Month: November 2022

Chapter 18

Hobbs fixed himself a nice TV dinner for supper, warmed up the tube and was planning on having a nice evening of relaxing television. Sheriff Barnaby Hobbs liked to get as relaxed as possible after a long day’s work of protecting the peace. He just sat down when there was a knock at the door. He let out a grunt and decided it would be best to answer the door. He opened the door and there was his old buddy Frank standing there.

“Why hello there Sheriff, mind if I come in?”

He tried to be stern with his pal Frank and told him

“Now Frank, you know I am off duty, and when I am off duty and in my house I do not like to be disturbed.” Frank kind of nodded and replied back,

“Sure do Sheriff I know that, everybody knows that, but I just figured I was out for a stroll and I’d stop by and see what you was up to?”

He lowered his head as he let out a deep sigh,

“Alright Frank, why don’t you come on in and make yourself at home.” Hobbs said.

Frank came in and gleefully sat down at the seat where the Sheriff had been just a few moments ago.

“Frank, that’s my seat, why don’t you sit over there in that mighty nice recliner?”

“Sure boss, whatever you say. Speaking of which, how’s about a nice cold beer for your company?” The Sheriff shook his head,

“Frank you know where the fridge is, and while you’re up might as well get me one too.”

It was the third quarter and the game was getting really good. Frank stuck around long enough for the old Sheriff to have a couple of drinks before slowly revealing his real motive for stopping by. He wanted to get some more information on that unkempt derelict.

What intrigued him the most was the part of the guys being related to one of the games great super stars. There was a sudden out burst from the Sheriff towards the TV

“Oh come on you stupid ref’s, that was clearly a pass interference not a fumble, DAMN!”

Frank chimed in with a quick

“damn referee need’s to get his head out of his ass!”

Sheriff Barnaby nodded his agreement as he stuffed another handful of potato chips in his mouth.

“Never woulda happened if old Thunderbolt was still in the game, ain’t that right Sheriff?”

Frank was fishing now.

Sheriff Hobbs should have known better not to take the bait; after all he was a man of the law. Hobbs knew Frank was going to continue to press the matter until he got what he wanted. There was no use, he had already slipped up at the diner this morning and he knew it.

“Speaking of old Thunderbolt, what’s that you say about his brother being up here on this mountain, had a wife get herself killed somehow?” Frank asked.

There was silence for the space of about a minute before Hobbs turned down the volume on the television set. He turned to Frank with a stern look and said in an authoritative voice

“Listen here Frank; what I am about to tell you it stay’s right here between you and me, got that. I mean it Frank, if I find out your shooting your mouth off I will slap you with impeding a police investigation you here me.” Frank nodded in excitement.

He was the tightest lipped man on the mountain, sure everybody opened up to old Frank because they knew they could trust him. Considering he was a conspiracy nut most folks didn’t take what he said too seriously anyways so they were all pretty open around the old goof.

“Alright it was about eight years back; man’s wife was killed in a car accident.” Hobbs said. “He used to be a doctor of some sort and he didn’t take it so well. He had some money saved up and decided he would move to the mountains to get some fresh air, you know like most folks do around here. Turns out that his youngest brother was into drugs and I guess he beat up his wife real good and so she left him, took the kid and the house.”

Frank interrupted, “woman needs to learn her place, get a smack across the face once in a while do her some good.” Hobbs glanced over at Frank with a look of disgust

“Frank are you going to let me tell the story or you going to interrupt?”

“Sorry Sheriff won’t happen again.” Hobbs continued his story.

“We;; as I was saying the man gets to drinking and shooting up, lets his life fall apart and decides to blame his troubles on his now ex-wife. She gets into some trouble or something and turns to him, the brother. Long story short, one night he ends up taking his daughter down to the docks and sells her to the traffickers, sick bastard doesn’t stop there. He feeds his woman into the wood chipper head first, still alive. Afterward he makes a video tape logging the whole thing, selling the little girl, murdering his wife right there on camera. We show up, mop up the remains of the dead woman, and life goes on.”

Frank was in total shock, he couldn’t even believe the story the Sheriff just told him.

“What ever happened to the young girl?” he asked as he gulped down a sip of his beer.

“There was an investigation, but nothing ever turned up,” Hobbs said.

After the two finished the football game Frank left the sheriff in peace now satisfied with the information he had obtained.

Chapter 17

The next three days he had spent going through every phone book and year book he could find. Not a single person who he knew or had any contact with had a clue as to the whereabouts of old Ashley Taylor. Surely someone had to know if she got married, what her new name would be, or where she ended up. He tried looking up her parents but sadly they had passed away.

Everywhere he turned it was leading him in circles. He had to find her, he was determined to get his life back and his life was to be with the woman of his dreams. Finally he caught a break, he ran into his old Piano teacher’s grand-daughter at the super market in their old neighborhood. She told him that she knew where Stephanie lived and that yes, she had been married but was divorced now. That was perfect, he figured she realized the mistake she made and he would be seen as her knight to the rescue.

There it was, the house his soon to be lover was living in. He double checked to make sure he had the right address. He brushed back his hair, checked his breath and proceeded to walk to the front door. He knocked on the door and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

A young boy, a teenager about 13 or so answered the door.

“Hello there son, is your mother home?” The boy slammed the door in his face.

He sat there blinking in confusion, was it his outfit, did he look too much like a Mormon or something? He decided to wait a couple of seconds to catch his breath and tried again.

The door opened

“Can I help you?” called an old woman that was standing there. He leaned in and said,

“Hello, I am looking for a Ashley Taylor, I’m not sure what her married name would be but I was told she lived at this address.

“Ashley doesn’t live here anymore; can I ask who wants to know?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond so he just went for the truth,

“I’m George, an old boyfriend of hers from school, and I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by and get caught up.”

The woman looked him up and down and then politely offered him to come in. He entered the neatest house he had ever been in. It was apparent right away that this was not the house of a young married woman with kids; this was clearly the house of an elderly woman, most likely the woman who had answered the door.

She invited him to have a seat at the couch and he sat down. She offered him a beverage and he accepted politely. There was a lump forming in his throat as he feared the worst possible news this old woman was about to deliver to him. She sat down next to him and told him Stephanie was in the mental hospital, she had been driven mad by her abusive husband and they had to have her committed because she had tried to take her life.

She sat there and told him the story of how he would beat her nightly, abuse her sexually, and even how he would hit the kids. The girls had been taken into custody; he liked fondling them so it was for their protection. She ended up with the two boys, the youngest was six, this was the oldest and he was just now 13. It was such a sad story it stirred him up with so many emotions he never thought possible. He no longer felt sorry for himself for not ending up with the woman of his dreams; he now felt guilt for what happened to her. He started to blame himself, if only he had stood up to his mom, he could have married her and neither of their lives would have turned out this bad.

He sat there for the next hour and a half listening to this woman tell the story of his one true loves nightmare. He felt like he was her knight coming to rescue her, only he was too late. He asked if she was allowed visitors and the woman said only those she approves of. He asked what her relationship was to Stephanie; she was her great-aunt, her only surviving relative. She then proceeded to ask him why all of a sudden he was interested and so he told his story. About how he married the wrong woman, had a child he barely knew and then how he lost everything because of one misplaced moment of frustration.

He swore it was the only time he ever struck his wife and that the guilt was why his life had fallen apart. The woman looked at him and nodded in agreement,

“You seem gentle enough, and I feel like I can trust you,” the woman said. “If I give you a note to see her, you have to promise me that you won’t tell her anything to upset her.”

He stood up, shook her hand and said in a firm voice, “I promise” and he took her note and left.

Chapter 16

George finally picked himself up from the bathroom floor. It was a long walk back to his booth where his breakfast order was sitting waiting for him. As he sat down to eat, whatever it was the waitress had brought him, he was starting to take notice of how pathetic his life had become. He sat down in his seat and began nibbling away at his food. It was a pretty greasy establishment so the food was not all that great, still considering how drunk, and drugged he was, he barely noticed.

What he did notice was the rowdy bunch of guys who had been hitting on the waitress had left, the cook was probably on break and the young woman was sitting alone at the bar fiddling with the register. Although he was not at his most presentable, he decided what the hell and called her over to his table. She came over quickly with a pot of coffee and asked if he wanted any, he nodded in agreement and as she was pouring the drink into his cup he looked her dead in the eyes and asked,

“How pathetic am I?” She shrugged her shoulders and replied,

“you don’t look pathetic to me sweetheart, you just look like a guy who had a little too much fun is all.”

She finished pouring his coffee and asked if he needed anything else. He didn’t hesitate this time, he blurted out,

“no I am, I drove my wife away, I lost my job, my kid, and my home.” George said. “I live in that dirt motel across the street and can barely scrape up the energy to drag my ass over to this shit hole of a diner to eat this greasy slop. I used to be a man, I had a good job,”

He paused and looked down into his coffee cup she had just filled.

“My brother lost his wife in a car accident, and I lost mine in a fit of rage,” George said. “You look like a nice young woman, what goes through your mind when you see a man like me who had it all, stumble into this rat infested, good for nothing sewer you work in and order this shit?”

The woman could tell that George was pouring his heart out, and as sympathetic as she wanted to be, he was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Then she politely excused herself and told him if he needed anything she would be right over there, and pointed to the counter where she returned to finish her work.

George decided he needed to get some fresh air so he stepped outside and opened his cell phone to make a call. The phone rang a couple of times and Drake answered.

“Hello, who the hell is this at 3 O’clock in the damn morning?” George mumbled into the phone,

“It’s me, George, your bother…”

He paused to let it sink in.

Drake didn’t even take the time to respond he slammed his phone down and ended the call. Not wanting to be disturbed he set it to reject all incoming calls. George sat there in front of that diner, feeling truly alone for the first time in his life. He had been a great salesman, now he was a bum. He went back in to finish his lousy breakfast and ponder his own existence.

After a few minutes George managed to finish his meal. Sitting alone in the booth he was not quite ready to go home, yet he didn’t really want to disturb the waitress again. He signaled her to bring over another cup of coffee, which she obliged. As he sat there drinking his coffee a thought entered his mind. He starting thinking about that dream he just had, which reminded him of his first date with Molly, the woman whom he despised more than anything in the world at this moment.

He was thinking of how he had been in love with Ashley Taylor and if he hadn’t gone on that date with Molly, he began to wonder how his life might have turned out. He promised Ashley he would take her to the fair; she was looking forward to it, even bought a new dress just for the occasion. At the last minute his mother told him Molly was in town and it would mean a lot to her parents if George would take her to the fair. He protested but after a much heated argument about how much she did for him over the years and how little he does for her, he reluctantly agreed to ditch Ashley for Molly that night. His plan was to hang out with Molly until it was convenient to ditch her and then meet up with Ashley.

It didn’t work out that was since Ashley had seen him riding the Ferris Wheel with Molly, and holding that red balloon he won her, it made young Stephanie jealous and she left in a fit of emotion. Stephanie wouldn’t speak to him for several days. He was so angry at his mother for ruining the relationship he was forming with the most attractive girl in their entire school. Molly didn’t even live in town she was just visiting. He tried to explain what happened but Ashley didn’t hear any of it, she hooked up with Bruce “the bear” Erickson, the start quarter back, whom she would date all through the duration of high school. He never looked her up since.

As George was thinking about how Molly ruined his chances with is first true love, a thought entered his mind, why not look her up and see what she was doing? It figured that at the very least she would be happy to see him. Of course he was hoping that they would fall back in love and get married and finally liver their happily ever after. George had always been the dreamer, the poet, the artist, the musician, he was the hopeless romantic at one point in time, he decided it was time to get that back.

His parents might have talked him out of following his dreams and pushed him into business school, nudged him to marry the wrong woman and then leave him out in the rain when the union fell apart, but it was high time he got his life back. This time he would do it without any help or interference from his parents.

Chapter 15

Molly was awoken suddenly, without warning. It was late at night; she could tell by how dark it was in the room. He was standing in front of her. Fear swelled up in heart. It was too early for him to begin his regimen of torture, what was he doing here? She noticed that aside from her bandages, she was still completely naked.

He was placing his cold hands all over her body. She could smell something she could not immediately identify, was it some kind of lotion he was rubbing all over her body? There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she could feel the touch of his hands rubbing something into her skin. It was very sticky whatever it was, it had a sweat smell she just couldn’t identify.

She decided it wasn’t lotion, it was too oily to be a lotion maybe it was honey? She cringed at the thought of him covering her naked body in honey, what was this monster planning to do to her now? She could barely see through the slits in her bandages but it was just enough for her to notice the look on his face.

There was a distinct smell to this mystery product he was oiling her up with. She realized it was too oily to be honey. Another thing that she felt was kind of odd, although to be honest it was a relief, he was not getting it into her private regions; only her bare skin, mostly her arms and legs from what she could tell by the feeling of his touch.

Suddenly she realized what it was that he was rubbing her down with, it was peanut butter. She felt like an idiot, she was so focused on his hands all over her body she didn’t even notice the screeching sounds coming from the door way. He had trapped a couple of wild squirrels and was rubbing peanut butter all over her body; he had done this before she suddenly remembered what happens next.

He finished covering her skin with the sticky food paste and then began to sprinkle nuts over the paste. She looked like one of those cookies with the sprinkles and in a short time she was to be the main snack of she counted three wild squirrels in the cage. He finished covering his prized captive, released the animals from their cage and left the room, closing the door behind. Her screams were all in her mind, as she was still gagged at the mouth.

Chapter fourteen

The smell was getting stronger now. It had always been there the smell, a rancid odor that could make even a pig blush. To make things worse the days were getting longer now as spring had finally decided to come out of hiding. She didn’t even know where the smell was coming from just that it was nearly unbearable. She looked down and reality hit her. She was tied to a bed and that had implications she hadn’t even considered before.

Molly was not used to being awake. Her captor must have used drugs to keep her unconscious, or else it was either a combination of her intense pain or that terrible smell. This was her third day in a row of being awake for any significant amount of time; she was fighting her bodies urge to remain a sleep. She needed to be awake now more than ever as the seasons were changing, and she was starting to get her memories back.

Molly wanted nothing more than to be tough. Every day she had to resist the desire to burst into tears. She had no control over where she was or what he was doing to her, but she was not going to be a victim any longer. Molly never understood why her husband hated her so much; looking back on her life she had loved him, at first.

She knew that her husband secretly was in love with another girl and that he must have resented Molly for getting in the way. Still it was not like he didn’t have any say in it at all. He had plenty of chances to tell her how he really felt and the two might not have even been married in the first place. She was fighting back the urge to collapse into tears as the combined efforts of her pain and whatever that smell was, she was also starting to remember that night her marriage ended.

This was her third day of being fully awake. She was determined to get the most out of it. Her first day she barely had ten minutes before passing out, yesterday she almost made it a half an hour. Today she had already fought back and had been awake for nearly two hours. She was not going to let this son-of-a-bitch control her anymore.

Molly was trying desperately to look into her past memories and find some reason why her husband would arrange for this to happen to her. She didn’t even know what happened, how she got to this point. She knew they had to have drugged her or else her mind was blocking out the painful memories, because she couldn’t even remember how she got here. She remembered the video of the wood chipper, the woman who they had blind folded and soaked in Molly’s blood before feeding her head first into the wood chipper. The muffled screams of that poor woman rang fresh in her mind.

Molly knew nothing about her, other than her death was used as a decoy to throw off the police. Her husband had hatched that part of the scheme early on. She did remember the part where he cut off her ring finger, at that instant she tried to wiggle the stump and a twinge of pain shot up her left arm. She remembered all the hair he cut off her, the teeth and even flesh he scrapped from her body. He wanted the decoy to be soaked in enough of her forensic evidence that when the police watched the video and mopped up the remains of that poor, innocent woman they would think it was Molly in that video.

That was the part of the plan Molly resented the most. It was sick enough what he planned to have done to her, but that in his covering up he had to take the life of young woman whose only crime was being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Molly let a tear soak her eye bandage, she was not sad for her condition at that moment, just thinking of what must be going in the minds of that other woman’s family, not knowing what happened to their loved one.

The pain was starting to get to her and she knew it was only a matter of time before she couldn’t take it anymore. Her fear was that if she was staying awake longer that meant she was beginning to heal. And it was when she was at full health that he would start all over again. It was a vicious cycle of torture, abuse, healing and more torture, and abuse.

Not this time. This time Molly was going to fight back no matter what. He knew how long it took for her bones to heal, for her bruises and cuts to fade. She was starting to regain her memories, the longer she stayed awake the more she would remember. As terrible as all this was, including the girl in the wood chipper, the worst part was thinking about poor Melody. That was a thought Molly would push as far from her memories as possible.

Molly was getting tired, her bowels were beginning to rumble, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she blacked out once more. There was a sound like a chainsaw outside and her heart stopped. She knew what that meant; he was cutting down the logs he would use to set her bones. It was that time of the year where he would start nursing her back to full health again so he could start all over. Just for a moment she had an image of her lovely daughter’s face flash before her eyes, and then she was unconscious again.

Chapter thirteen

After about ten minutes of flipping through the channels George realized there was nothing on that would grab his attention. He pressed the OFF button on the remote and tossed it at the TV set. He was still naked from his encounter with the whore so he decided to take a shower. He stumbled into the motel bathroom stopping at the sink to gain his balance as he nearly toppled over. For a brief second he had caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

Not being too keen on what was in the mirror, he immediately turned away and sat down on the toilet to catch his breath as he tried to regain his composure. He hated this part the most, coming down from a high, remembering how lousy his life had become. His buzz was long gone too and he was now drifting into hangover territory. He managed to somehow step into the tub, turn the shower on and then he lied down and proceeded to drift to sleep.

It had been five years since the car accident that night. George was standing in the middle of the highway watching the cars wiz by. He was barefoot and in his boxers, feet bleeding from some sharp object he had stepped on during his trek from the motel room to the highway. He didn’t even notice the pool of vomit that he was standing in, which must have been his own. He could see a child across the way holding a goldfish in one of those little baggies you get from the fair. As he starred at the goldfish he started to think back to when he was a kid.

He thought about how he had given her that goldfish even though he won it for someone else. It was his first date with Molly, the woman he would eventually marry. He was remembering how he must have spent twenty dollars knocking down milk bottles to win that goldfish that he wanted to give to the woman he was falling in love with. It didn’t work out that way; his mother had basically forced him to take Molly to the fair instead.

He knew he would meet up with her, the one he won the Goldfish for but Molly got all chipper and said gleefully how sweet it was he won her a goldfish. He had no intention of giving that prized possession to Molly, it was meant to go to Stephanie Taylor, the girl he had a crush on since the sixth grade. Being the romantic that he was, his heart melted as he looked into the eyes of the young girl standing next to him. From that day forward they called her Molly Goldfish.

He looked back up at the young child standing there with that red balloon and the bag filled with water and the goldfish swimming in it. Suddenly the child ran out into the highway right into the middle of traffic. His heart began racing as he watched the cars fly by not even noticing the young girl. He tried to run out and save her but he couldn’t move, all of a sudden a car coming from the right lane moved into the position to hit the child head on.

The driver of the red Camaro looked up and saw the child just in time to swerve. He missed the girl but ran head on into a minivan. He looked over and saw the body of a young woman flung from the car. He walked slowly towards the body of the woman that flew into the field just past where he was standing. This was impossible it was an accident almost exactly the same as the one his brother had been in.

He walked over to the body that lay face first in the ditch. Nobody else was even moving in this direction, the paramedics had arrived and were busy cutting the six children and their mom out of the minivan. He bent over to see if the woman was still alive and when he turned her onto her back his eyes opened wide in terror as he was staring Linda right in the face! She blinked twice and looked right at him, and then said in her dying breath,

“George, why didn’t you save me?”

All of a sudden George sat up, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt the water rushing down on his naked, hairy body. He realized it was just a dream; he must have passed out in the tub, the shower still running. He sat up straight, turned the water off and then reached for a towel to dry his face. He whispered under his breath,

“I’m so sorry Linda. It should have been Molly in that car, not you.” George whispered.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for himself, George decided to go get something to eat. He felt like he needed some fresh air for the first time in a long time. It had been five years since the accident. Five years since his divorce, since he saw his daughter. He didn’t think about Melody much while he was her dad, but now that she was out of his life he kind of missed her.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it really. He had hated his wife, and he thought he hated his daughter too. Melody had been just nine years old when it happened. She was mere months away from her tenth birthday.

“She must be going on fifteen, right about now”, he thought to himself. George cleaned himself up a little, got dressed, and then left his motel room to find something to eat.

There was a crummy little diner across the street from the filthy motel George was living in so he made his way over there. He walked in, grabbed a menu from the rack and sat down at a booth. It was long after midnight so there were very few customers around at this hour. His waitress was over in the corner flirting with some scrubs that were in no way going to tip her what she was worth. He looked at the waitress and noticed that she was incredibly beautiful for a place such as this.

He felt sick to his stomach as she finished up with that bunch and made her way to his table. They were all just having drinks anyways, probably there just to ogle the young woman. As she approached his table he began to realize how wretched he had become.

“What can I get you sir?” the waitress asked.

George didn’t have time to react he ran to the bathroom to vomit. He was in there long enough to realize how pathetic he had become. He used to have a good job, a nice house, a wife, and a kid. He lost it all because he hated his wife and lost his temper one night. He collapsed to his knees in that stall and began to sob tears of realization. As he sat there, hunched over the toilet in a bathroom of a crummy diner he asked himself, for the first time ever, why he hated her.

George finished wallowing in his sorrows. He want back to his booth and ordered some food. He sat there looking back on his life. Where had he gone wrong? Why did he hate his now ex-wife so much? These were questions he wasn’t going to find answers to in a crummy diner. He at his food contemplating all the mistakes he had made in his life.

Chapter twelve

He stood there in the door way looking down on the battered body that lay on the bed before him. He thought how peaceful it must be to sleep all day. Sleep was something George was getting too little of these days. He hated the smell of rotting flesh that and medicines that filled the room he was standing in. He thought back to his childhood, at how much he had loved his brother, and his baby sister, and how long ago it was that life made any sense. The eyes opened gradually on the battered body that was the center of his gaze. The look in those eyes brought a smile to his face.

“How you doing brother,” he said as Drake began to wake up. “George! I am so glad see you finally came!”

The look in Drake’s eyes was pure joy, something George had not seen in a long time. He walked over to the side of his bed, sat down next to him and the two embraced.

“Daryl told me you weren’t coming to see me,” Drake said. “He said you were becoming a drunkard, George what the hell man, you don’t drink, you never drank?”

George looked down at the floor in shame.

“I know man, I just…” he took a deep sigh and Drake placed his hand on his lap,

“That’s okay man, I understand.” Drake said. “Hey you’re hear now. Tell me what’s going on in your life?”

George didn’t know where to start so he just said everything that was on his mind.

“Molly and I got a divorce.” George said. “I lost custody of my kid. I been living in a studio apartment over by the tracks. My life is falling apart. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. To top it all off, I lost my job.”

Drake felt a swelling of pitty for his brother. Here he was half-alive in the hospital having pitty for his brothers life.

“Wow, man, that’s too bad.” Drake said. “I know I had it rough losing my wife in that accident and all…they say I am recovering, but I don’t think I will ever recover. I loved her man. I know you didn’t have those feelings for Molly. Linda and I were in love. Sh… she was the best thing that ever happened to me…”

Drake was starting to trail off when Daryl popped into the door with a great big smile and an armful of balloons.

”

“Oh now what is this, are my eyes playing tricks on me, the three Thompson boys together again!”

Daryl walked over to where George was sitting and the three all moved into a close hug.

Daryl sat down on the other side of the bed.

“You know we are all here for you man, all of us boys we have to stick together, right?” Daryl said.

It was the first time in weeks that anyone had seen a smile on Drake’s face. He had been waiting for his younger brother to come and visit.

“George, you have no idea how much it means to me you came.” Drake said. “I mean it I been holding off getting well until you got here. Now that I know you still care and you’re still kicking around, I think it’s high time I started getting better so I could get out of here and fix your broken ass life, right bro?”

George shook his head in amazement. It wasn’t easy for him to come down here. Suddenly all those fears, doubts he had about his brother not pulling through were all gone. It actually made him regret not coming down sooner.

A nurse entered the room.

“Time for some meds and then rest. You two have to leave now.” she said.

Once in the hallway Daryl grabbed George by the arm.

“You know he has been asking about you every day since he got here.” Daryl said.

“I know.” George said.

That was all George had to say.

“Hey where the hell do you think you’re going” Daryl said.

“You listen here and you listen well, don’t you ever put a hand on me again,” George said. “I came, I said hello. We hugged. We cried. Now that I see he is going to be fine he doesn’t need me.”

Daryl snapped back, “You truly are a selfish ass.”

George turned his back to his brother. He walked over to the elevator then left. It was the last time he would ever see Daryl.

Chapter eleven

Molly woke up as she heard a noise outside her window. As much as it hurt she forced her eyelids to open further than she had dared try in as long as she could remember. It was not easy but she managed to turn her head just slightly in the direction of the noise she thought she heard. It didn’t take long before she realized she must have imagined it.

She knew this bedroom was set up like her room from her childhood, and she expected there to be window to her left. She was not looking at a window, but a frame where a window had once been. She should have known better, he would not leave a window open where a passerby could see his prized victim and make an attempt to rescue her from his evil clutches. She sighed, at first a sigh a relief then she realized what did she have be afraid of, getting rescued?

She was awake now, more so than ever. She didn’t know what the noise was that had awoken her to attention but it didn’t matter anymore, she managed to get her head propped up enough to look around and she was determined for the first time in who knows how long, to assess her surroundings.

Now was the time to take action. If she was ever going to be rescued she was going to have to toughen up and fight back. And the first step in doing that is overcoming the obstacles he placed before her and learning as much about where she was as she could. It was no longer about survival anymore. Waiting for some hero to rescue her was such an antiquated logic in the first place. She knew she was on her own and the time for feeling sorry for herself was over, the time for action had arrived.

Just as she suspected they had re-created her bedroom from her youth nearly exactly as she remembered it. She slowly began to associate memories with the objects she saw around the room. The dolls on the top of her dresser, the blue ceramic horse on her night stand, the music box, her diary even, as she looked around she saw they had meticulously recreated her bedroom exactly as it had been when she was sixteen years old.

In a way that shouldn’t surprise her, after all she was just sixteen when she met her ex-husband by way of the joint craftiness of both hers and his mothers. Never mind that, no time for going down memory lane, keep looking for anything that can be used to your advantage she thought to herself. She was going to have to get control of that mental voice; she needed to regain her sanity and sense of identity. She didn’t know how long she had been here but she did know it was quite some time, and she had enough.

She was afraid to raise her head to get a view of her broken, shattered body, but she figured might as well know everything there is to know. It was far worse than it felt. The pin points were still clearly visible on her chest and thighs where he had punctured holes into her skin and set up little matches in the holes, lighting them and letting them burn down to close up the very same punctures that held the matches in place.

She could see the burns all over the place. She wondered why she didn’t feel the burns, there had to be some explanation for that.

Keep going Molly, I don’t care how much it hurts you need to know how bad it is or else you will never recover. She saw the bandages on her hips where her legs were attached to her torso. He had broken those bones out of place and wrapped them up tightly with bandages and duct tape. She knew why he used the duct tape, because it would cause further pain when he removed the bandages.

She couldn’t see further south, her legs and pelvis were bent in a manner that blocker her line of sight. He must have drugged her or perhaps her mind was just blotting it out. At first she dismissed it as unimportant then the voice reminded her, no Molly, nothing is unimportant, you need to remember everything you can, no matter how much it hurts, remember. If you don’t not only does he win, but you will never be able to put yourself back together and get the hell out of here. And just as suddenly as some imaginary noise had woken her up, she passed out from the pain she was trying unsuccessfully to suppress.

I used to love playing with old computers. Even today I enjoy watching YouTube videos of others tinkering with old computers. I get a sense of joy watching old computers being put to use in modern times.

I was always a big fan of PCs especially PC gaming. Like most people at the time I was just lucky enough to have a computer at all. The one we had was far from capable of playing up to date video games. I still had a blast with it nonetheless.

Computers are a fascinating invention. They are so complex yet they can be made to do such menial things like checking email or browsing the web. Things we take for granted today.

Some of my favorite computer memories was taking an old PC apart and upgrading it with new hardware. Even something as simple as adding a better sound card would give me a thrill. I especially enjoyed getting to upgrade things like graphics cards, modems and RAM.

I saved up all my money to be able to buy my first dedicated home computer in 2004. It was a Compaq machine but it served my purposes at the time. I kept upgrading that thing long past its prime before replacing it with a custom built model I put together myself. I had countess hours playing around with that computer, tons of fun.

Today I have two laptops, a broken desktop and a tablet. Each computer serves its own purpose. The first laptop is for writing and video editing certain projects. The newer laptop is mostly for regular every day use like web browsing and email. The desktop doesn’t power on at the moment so I need to troubleshoot that and I haven’t had the time, energy or money to put into getting it working again. As for the lowly tablet I use it mostly for certain mobile games I don’t play on my phone, like Minecraft for example.

My computer days are certainly not behind me. I love tinkering with computers even to this day. Even if it’s just adjusting certain settings in the GUI I enjoy playing around with my computer. I get such a joy out of it. I will always love computers.

Today I do most of my work on a computer. I do all of my gaming on a Playstation home console. I have learned over the years PC gaming is too involved for me to keep up with so I stick to buying a decent game console and devote myself to it’s library of games. I will never stop loving computers, even the old ones. Especially the old ones.