Page 10 of Traces of Her

Six

ROWENA

Seventeen Years Old

IF THE WALLS IN THIS HOUSE were able to talk, I think they would choose to be silent. Some stories don’t need to be told and silence can speak louder than any words ever could. The walls are bursting at the seams with the secrets demanding to be set free. And after tonight they will be free.

I sit on Maggie’s bed watching the hands on the clock tick as they slowly spin in circles until the hour strikes ten o’clock. Standing up, I smooth my hair back, securing it into a tight ponytail. I pull my spandex shorts farther up my thighs and give the room a quick sweep with my eyes. Everything is in place, like the room had never been touched.

I quickly pull on a pair of sneakers, making sure the laces are tight. The weather tonight said it was to be warm outside, so my shorts and t-shirt should be enough. I quietly leave the room for the last time, slowly closing the door from one chapter of my life. My footsteps are light as I sneak down the hallway, past Janet and Phil’s bedroom. The door is slightly ajar. I peak in on Janet curled up sleeping with the T.V. casting different shades of light across her face. I quietly pull the door completely shut and silently flip her off, saying goodbye to her for the last time.

I creep down the stairs, coming to a stop outside of Phil’s office. I quickly glance, judging the distance once more from his office to the front door. If everything goes as planned, I’ll have just enough time to put in the code and make my escape. If everything goes as planned.

His door cracks open when I knock on it so I walk in uninvited. A bottle of whiskey hangs from his hand, draped over the side of his armchair. He looks away from the fireplace and looks up at me. A lazy, drunken smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Ah, Rowena,” he slurs. “I knew you’d come looking for me one of these nights.”

I walk up to him, a seductive smile sliding onto my face and pull the whiskey from his hand. I put the bottle against my lips and wink at him before tipping my head back, taking a long drink. He groans, adjusting himself in the chair and I struggle to remain in character. I throw back some more whiskey, needing the liquid courage for what I am about to do.

Putting my hand on his forehead, I push his head back and pour the alcohol down his throat. He gives me a hazy look and his tongue slips out, licking his lips. I let go of his head and put my hand on his chest. Slowly, I drag my nails across his shoulders as I walk around behind the chair. With my free hand, I tip the bottle, leaving a trail of alcohol on the expensive Persian rug. I stalk over to the windows, making sure to pull the drapes closed and pour small amounts of the liquor on the bottoms of them.

“Come to Daddy,” Phil slurs again, motioning for me to come toward him.

Fuck. This is it.

Swaying my hips, I make my way over to him, taking another drink of the whiskey. I put my knees on either side of him and climb on top of him. He grabs the bottle from my hand, slamming it beside the candle on the table beside us. His hands find my ass quickly and he grips them hard pulling me against him. Letting go with one hand, he grabs my head and pulls my face down to his. His breath is hot against my lips. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls and traces my lips with his tongue. “I can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again.”

I force the bile back down my throat as he chases after it with his tongue. Survival kicks in and I remember what I’m here for. I play along, moaning, moving against him, letting his hands and his mouth roam. I’m still on top of him when I roughly shift enough, using just enough force to rock the table that causes the bottle to tip over and knock over the candle. I put both hands, cupping the sides of his eyes like blinders on racehorses, blocking the flames skirting across the carpet licking the drapes.

I moan loudly, glancing at the ever-growing flames and grind against his pencil dick. He groans, letting out a string of curses into my mouth. He starts coughing, choking on the growing smoke. “Fuck, it’s fucking hot in here.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and clumsily pushes me back. His eyes open, taking in the burning room through the thick smoke. “What the fuck!” he yells, shoving me onto the ground and jumping to his feet.

Slowly standing up, for the first time in years, my lips curl upward into a real smile. Phil throws his hands up in the air, stumbling around, stuck in the circle of fire I’ve created around us. “You fucking did this? You little bitch!” he screams at me, coming toward me. I take a quick step backward toward the fireplace and grab the sharp pointed poker. Spinning it around, I thrust it toward him, touching his chest as he nears me.

“Sit the fuck down,” I tell him, pushing the poker into his chest. The fire continues to consume the room surrounding us. Phil shuts his mouth, glaring at me and falls back into his chair. “For years I have played in you and Janet’s fucked up little world. I’ve played along with your games, pretending to be your daughter. I’ve laid there countless nights while you fucking molested me and all the times Janet scrubbed me with bleach,” I pause, smiling at him. “I’m done. This” —I wave my hands around— “is all done.”

He gives me a sinister smile. “This is far from done, whore,” he spits. “And something like this calls for an extreme punishment.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “That’s where you’re wrong, Phillip.” I take a deep breath, sucking in the thick smoke, holding in a cough. “All of this, all of us, it’s over.”

Phil opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off forcefully shoving the poker stick deep through his upper abdomen, all the way through into the chair. He begins coughing, choking, blood spitting from his mouth.

“There’s a special place in hell for sick fuckers like you,” I say, backing away from him. His eyes never leave mine as I move away and wink while blowing him a kiss.

I leave him choking on smoke and his own blood behind me and try to figure out how the fuck I’m getting out of this. The entirety of the room is up in flames. The smoke is so thick and pungent, it’s hard to breathe or see where to get out. If I want out, this is my only chance. Adrenaline kicks in and I try jumping over and around flames and away from falling debris. I feel the skin across my shoulder and down my back burning as I make my escape. As I reach the door, it’s flung open by a hysterical Janet.

“Oh my God!” she screams. “What happened? Where’s Phil?” she shrieks, spinning around in a panic.

“He’s stuck in his office right now. Can I take a message?” I sneer.

“What have you done, Maggie?” she cries, looking into the room and back at me. “What have you done?”

I move closer, looking her directly in the eyes and lower my voice. “I did exactly what needed to be done.” I turn away from her, hearing her sobs growing louder. I punch the code into the keypad at the front door and it beeps, unlocking the door.

“Maggie, you have to come help me get your father!” she screams.

Stepping out into the fresh air of the dark night, I turn back and look at her. “I’m not Maggie and I never will be,” I say, shutting the door, sealing them in the burning house, with Janet’s screams echoing in my ears.

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