Chapter 14 Ginny
FOURTEEN
GINNY
Larry paced the rec room, boots thudding against the scuffed floor like the heavy clop of cattle. He knocked chairs around with his meaty hands balled into fists. His cheeks puffed in and out like he couldn’t figure out how to breathe.
‘They’re gone,’ he repeated over and over. ‘My friends are gone. They were here, and now they’re not. Where are they?’
His voice was stricken with pain, and it twisted low in my stomach.
His rats were gone. Like my ribbons.
Others stayed back, cowering in the corners with wide eyes and gaping mouths. The gentle giant rarely scared anyone; his temper was usually kept at bay with the cocktail of pills he consumed daily.
‘Larry.’ I stepped closer, raising my hands in a signal of peace I hoped he’d recognise.
When he spun to face me, tears streaked his cheeks.
‘Somebody took them.’ His breath came fast, chest heaving. ‘They wouldn’t leave me. Not my friends. They never stay away this long. They need to eat.’
I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, fruitless really given the girth of his arm.
‘Larry. Look at me.’
His pupils were saucer-wide and as mad as bucking pigs.
‘We’ll find them. My ribbons and your rats. We won’t stop until we do.’ I tipped my head, pulling his fingers to my tattered hair.
‘They hurt you,’ he whispered, his hands trembling as he petted me like one of his rodents. ‘Made you ugly.’
The words cut me deep. Even though he didn’t have the cruelty to mean for them to hurt. I swallowed down the ache.
‘Maybe. Or maybe your rats are in the kitchen looking for scraps. Better scraps than what we get.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Better scraps?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, watching his breathing settle. ‘They’re smart little friends. They know where to get the good stuff. They are small enough to escape, yet still they come back. Because they love you.’
Larry dropped his hands and nodded. ‘Maybe they got cheese instead of dry bread.’ His voice softened. ‘Cheese.’
‘Cheese sounds better,’ I said with a smile.
His shoulders dropped, his hands opened as he nodded. ‘Cheese is better.’
When he flopped into a chair, it groaned under his weight. The room collectively relaxed.
‘Maybe they’ll come back when they’re full,’ he said softly.
I gave his hand a squeeze before stepping away.
My skin prickled as I walked back to my room.
Everything sounded twisted. Even the steps of my slippers whispering against the linoleum. The overhead lights buzzed like flies crowding a rotting carcass. Every shadow was too deep and too long and distorted.
My arms weren’t any comfort as I wrapped them around myself. The air grew colder and thicker with each step.
By the time I reached my door, knots twisted my stomach tight. Apprehension bit at my heels.
But my room wasn’t my room.
It looked the same. But it smelt different. Felt different.
The curtains shifted despite the windows being sealed tight. Every breath was thick and heavy, tasting faintly of iron and death.
My eyes caught on a sliver of something pale on the floorboards.
A ribbon.
One of my ribbons, curled like a lost snake.
I bent to snatch it up with shaking fingers. My mouth went dry at the red stains marking it.
Another ribbon lay a few steps further on.
My pulse quickened as I followed the silken breadcrumbs.
‘Hello?’ My voice felt brittle in the silence.
No answer.
Only a distant scream like the squeal of a slaughtered pig. Muffled by stone and glass, but still enough to make my guts bubble.
Another ribbon.
Then another.
A trail so tender against the dirty floorboards, leading right to tattered curtains.
Each shallow breath rattled in my chest. Each step was as sticky as Mama’s muddy fields on a rainy day. The world screamed at me to run. To tuck my tail like a dirty mutt.
Yet I couldn’t.
Red drops speckled the trail, growing fatter with each step. Like red pennies staining the wood.
Then it hit me. A stink of copper, thick enough to gag me at the back of my throat. Like Elijah did when I was bad.
The bloodied ribbons reminded me of my room at home.
Of trapped wrists against my metal bed-frame, and his rage at my bloodied ribbons.
Something waited for me.
I knew it.
My skin crawled as I reached the curtains, fingers trembling so badly I could barely grip the fabric.
Don’t look.
Walk away.
But my hands moved as though they were independent of me, pulling the curtains apart.
Bile, hot and acrid, burned my throat.
A rat dangled from the curtain rod above, its furred body swaying.
I covered my mouth as a scream bubbled up.
One of my pink ribbons knotted tightly around its poor throat.
Maroon stained the bow a dirty brown. Blood ran in rivulets onto the sill, spilling from the creature’s throat where the ribbon had been pulled tight enough to split the skin.
The sweet and sordid smell hit me full force; making my eyes water.
I staggered back, and a scream tore free. My chest tightened as my eyes filled.
Poor Larry.
Poor rat.
Why would someone do this?
The world tipped as spots burst behind my screwed tight eyes.
Nancy appeared beside me. My very own angel. She saw the window, and her face paled, but still she scooped me against her.
‘Get me out of here,’ I gasped between sobs, clinging to her uniform like a child to its mama’s skirts.
‘I know, Ginny. I’m trying.’ Her words were steady, but her pulse was dancing against my cheek. Was she lying?
‘Someone’s trying to make me seem crazy. All I want is to get my baby out of here. She doesn’t deserve this. She needs her father, and me, and a safe place to call home.’
The words spilled out fast and sharp. I wanted her to help me, but would she? Or was she as bad as the rest of them?
Another monster.
No, not Nancy.
She was true and would be my salvation. The baby and me.
She had to be.