Limbo

ASHLEY:

I look at Rachel as she sits cross-legged on the coffee table in front of us, with my drawing pad on her lap, a thoughtful expression on her face. Everyone else basically follows my lead and turns in the same direction, even though all they're seeing is the pad and pen floating just above the table, which must be somewhat disconcerting.

After a brief pause, she starts writing, and fills up most of the page before stopping. She starts to hand me the pad, but then pulls it back, saying, "No, I don't want you to mess up your throat any more than it is. So either pass it around and take turns reading, or have one of the others read it to you."

I relay this to the others, and Susan holds out her hand and says, "I'll read it, it'll take too long to pass it around to everyone." Rachel passes the pad to her, and we all sort of lean forward in our seats as she starts.

"Her name is Evelyn, actually, and Mom had her when I was nine," she reads. "She was better than any toy or doll I ever had, she was almost like my baby, because I took care of her while Mom and the other women were doing their work around here, or in the meetings. And she was also my father's guarantee that I'd behave, because if I did something I wasn't supposed to, or just something he didn't like, he'd punish Evie for it, instead of me. He knew I couldn't stand to see her cry, so she was basically his little insurance policy. That was when I figured out that I hated his guts."

When I hear this, it feels like somebody has knocked the wind out of me, and from the looks on their faces, it's obvious that everyone else is having basically the same reaction. Andy looks particularly horrified, and I can see how difficult it is for him to reconcile this with the relationship he has with his parents, who have basically made him the center of their world since he was born. Since my folks died when I was young, I don't have a lot of clear memories of them, but the ones that I do have are good ones, and my grandparents always made sure I felt loved, so it's kind of hard for me to process, too.

Susan pauses for a second, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Unless something like that was happening, he basically ignored her, like she wasn't important. She had the basics, like clothes and food, of course, since someone called Child Services on them once, and he was smart enough to at least put on the show of doing what they said, until he felt like he was in the position of being superior."

"Anytime I got something like candy, or something pretty, I always shared it with her. I had to hide it from him, though, and only do it when he was having the meetings, or out of the house. Mom tried to get around him, and make sure she had things that she wanted, and he would give her punishments, too, if he found out. More than once I watched him hit her with his belt, or make her go without food for days if he caught her going against something he said. I got really good at sneaking food into my pockets, or hiding it in my sewing stuff, and slipping it to her or Evie when he did that, but it still wasn't what they should have had. A granola bar or a couple of crackers aren't a good substitute for an actual meal, especially for a little kid, but it's better than going hungry."

"Anyway, not long after she turned eight, she got sick, and Mom actually managed to sneak her out to the doctor while he was gone for a couple of days. He smacked her around when he got home and found out, and when she told him that the doctor was pretty sure that Evie had leukemia, and was just waiting for the tests to come back to confirm, he laughed at her. He said that if there was actually anything wrong with her at all, it was either a test of their belief, or that the fucking demon had decided that she wasn't 'worthy' of being part of the group. We both literally begged him to let her go to the hospital to have treatments, but he said that if she was meant to live, the 'Master' would cure her, and there would be no interference by doctors."

By this time, Susan is actually in tears, and passes the pad off to Charlie, then goes into the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with a handful of napkins. He squeezes her free hand as she uses the other to mop her face, and CC practically growls, "This guy doesn't need to be in jail, he needs to be taken out somewhere and hung by his fucking nut sack from a meathook!"

"Only after somebody ass-fucks him with a flaming cactus," Jake responds.

"It would be better if you could get a snake involved in some way," Rachel tells me. "He absolutely can't stand snakes, that's the only thing I've ever seen him freak out over."

This surprises a small laugh from me, and when they look at me strangely, I tell them what she said. Bob sort of shakes his head and turns to Charlie, saying, "So I guess instead of needing a guard dog, you might want to invest in a few boa constrictors to keep around the place."

"No thanks, I'll stick with my pistol," Charlie retorts, then turns his attention back to the paper, looking to find the point where Susan left off. When he finds it, he resumes reading:

"A few days later, she managed to call my Aunt Wendy in California, and they put a plan together. She sent money for them to come out there, so she could go to the doctors in Sacramento. Mom was actually American, and Evie and I both had dual citizenship, so there was no problem with them crossing the border, but we all knew that if I went with them, he'd come after us. Mom didn't like it, but we both knew it was the only way for Evie to have a chance to get better, so she agreed to it. He had kicked Sawyer out of the group, and I had already decided that I was going to leave by the time I was eighteen, which was in a little less than seven months from that point, so I managed to convince her it would be okay until then. Or at least I thought I had."

"About a week after they had gone, I went in to work, and my boss told me that my aunt had called. He knew the situation, and had actually let my aunt send the money to the shop, so my father wouldn't know about it, so they had his number and the address to the business. I called her back, she asked about Mom, and pretty much freaked out when I said that I'd thought she was there."

"That was when I found out that Mom had been so worried about leaving me there that she had left Evie with Aunt Wendy and come back to get me, too. But I never saw her, and she didn't come back to Sacramento, so we all knew that something had happened to her. Because even if she couldn't get back onto the property, or wait around for me to come into town, there's no way on this earth that she wouldn't go back to be with Evie while she was in the hospital. So we all know that she's dead, we just can't prove it, since no one has found her body."

When he's finished, Charlie lays the pad down, and everyone is quiet for a minute, until Andy clears his throat and asks, "But weren't there some questions? I mean, if your mom took the little girl to the doctor, wouldn't he have brought it to somebody's attention when her test results came back and she never came for treatment?"

She picks up the paper and writes for a minute, then passes it to him, and he reads out,"Yes, there were questions, and when the police and Child Services came out, all he had to do was tell them the truth. Or the simplest version of it, at least: Evie was sick, and Mom had decided that she'd rather take her to the US for treatment, so they could stay with family while it was going on. They were able to verify that Evie was with our aunt, and there was no actual proof that anything had happened to Mom, so they couldn't do anything to him, even if they suspected him."

"What about your sister?" I inquire. "You said that you hadn't seen her for awhile, so do you have any idea how the treatment went?"

"I talked to her on the phone at least once a week after I left here," she replies. "And we Skyped occasionally, but Sawyer and I never had the money to travel to California to actually see her in person. I talked to her on my birthday, the day before your show, and she'd just had a checkup that said she was still in remission. So unless it's come back since then, she's still with my aunt in Sacramento, as far as I know."

"So if we're talking about a guy who's willing to let his own kid die by refusing to let her see a doctor, and plan to hand his other kid over to a goddamn pedophile, who is supposedly going to be possessed by a demon, so he can get her pregnant with a 'demonic' baby, I think we can pretty much assume that he's capable of having people killed, and sending them here for whatever reason," Jinxx states flatly. "So it seems to me that we're gonna have to come up with some sort of system to make sure that we don't put ourselves into any iffy situations."

We all agree with his statement, and then Susan turns toward the coffee table, and asks Rachel, "Why, though? Why bother to have people break in now, when they haven't been here for over a year? What do they want?"

She seems to be thinking for a minute, then says, "I can only think of two possible reasons. Either they think they've left something here that can lead them to our bodies, or that can prove he killed my mom, or he's looking for his grimoire. I don't know for sure if he had it when he took off, but if not, he'd do just about anything to get it back."

"What's a grimoire?" Jake questions.

"It's a big leather-bound book that he almost always had with him," she explains. "It's kind of a combination journal, membership roster, and written confession, basically. Everything went in there, and he's well aware that if anybody else ever got ahold of it, the whole group would basically go down in flames."

"I don't remember seeing anything like that during the remodel," Charlie remarks. "Maybe we should look around a little more tomorrow, and see if anything turns up. If it does, I'm calling Whitworth first thing."

"Can I ask another question?" Andy interjects. "Not trying to sound like an asshole again or anything, but why are you still here?"

When he asks this question, she actually flinches, and I'd almost swear that I see her hand shake as she writes, "I don't know. I've tried to leave, but I can't. Do you think you might be able to help me? I don't want to be stuck here forever."

The sad, pleading expression on her face as she writes this makes my throat feel tight, and I can't stop myself from responding to it. I turn to face her, and the others turn to stare at me, startled looks on their faces, as I impulsively answer. "I don't know if we can, but we'll sure as hell try. Where do we start?"

Notes