16. Res
16
Res
T urns out I didn’t need the GPS. The address Zach’s father gave me is the local medical center.
Zach’s dad meets me when I get there, and as we head up the elevator, I ask, “What happened?”
“Someone attacked him. Tortured him. We don’t know any details. The police are investigating it. But they found him sitting naked in his car like this on the side of the highway,” the man explains to me tiredly. “He was in a coma for days. But not long after he woke up, the first thing he wrote was your name.”
“Wrote my name? Is he intubated?” I ask.
“He was, but this was after they removed it.”
“Then why would he…”
The elevator doors open, and Zach’s father leads me to his room. But before he opens it and lets me inside, he relays to me the horrific torture that Zach went through. All of his teeth wrenched out his mouth. His tongue cut off. His penis and balls castrated and the wound cauterized. Just the thought of someone doing that to anyone, of Zach going through that, makes my stomach churn.
“And the police have no idea who did this?” I ask .
“There were no prints, DNA, or anything when they found him. They checked security footage of his apartment. They saw him leave, come back a few hours later, and then he left again. Was he supposed to be coming to see you? Do you know anything about it?”
“He must have been coming back to apologize,” I assume as tears well up in my eyes. “We had a fight. I thought he was mad and ghosted me, but…”
Suddenly, I feel bad that I spent last night with Shelly telling her how terrible Zach was to me over the years. I shouldn’t have. Because even if he was coming back to apologize, it doesn’t change the fact that he hurt me with his words. That he’s hurt me with his unexplained absences. With the lack of attention he’s given me over the years. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s been a subpar boyfriend. In all ways.
The morbid thought crosses my mind that his castration is no real loss considering he didn’t know how to use it anyway. To think, all that size gone to waste.
I quickly shake my head of the cruel thought and continue, “Is there anything you need from me?”
“Talk to the police and the detectives on the case,” Zach’s father says. “They said this seemed personal. A crime of passion. They’re assuming it was another girl who found out he was cheating on her with you and… you know. Based on the castration.”
I nod my head. “Right. of course.”
Zach’s father peeks his head into the room and then says to me, “He’s awake,” and leads me into the room .
Zach’s reaction to me is immediate and intense. He begins to make guttural moaning noises and twists in his bed in agitation. His heart rate and blood pressure skyrocket on the monitors.
“Zach,” I state.
He moans and whines louder, this time jerking away from me so intensely that he falls off the bed. The lines attached to him become unhooked and cause his monitors to go off.
His nurses rush into the room and ask, “What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just walked in the room.”
Zach begins to convulse and fights harder to scramble away at my voice. One of the nurses makes the connection.
“You need to leave,” he says to me, firmly but not unkindly.
I back out the room without argument.
Considering Zach’s reaction to me, it seems to go without saying that our relationship is officially over.
I never go back into the room and go with Zach’s father down to the police station to talk with the detectives investigating Zach’s case. The lead detective assigned to the case is Darryl Wright, J’s father. I fight not to scowl at the sight of him.
He doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. He just starts with the basic questions. How long I’ve known Zach. Who he was to me. I tell them that he left my apartment after we had a fight, and he must have been coming back to apologize to me based on what Zach’s father told me.
Darryl’s partner asks, “What was your fight about? ”
“I don’t know. We—”
I freeze. How could I have forgotten? I was so focused on what happened to Zach and trying to figure out why he’d be driving back down to Macon from Marietta that I’d forgotten the reason for our fight in the first place.
Jaxson.
Jaxson, putting his hand on my arm and looking at Zach with cold gray eyes as he demanded an apology. Jaxson, putting me behind him to wall himself between me and Zach. Jaxson, leaving when I asked him to, rather than staying to torment me for my insolence and rebellion against him.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to leave, crawl under my covers, and cry. Cry for what happened to Zach. Cry for letting him get caught up in this drama between me and a fucking cult leader. Cry for being too selfish to break up with him sooner so that this would have never happened.
I open my mouth to mention Jaxson, swallowing to control the tears of relief I feel welling in my eyes. Relief that there might be something that catapults an investigation into him. Something other than him assaulting and stalking me. Something that could result in the police taking it from here and getting him out of my life for good, leaving me with a clean apartment, as Shelly put it last night.
Apparently though, I hesitate just too long. Because Detective Wright speaks first.
“Look, Res—Is it alright if I call you that? You’re Jacob’s girl, and I remember when you were no taller than my knee.” Before I can answer that it’s absolutely not okay for him to act that familiar with me, he continues, “It’s okay. You aren’t a person of interest in this case. We’ve already looked at your building’s cameras. No one left again after Zach did. Until the next morning. Long after Zach would have been kidnapped and tortured. We just want to make sure we’re covering our bases.”
That gives me pause for two reasons. The first reason being that Detective Wright’s not being as comforting as he thinks. I know that police are allowed to lie during questioning. The second being that that’s impossible. Because Jaxson left right after. Jaxson should be on my apartment building’s cameras. Either the detective is telling the truth that the cameras didn’t catch Jaxson or he wants to see if I call him out on the lie or neglect to mention Jaxson, thus making me a person of interest for hiding someone’s possible involvement.
If he’s telling the truth, I’d look crazy to contradict him. There’s no proof. Not even the text Jaxson sent me, apologizing for ruining my night and promising to make it up to me. I would have thought I imagined the text if I didn’t see it and the unknown contact disappear before my eyes after a minute or two of me staring at it in disbelief.
But also, if the detective is lying, I’d look like a suspect for hiding it.
I make a choice.
“It was just stupid couple stuff. Not spending time together. Feeling ignored. Wanting different things,” I say, looking down at my lap and shaking my head. “That’s all I know.”
Detective Wright sighs. “A jilted lover then. Probably. And this young man knew a lot of people. No telling who it could be. You’re free to go Miss Kleen. ”
“Thanks,” I say, standing.
“And if you see anything suspicious, let us know. There’s nothing I can do to prevent it right now, but whoever did this might come after you too.”
I swallow a scoff. There’s no might about that.
******
It’s been over twenty-four hours since I last properly slept. So needless to say, I’m exhausted when I finally arrive back home. I drop my keys at the door along with my phone this time. If anyone needs me, they’re going to have to fucking wait. If they’re dying, they need to call 911. If they need me anyway, they need to send someone directly to my door.
I’m in the process of pulling my clothes off again when I notice a black tablet sitting on the table.
Immediately, I know it’s not mine. The question is, how long has it been there? Was it there this morning when I first came home and I missed it in the dark? Or was it placed there after I rushed to the hospital to see Zach? Maybe it’s some kind of trap from the people investigating Zach’s assault. But this is too obvious. If I were really a suspect and the police lied, they wouldn’t want me to know they were onto me.
That only leaves one person. The person who wants to make my life revolve around him. When he did it is irrelevant to the fact that he did it.
I’m halfway tempted to ignore it until I get some sleep. But I quickly decide not to. I’m not going to fall asleep when there’s a mystery that can be solved simply by turning on the tablet .
I press the button on the bottom middle. A fingerprint lock screen comes up, reads my print, and glows green to unlock the screen. I’m not even going to wonder how the fuck Jaxson got my fucking fingerprints.
Words light up the black screen, and I turn it horizontal to read them.
Zach’s Atonement
My heart drops to my stomach like a rock to the bottom of a lake.
The words disappear and a video begins to play. It’s clear. Well edited. Well-lit even though the room is pitch black. Steady. Cinematic looking and sounding. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a scene from a movie. But I do know better because in the video is Jaxson, dressed in black priest robes with a long flared skirt, cape, shiny silver buttons, and flared black sleeves. On his head is a black velvet crown. He’s standing behind a gray stone and concrete altar. Behind him, naked and tied to a cross, is Zach, moaning pathetically with blood dripping from his mouth and, most notably, having a new cauterized scab where his penis and balls used to be.
I draw my eyes to the altar as does the camera and gasp when I see Zach’s detached penis, balls, teeth, and tongue.
“Oh my God,” I begin to mutter as a constant refrain.
Then I watch as Jaxson lights a match and drops it into a metal offering plate with wood and leaves inside. The fire eagerly consumes the wood, leaves, and paper, growing large until it takes over the entire plate. Then, Jaxson takes the teeth and drops them in the fire. All thirty-two. One by one. Next he drops the tongue. Finally, he drops the penis and balls. Like some kind of depraved offering .
The video cuts off.
It’s not until I’m tapping on the tablet to get the video to come back that I notice that I’m trembling. That my entire body is shaking in… in… Shock. Horror. Dismay. Terror. But there’s also fascination. Awe. Wonder. Admiration even.
It’s like growing up and reading in the Bible how God showed his awesome power by creating the earth and man in six days and then later reading how as soon as that creation didn’t live up to his expectations, he destroyed it with extreme prejudice. Over and over again. The awe and wonder that a being could be that powerful. The shock and dismay that he would abuse his power in such a way to punish those he deemed wicked because they didn’t do what he wanted.
My stomach turns. I drop the tablet and run to the trash to empty the contents of my stomach, which is mostly just bile and acid.
Knowing I’m not going to bed any time soon, I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. I’d planned to take today off, but there’s no point in doing that when the only thing I’ll be able to think about is that video.
Once I’m showered and my teeth are brushed, I throw on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt and head to get my work computer. It’s in my bag where I left it at the door after arriving from Shelly’s. As I grab it though, I get a glimpse of my phone lighting up with a message from an unknown number.
Did you like the video ?
I stare at the message for a long time. Then, overcome with rage, I test just how durable my expensive phone case is by throwing my phone at the wall.
Fuck. I hate this. I hate this lack of control. It’s only been a fucking month and already, Jaxson has turned my entire life upside down.
How dare he? How dare he when I’d finally started to heal. When I finally found purpose and drive after years of aimlessness and borderline self-destruction and then years of playing catch up for the time I wasted.
Fuck that.
I left a cult. Or high-demand religion or high-control group or whatever the fuck names people debate about calling them. They’re all the fucking same. And just like I showed them I wouldn’t be controlled, that I am the maker of my own destiny, I’ll show Jaxson. I will not kneel over and submit to him.
If he wants to act like he’s fucking God, then I’ll be Satan. I will resist and rebel and undermine him and his stupid fucking plan every step of the way.
Instead of grabbing my work laptop, I grab my personal laptop, brew a pot of coffee, and settle in on the couch for the long haul.
If that asshole gets to know where I live, have my phone number, and stalk me, then it’s only fair I get to have the same from and do the same to him.