Chapter 51 Kip
KIP
We stood in front of the door and stared at it like it was a mouth waiting to devour us.
Holland didn’t say a word. She turned and looked at me. Her eyes shimmered, not from fear—but from the weight of knowing what we were about to walk into.
Mother’s house hadn’t been touched since her body had been removed.
When we stepped inside, the stench of mildew and dust smothered us; it seemed the walls themselves had started to rot now that she was gone.
The silence felt unnatural. As if the home knew it had been abandoned by its master and left to die too.
The basement door creaked louder than I remembered as Holland opened it. She flipped on the light switch at the top of the stairs. This would be the first time she saw where I was hidden like a shameful secret. Tortured.
“Are you ready?” Her voice was steady, confident.
I wish I felt the same. What if this didn’t work? I hesitated while my fingers clenched the old wooden railing. The bulb at the top of the stairs flickered and buzzed like it knew my name. It did.
“She can’t hurt you anymore,” Holland said softly behind me.
I wished I believed her. The scars on my back burned with each step, the descent into hell gripping me by the throat and refusing to let go.
We reached the bottom, and my boots hit the concrete with dull thuds as I walked to the middle of the room. The air grew colder the deeper we went.
The light from above barely reached the bottom of the staircase. Just enough to show the old chains on the wall. The drain in the center of the floor. The shelf of rusted tools still lined up like trophies.
My mouth went dry.
I felt Holland behind me—her presence like a tether. But I couldn’t move.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“No. I do. He can’t control me anymore. He can’t use me to hurt the people I love. If we don’t break the bond, I’ll never be free. Neither will you.”
My chest ached as my lungs forgot how to breathe.
It hit me all at once.
Flash.
Leather.
Flash.
Scripture.
Flash.
Mother—her words dripped with venom: “Repent, and the Lord shall forgive you.”
My knees buckled. I collapsed hard on the concrete, pain shooting through my legs.
“Kip!” Holland’s voice cut through, but I couldn’t find her. I was falling deeper.
My skin crawled. My ears rang, and my fingers twitched as if I could find something to hold onto and stop my descent to hell.
I wasn’t present. Not really.
“Hey.” Her hands cupped my cheeks. Her touch was gentle, but her next words were firm and calculated.
“Look at me. Kip. I need you to listen. I need you to trust me.”
My lips moved without sound.
“I’m going to hypnotize you and take you under. Exactly like I’ve done for patients before. You’re safe with me. Do you understand?”
I nodded—barely.
“Okay,” she said softly, brushing my hair off my forehead before she set her purse on the floor next to us. “Focus on the sound of me speaking to you. Nothing else matters. Not the cold. Not the chains. Not the pain. Just me.”
Her words slipped under my skin like warmth. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs and my gaze lost focus.
“You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe,” she repeated, like a spell. “Now close your eyes.”
Darkness met me like an old friend.
“Tell me where you are,” she asked.
I was breathing shallowly. “Basement. Pipe on the wall. Cold. It’s cold.”
“What do you see?”
“Rusted tools. A worn Bible. Leather strap.”
Her hands found mine, and I grabbed hers as if they were my only lifeline.
“Go deeper, Kip. What’s the first thing you remember when they took her?”
The flood came before I could brace for it.
Flash.
Screams.
Flash.
A cage.
Flash.
Red hair. Blue eyes. A child.
Flash.
“You’ll forget this, Kip. The Lord demands obedience.”
I started shaking.
“I saw her,” I choked out. “They tossed her in a cage like she was a rag doll. She was only a kid. Red hair. She screamed—and I—I tried—”
“You did,” Holland said, trembling slightly. “You tried to save me.”
“They dragged me away. Injected me, and said I killed her. They put her necklace in my pocket, told me it was my fault.”
Tears escaped down my face.
“I believed them. I thought I was the monster. I never fought it because I thought I deserved it.”
“You didn’t,” she whispered. “You were just a kid.”
“They made me forget.”
“But you remember now. You remember the truth.”
My fingers dug into the floor. The air turned sharp in my lungs.
“They said God would never forgive me. That pain was proof of devotion. My mother—she carved the sins into my back. Told me if I bled enough, maybe I would be saved, but she didn’t know what I’d become. A monster.”
“You survived,” Holland said, anchoring me with every word. “And now you’re taking it back. It’s okay to open your eyes.”
Holland reached into her bag and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. She didn’t say a word—just placed it in my hands.
A photo. Old, grainy, and torn at the edges.
A room. Gray concrete walls. A metal cage in the center. A figure in the background.
Her.
Me.
My breath left me in a single, violent shudder.
It was a still from a surveillance tape. Dated years ago.
The girl inside the cage was maybe thirteen. Red hair tangled around her face. Her lip was split. She clutched the bars.
And outside the cage, barely visible in the corner of the frame, standing by the door—
A boy.
Slumped. Drugged. Head down. Hands covered in blood.
Me.
My knees buckled.
“I—I was there,” I whispered. “I didn’t dream it.”
“No,” Holland said softly. “Your brain buried it. But your heart never let it go.”
“I wasn’t hurting her,” I muttered, panicked. “I didn’t—God, I didn’t hurt you—”
“You didn’t,” she said. “You saw me. You came in. I remember now. You told them to stop.”
I stared at the photo. My younger self looked lost, distant, barely conscious.
“They punished me after,” I said. “Stripped me down. Injected me. Told me I killed you. Made me forget.”
“But you didn’t forget.”
And I hadn’t. That was the worst part. It had always been there. Locked behind chains. Drowned in heroin and scripture. But now—
Now the lock had rusted through.
I dropped the photo and let it fall.
The scream ripped from my throat—raw, guttural. Years of silence, agony, and rot clawing their way free. I curled into myself, rocking and trembling. Holland’s arms wrapped around me as I fell apart.
“I was never the monster,” I whispered.
“No,” Holland said, wrapping her arms around me. “You were the boy they broke.”
But there was more. God, there was always more.
My voice came out wrecked. “There’s something I never told anyone. Not Death. Not Dope. Not even myself.”
She didn’t speak. Just held me. Let me unravel.
“They used to leave me down here,” I said. “Days at a time. No food. No light. Locked in the chains.”
She was silent. Still. Letting the weight of it fall.
“I was fourteen. It was winter. The pipes froze, and the cold started getting in my bones. I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die. But then I heard something. Singing.”
Her forehead pinched. “What song?”
My throat clenched. “Come, little children, I’ll take thee away …”
A shiver racked through her.
“I thought I imagined it,” I said. “But it wasn’t in my head. It was him. The Pied Piper. Upstairs. Singing like it was a lullaby. My mother … she was humming along.”
I swallowed hard, hands clenched.
“And then she came down and—” I stopped. My jaw locked.
“Kip.”
“She kissed me on the forehead,” I said. “Told me God had chosen me. That pain was how I’d prove I was His favorite. Then she made me kneel on rice until my knees bled. She stood there, humming hymns, saying every drop of blood was proof He loved me.”
I couldn’t meet Holland’s gaze.
“I did it,” I whispered. “I bled for a God I didn’t believe in. Because I thought maybe … if I did it right … I could be clean again.”
I waited for her to recoil. To pull away. To break. But her grip tightened.
“That wasn’t faith. That was abuse wrapped in holy lies. You weren’t worshipping. You were surviving.”
Her words cracked the last shard in me. Tears blurred everything, and I shut my eyes again.
“I’m not clean, Holland.”
“You’re not supposed to be,” she whispered. “You’re real. That’s why I love you. Here and now you’re free. Lily is dead. The Pied Piper is losing his control.”
“I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt you,” I chanted, still living in the flashback. Blood on my hands, high, and curled up in the corner half naked.
“I’m right here, baby. Do you see us in this room together now? Can you see us?”
“No. But I hear you as if you’re somewhere in the distance. I want to find you.”
“Good. Listen to my voice. Do you still see me when we were younger? In the cage?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you want to do?”
Flash.
I stood and crawled to the girl in the cage. Shaking, weak, and so high I struggled to see, I pulled myself up. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and she nodded as I searched around on the floor for a tool. Anything to pick the lock. Mother had no idea I’d practiced, swearing that one day I would break free and fucking kill her.
“There.” I squinted at the small hairpin with a butterfly on it.
“That’s mine,” she whispered. “My father gave it to me for my birthday.” She wrapped her small hands around the cage bars and watched, hopeful.
I knelt, picked up the hairpin, and busied myself with picking the lock. It popped open with a small click.
“Got it.” I removed the lock and swung the door open. “You don’t have much time, so listen carefully. There’s a tunnel that will take you under the house and outside. Wait until it’s dark to run.”
She stepped out of the cage and threw her arms around me. “We will make it out of here, right?”
I patted her back, my vision blurry from the drugs. “You go. You can’t get lost but stay to the right. You’ll see the grate. Wait until it’s dark, then kick it open and run for your fucking life.”
“Come with me. You can’t stay here. They’ll kill you for helping me.”
I grabbed the cage bar behind me, steadying myself as she let me go.
“I’m already dead.”
Tears blurred her eyes.
“But give me one thing to hold onto.”
“Anything,” she whispered.
“What’s your name?”
A sweet smile slipped into place. “Samantha. My name is Samantha.” She kissed my cheek, then disappeared into the darkness.
I blinked, the room fading in and out as the shadows started to slowly peel away as I came out of the hypnosis. I saw her again—clearly. Holland. Her red hair. Her loving gaze. Her hand on my heart.
“You’re not my sin,” I said. “You’re my proof.”
She leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
And I shattered.
“I wore the cross,” I said, reaching for it but found nothing. “I thought it protected me. It was Mother’s. It was fucking hers. I need to destroy it.”
Holland nodded, tears still falling. She wrapped her arms around me, held me while I crumbled.
“I love you,” she said. “Even in the dark. Especially in the dark.”
I buried my face in her shoulder.
“There’s something else I’ve never told anyone before but lived with it for years.
” I squeezed my eyes closed against the memories.
These, I knew, were facts and not fiction built on lies.
I wasn’t high those times. I was aware of every word I said, every smile I gave, and every hand I held.
A weight of a thousand bricks crushed my chest as I spoke.
“They made me into a weapon. Used me to hurt people. I don’t even know how many times they had me make friends with the girls my age and a little older.
Mother said I was good looking, and all the girls would fall for me …
little did they know I was leading them into captivity to be raped and tortured. ”
“We’ll make it right,” she whispered. “Together.”
She helped me to my feet.
“How will we know if it worked—the hypnosis and the connection with the Pied Piper.”
“I think it did. Kip, you were never theirs. A part of you always knew what they did to you. But only time will tell. If it didn’t work, then I’m with you, so I won’t let you go see the Pied Piper. I’ll take you under again and we’ll repeat the process until you’re okay.”
I turned back to her.
“I need to tell Dope and Death everything. Help take the whole thing down. No more hiding. No more fucking silence.”
Holland smiled through her tears.
“It will take time to make sure you’re free,” she whispered, brushing a tear from my cheek. “But you’re not in that cage anymore either.”
I stared at her. At the girl I once tried to save, and the woman who’d just saved me back.
“That’s enough,” I said. “For now.” But deep down, I knew—we were only beginning.