No Happily Ever After (The Fairytale Diaries #1) (3 page)

Chapter 3

T
he unfinished basement cavern Zoe stumbled into could only be described as a torture chamber.

She stood frozen in her spot, mouth gaping, blood rushing to her head.  Every fiber of her being wanted to turn and run away screaming, but she could not move.  One thing was certain, this scene had never occurred in her dreams or imaginings.

The first thing she noticed was in the center of the room.  It was an archaic looking wooden rack, suspended from the ceiling, and with restraints dangling at each of its four corners.  At the top and bottom of it were rollers and cranks.  Though she'd never seen such a thing before, it was easy to tell that a person could be fixed to it and then stretched and torn.

Next to the rack was what appeared to be a medical examining table.  Next to that was a table set up with every imaginable variety of rusty metal instruments.  Scalpels, syringes, speculums, and a myriad of other items that appeared to come from a time long forgotten by modern science.  Worst of all, the table and instruments were all covered with dried blood.

Looming in one corner was a large black box that was vaguely human shaped.  It hung ajar, and inside it was full of ugly, vicious looking spikes.  Any poor soul who had the misfortune of being shut inside would be impaled hundreds of times, simultaneously over his or her entire body.  And judging by the blood on the spikes, she had no doubt that somebody had met that fate.

She noted a wall where dozens of horrific looking devices hung neatly.  A chair with metal spikes and that appeared to be electrified as well.  Nooses and hand cuffs that dangled from the ceiling in various spots.  Along the opposite wall were two small prison cells adjoining.  There was no one in the cells, or in the horrid room, but the blood stains everywhere revealed the awful truth.  It may have been empty at present, but it was most definitely well used.

And then, the sound of a door opening upstairs and voices, snapped her from the nightmares of her mind, into the hell her reality had just become.

"I can't believe we made the trip in just to have the game canceled," a man's voice complained.

Every muscle in Zoe's body constricted.  She spun and bolted backwards to hit the light switch at the bottom of the steps she'd just descended.  Once again, she stood shrouded in darkness.

Zoe shook uncontrollably, desperately clinging to any coherent thought.  She had no idea just what sort of twisted hell on earth she'd gotten into, but she knew she had to escape.  And fast.  Because her boots were sitting right inside their back door.  Soon, they'd know there was someone in their home.

Zoe crept up the basement steps and back into the pitch dark hallway. 

"Mother!  I think someone ate our soup!" she heard Benjamin Bar cry out.

She couldn't breathe as she tip toed down the hallway.

"Hey!  Ben, did you break your chair and not say anything?" came his father's voice from dangerously close outside the door that had led her to the very hallway where she stood. She began frantically feeling the walls, searching for another door.  She stumbled when she encountered an opening, and realized she'd found another stairway.  This one led up.  Oh so quietly, Zoe mounted the stairs.  Just as she came to the top of the stairs into another hallway, Mrs. Bar's alarmed voice rang out again.

"Someone's in the house right now!  Her boots are by the back door!  Find her!"

The woman's voice was urgent and angry.

Zoe began to sob and she darted into the nearest room.  She heard their footsteps clamoring below.  They shouted to one another as they searched the downstairs.

She found herself inside a bedroom and she looked around not knowing just what to do.  She hadn't even explored the entire ground floor and knew there was no way she could go back downstairs and somehow slip past them.  Her eyes landed on the window, showing the sparkling full moon outside.

Then, she heard the distinct sound of rhythmic footsteps on the stairs.

They weren't on the stairway she'd just come up, so maybe they were far enough away to give her a precious few seconds head start.  Without a second thought, Zoe darted to the window, threw the lock, and slid it open.

And then she jumped.

***

Despite the blanket of snow that had formed, the ground was unforgiving.  Her right leg snapped and she crumpled into the snow.  She bit into her own hand to keep herself from screaming.

Her consciousness waivered as the pain threatened to take over.  Glancing down, she saw bone had torn through her flesh and her jeans.

But unfortunately, at that point, her broken leg was and her stocking feet in the snow, were the least of her troubles.  She would move, or she would die.  There was no doubt about it.

Zoe Locke somehow hauled herself off the ground.  The woods were a mere ten feet from where she'd landed. She hopped as fast as she could, dragging her broken leg.  The movement caused pain so sickening; she could almost fool her mind into not feeling it.  She took to the trees.

Inside the forest, there was far less snow on the ground, as not much had been able to find its way through the tree limbs.  She tried to stick to snowless ground and head toward the road.  Eventually, she heard them outside, still yelling to one another, but she'd managed to put some distance between herself and them whilst they'd searched their home.

Zoe kept moving.  Their voices faded.  They weren't following her.

Eventually she made it to the road.  She blubbered incoherently.  Her functioning foot was bitterly cold and she knew soon she'd lose sensation and be unable to walk anymore.  However, the cold also served to lessen the pain of her broken leg.  So, on she went.

She stayed in the trees close to the road and kept proceeding back toward town.  She prayed for a car to happen by, but also feared the Bar's perhaps taking to the road in their car to seek out their escaped intruder.  So, she remained hidden.  And quickly, her strength and speed diminished.

Then, she saw headlights.  And, a spotlight.

Zoe dropped to the ground and watched.  The car approached slowly and when it finally passed, her heart exalted to see that it was a police cruiser.

With the last bit of will Zoe could muster, she scrambled on her hands and knees.  She crashed out of the trees onto the snowy road.

"STOP!" she screamed, crying wretchedly.  "PLEASE! STOP!"

She dropped herself up on her knees and waved her arms.

The lights of the cruiser washed her in bright red.  And then she collapsed, stone cold unconscious in the snow.

Chapter 4

Z
oe woke up screaming.

Images of herself suffering unspeakable violence in the torture chamber remained vivid in her mind's eye for several moments as she woke.  Nurses rushed to soothe her as she thrashed wildly.

When finally the nightmare dissipated, and the oppression of slumber lifted, she realized she was in a hospital bed.

And she was handcuffed to it.

"Where am I?" Zoe gasped.

A police officer who was seated in the corner of the white sterile room rose and approached her bed.  He was tall and stocky.  He wore long shining dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail.  He had a dashing mustache and goatee, and an eye patch covered his right eye.  She recognized him as Officer Hook, a man who'd operated the
D.A.R.E.
activities in Faraway school for as long as she could recall.  She'd always thought him quite smarmy to be a cop, and suspected he didn't always have the best interests of the public at heart.  She'd often wondered what dastardly event had cost him his eye.  And had he deserved it?

"Ms. Locke, are these your boots?" he asked pointedly, holding up her black snow boots.

She shook her head groggily, trying to free herself of the dizzying confusion in her mind.  "Yes.  But, where-"

"Ms. Locke," he said again, in his brief snippy way.  "What do you know about a series of break ins here in Faraway, ending with the Bar residence last night?"

Zoe frowned.  "I… Uh…" Once again, visions of the awful lair in the Bars' basement assaulted her.  "Listen, Officer Hook!  They're horrible, rotten people.  Murderers!  Their basement-"

"Ma'am!  Answer the question!"

Emotion bubbled up inside Zoe.  She began yanking against the hand cuffs, so hard that the cold steel bit into her flesh.  "PLEASE!  You've got to listen to me!"

"Zoe Locke, because you may have been incoherent before when I did this, we'll go through it again.  You have the right to remain silent-"

"THEY HAVE A TORTURE CHAMBER IN THEIR HOUSE!"

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"PLEASE! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!" she screamed, weeping.

"You have the right to an attorney."

"P…  Puh…  PLLLLLEEEEEAAAASE just LISTEN!"

Officer Hook paused to glare coldly at her.  But then he resumed his somber reading of her rights completely ignoring her screams.

***

Zoe told everybody she encountered about the Bar's basement, but nobody listened to her.  They treated her accusations like the lunatic ramblings of a criminal desperately trying to stay out of jail.

Contrary to what Zoe had believed, many of her burglaries had been reported.  And during the sixteen hours she'd lain unconscious in the hospital being treated for her broken leg and frost bite, authorities had collected DNA to link her to the crimes.  She was arraigned the following morning and sentenced to six months in a juvenile detention center just outside of Faraway. 

As officers escorted her inside the big stone building that day, she looked over her shoulder at the last she would see of the outside world for half a year.  But she did not feel sad to be going to juvie.

For she knew if she couldn’t make somebody believe her about the Bars, the real tragedy would be waiting for her when she was released.

Part I
I

Kiss the Poison Apple

Chapter 5

I
magine the surprise of Quinton Pure when his teen aged daughter, Cailyn, confronted him regarding the illicit affair he was having.

Cailyn didn't make her discovery in any devious manner.  It was innocent and quite by accident.  It was also entirely Quinton's fault.  He committed the ultimate blunder of a man cheating on his wife. 

He left his web browser open.

It was late autumn, and only a few weeks away from Thanksgiving when Cailyn dropped into the desk chair in the family room early one morning. Her mother Nathalie was still in bed and her father had already left for work.  Cailyn was still trying to wake up and get it together for school, and had decided to mindlessly stare at Likebook
for a few minutes before showering.

When she touched the mouse, the screen saver dissipated and a picture of voluptuous breasts took over the screen.

Cailyn gasped and reared backwards for a moment, staring at the picture, and trying to determine just exactly what she was looking at.  Obviously, it was a pair of milky white bosoms.  But why was it there?  Things began to register.  The photo was attached to an email.  Upon closer consideration, she saw that it was her father's email account, left wide open.

He was the recipient.  The sender was Aliah Joiner.  Aliah Joiner was decidedly
not
Cailyn's mother.

Along with the picture was a filthy message that in one instant, changed her perception of her father.  This was not spam email.  Cailyn's head spun and there was a rushing sound in her ears.  She glanced around the room at the dozens of family pictures that graced the walls.  Her lovely, smiling mother.  Nathalie Pure was the ideal devoted wife.  She conducted herself with a pleasant demeanor and outlook always.  She worked and earned an excellent living while simultaneously keeping a wholesome home for the family.  On top of her long list of strong character traits, Cailyn's mom was beautiful.  With her mother, Cailyn shared identical looks.  Petite curvaceous shape, jet black long hair, and blood red lips.

Cailyn began to boil.  How could her father even entertain the notion of dishonoring a woman like that?

She began further investigating her father's email account and all his improper communications with this wicked woman.  There were many pictures, but none of her face.  They sickened her.  Most of the messages involved disgusting talk and nothing more.  But there were a few of a more serious nature.  Promises were exchanged.  Plans were made.  Her father had told this woman he would leave his wife to be with her.  Worse, these promises had been made for several years, according to the record of emails sent.

She sat trembling, staring at the screen with her mouth hanging open.  Tears swam in her eyes.  She felt both hot and cold at the same time, her head spun, and her ears rang.  Moments with her father throughout her life, raced through her mind.  He'd been loving and devoted all her days; she couldn't recall any different.  He was affectionate with her mother.  They were a family of laughter, always.  Yet, he'd made plans behind the scenes to leave them, and to make a new life with another woman.

Cailyn logged out of her father's email and laid her head on her arms to bawl.

***

Cailyn Pure wore head to toe black to school that day.  In no way was she normally the Goth sort of girl, but that day she changed entirely.  Her very foundation was shaken and crumbling.  She felt desperately sad for her beloved mother.

And violently angry toward her philandering father.

She suffered through the excruciating school day, ignoring everything and everyone.  Literally dozens of her classmates at Faraway Senior High asked her what was wrong, and Cailyn wilted them all with one look.  She failed to participate in any class, which was also highly unlike her.  The thing was, she simply could not stop thinking of that evil woman's breasts.

By the time last period rolled around, half her friends were cross with her, and she hadn't even bothered to make note of a single homework assignment.

As soon as the last bell of the school day rang, dismissing students, Cailyn stormed through the hallway and out the door. She didn't stop by her locker to collect her belongings and put on her coat.  The frigid wind outside bit into Cailyn's pale skin, but her anger kept her warm. She stomped down the street and straight downtown.  In no time, she shoved open the door to her father's law firm.

"Oh hello, Cailyn," said the receptionist pleasantly.  Cailyn ignored her all together and savagely thrust open the door that connected the waiting room to the rear office area.  "Oh!  Uh, Cailyn, he's in a-"

The pretty receptionist jumped up, sending a waft of heavy perfume in Cailyn's direction, to attempt to intervene on her warpath.  But Cailyn was already slamming into her father's office before the receptionist could even complete her sentence. 

A small, mousy man's head snapped up and regarded her with surprise.  Her father also looked at her in utter amazement.  Red crept up his neck into his face.

"Cailyn Pure!  I'm with a client," he admonished as the secretary ran in behind her.

Cailyn smiled snidely at the client.  "I'm sorry sir; your appointment's been canceled.  Please reschedule on your way out." She held open the door and gestured toward the hallway as everyone gaped at her, flabbergasted.

Mr. Pure leapt up and slammed his hands down on the desk.  "CAILYN! Wait outside until I finish with my client," he said, seething anger.

Cailyn chuckled.  "What I have to say can't wait," she snarled.

Mr. Pure visibly shook with his fuming rage.  "Cailyn, do not make me say it again."

The mousy man stood up and Mr. Pure stammered around asking him to please stay.  But then Cailyn leveled a brutal gaze on her father with smoldering black eyes.

"Dad, I know.  I saw your email."

As fast as the blaze had risen, the color drained from Mr. Pure's face.

He mumbled awkward apologies as he escorted his client and the aggravated secretary out of the office, and then he returned to his desk.  He sunk like a deflating balloon into his seat.

Cailyn walked very slowly to his desk and then leaned on it against ram rod arms and palms with fingers splayed.

"How. Could. You?" she growled.

In response, her father dissolved into tears.

"HOW COULD YOU?" Cailyn raged.  She began pacing crazily around his office.  His blubbering emotional display only served to fan the flames of her anger.  "You monster!" she screamed.

"Cailyn, I am your father, you do not speak to me that way." His demand sounded weak and hollow.  Prior to her discovery that morning, Cailyn would never have dreamed of speaking to her dad that way.  But a shift of power had occurred.

Prior to that morning, he'd been a different man in her eyes.

She fought the hot tears gathering in her eyes.  She didn't want to waiver.  She wanted to remain firmly rooted in unbridled anger and raw hatred.  "You need to start talking, Dad.  I haven't talked to Mom.  Yet.  You have five minutes to make me understand why I shouldn't tell her."

Mr. Pure wept harder.  "Cailyn, she doesn't mean anything…"

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" Cailyn shrieked.  She charged back to his desk, leaned over and placed her rabid face nose to nose with his.  "You know who doesn't mean anything?" she hissed through clenched teeth.  "Me and Mom, that's who."

Mr. Pure moaned.  "Cailyn, you must believe me.  I've wanted to end it for quite some time.  But Aliah…  She's…  Intense.  I, I don't know what would happen if I cut her off."

Cailyn straightened and stood arms crossed over her chest.  She smirked down at her father.

"Well now it boils down to which outcome you fear less then, Dad.  You can either end it, and PROVE to me that you ended it.  Or… I tell Mom.  You have one week.  It's all up to you."

She spun on her heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.