Conquer (Control) (15 page)

“Well, what’s the name of yer friend?  ‘Cause I can tell you, ain’t no one lived around here but me for the past seven years.  The man’s eyes finally flicked to me as he did a slow once over my body.  My skin crawled from his stare and I inched closer to Daemon.  Taking a protective stance in front of me, Daemon responded.  “His name is Chris.  Do you know him or where we might be able to find him?”

The man’s eyes shot up to Daemon’s.  “Why you looking for that fuck up?  You’re better off forgettin’ about him and staying the fuck away.  The kid ain’t right in his head...”  His finger came up to point at me. “…And you definitely want to keep your girl away from him.  I’ve heard some things about that shit that would make any sane man cringe.”

Apparently, the man knows Chris…

I stepped out from around Daemon to speak to the man directly.  “How do you know Chris?”

The man’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he once again looked me over.  Daemon began to step back in front of me, but I squeezed his hand to indicate that things were alright.  As soon as the man was done committing my body to memory, his yellowed, bloodshot eyes shot back to mine.  “I’m that fucker’s father.  Name’s Bill.  What’s yours?”  His lewd grin was only made more gruesome by the appearance of his nicotine stained teeth.

“Mine’s…uh…Jenny.  I knew Chris a long time ago, remembered he lived in this trailer.”

“Yeah, well, he did.  Years ago.  He moved out a year after his momma went missing.”

“Missing?  Or did she just take off?”

Bill’s hand reached down to scratch his crotch and make an adjustment before his focus returned to me.  “Don’t know what happened to her.  Some think the bitch ran off, others think she died of some drug overdose somewhere and ain’t no one found the body.  Me?  Well, I agree the bitch is dead, but I don’t think it was no overdose that did it.  I didn’t think so at first, but, lookin’ back, I wouldn’t be surprised if Chris didn’t have somethin’ to do with her disappearance.  Bitch deserved it, if he did.”

A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of Chris killing his own mother.  I glanced at Daemon before looking back at Bill.  “Why do you think Chris had something to do with it?  Why would he want to kill his own mother?”

Bill looked around at the empty trailer park before nodding towards the interior of his trailer.  “It’s best you folks come inside if you want to finish this conversation.   I don’t need no eavesdropping bitches listening in on what I’m telling you.  You see, the women ‘round these parts have a thing for me.  I’m sure after they saw you comin’, they’re sittin’ at their windows and doors trying to hear what we’re talking ‘bout. You two want to know more, we best get out of earshot of them nosy bitches.”

I turned to glance around the park.  Except for some random trash blowing through the street, and a dog that looked to be half dead walking around, there was nobody to be seen.  I looked back to Bill in confusion.  “I don’t see anybody.”

“Don’t need to see ‘em to know they are there.  Plus, my legs need some restin’.  I ain’t as young as I used to be and I don’t like standing ‘round for too long.  You’re welcome to come in and finish this conversation, but I ain’t standing out here any longer.”  Bill turned to walk back into the trailer.  Daemon and I held onto each other as the trailer shook and groaned from the weight of Bill’s footsteps, once the shaking stopped, I figured he must have found his seat.  The last thing I wanted to do was go inside that trailer, but I had no choice.  Taking Daemon’s hand, I walked in, but indicated to Daemon to leave the door open in case we needed to make a quick exit.  There was no telling when this heap of scrap metal would come tumbling down.

As I entered the trailer, the first thing that grabbed my attention was the 1970’s shag carpeting that appeared to have been avocado green at one point, however now it was a muddled brown with areas missing in some parts, and slick black patches in others.  The walls of the trailer weren’t much better.  At one time, those walls had sported some impressive wood paneling, however, now, the wood had rotted and was falling down.  The areas behind the paneling were yellowed.  When I noticed clusters of black spots that peaked out from behind the paneling, I instantly wished I’d brought a dust mask with me to keep from breathing in the obvious mold.  The furniture in the house was almost nonexistent, except for some milk crates that had been turned over to be used as tables, a large orange sofa that was currently occupied by Bill, and two folding chairs.  A large ashtray, overflowing with old cigarette butts, sat in the middle of the hodgepodge living room furniture.  Old newspapers and magazines, which looked to be at least fifteen to twenty years old, given the fashion on the covers, were stacked into corners of the room.  Some of the papers had apparently become wet and were now a pile of paper mush on the floor.

I examined the folding chair which was set opposite the couch and didn’t notice anything obviously wrong with it.  I hesitantly sat down while slowly lowering my full weight into the seat.  Looking to Daemon, I noticed he too was examining his chair, however he eventually decided to remain standing.  I looked over as Bill lit up a cigarette.  He took two puffs and placed it down to burn atop the pile of butts in the ashtray.

“So, you were saying?”

Bill looked up at me and nodded his head towards the far left wall.   “Them’s pictures of Chris and his momma.  Not sure what happened to the bitch as Chris got older, but she went from being a sweet and loving mother, to one of the meanest bitches I’d ever come across.  Some believe the drinkin’ and druggin’ got to her, who the hell knows?  All I know is that Chris became her whipping boy ‘round the time he turned six.  I would have done more for the boy if I could, but I drove trucks for a living and was only around three days out of the month.  I never realized how bad it was for the kid, ‘til I moved back and them nosy bitches told me ‘bout it.  I mean, yeah, the kid was bruised up a lot, but most boys are.  I just figured he was fightin’ other kids.”

I sucked in breath in realization of what Bill was telling us.  Chris was abused as a child by his mother.  My mind started reeling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.  On one hand, I still hated Chris with every fiber of my being for the things he’d done to my friends and other people; but on the other, my heart went out to a child like Buddy, who’d endured hatred and pain from the one person who should have been protected him.  I heard Daemon shift where he was standing.  Glancing up, I noticed that his face had taken on a pained expression.  It was so discreet that most wouldn’t notice it as being any different from the blank expression he normally wore.  His eyes were the giveaway.  Those gorgeous blues would darken and churn whenever Daemon was upset.

Turning back to Bill, I asked, “How bad was the abuse, Bill?  Obviously, if there were bruises, it was physical in nature, but did it go farther than that?”

Bill leaned back causing the back of the couch to groan in protest to the added weight.  He took a minute to ponder my question.  “I don’t think there was any sexual abuse happening, but the women ‘round the park told me that his momma got a special kick out of humiliating the kid every chance she got.  She was mean as a snake, that one.  She would scream at Chris, call him names, even push him around in front of everyone.   They said that when he was younger, he would cry, and she’d keep on, causing him to cry harder.   But as he grew older…well…let’s just say, women got scared.  They told me the boy became quiet while his momma yelled at him.  He was too damn big to push around physically, but that dumb woman wouldn’t let up on the other shit. The women ‘round here said something wasn’t right with him, but never did nothin’ about it.  Said they would catch him out and about around the neighborhood staring at girls…sometimes taking pictures.  Looking back on it, I noticed a change in that kid when he hit his teens, I just never was around enough to concern myself with it.”

I learned in that moment that one of the most aggravating feelings in life was having your heart break for a person that you couldn’t stand.   I wanted to think Chris was born evil, but the picture Bill was painting for me was of a small, scared kid that got pushed around and embarrassed his entire life.   No wonder he was as fucked up as he was.  He didn’t know anything different.   Regardless, just because Chris was abused growing up, it didn’t give him an excuse for the pain he was causing other people.  I shook my sadness away to return to the task at hand.

“Was anybody ever hurt, you know, by Chris, when he still lived here?”

Bill lit up another cigarette before answering.  “Not that I know of.  But you know how that shit goes.  Sometimes people don’t say nothin’.  I don’t recall hearin’ ‘bout him hurtin’ no one, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Do you know where we might find Chris?”

Bill laughed a deep belly laugh.  “I couldn’t tell you shit about where he’d be.  I suspect his ass is running scared at this point.  I saw some shit on the news that police are looking for him.  If I was him, I’d be holed up in the middle of the woods somewhere, or as far from here as I could get.  Sorry, but I haven’t spoken to that fuck up in years…not since he took off after his momma disappeared.”

Daemon cleared his throat to get my attention.  “Don’t you think it’s time we go, Jenny?  I think Bill has given us enough of his time.  I nodded and stood up. 

“Thanks for talking with us, Bill.”

“Yep.”

As Daemon led me to the door, I remembered the absence of Bill’s name on Chris’ background report.  Curious as to the reason, I turned to ask, “Hey Bill.  Chris never told me he had a father.  How is it, I’ve never heard of you?”

Bill cocked an eyebrow at my question.  “Reckon it’s because that bitch never listed me as the father on anything for that kid.  She didn’t give him my last name and she never married me.  All I was to that bitch was a paycheck.  I didn’t move in here permanently until after she was dead.  Chris didn’t know me too well, either.  I doubt that bitch even told him who I was.  I’m sure he just figured me to be another one of her dealers or fuck buddies.”

I thanked Bill again as Daemon dragged me through the front door.  We carefully maneuvered the porch contraption once again and were quickly in Daemon’s truck heading out of the park.

~

Daemon was distant and unusually quiet on the ride home. 

My voice was soft as I hesitantly asked. “Everything okay?” 

His expression was a mixture of sadness and anger.  I wondered if he was having the same conflicting feelings about Chris after our meeting with Bill.  Daemon didn’t immediately respond to my question, so I turned the radio down.  Reaching over to touch his arm, I repeated, “Daemon?  What’s going on in that head of yours?  Everything alright?”

We were stopped at a traffic light and the red glow of the light shown through the windshield, casting his face in ominous shadows.  Although the setting sun still lit the horizon, it no longer battled against the shadows that now consumed the interior of the vehicle.  Daemon’s shoulders dropped as he let out a long breath and settled back further into his seat.

“Why him and not me?”

Daemon’s question took me by surprise.  “What are you talking about?”

Daemon turned his head to look at me.  “Chris.  We apparently have one thing in common.  Both of us had a really shitty parent.  My father was apparently no better than his mother.  So why did he become the way he is and not me?  Shouldn’t we have turned out the same?”  He let out another heavy breath, returning his attention to the road.  Once the light turned green, I felt the truck jerk forward.

I was silent as I considered his question.  He spoke again before I had the opportunity to respond.  “Maybe we did turn out the same, but in different ways.  I mean, it’s safe to say I’ve got one hell of a temper, I fought constantly growing up, even into my adulthood.   Plus, the way I treated women…there was no respect there, no concern for the way I treated them.  Not until you, at least.”

“Daemon.  There’s a huge difference between you and Chris, and I’m a little shocked that you are even attempting to make the comparison.  You’ve never forced yourself on a woman as far as I know…”  I eyed him in silent question and he smirked and nodded in response. “…and I’m also assuming you’ve never beaten and almost killed somebody…”  Eyeing him again, he nodded to confirm my assumption.  “…so there’s no comparison.   Not everyone who’s been abused is going to turn into a psychopath.  Maybe Chris snapped due to the duration of time he went through it.  I’m not saying it was advantageous that your dad killed himself and your mom when he did, but possibly that freed you from the abuse.  However, even if he hadn’t, we still don’t know that you would have turned out any differently than you are.  So, you’ve used women in your day.  That’s not much different than a lot of guys out there.  Trust me.  Annie’s dated most of them.  And the fighting?  Again, that’s not completely abnormal.”

The silence between us was thick as Daemon considered my words.  He reached one hand over to grasp mine and I squeezed encouragingly upon contact.  “I know, Damsel.  I’m not saying that I would ever become as depraved as Chris, I just don’t understand how I’m not more screwed up than I am.  I was bounced around so often, barely loved by any of the adults who attempted to care for me.  I was difficult as hell, and if it hadn’t been for Frank, I could be dead or locked up in some prison cell.”

“Maybe it’s because you had someone to kick your ass into being normal.  You heard Bill.  He didn’t give enough of a shit to step in and do anything for Chris, and neither did the other adults who witnessed what his mother was doing to him.”  As I thought about it more, I was taken by a sudden realization.

“I wonder if Chris’ obsession with me had something to do with what Bill was telling us.”

Daemon’s eyes flicked to mine quickly as he remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.  “Bill said that Chris’ mom used to publically humiliate him.  Well, in a sense, so did I.  I mean, think about it.  That night at Tomb and then again at my apartment.  Both times, the guy was tossed out like last week’s leftovers only after being called every name one could possibly assign to a drunken bigot who liked getting touchy-feely.  And whom do you ask was the cause of all that?  Me.”