FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
over 300 pounds and balding. Worse, he had a bad case of eczema that went all the way to his
hairless scalp. Digging at the flaking skin, he looked to his partner in this little production.
"But she has the voice of an angel." Said the woman next to him. She was a tall brunette who was
thin enough to have the body of a prepubescent 12 year old boy. In other words she could've
been a super model. Her darkly tanned face was frozen from one too many botox treatments, but
her eyes managed to glitter with emotion behind her violet colored contacts. "She's perfect, we
have to cast her in the lead."
The director grumped but made the note. He has to comply with his partner because if he didn't
she'd pull all the money she had promised and then there'd be no show.
The she in question was on stage. A short woman in her mid to late 20s with blond hair and an
obvious weight problem. However she was impishly cute and dressed smartly, her hair and
clothing neat as a pin. She did, very well, have the voice of an angel. Only a fool would turn her
away. Her voice could give the child star Charlotte Church a run for her money, especially since
the woman's voice carried a passion no teenager could produce. Even the director grudgingly
admitted she was good.
The two sitting out watching the auditions weren't the only ones watching. Of course there was
those waiting to be next on stage. The thinner girls snorted, thinking she would never get a part.
The men were of two minds. The ones whom were gay were thinking how talented she was. The
ones whom were straight were completely ignoring her in an effort to look down the thinner
women's low cut blouses.
And way in the back someone else was watching. Listening.
She lured him here with her siren song. She made him think sinful thoughts. He watched as she
was told to come back tomorrow night and that she could go home now. Slowly he slipped out
into the darkness. She would pay for making him think sinful thoughts. She would pay.
Judy bounced out to her car, feeling lighter then air. They had given her a call back! Her first
ever! She couldn't believe it! Never before had she gotten a call back. This was amazing! She
couldn't wait to tell her mother. For once she could tell her mom that her weight didn't hold her
back.
As she reached her car, Judy frowned. There was something wrong here. As she got closer to her
little white Jeep she took out a tiny flashlight.
Both her driver side tires had been slashed. Feeling a little antsy about this since she was alone in
the parking lot at the moment she backed away, pulling out her cellphone and turning it on. She
was just about to push the button to call home when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled
her down. She screamed, hanging tight to the cell as her head was smashed down onto the
asphalt. Somehow she managed to hit 911 and the "call" button as she struggled against her
attacker. He tried to get the phone away from her and using her weight she rolled over so he was
under her, making sure to smash into his gut as hard as possible before scrambling away. As the
911 operator answered Judy felt herself yanked down, and yet she managed to keep a white
knuckled grip on the phone.
"I'm being attacked! I'm in the parking lot of..." she felt a hand on her mouth and bit down, "the
Rosewood Theatre!" Suddenly she felt her pants being ripped off and something hard but fleshy
pressing against her leg. "Oh God! He's trying to rape me!"
Finally her attacker knocked the phone from her hand. On the other end of the line the operator
could hear her screams as Judy was violated. She could also hear the man cursing, telling her that
she had "brought him sinful thoughts and now must pay".
The feeling of being humiliated, made dirty, burned in Judy as the - the thing shoved it's way into
her. Yet she wasn't giving up without a fight. As his hand closed once again on her screaming
mouth she brought her fingers up and clawed at his face and neck. Skin gave way under her nails.
He would not have true power over her. He would not. She would fight. Warm blood rained
down upon her face and blurred her vision as she broke his skin over and over again. He deflated
inside of her.
Then there was a searing pain in her throat, over and over again. It was hard to breath but
somehow she got a little bit of air into her lungs. "I'm not going to die." She told herself, her
mind fighting to stay with life. "I'm not going to let myself die..." People were over her now.
She caught bits of words like "alive" and "fighter." Someone moved her up and she saw the white
glow of the ceiling of the ambulance. People were working on her, pulling something out of her
throat, shoving something in. It was easier to breath but she tasted lots of blood now. She was
dizzy, and sick, but her mind stayed focused. "I am not going to let myself die..."
"Your daughter is an amazing fighter." The doctor said as he made his way down the hall, Judy's
parents tagging along behind the lanky figure. "She should've died when the knife penetrated her
throat the first time."
Judy's parents, Henry and Erin Armstrong, held tight to each others hands. Her mother, shorter
and even fatter then Judy, was obviously the strong one in the family as shown by her purposeful
stride. However tears streaked her face while her tall yet heavy husband kept his tears and rage
inside. Still, one could tell he was leaning on her. That she was the one whom everyone turned to.
They were just inside Judy's room, nearing her bed. The doctor explaining the tubes and such.
"There's just one thing - when the knife penetrated... her voice box was entirely destroyed. It
seems her attacker was actually aiming for that. We had to remove what remained of it..."
"Oh God," Judy's mother said, her strength suddenly gone. "My baby - oh, she's going to be
crushed..."
The world kept fading in and out. Judy could catch snatches of words, hear machines pumping
and beeping. Like someone swimming up from the depths of the sea, Judy struggled to wake up.
Fighting against the drugs pushed into her system. A few times she thought she was dead but then
she'd feel pain and know she wasn't.
Then breaking the surface of the sea she burst forth into the world. Sucking in air hard - but her
mouth wasn't open... Something was wrong here and she tried to call out, but no sound was
made.
No sound. Not even a grunt.
It hit her that she probably had a tracheotomy tube due to the stabbing to her throat. However
when she lifted her hand to her throat she only found bandages. She noticed that she had a
breathing device in her nose. Alright. So they actually managed to patch her throat back together
and tubes were in her nose. That was a good thing, right? So why couldn't she make any sound?
She tried again as the nurse entered. The nurse smiled a sad smile.
"I'm nurse Linden." She was a beautiful woman, looking a bit like Tyra Banks, but with a more
mature look and a little extra weight. There was also an old long, thin scar that ran down from
under her right eye to the corner of her mouth. "And you, are one very brave young woman." She
sat down in the chair after she checked Judy's vitals. "They sent me in to talk to you I'm the rape
crisis counselor. Your parents are in the cafeteria for now." She said, as if anticipating Judy's
question. Smiling, she continued. "Yes, I know, I seem psychic. That's because - it happened to
me." Gently she touched her scar. "My father, the day I had my first period he told me that it was
his right to take me. When I fought back he cut me. It was my stepmother who rescued me. But
you, you rescued yourself. You didn't let him have power over you even when he - Judy, you
have no idea whom that was that raped you. Honey, that was the Songbird Slayer."
Judy felt her body stiffen. The Songbird Slayer was a serial killer. He targeted, raped, and
murdered female singers considered some of the best. Usually sopranos. And he always finished
them off by stabbing them in their throat until their voice box was eliminated.
"Thanks to you, he's in jail. Since he claims he's not insane he might just get the death penalty."
Nurse Linden was still speaking. Then she saw Judy touch her bandages. "You're very lucky in so
many ways - you should've died, honestly. Or at the very least had a trac tube..." It was like she
was trying to put a spin on things. Prepare Judy for something bad. "Judy - to save you - the
damage... Oh sweetie, the doctor had to completely remove your voice box."
The world seemed to constrict to one little red dot. Her voice box? Gone? But that meant...
Suddenly she felt like that bastard was raping her all over again. Only this time she couldn't fight
back. With hot tears of rage she ripped out the tubes in her nose, tore at her IV, even her
bandages were ripped off in a desperate attempt to rip open her stitches. Someone - lots of
someones - were restraining her. Something pierced her arm and she felt her body relax.
However all she could think of what how the music was stolen from her. How they should've let
her die.
The days were passed mostly in a drugged haze. When Judy would come to she would go into a
rage. Sometimes they just had her restrained while her parents tried to talk to her or a shrink
would come. Either she'd ignore them completely or sometimes she'd actually spit at them. Her
mother up and smacked her in the face for this the first time she did it to her parents and was
taken from the room for several hours while the doctor told her off.
Finally Judy calmed down. At least until the doctor tried to talk her into an electronic voice box.
It was the same awful handheld device they gave to people whom had throat cancer that made
voices sound like robots. Judy took it calmly in her hand, then flung it at the wall, rolled over in
her bed, and yanked the blankets over her head. She stayed like that for over an hour before she
finally came out, and only because she had to go to the bathroom.
The day she was released from the hospital, when no one was looking, Judy walked in front of an
on coming car. They stopped just a bare inch from her - and lucky her, it was a police car. That
was how Judy ended up in court ordered therapy.
Dr. Stacy Collins was a fresh faced woman with honey blond hair and a little extra weight but not
too fat. She was only attractive in the "I'm a strong, confident woman" way. Light to no makeup,
a nose a little too broad, lips a little too thin, some crow feet around the eyes, but still she looked
younger then her almost 40 years which is what put her in the fresh face category.
Normally Dr. Collins wore a small, calm smile, and normally her steel blue eyes were filled with
gentle concern. Right now however neither was on her face. Only the look of utter frustration.
Stacy had made her practice strictly about those whom were, quite frankly, immature, for one
reason or another. Teenagers acting out. Alcoholics whom hadn't quite grown up. Even the
mentally handicapped whom had trouble adapting to the world around them. Judy had been sent
to her because not only had the removal of her vocal cords caused her to be suicidal, but both that
and the rape that preceded it had sent her back into a rebellious phase almost like the so called
terrible twos. She spat, kicked, bit. Her own father had tried to give her a simple pat on the
shoulder and nearly lost an eye. In fact no man could get near her. Judy would withdraw into
herself when they'd try to get close for any reason.
Right now Stacy was trying, unsuccessfully, to convince Judy to learn sign langue. For now Judy
was communicating by writing on one of those magnetic toys that had little iron filings in it. When
Stacy broached the subject Judy replied with a "BITE ME."
"Judy, I'm not going to be able to help you," Stacy both said and signed, for that was a skill she
found helpful in her particular line of her practice, "if you don't try to help yourself."
"I don't want help." Judy wrote. "I want to die."
"Judy..." Stacy said, only to stop when the younger woman held up her hand.
"When I lost my voice," she wrote, then erased and continued, "I lost my soul."
Breakthrough! The first Stacy had. Now she was getting somewhere with Judy. It was the first
she ever said anything about how she felt.
"You didn't lose your soul, Judy, just one way of expressing it." It wasn't what a shrink normally
said, but then again, Stacy found the normal ways weren't very effective.
"No," Judy wrote, "I did lose it. I've lost music. I have - nothing." Tears shone in her eyes.
Furious erasing and writing followed. "Even the rape didn't hurt as much. I fought that. In both
mind and body. I didn't let him have power over me that way even when he was inside me. But he
took my voice. And in that way he has power over me."
"No he doesn't." Stacy said, reaching out to her and suddenly her arms were full of a sobbing
woman. "There are other ways to express your soul."
Judy pushed Stacy away and curled into a ball. Retreating back into herself.
In the weeks following her one and only breakthrough with Judy, Stacy found herself basically
back where she started. While Judy stopped attacking men, especially her father, and even
tolerated having a male doctor examine her, she still refused to even acknowledge the suggestion
of learning to sign. Sometimes they'd spend their entire hour with Judy staring at the wall, her
back to Stacy.
Along with Judy, Stacy also talked to Judy's parents. Usually in private. They were paying for the
therapy and Judy was living with them still. This way Stacy could find out what Judy was doing at
home. Like how her first week her mother had found all of Judy's hundreds of dollars worth of
cds, tapes, and sheet music in the trash.
"She found out I saved them." Mrs. Armstrong was saying. "She was so mad at me that she tried
to break my collectable figurines. Then she tried to set them on fire - while in the house. We had
to actually lock her in her room before she calmed down and that was only when we promised to
get rid of them. So now they're in a storage unit but as far as she knows they've been given away.
I hate lying to her."
"I know." Stacy said. "Judy is a very difficult case - which is why... well, I have an - unusual
suggestion. I know a man who use to be a psychologist until his wife was murdered by a patient.
You might've heard the stories but I'm sure they're not true - he simply loved his wife too much
to cheat on her, especially with a patient. Still, his licence was pulled. Hear me out - he teaches
piano now, but only for special people, people like Judy. I think if anyone can get through to her,
he can, especially now that she's stopped biting and scratching men." She nodded to the almost
completely healed scratch mark on Mr. Armstrong's face.
The couple exchanged a glance, and like that it was decided.
"I don't want to do this." Judy wrote, looking to Stacy almost helplessly from the passenger side
of the car. Nervously she fingered the scarf around her throat. Her stitches had recently been
removed and now she wore stuff to cover her scar.
Stacy squeezed her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Come on."
"Don't leave me alone." Giving Stacy a pleading look, Judy held up the board and looked at her.
"I have to, sweetie." Stacy answered. "I've got to talk to the DA today about the case. If you can
take the stand and all that or if you should even be there."
"I want to be there." Judy wrote. "I want to tell them what happened. I have to tell what
happened."
"I'll tell them that." Getting out of the car, Stacy coaxed Judy out. "Now come on."
With great reluctance, Judy got out of the car and walked up the driveway. Stacy walked along
with her and rang the doorbell. The door was answered by a tall man with greying brown hair. He
was probably over 50 with deeply wrinkled brown eyes, a large nose, and deep creases in his
cheeks just at either corner of his mouth. Yet he was oddly handsome. There was an air about him
that just - well, just oozed sexiness. He looked from Stacy to Judy with an unreadable expression.
Then silently stepped aside to let them in.
The room they entered through the front door had obviously been decorated by a woman. There
was pieces of lace under the lamps, pink plush carpeting, chairs decorated with flowers and birds,
lots of crystal, but all these things had a shabbiness, a dustiness that said a woman hadn't cared
for these things in a long, long time.
In one corner farthest from the big picture window was a small, old upright piano. This was the
only thing that was clean. It shined in fact.
"Thank you, Stacy," the man was saying. "I can take it from here."
"But I haven't even introduced you two..." Stacy protested.
"I can tell Judy my name." He had a deep voice with a British accent, English British, the kind
that spoke of upper middle to lower upper class. The voice was so deep it vibrated in one's bones.
"Go now, please."
Judy turned and grabbed Stacy's arm, shaking her head violently. Clawing at her expensive jacket
in order to get her to stay. But the man pried Judy's hands away and held her in place as Stacy
left. When the door closed and the car started up, Judy was thrown into a panic. Clawing at the
man's hands, she escaped his grip and ran to the door. He came up behind her and wrapped his
arms around her, pinning her arms to her side. He was saying something but Judy couldn't hear
above the sounds of her silent screams. All her mind knew was that she was alone with a man and
this one had power over her. They tussled like this until they fell across the couch, him pinning her
down. Bucking and twisting she tried to throw him off but he was strong.
"JUDY!" He shouted into her ear, making it ring. "Calm down! Listen to me. I am not going to
rape you. I don't want power over you. I have absolutely no sexual desire for you. You're not my
type! See?" In a shocking move he took Judy's hand and shoved it between his legs, so she could
feel his limp member beneath his pants.
It was just enough to shock Judy's brain back to reality. She laid under him, her back against his
chest, panting. Then he moved his weight off of her. Scrambling up she grabbed her board and
wrote, "I don't want to be alone with a man."
"I don't care what you want." He said, sitting down in a chair across from her. "You're here to
learn piano. I'm here to teach you."
"I don't want to learn piano either, buddy."
He smiled and for the first time he showed that his lower teeth were slightly crooked. "You're
going to. I am Michael Haversham. Make fun of my name and I will make you play scales for
three hours straight. I have no other students today so I can do that."
"Bite me." Judy wrote.
"Don't tempt me my little crude American friend."
"I'm not your friend."
"Good." He quipped. Then standing he walked over to her and with a swift movement untied and
removed her scarf. Underneath he found a large black ribbon with a safety pin holding it together.
He went to remove this and Judy scooted away. So he sat on the couch and used his leg to pin her
back against the couch and her hands in her lap then removed the pin and ribbon. "You will not
hide behind these things." He touched her scar lightly with his thumb. "It's amazing that you
survived..."
Judy leaned forward and tried to bite him. He moved away and she grabbed her board. "You say
you don't want power over me but you've been trying to control me from the second I entered."
This time he out and out grinned at her. "Yes, and I love how you fought back. Now if we could
get you to fight the right way you'll be set to face the world. First off, we should get rid of that
stupid toy..." he reached for it only to feel a sudden pain between his legs. His eyes rolled
upwards and he squeaked, falling to his knees. "Bloody bitch..." he managed to gasp out before
curling into a ball on the floor.
Judy grinned.
"I hate you." Judy wrote and glared at Michael. Her legs had been actually chained to the chair
seated at the piano.
"I'm not very fond of you." He replied as he sat in the chair next to her. The living room was a
shambles from their latest fight. A lamp had been broken and there was a claw mark on Michael's
face. "You will now do a scale starting from middle C which is right here, it goes like this." He
played the scale rapidly, then once slowly. "Now you..." Turning his head to look at Judy,
Michael saw that she had closed her eyes and plugged her ears. With a swift, angry motion he
slammed the piano lid shut and stood. Spinning the bench out he grabbed Judy's hands and held
both wrists fiercely as he looked into her now open eyes. "You will NOT act childish, do you
understand me? You are a full grown woman, not a petulant two year old. Quite frankly if you
continue to act like a child I will take you over my knee."
Judy looked at him, they were practically nose to nose now. For a moment she stared without
blinking, licking her lips. Then she planted a small but very wet kiss on Michael's nose. Jerking
back, he took out a hanky to wipe his nose with.
"You are the most bloody minded woman... God, I need tea." Looking to Judy he saw a bright
light in her eyes. "Do you like tea?"
On her board she wrote the words Earl Grey and made a big heart around it. Michael had to
suppress a small grin.
"Alright, I give up for today. We'll just talk, over some tea." Grabbing the key, he unlocked her
chains. "But only if you clean up the mess you made."
Like the promise of chocolate or a trip to Disneyland to a small child, the promise of Earl Grey -
brewed by an honest to God Englishman at that - spurred Judy into action. By the time the tea
was done everything was straightened out. As they sat sipping tea and eating digestive biscuits
there was a look of utter joy on Judy's face. It hurt Michael to look at it for it reminded him of
Nicole's look when she'd drink tea. He glanced at their wedding photo on the wall behind Judy.
They looked nothing alike. Nicole was tall and willowy with long brown hair and big brown eyes.
Her skin was slightly dusky, speaking of an affair somewhere in her bloodline between an officer's
wife and some man in British occupied India. Judy was short and - robust - with almond shaped
green eyes and blond hair. Her skin was so fair that she could've passed for someone English, if
not for her crude American ways. Different face shapes, different mouths, Nicole's nose was
much larger then Judy's impish little turned up button nose.
Yet that look of utter pleasure looked exactly the same.
Shaking his head to clear it, Michael just sipped his tea in silence for a bit. Finally he asked, "Why
are you so stubborn?"
Judy bit her bottom lip, then put her tea cup down and picked up her board. "Signing won't bring
my voice back. Playing piano won't bring my voice back. My voice was the only attractive thing
about me. The only thing that made me a worthwhile person. And now that's gone." This of
course took lots of erasing and writing for the board couldn't hold that much but Michael waited
until she was finished.
"That's not true." He said softly. "For one thing you've got a very pretty face, don't you dare
protest. Alright, so you're fat, big deal. If this was England you would've been snapped up in a
heartbeat for that face alone. Not all men are as shallow as to want those sticks of women."
Looking to a picture Judy frowned and wrote, "Your wife is thin..."
"Was thin..." he said, his voice catching. "She died 5 years ago - she was murdered..."
For a moment they just sat there, then Judy came over and hugged him, then sat on the floor and
rested her head on his knee. There was a longing there for human contact in both of them.
Hesitating a bit he raised his hand, then lowered it and started to stroke her hair. Together in
silence they shared their grief and rage.
At the Reynold's Institute for the Criminally Insane Dr. Carver sat across from Naomi Wood. She
was a bone thin woman, so tiny she could wear a shirt made for a pudgy toddler as a belly shirt
with room to spare. Her black hair was clipped exceptionally short and fluffed out in an out of
control manner that on her looked becoming. Five years of confinement had made her skin an
ivory white color which made her brown eyes look large and black. Yet her lips actually had a
natural blood redness to them so the over all effect was that she looked like a vampire fresh from
it's day's sleep.
As the doctor sat back and watched Naomi so she also studied him. He was what one would
expect from a shrink. Balding, the start of a paunch. Thick glasses made his weak blue eyes look
even more watery. The cuffs of his sleeves were ink stained and so was his weak mouth and chin,
he had chewed through her pen again. Tossing it away it picked up another and started chewing
the end of it. "Naomi," he said with a smile. "I do believe you're my greatest triumph to date."
Naomi smiled, crossing her twig like legs. "Well, doctor, you've done very well with my
treatments and medications." She spoke in a lower New York state accent.
Smiling, the doctor continued. "I'm going to recommend your release. There's no reason that as
long as you continue with the therapy and medications you can't live a normal, productive life."
A sad look flickered across her face. "But I'm a murderer, doctor..." She protested.
"You were pushed into it by Michael Haversham." Dr. Carver said. "I know he was found
innocent but we know better. He seduced you and tricked you." Standing, the doctor turned his
back on her and continued speaking, "I'm not surprised. I went to school with him, we were in
Oxford together. He was a snob, even for a Limey bastard. I always knew he'd be a lousy doctor.
Not to mention that I've never seen anyone uglier." The doctor was bent over his desk, getting
papers for Naomi's release. He never saw the look of pure malice and hatred on her face. How
she grasped the statue next to her, ready to raise it and bash his head in. However she went back
to normal by the time he turned around, stroking the statue lovingly. "He's got the biggest nose
I've ever seen on a man. He took advantage of your vulnerability. No, Naomi, you're not to
blame."
"Thank you for your faith in me, Doctor Carver." Naomi said with a beautiful smile.
Judy had came and left. Today there had been no fighting. Just scales and instructions. There was
a spring in Michael's step as he realized he was getting through to her for she had started using
small amounts of sign rather then writing everything.
Then the phone rang. On the other end was the DA. Her voice strained.
"I'm sorry, Michael," she said, "I tried to keep her in but they were more inclined to listen to the
doctor then to reason."
"I understand." Michael said with a strained voice. When he hung up his shoulders drooped.
Walking over to the piano he began to play a low, mournful tune.
Then it grew angry.
Naomi slipped into her new apartment. Everything had been set up even before she left the
hospital. The apartment, the job. Everything. Except of course the safety deposit box she visited
before coming here. It held all her special pictures. Pictures cut out of the newspaper, out of
magazines, stolen from his house. Pictures of Michael Haversham. Pictures of her taped next to
his. In a bikini on the beach, in a wedding dress...
She kissed each picture, smiled, hummed off key. Lovingly she slipped on the wedding ring.
"Hello?" A voice called from the open apartment door. It belonged to a young redheaded woman
with brown eyes and tan skin. Her hair was really brown but had been dyed red, rather badly too.
She held a plate of sugar cookies. The kind one sliced up and baked. "Hi. I'm Marcia Gonzalez,
your neighbor across from you. I heard you were coming today and made you some cookies."
"Hello, Marcia," Naomi smiled, speaking in a clipped British accent. "I'm Naomi Haversham."
"No lesson today, Judy," Michael said as he walked to his car, motioning her to follow. "We're
going to my cousin's café."
Judy got into the car and when Michael turned it on a Weird Al cd started blaring out the words
to "Jerry Springer," a parody of Bare Naked Ladies "One Week." Michael turned it down and
actually blushed.
"Guilty pleasure." He admitted. "Been hooked ever since he had all that trouble with the rapper
who took umbrage to his parody of that one so-called song."
"It's okay," Judy wrote. "I love Weird Al." Then she looked sad. "This was my favorite song. I
use to be able to sing it really well."
The café was more of an outdoor tea shop. They were greeted by a black haired woman with
bright blue eyes and an obvious Irish accent that to both Michael and Judy was just a little broader
and more pronounced then it should be to entertain the regular batch of American customers.
Judy found this pandering to American stereotypes offensive.
However she didn't say - or rather write anything about it.
Michael addressed the woman as Colleen. With a toothsome smile she sat them. "Let me guess,
crumpets, Devonshire cream, Earl Grey tea to start, then a steak and mushroom pie. He always
orders the same thing," she stage whispered to Judy. "And what can I get you dear? Or do you
need a few minutes?"
Judy pointed to the menu, making sure Colleen could see, ordering the first three things the same
as Michael but then...
"Steak and kidney pie? Brave girl." Colleen said, "If a bit shy."
"Judy can't speak, Colleen," Michael said. "Her vocal cords were surgically removed."
"Oh, oh I'm sorry, was it cancer? I thought they could give you a little..." taking the venomous
look from Michael seriously, she stopped. "I'll just go get your cousin Janice."
"Nosy little..." Michael grumbled. "She's not even Irish." He revealed. "Born and raised in
Minnesota and lived in Ireland for three years after she married a fellow from there. Picked up
enough of an accent, then divorced him, came here, and speaks in a way that insults any Irish
person who comes here. She's driven away more customers... Ah, Janice!" Michael stood and
shook hands with a woman who approached the table.
Janice was a tall woman with dusky brown skin and long brown hair with dark gold highlights.
Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown with the same dark gold flecking them. Like her cousin her
nose was large, but not broad, it was sharp. Yet she had such a grace about her that she was
stunningly beautiful. She wore a red peasant's blouse and bell bottom jeans with a wide black belt.
"Hello Michael," she said, and signed. Janice was deaf and spoke with that voice only those who
couldn't hear had, on top of it was an upper class British accent.
"Janice," Michael signed and spoke, "I'd like you to meet Judy Armstrong."
"Ah yes," Janice said, her eyes dancing as she looked at Judy, "The "damn, stubborn, bloody
bitch" my cousin whined about. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Hello," Judy slowly finger spelled out. Her own sign was clumsy, rough. "It's a pleasure to meet
you too."
"Good to see you're finally trying to sign, but for God's sake, Michael, must it be that horrid
ASL? Can't you teach the girl proper English signing?" Janice chided.
Michael sighed and signed. "ASL is the standard here in America, Janice, dear. Will you join us?"
"Of course." Janice sat down and smiled to Judy, "Michael talks a lot about you. If I didn't know
better I'd say he had the hots for you."
"Don't be vulgar, Janice." Snapped Michael.
Judy tried to sign then sighed and wrote down. "He's not my type. I like a guy who doesn't chain
women to piano benches."
Grinning from ear to ear, Janice signed, "He chained you to a piano bench? That proves it, so
when's the wedding? I am invited, aren't I?"
"Janice," Michael warned, then softened, "Naomi's gotten out."
Judy watched as they now resorted to a silent conversation of rapid fire signing. She couldn't
keep up and tried to entertain herself by reading from the place mat on how to properly make tea.
Janice seemed agitated and angry. Michael seemed upset too but more sad then anything. Judy
only caught a little bit, something about murder...
Was Naomi the woman who killed Michael's wife then? No, it was none of Judy's business. Back
to reading the place mat.
They were still deep in their conversation when the tea and crumpets came. It didn't stop until
Michael's food was cold and Judy's was halfway finished. Janice called him an "old fool" and
stormed away from the table.
"Ug, nothing worse then cold pie." He grumbled as he took a bite.
Judy shook her head and seemed to sigh though it was just a soundless expulsion of air. Then she
wrote. "It's your own bloody fault for fighting with Janice."
"All the women of the world are against me!" Michael declared, attracting attention.
Colleen came over at these words. "Now, now, Michael my lad..." she started.
"I'm not your lad!" He snapped. "And your name isn't even Colleen, it's Raquel! The day you're
Irish is the day I'm the blooming King!"
"Which?" Judy wrote. "Of England or of rock-n-roll?"
"Oh drink your tea." Michael snapped and dug into his cold steak and mushroom pie.
Naomi sneered from under her large, out of date floppy hat. That rat bastard! He was cheating on
her! And with some fat cow who lugged around a child's toy at that. What did that pig have that
she didn't? At least he wasn't holding this one's hand, or kissing her in public. Not like that last
bitch she had to - take care of. He was acting like a proper English man with this one, no public
displays of affection, or PDAs in the vulgar American vernacular.
She'd just have to take care of this one too, Naomi decided. Just like she took care of Nicole.
Then Michael would be her's. All her's.
Only her's.
Her's...
"She's weird," Marcia whispered to her neighbor in rapid fire Spanish. "Claims she's married but
her husband is never around, and all her pictures of him have her picture taped or glued next to
him."
Julio, a Hispanic body builder with a thin black moustache and short black hair, nodded in
agreement. Adjusting the rainbow colored shirt he used to "announce" himself to the world, he
also spoke in Spanish. "And her name isn't even Haversham on her mail box, it's Wood. I heard
she just got released from the loony bin."
"Shh - here she comes," Marcia whispered, in English she greeted the bone thin woman. Naomi
responded with a hard, cold smile and entered her apartment.
"What a freak." Julio said.
"You'll do great." Stacy said, holding Judy's hands.
Judy smiled weakly, feeling her parents behind her. If it wasn't for them she wasn't sure she'd
even be able to stand up. However there was someone she was looking for. How had she come to
depend on him so much in such a short time?
Finally he showed up. A bright smile broke out on Judy's face and she signed, "I'm so glad you're
here."
Michael smiled back and took her hand, squeezing it. "I told you I'd come."
They entered the court room and sat. The time seemed to pass slowly and it was only because her
mother squeezed one hand while Michael squeezed the other that kept Judy sane while the
defense tried to claim that the defendant was innocent.
And then finally Judy was called to the stand. Her testimony was read before everyone as she sat
on the stand by the prosecution. Then a few questions were asked by them.
Afterwards it was the defense's turn.
At first it was what she had expected. They pointed out the fact she never actually saw her
attacker's face. That it had been dark. Then they got downright nasty.
"Isn't it true, Miss Armstrong," the attorney asked as she paced back and forth, "that you are
actually involved in the Sado-Masochism community and enjoy being tortured during sex?"
Judy turned a shade of purple with rage mixed with green for sickness. Viciously she wrote, "My
sexual preferences are none of your damn business!"
"Move to treat the witness as hostile." The woman said to the judge.
Before the judge could agree Judy wrote, "Damn right I'm hostile you stupid bitch! For one thing
you obviously know NOTHING about BDSM! True practitioners do NOT condone rape and are
in fact more for proper punishments for rapists and pedophiles then anyone into vanilla sex."
From there Judy without being asked wrote about how in many ways they were more normal,
more moral then any other group in the world. How they communicated better, people she knew
in the community who had actually kidnaped women who were being beaten severely by their
mates. She defended her (former) lifestyle with sheet after sheet of paper before the defense could
even ask anything.
"And anyway," she ended with, "rape fantasies were not my thing. I simply liked to be bound,
spanked or paddled, and mostly tickled silly. If you had done your homework you would've know
this. That bastard raped me and tried to murder me, he raped and murdered other women. He
deserves to die!"
The defense wanted all this struck from the record. The court was in an uproar. Judy's parents
were in shock - her father had thought his daughter was a virgin, in fact, and her mother firmly
believed that women should not enjoy sex let alone have any sort of - extra stuff.
Only those who were either into this themselves - including the judge and several jurors - and the
shrinks in the room were not in such shock.
Judy's parents walked out, unable to look at their daughter. Stacy gave her hand a squeeze but
Michael offered her his arm. "Walk proudly." He whispered. "You did the right thing. Come on,
I'll take you to my place and we'll have some tea."
Michael felt a bit nervous inside as he watched Judy sipping tea. She had been more withdrawn
the usual. A few minutes ago Stacy had been there with several bags. Judy's parents had called
her saying they didn't feel Judy should return home right then. They were both embarrassed and
disgusted by their daughter.
For the first time in five years a woman was going to be sleeping under his roof.
"I didn't know you were into bondage..." Michael suddenly said in a rush, his usual cool British
exterior gone. "I... My wife and I - she was my submissive."
Judy looked at him. Put down her tea, picked up her pad and wrote, "I was into it. I would still be
if not... I'm never having sex again."
Then she stood and left the room, a second later the door to the disused guestroom closed.
Michael cleaned up, thinking about the past. He and his wife had enjoyed a wonderful and varied
sex life.
Sometimes it struck Michael as funny how Americans thought all English people were sexually
repressed. Sure they didn't talk about it but a Brit could be just as hot in bed as any American. In
fact Michael had finally soundproofed his bedroom because neighbors kept complaining about
Nicole's screams of passion.
It had never occurred to Michael that Judy might be into that. The part that caused him pain
though was her admission she was into tickling. A foot fetishist, Michael had been into tickling.
Many was the time he had tickled his wife's feet and before they met those of other women,
though the latter had been unwilling and often thought him sick. Only with Nicole had he not only
tickled a woman's feet but made love to her afterwards.
For the first time in five years Michael felt a stirring in his loins. He bit his lip and shook his head.
No. It wouldn't happen. For one thing she was his student. They could never move beyond that
point. Besides, they were very far apart in age. And Judy was too hurt by what had happened to
her.
Banishing the impossible thoughts from his mind, Michael finished cleaning up and headed for his
own lonely bed.
Naomi snarled as she saw the lights go off. The bitch was in her bed! With her husband! This
wouldn't do at all.
It was time to see her special friend...
In the morning Michael walked sleepily into his kitchen and was shocked to see a woman there in
a nightgown slamming down the phone. Then he remembered Judy was staying there now. He felt
himself blush as he realized she wore a thin cotton nightie that only came 3/4ths of the way down
her generous thighs and with the way the light hit her from behind he could see her entire shape.
For the first time in five years he felt a sudden stirring... no! He wasn't going to think that way
about her.
Judy had written something and shoved the note pad he kept by his phone into his hands.
"They disconnected their phone number."
He didn't have to ask who they were. Instead he went over to her as she stood with her back to
him, staring into the fridge. Gently he placed his hands on her shoulders. A mistake for in a
second she was attacking him like a wildcat, her mouth open in silent screams. He let her have it
out until she got tired and fell into his arms, sobbing silently.
When she finally pulled back she wrote down, "Somehow this is worse then being raped."
"Of course it is." He said, massaging her shoulders and neck, knowing she needed physical
contact despite her original reaction to it. "They are the two people who are suppose to love you
unconditionally and they just put a condition on their love. They've abandoned you when you
need them most. But Judy, you're not alone. You have Stacy and - me. It may not be the same
but both of us care deeply about you."
"It's not the same as being loved." She wrote then withdrew, retreating into her borrowed
bedroom.
He thought about following but a second later saw her going into the bathroom and heard the
shower start. A knock on the door distracted him from his less then professional thoughts.
Movers stood there with tons of boxes. Two large ones marked "CDs & Tapes" and "Sheet
Music" were dusty, like if they had been in storage until today. There was many marked "Books"
and a few marked "clothes." There was also obviously a bed that had been taken apart and packed
up, a desk, a computer, tv, entertainment center, and scrabbling at his legs a little American
Cocker Spaniel.
"What is this?" Michael asked even as the mover released the dog into his house. "There's some
mistake."
"No mistake." The mover said. "Mr. Armstrong told us to deliver this stuff here with the message
that "The perverted little slut is your responsibility now." Normally we don't move dogs too but
they insisted. We'll be going now."
"But..." he began, meaning to protest the stuff being here in the first place.
"Sorry, mister, we weren't paid to bring them in." And with that the movers left.
The little brown dog had jumped up on Michael's favorite chair and curled into a small ball. He
shook his head and sighed, grabbing the first box and started moving things in. He was still
moving it in when Judy came out of the shower, the little dog greeting her in a very excited
manner. She looked first at the dog, then the boxes and Michael, burst out into tears, and went
into her room. She returned barefoot but dressed and began to haul boxes in, apologizing with her
eyes.
"You don't have to be sorry," Michael said softly, "it's not your fault."
"I hope you like dogs," she signed. "Her name is Maya."
"I love dogs. Nicole didn't care for them much. One bit her when she was very young. Even small
ones caused her to tremble like crazy." It was the first time he had really talked about his wife
much. "But she hated cats even more because her step-father's cat ate her goldfish. Her step-
father was actually very considerate about it and even gave the cat to his ex-wife, but her mother
laughed about it. Even years later she'd make fun of how Nicole cried over her fish."
"I use to keep Bettas," Judy signed. "But then one got TB and I accidently spread it to all of
them. I stopped keeping them after that, even destroyed my tanks."
The conversation as they hauled boxes inside or to his garage in the case of things like the bed and
tv was very one sided. Michael found himself talking about his childhood, his family, and Nicole.
Happy and sad both. Maya trailed them back and forth and both tripped over the little dog several
times, but she didn't mind, she just wanted to be close to the humans.
After bringing everything in, Judy unpacked what she needed. Ignoring the music boxes. Michael
moved these into his media room where he kept his own music. He went to check on her to see
how she was doing and saw her throwing about 50 worth of nail polish into the waste basket
that was already over flowing with foot care products.
He didn't know why he did it, but Michael crossed to her and took her hand. Then he grabbed up
the trash bag and took it along with her to another room. His room.
It hadn't changed much in the past five years. There was still a whole side of the room that was all
his wife's stuff. Including a black dressing gown flung over the chair of her dusty vanity. He sat
Judy on the bed which was a heavy 4-poster and went over to the closet from which he took a
large box.
Judy was touching a restraining device on one of the posts on the bed.
"Yes," Michael said in answer to the silent question. "We were a Dom-sub couple. I'm sure
you've heard the stories about how bondage and S&M is supposedly illegal in England, that it's
considered abuse. I honestly never bothered to check if it was true but one of the reasons Nicole
and I moved here was to get away from our neighbors who thought we were sick." He pulled a
stool up to Judy's feet and sat down. From the box he started pulling all sorts of pedicure
supplies, including a hot water foot bath and a gallon sized bottle of water. "Mineral water. I
don't know if it's even any good any more but..." Slowly he started to prepare everything. "This
was our morning ritual. Every morning I'd give her a pedicure. No one had softer or more ticklish
feet then my darling Nicole."
He took Judy's right foot into his hand and examined it. Her skin was soft and foot plump. Unlike
Nicole's long, slender feet, Judy's were short and wide with stubby toes. The 2nd was a fraction of
an inch longer then the big one. Nicole's hadn't been like that. The nails were cut short and filed,
unadorned by paint currently. He ran his fingers across her sole and looked up to see her mouth
open in soundless laughter.
Judy squirmed and if she was capable of laughter would've laughed through-out the pedicure.
Michael was gentle, never pressuring. He felt stirrings of longing as he finished applying and
helped drying the red toe nail polish with a gentle blowing. Looking up he saw the look in Judy's
eyes. A mix of arousal and fear.
He kissed the tip of the big toe of her right foot after applying the rose milk lotion and went to
start putting things away. However Judy grabbed his shoulder, pulling him up until she could
catch his mouth in a kiss. His touch was slow, gentle, when she'd flinch he'd back off. As they
moved backwards on the bed he pressed his forehead to her's. "Judy," he whispered, "you don't
have to be afraid. I won't do anything you don't want me to do."
She answered in the only way she could. Burying her fingers in his greying brown hair she pulled
him in for a deep kiss while laying back. As his hand cupped her breast he could feel her suck in
air, her body stiffen, then relax.
As they began to remove each others' clothing a rapid, hard pounding came upon the living room
door. "Damn it." Michael whispered as he felt his erection retreating. For even here he could hear
the hysterical shouting of Colleen though the words were garbled. After pulling his pants on he
went to the door and opened it. "WHAT?!" he snapped, not taking in Colleen's appearance.
"Michael!" Colleen sobbed. "Janice didn't show up at the café and I got worried and went to her
place and - she's not there and it's wrecked like if she was in a fight and I found this!"
In a shaking hand Colleen held out a tattered picture of Michael. Next to him a woman's picture
had been pasted.
"Naomi." He whispered.
Judy was standing behind him as he turned around to go call the police.
"The woman who killed my Nicole," he said in a husky whisper, "has just kidnaped my cousin."
"How can you abandon your daughter like this?!" Stacy shouted at Mrs. Armstrong from their
porch. Her fists were clutched in rage.
Mrs. Armstrong kept herself calm looking. "My daughter is a pervert. She only is getting what
she deserves."
"So she deserved being raped? Losing her voice?" The psychologist sneered.
Mrs. Armstrong paused, clearly mentally debating. "She... She likes that kind of treatment. Yes,
yes she asked for it." And with that Mrs. Armstrong closed the door.
"You don't believe that anymore then I do." Stacy whispered to the closed door. Then her phone
rang and she answered. What she heard made her run.
They had been at the police station for what seemed like hours. Colleen repeating what she had
seen, Michael waving the photo at the officers, Stacy trying to calm him down as he yelled at
them to get moving. Finally Judy grabbed him and pulled him into an interrogation room. Here
she let him rant and rave and knock over chairs.
Then she finally placed a hand on his shoulder but Michael moved around so quickly, not even
thinking, his fist as he spun around caught her mouth and she fell. Blood oozing from her lip.
"Oh my God..." Michael said, falling to his knees. "Judy, Judy I'm so sorry." He reached out to
her and was surprised that she actually came to him. Blood oozed from her mouth but she didn't
seem to care. Instead she touched his face then wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head to
her shoulder. Overwhelmed, he started to cry. "She destroyed my life, Judy." He sobbed into her
shoulder. "She killed my wife, ruined my career, now she's got Janice." Suddenly, he pulled away,
holding Judy by the shoulders. "What happened earlier - it can't happen again... We - Judy you'll
have to move out. You can't afford to be with me, it's too dangerous."
"No." Judy signed. "In for a shilling, in for a pound. Anyway I'm already in trouble. Not to
mention I want to know what the heck happened between us anyway. Seems like just last week
we hated each other." She paused. "And... after what happened I thought I'd never want to have
sex - make love - ever again. You - somehow you make me feel, even if you're in charge, that
I've still got power. That I am a worthwhile person. I don't hurt when you touch me."
"You're clinging - it shouldn't have happened. You're my student, I'm your teacher. Just like a
patient and doctor." He signed. "And I'm too old for you."
"I don't care." She signed back. "Anyway this isn't about you and I. This is about the fact Janice
is missing and taken by the bitch that killed your wife." Judy sighed silently. "Now are you calm
enough to deal with the police?"
Taking out a hanky he wiped the blood very gently from her mouth and face. "I'm sorry."
"It was an accident."
"It doesn't matter." He said softly, pressing his forehead against her's. "I never want to hurt you."
"Oh stop being so sappy." She rolled her eyes.
"I am not being sappy..."
That launched them into another of their infamous fights. Judy had gotten better at signing over
the months they had spent together and was now rapidly shooting off insults.
"You arrogant -- limey bastard!"
"Vulgar Yankee bitch!"
"STOP IT!" Stacy yelled, leaving both glaring at each other. "You two are a couple of children.
Stupid ones at that! Now, I've brought good news for both of you. Michael, they found Janice.
She's at the hospital now, she's been beaten up pretty badly but she should be fine. Judy, the
verdict is in - he's going to be put to death by lethal injection. Defense will appeal of course but at
least they acknowledge he's guilty now."
"I'm going to the hospital." Michael said making his way to the door. "Stacy, take Judy home will
you."
Stacy looked at Judy. "What started you two fighting again anyway?"
"I started it on purpose." Judy signed. "We got too close. I can't handle it."
"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."
"Stupid, but at least I'm safe from being hurt."
"Hello." Said a balding man behind Judy. "Ah, Stacy my dear."
"Don't you "my dear" me, Carver. Why did you release that psychotic bitch?" Stacy snarled.
"She's cured." Dr. Carver insisted.
"Cured my ass. She just kidnaped and beaten Michael's cousin!" Snapped Stacy.
Carver rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Michael's behind it all, looking to throw that poor girl back into
an asylum. If he hadn't seduced her in the first pla..." Carver was stopped by a resounding slap
across his face. Judy stood there, enraged and began to sign. "What the hell is she saying?"
"She's saying," Stacy translated, "that Michael wouldn't sleep with a crazy bitch like Naomi, that
you're just jealous because he's a better looking and smarter man then you, and that he couldn't
have kidnaped Janice because he was with her."
"I see Michael's tastes have changed. Never knew him to be into pigs." Carver sneered.
Judy responded by spitting in his face and walking away.
Still seething with anger Michael stomped down the halls to Janice's room. Why had he ever
thought himself attracted to that - that - cow?! He must've been horny, that's all. After all he
hadn't even been on a date since Nicole was murdered. That was it. That was all it was. He was
just looking to satisfy his baser needs.
Janice looked like she was a child pretending to be a mummy. There were patches of bandages on
her face, her hands were completely wrapped in white cotton strips. She had flung back her
blanket to show herself in her too short hospital gown, her legs also swathed in white. Nothing
looked like a cast, thankfully, but Janice's huge black eye and stitched up lip testified that under
the bandages lay much broken skin. All four of her fingers and her thumbs had been put into
splints.
"That bitch." Michael intoned, sitting down next to her bed. "Janice, I'm so sorry." He was
careful in forming his words. While she could read lips she didn't excel at it and often mistook
words.
"Bah," she said, her voice odder to a hearing person's ears then usual. "It's not your fault. It's
Carver's for releasing her."
"What did she do? Say?" Michael asked, his voice quavering with longing to know.
"She wanted to know about Judy. She didn't believe me when I said she was just a person you
were helping." Janice's voice was full of disgust. "She still thinks you're married to her and that
you're sleeping with Judy."
A slight blush betrayed Michael.
"You are sleeping with her?! Oh Michael..."
"No - no I'm not. We came close but... It's for the best that we didn't. She's an annoying little
bitch." Michael snipped, forgetting for a second what he was here for. "Nevermind that! Janice,
I'm so glad Naomi didn't kill you."
"She wasn't interested in me. It's Judy she's after."
Michael sat back and suddenly felt like he needed to get out of there.
The house was a wreck when Judy entered. Everything smashed to bits. Even the piano had been
hacked at with an ax. Worse of all Maya lay on the floor. Judy fell to her knees, not even hearing
Stacy's gasp behind her. Judy felt the body and felt a weak heartbeat. She sniffed the little dog's
mouth and felt certain she smelled poison. Running to the bathroom she returned with a bottle of
hydrogen peroxide, a Fleet enema, and many towels. She put the towels around and under Maya
then forced the little dog to drink the peroxide. Soon Maya was vomiting. She continued this until
the entire bottle was gone. She barely registered Stacy calling 911. Very carefully and with the
occasional stop to press gently on Maya's belly to help her expel her bowels, she gave her dog the
enema.
"The police are on their way." Stacy said even as she wrinkled her nose at the smell from the
soiled towels.
"Fuck the police." Judy signed. "I need to get Maya to a vet, now." She took a clean towel and
wrapped Maya in it. Halfway to the door when Michael came bursting in.
"What the bloody hell?" He asked as he saw the carnage. Then he looked at Judy holding the limp
and struggling to breath form of her dog. "Come on, we'll find an emergency veterinary clinic.
Stacy, you called the police? Good, handle them." With his arm around Judy's shoulders he
bustled her outside even as the police pulled up. "Not now! Can't you see that our dog's been
poisoned?"
Judy didn't bother to correct Michael in the fact Maya was her dog, not his.
"If you hadn't acted fast," the vet was saying to Judy, "I don't think we would've been able to
save her. As it is it's very touch and go." He was trying to be gentle, prepare the couple clutching
each other's hands in a death grip. "But I think her chances are very good since you purged the
poison from her body."
A police officer was there too. He had come to take Judy's statement and get a tox-screen of
Maya. He looked expectantly at the vet and was led away to hear everything.
"Are you going to be okay?" Michael asked, tucking a finger under Judy's chin and making her
look at him. Rubbing his thumb against her cheek to wipe away a stray tear.
"Yes," she signed. "But Naomi better pray that the police get her before I do."
Reaching up, Michael took a strand of Judy's hair and wound it about his finger. Then Judy pulled
away. He reached for her and she moved to another seat. Wounded, he let his hand drop.
"It's better this way." She signed all of a sudden. "This way we won't hurt each other."
"Too late." Michael whispered and reached for a magazine. "Ug, Cosmo."
They were moved to a "safe house." A bland, sterile place with two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and
only one bathroom. The police were always there. He never had a chance to talk to her. To help
her. She avoided him or fought with him. Both were strained. It didn't help matters that Maya
would have to spend possibly months at the vet for she was that badly poisoned. Janice visited but
seemed restrained, withdrawn.
Judy now made it a point to keep her feet hidden at all times. Wearing thick slippers and sitting on
them. Avoiding him at mealtimes. One day during a blow up between them she violently signed,
"I'm just trying to protect myself."
"Bloody stupid way to do it!" He yelled at her. "Damn it, woman, all the months I've spent
working with you. Trying to help you. Falling in lo - Trying to help you regain a normal life and
you're throwing it all away!"
"I can't have a normal life." She signed. "Ever again. Normal people can speak. Normal people
can tell others they love them using their voice."
"There are plenty of people who can't speak or hear who lead perfectly normal lives!"
"They weren't raped. They didn't lose their dignity and power." She slammed into her bedroom.
The fresh faced police officer watching all this said, "You should've told her you love her."
"I don't love her. She's crude, she's fat, she's stubborn..."
"She's madly in love with you."
"Oh shut up you prat."
"Where are they?" Naomi asked her special friend.
"In a safe house." The special friend said. "I brought a map. You'll have to time it perfectly, when
the police change the guard..."
Before the lost of her vocal cords Judy snored loudly enough to wake the dead. Not that she
didn't still make noise as she snored for there was still the rattling in her nasal cavities and such,
but it was a strange sound that was much quieter then her weight induced rumbles.
Not that Michael didn't snore. With his larger then average nose he made all sorts of snores,
grunts, and whistles. In the time they were together both had gotten use to their sleep sounds.
Which was why Judy found herself jerking awake when she didn't hear Michael through the paper
thin walls of the safe house. Jumping from bed she didn't bother with the dressing gown Michael
always tried to force her to wear. Instead she left her room and headed for Michael's, frowning as
she saw it wide open. He went to bed hours ago. There was no reason - Feeling uneasy she
entered his room.
The bed was rumpled. However Michael's dressing robe and slippers were on the floor. He never
went without them.
She expected him to pop up behind her any second, envisioning him asking what the hell she was
doing here. However as she carefully listened she heard no sounds of life in the house. Just her
own breathing and the light breeze playing through the open window.
Open window? Michael never slept with the window open, believing the night air bad for one.
Running over to it Judy whipped the curtains aside.
If she had been capable of screaming the entire world would've heard her. There sitting like some
grotesque lantern was the head of what she was sure was one of the police officers sent to guard
them. The most compelling evidence to this was the police badge hanging out of his mouth like
some golden tongue. Once she stopped her silent screams she saw a note was pinned to the
officer's ear. Getting near she saw that his head hadn't been severed from his body, however the
neck was pierced by the broken glass left in the frame and the rest of his body was inside. Judy
was careful to avoid the broken glass on the floor. Amazing how she slept through the breaking of
a window but not through dead silence. Gently she took the note in her hand and read it.
Running to where the panic button sat near Michael's bed, Judy pressed it several times in a row.
Then she ran to her room and flung on some clothing. The note still grasped in her hand, she
dashed out into the darkness. Sirens sounded behind her but she ignored them and kept going
until she could find a bus.
Janice was not happy to see Judy at her door and it showed. However when Judy waved the note
in Janice's face she backed off and let the silent woman in.
"She killed a cop." Judy signed. "And took him. Don't know how. Got to find them."
"Let the police handle this." Janice said and signed. "This is their job."
"They won't work fast enough." Judy waved the note again. "Look, she's got help - look what
she says about her friend. I bet it's Carver. That jerk that released her."
Judy turned and began pacing. Trying to think like a crazy woman. "Where did she take you?"
She signed to Janice.
"I don't remember," Janice replied, waiting for Judy to turn her back to her, fingers curling like
snakes around a paperweight. The arm lifting up and striking out. Then as Judy thumped to the
floor, Janice bent her knees and with strength that one wouldn't expect from her, lifted Judy
partly up and half carried half dragged her to the back room. She'd have to tell Naomi she got
her.
For Michael the hours were a nightmare. He remembered hearing the tinkling of broken glass and
seeing the officer's head pushed through and down. Then a small, bony hand clamped a sweet
smelling rag across his mouth. He tried to fight Naomi off but had gasped when the rag was
pressed against him so he was too groggy. All he knew was that she had a friend with her.
It had to be Carver. Who else would be strong enough to get him out of bed?
He vaguely remembered pills being forced into his throat, made to swallow them. They kept him
groggy. There was touching, violation. He found himself feeling humiliated, dirty, but he couldn't
tell why. He vaguely remember muttering Nicole's name, then Judy's, and the outraged screech of
a woman, beating on his chest and smacking his face. These woke up his brain from even it's drug
induced haze for a moment.
"Naomi, you bitch. Hate you." He moaned before slipping back into darkness.
"God she's a cow." Janice muttered. Using an old hammock she had rigged a sling that allowed
her to drag Judy, hidden inside a big rug but with breathing room, to her SUV, and from there she
drove to Naomi's hiding place. It was an old abandoned house behind the very same apartment
complex Naomi lived in. The police searched there first so Janice knew that it wasn't likely to be
searched again.
She wasn't seen as she dragged the hammock-rug combo from the car to the broken door. From
there into the hall. She could see movement inside, Judy's hand groped out of the top like some
five headed maggot bursting from carrion. It made Janice move all the quicker until she got to the
room in back. The room where Michael lay naked and restrained on the bed. Bruises covered his
face and body where Naomi had beaten on him with her tiny little fists.
"Why'd you bring the fat cunt here?" Naomi whined, though Janice couldn't hear or see it, the
fake British accent discarded. She sat on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette and wearing a
tiny little nightie that could've covered a one year old completely. On her skimpy frame it came to
the middle of her thighs. When Janice finally turned around Naomi whined her question again.
"Because we have to do away with her if you want him." Janice snarled, motioning to Michael.
"Crazy bastard's in love with her."
"No he's not!" Naomi pouted. "He's in love with me. He married me!"
"He never married you, you crazy bitch. He was your shrink for fuck's sake!" Like an enraged cat
Janice bared her teeth. "He married Nicole and made Uncle Mortimer so fucking proud. Got
written into his will - course that crazy bastard's alive and well too, but once Michael here is out
of the way..." Janice grinned, a grin that made even crazy old Naomi shudder for it was like the
grin of a cannibal who just caught a big fat lawyer.
Naomi stared with eyes that for once held a trace of sanity.
"After all," Janice said as she unrolled Judy with a thump, the younger woman was coming
around now, but still not quite there. Though her eyes were open ever little bit and she struggled
to sit up it was easy for Janice to subdue her by placing a foot on her fleshy shoulder. "I didn't
hire that hooker to beat me up for the pleasure of it. Nor did I scratch your back and pulled your
hair out for DNA evidence just for fun."
Slowly Naomi reached around to her back where she felt the healing scratches. Flashes of sanity
ran through her replaced by her typical state of craziness. "He did marry me," she protested softly
to Janice's back. "Didn't he?" She looked at the ring she wore.
Judy laid there on the dirty floor, listening to everything, feigning her state of near
unconscientious. Listening to what was being said. The pain in her head was nearly unbearable but
worse was Janice's rantings about how she had been "cheated" out of an inheritance just because
she was deaf and unmarried. Frankly Judy thought it was because Janice was as crazy as Naomi
who was rocking back and forth and proclaiming she was married to Michael.
Striking like a serpent, Judy grabbed Naomi by her twig like ankles and flung her at Janice. Both
women went down in a tangle of limbs, Naomi's nighty flying up to reveal a butt heavily scarred
by cigarette burns. The one she had been smoking rolled under the dilapidated old bed that Judy
now climbed upon. It collapsed under her weight. However this was a blessing as it allowed Judy
to pull Michael's bonds free from where they had been attached to the bed.
She tried to pull Michael up but in his semi-drugged state he was dead weight. Muttering
incoherently. Pain flared as she was yanked back by her hair, flying into a wall. Janice and Naomi
were both on her. The former threw punches that rocked Judy's brain but Naomi just bit and
scratched.
Judy always said that there were times being fat paid off. One time was back when she beat up the
school bully, using her bulk to knock him down and put considerable bruises on him by body
slamming him - and she was in 5th grade at the time. Another was when wading through a wide
rushing creek that was deeper then it looked due to spring thaw. That time she just dug her
weight in so her feet sunk partly into the bottom of the creek bed and moved herself across. She
kept to her feet where men of normal body weight would've been swept off into the nearby lake
and maybe even drowned.
Today was one of those days. Or rather tonight was one of those nights. Either way Judy used her
weight to roll over on top of Janice, burying her knee into the deaf woman's gut so hard that as
soon as Judy was off of her Janice rolled over and puked. The stench of bile and soured milk
filling the dusty air.
Even as Judy kicked Janice in the butt hard enough to send the traitorous bitch into her own
vomit Naomi jumped on her back. However Judy simply pulled her off and held Naomi above her
head like some pro-wrestler. Then flung her against the wall. The model thin woman slid down it,
leaving a trail of blood from a head wound. Blood trickled it's way down Judy's neck, the bitch
had bitten her ear like Mike Tyson. Only difference was she didn't get a chunk out.
Grabbing Michael under the armpits, Judy dragged him off the bed and across the floor even as
Janice got up. Michael's irate cousin used the rotting curtains to clean the vomit from her face and
launched herself at Judy who barely had time to lower Michael down before putting her hands up
to defend herself.
As they rolled across the floor, Janice having the upper hand, Naomi dizzily forced herself up and
wove her way to where Michael lay. Pausing only long enough to pick up a key from a nail in the
wall. She knelt next to him and freed his wrists and ankles. For the first time in years she was
sane.
And as two women fought each other, as a man fought to regain control of his mind and body,
another woman fought to hang onto the sanity that briefly flitted butterfly like through her mind,
the long forgotten cigarette smoldered like a sleeping dragon where it lay.
Michael had heard most of it, snatches of conversation. More so though Janice's biting jealousy
sent him back into his memories.
"It's an old tradition in our family." Uncle Mortimer was saying to young Michael and slightly
younger Janice. Michael signed everything being said to Janice who couldn't quite read lips yet.
"Your parents will tell you it's because of an uncle who had no children of his own." He tapped
the age old journal in his lap, "However the truth is it was an uncle who found his own son
willingly embracing the stable master. This was the first Mortimer Haversham. The first to will
his fortune to the first of his nephews that married, proving, in his mind, that they were "normal
and mentally healthy." Of course it changed a bit through the passing years, adding nieces to
the equation once it became legal to allow females to inherent, but the basics remain the same.
Whichever one of you marries first, true love marriage mind you, I won't have you marrying just
for this purpose, will become my sole heir. As you are my only niece and nephew now - unless
something changes in the future - it's between you two alone. You two have to make sure
Haversham blood lives on."
Did she really think that money was so important? If she had just asked he would've shared it
with her. Half and half. After all they were all that was left. Other then his father they were the
only two still capable of having children that had the Haversham blood. Uncle Mortimer was
completely sterile.
Anyway it wasn't like they weren't rich in their own right. Maybe not Bill Gates rich or even J. K.
Rowling rich, but rich enough. That's why Janice could afford to keep a failing café and he could
teach piano to just a few select students.
"Judy." He whispered as the world finally started to come into sharper focus.
Judy desperately clawed at the fingers clasped around her throat. Janice was much stronger then
she looked. Spots tangoed before her eyes. "No." Judy thought. "I will not let it end this way."
Her fingers reached out and clawed at Janice's left eye. There was a sickening pop and a jelly like
feeling. Janice screeched as she fell away.
Forcing Janice off of her, Judy sat up and saw Naomi sitting next to Michael. Her lips pulled back
in a feral snarl.
"He's your's." Naomi said in a soft, soothing voice. "In my apartment, under the sink behind a
loose piece of tile there's a hole. Once when I was sane I wrote the truth. Everything. The truth is
in there."
Why is it that people always talk too much and give the bad guys time to recover themselves?
Suddenly Janice, her remaining eye rolling wildly in her head, wrapped her arms around Judy's
throat just as the room behind Naomi burst into violent flames.
Just as quickly as Janice latched unto Judy, Naomi stood, yanking a piece of rotting wood from
the doorframe and shoved first into the fire, then into Janice's other eye. There was a wild,
piercing scream and the arms fell away from Judy who frantically beat the flames out of her own
hair before grabbing Michael under the armpits again and standing, dragging him along.
The last sight she saw before reaching the end of the hallway was blinded Janice, gripping
Naomi's ankle and yanking it so hard even above the crackling flames, one could hear the snape
of bone.
How had she got them out? Judy would never know. The next thing she knew was that she was
outside, covering Michael's nakedness with her own body. A Hispanic man in a Gay Pride tee-
shirt was throwing a blanket over both of them. Siren's filled the night.
"What happened?" This was a woman this time. This one Hispanic as well but with her hair dyed
red, badly. "Who's in there screaming?"
And there was screaming. Death screams. Firefighters pounded passed but Judy wondered if they
would be in time. With a blood and eyeball juice covered finger, Judy wrote in the soil.
Naomi-
"I always knew she was a weirdo," Marcia said.
"Defiantly." Replied Julio.
"So is it good to have your licence back?" Stacy asked as she straightened a crooked picture of
Merlin and a young King Arthur.
Michael smiled, leaning back behind his desk. "Well, in a way I'll miss giving piano lessons, but
on the whole, yes, it's very good."
Just as Naomi had said in one of her sane moments she had written down the entire truth. How
she had never slept with Michael Haversham. How Janice had plied her with drugs and alcohol,
convincing her to kill his wife Nicole. It was all there and the board accepted it as the truth. After
all, all the evidence now said that it was.
With a smile Stacy went over and placed a hand on Michael's shoulder and he flinched. "I'm
sorry," she said, moving away.
"It's funny," Michael said softly, playing with a pencil. "People readily accept a woman being
raped but a woman committing rape... even in this day and age of date rape drugs and Viagra
they just can't believe a woman could rape a man."
"Well, hopefully that'll change." Stacy said. "Hey, you're going to be late."
"Oh God you're right. Judy will never forgive me."
"I thought you weren't going to make it." Judy signed as Michael sat down next to her. Soft
music played in the background as waiters silently pattered around the restaurant.
Smiling he took a sip of his water before answering, "I wouldn't do that to you."
"You think they'll even come?" She signed, nervously chewing her bottom lip.
With a bit of effort, reminding himself heavily that this was Judy, not Naomi, he took her hands.
"Don't worry about it."
Judy did worry however as the time came and passed. Michael's heart ached for her as her face
fell. Tears flooded her eyes but did not fall. She played with her dinner and drank too much wine.
Michael finally paid the bill and took her back to the apartment she shared with her little dog.
Then he called her parents to ask why they never came as they promised to find that they had
changed their phone number. He went home and sat for awhile before finally coming to a
decision. Two hours later he was pounding at Judy's door. When she finally answered he grabbed
her by the upper arms and kissed her.
"I - I can't promise anything." He said even as she led him inside. "It's still - awkward - being
touched by women. I understand now what you were going through before. However, I think - I
really want to try."
Judy nodded and took his hand. Leading him to the bedroom. Letting him undress himself and lay
down next to her wearing only his underwear. They kissed but that was it. However for tonight
that was enough. It was a step on their journey together.
Epilogue
Judy and her parents never did reconcile. Life was not always happy endings after all. However
some things were happy. Eventually both she and Michael came to terms with what happened to
them. It was a long, hard road, but soon they married and after a few years decided to move to
England, with a happy and healthy Maya of course, back to where Michael had grown up. It was
where they wanted their first child to be born.
Dr. Carver lost his license when he was found to be sleeping with one of his patients at the asylum
- one of his male patients. Stacy took over and had great success with her music therapy program.
Except with one patient that was. Music, especially anything that was sung by a soprano, made
him violent...
The Song Bird Slayer's sentence was changed during his appeal to a life time sentence. To be
served out at the Reynold's Institute for the Criminally Insane. Down the hall from him was
Janice. She barely survived her burns. Her mind didn't survive at all. Blind as well as deaf, she
only moved when someone else moved her. The heavily scarred body was bathed, dried, and
dressed by nurses.
Naomi didn't survive the fire at all.
Uncle Mortimer lived long enough to see the birth of his namesake. However it wasn't long
before he finally passed on. A year to the very minute that he died Michael and Judy welcomed
their daughter into the world -
Nicole Haversham.
The End