on the little black dress that she was wearing.

“You were right about one thing, doc. Seeing him didn’t make me feel any better but giving into my urges like you suggested really helped,” she says as she zips up her black boots and grabs her handbag.

She leans over the bed to kiss his cheek and says in his ear, “You won’t be needing this anymore,” and pulls the icepick from his neck and puts it in her handbag. She pulls the pillowcase off the pillow and throws in the mirror, glass, and ashtray. Then she uses it to wipe down everything she had touched, including the handcuffs that hold his arms up in V over his limp body, puncture wounds spelling out the word cheater across his chest.

“You know doc, you really shouldn’t sleep with your patients, especially when you’re married, but this has been very therapeutic. I’ll just leave you for the Mrs. to find.” On her way out, Lacey wipes down the wine bottle and fridge, not forgetting the doorknob as she exits her psychologist’s home.