Chapter 45: Helena

In a windowless room it’s impossible to tell if it’s day or night. Not that it mattered too much to Helena since sleep was not about to come easily. The mattress was threadbare, circles of string looping along the length of it. She could see pieces of the stuffing weaseling through the gaps in the fabric and she kept her shoulder on top of where she put the baggie all night.

What little sleep she got was littered with neon nightmares, technicolor and beyond this world vision of herself, her father, Ryan, Sheila, everyone she had met in this short span of long days becoming monsters she could barely comprehend upon waking. In one of them, she flayed Ryan’s skin off of his body; sliced the flesh off the muscle and watched the yellow layer of fat oozing out of him. When she woke up, she saw the stuffing was the same color and it jutted through the fabric in the same way. Bile rose in her throat. She covered her mouth and breathed out of her nose to keep from retching.

The plan, from where she stood, was to drug the food supply and somehow signal to the three in the woods once the effects were starting to kick in. From there, they’d rush the compound, subdue and restrain whomever they could, and take out the ones they thought would be too much trouble if kept alive.

Ryan had used that euphemism when discussing the plan as if Helena couldn’t stomach the word “kill.”

“You think I care what happens to any of these guys?” Helena scoffed as Ryan flitted around the real action. “I hope you kill them, if we’re being honest.”

But not Isla and Mia. Not the kids. Helena hadn’t counted on seeing so many innocent faces on Troy’s compound, and the word “kill” took on a metallic quality in her mind. It sounded the way blood tasted.

At some point in the early morning hours when the obsidian of night relented but didn’t yet allow for the velvet silver of pre-dawn, Helena had braved the long hallway in search of the bathroom. She stumbled into the living room, holding her hands outright to find her way without light. The city never fell to full blackness and her father’s house, though in an area that welcomed the completeness of wild night, always had a light burning somewhere.

“You lost or something?” came a voice out of the void. It was a female voice but still, Helena tensed.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” she answered, speaking in whatever direction she thought was accurate.

“Hold on, I’ll show ya.”

There was a rustling, fabric brushing against fabric then a light flicked on from another room. Standing in a doorway and severely backlit, Mia jutted her thumb over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Helena said, moving past her. “I can’t believe I didn’t have to pee until now.”

Mia nodded, a single eyebrow dancing in an arch then dropping. “You don’t seem dumb.”

“Ok,” was Helena’s weak response.

“Well, we heard you just handed yourself over to Troy. A dangerous man that you don’t know anything about. You had your little boyfriend or whatever drop you off and that’s that.” Mia leaned her head to one side. In the buzzing light of the bathroom, her skin looked sallow and the circles under her eyes went from pale purple to the color of bruises. “You’re not planning something? You don’t have a Hail Mary up your sleeve?”

“What plan could I possibly have?” Helena asked but Mia didn’t answer. She stepped out into the hallway and pulled the bathroom door closed.

Helena peed then sat for a long time. There was a window close to the toilet but all it did was reflect her own face back to her. She was tired of that face, she was tired of herself. Even if they did pull this off and she was freed from Troy and her father was freed from his debt, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to return to. The few friends she had were vacuous, probably boring to her after all this. Her nepotism job seemed even more hollow than it had when she was at it. There was nothing that once belonged to her that she was longing for. Besides Ryan. Nothing else dominated her thoughts like he did.

Mia came to wake her up in the morning but Helena hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. They stared at each other until Mia held a hand out and helped Helena to her feet,

“Ya know, whatever your daddy owes Troy, you’re too much for the debt. He can’t possibly owe as much as your worth.”

“I’m not worth much of anything, Mia,” Helena told her, meaning every word of it.

Mia’s eyes went blank. She nodded as if that crystallized it all in her head, as if now it formed into a recognizable logic.

There was no one else in the house when Helena came out of her room. The kids were gone and she didn’t see any sign of Isla. Mia left out the kitchen door, calling for Troy as she walked.

“She’s awake, Troy!” Helena heard from inside. “Get this over with!”

There was a scuffle outside. Helena could hear someone being dragged along, their feet stumbling and catching on the uneven ground. Men’s voices grumbled and shouted at each other, and she stood stock still in the living room, every part of her body taut and pounding with adrenaline. Fight or flight meant nothing in this situation but she couldn’t turn it off.

Troy entered first, his procession of men trailing behind him. Daniel was leading a hostage who had a bag over his head and his hands bound in front of him. The man’s clothing was dirty, torn but surprisingly nice. Khakis, leather shoes, a button down shirt as if he had been ripped out of a business lunch by a marauding army of shifter soldiers.

“Morning, princess,” Troy said, his voice flat. “How’d ya sleep?”

“What the hell is going on here, Troy?” Helena asked. The only response she got was cruel laughter.

“We’re organizing a little family reunion, sweetheart.”

Troy motioned to Daniel and the man was thrown unceremoniously into the center of the room, landing hard on his knees. From under the bag, a moan escaped. Helena’s jaw clenched.

“That’s my dad.”

Troy’s smile curled like a snarl. “It sure is. Say good morning to him.”

He yanked the bag off his head, and Helena stared down in disbelief. Her father’s face was covered with bruises and rust colored speckles of dried blood littered his jawline, under his nose. The strain it took him to lift his eyes to hers made Helena cringe.

Helena took a halting step forward then jerked backwards as if afraid to get too close. “Dad, are you ok?”

“Oh, isn’t that precious?” Troy mocked, leaning over her father and holding his face between two fingers.

“Don’t touch him,” Helena snapped. As soon as she saw the light in Troy’s eyes, she regretted saying anything. He wanted the fight, he wanted to see the anger and to sink his teeth into it, toss her around by her own emotions like a limp little ragdoll.

“I wouldn’t be as protective of the old man if I were you,” Troy told her. “He certainly didn’t think there was anything wrong with handing over his daughter to pay his debts.”

“What?” Helena’s teeth ground into each other but then she shook her head. “You’re a liar. Why would I listen to you?”

Troy slapped her father on the back. “Tell her, Tom. Tell her what you told me.”

Tom met Helena’s worried, anxious gaze then averted his eyes. Every cell in her body was on fire. Being here and trapped and under someone else’s control was bad enough but at least she had believed she was cared for outside of that; at least she could comfort herself with the idea that she was loved if nothing else.

“He’s twisting my words, Helena,” Tom started slowly. “He was threatening to kill me and I said if he gave me more time-”

“That I could have you for collateral,” Troy finished for him. “That I could take your daughter and do whatever I wanted to her.”

“I didn’t say that,” Tom argued but Troy backhanded him across the face and he fell gasping and flush to the floor.

“And he still didn’t pay up.” Troy began to walk in a circle around Helena’s father, the light in those eyes turning brighter and colder with each rotation. “After all that, he stiffed us.”

“I told you: I can get the money. I’m good for it. You know I’m good for it.”

Troy crouched down. Daniel and the other men behind him started laughing, a pack of hyenas circling an nascent kill.

“You’re good for nothing, Tom,” Troy said. His voice was ice. A shiver ran through Helena just hearing it. “You never have been and now your daughter knows it too.”

He stood upright and snapped his fingers. The other men began to pant and growl, their mouths foaming with spittle and their bodies twisting. Helena watched as they transformed; as their spines changed and their snouts elongated. They sank closer to the ground, more and more like beasts with every second.

“Wait, Troy,” Helena held her hands in front of her. “What can I do to stop this? Please. I’ll do anything you want. Don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt him? Oh, baby girl.” Troy approached her and took her chin in his hand. “We’re not going to hurt him.” His smile punched a hole through Helena’s gut, wrenched her intestines into knots. “We’re going to kill him.”

Helena jerked forward as if she had any ability to stop what was happening but Troy caught her around the waist and wrestled her into place. The other men now lurched behind Tom, hairy and dead eyed, all their points sharpened and on display. Helena wished she could look away, wished she could stop everything that was happening. Her father wouldn’t even bring his face up to see her one last time.

“Don’t do this, please,” Helena begged, Troy’s ropey arm pinning her tight to his side. “Troy, I mean it. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

“That’s sweet, baby girl, but here’s the facts: you’re gonna do anything I want no matter what.”

He snapped his fingers again and the wolves descended on Helena’s father. She screamed as the first one sank his teeth into his neck; she struggled against the arms holding her in place as they tore into him. Tom let out inhuman noises, sounds of pain she had never heard before and hoped to god she would never hear again.

Helena hid her face as the massacre continued. She listened for her father’s spurts of agony for as long as they lasted, each one more horrible than the last. Troy dropped her to the floor once the scene had quieted down. She sat with her back to the bloodshed, breathing hard in the merciful quiet that she knew would haunt her for as long as she had left to exist.