"TEARS OF DECEIT" by Sarah Ryniker

STORY LAST UPDATED ON 09/04/2003

Tears of Deceit Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Epilogue

CHAPTER SEVEN: GONE INSANE

When I awoke, I was back in bed and cleaned up. Whoever the young man had been who had helped me had disappeared. I was curious about him, but I didn't go searching. I was sure that it had been somebody paid to watch me, and had witnessed the whole beating Allen had given me.
    Though I was still in pain, it wasn't nearly as severe as it had been. And I decided the moment I woke up that I would not be a victim in this household. I would not be held prisoner here any longer. If they were watching me, and they tried to stop me, they would have Hell to pay.
    I packed all of my things and I carried them, painfully, down the stairs. When I came to the bottom of the stairs, I saw that the butler was missing. The phone off to the left of the front doors was free and open. Could I really be alone?
    "Go ahead," I heard a voice say, and turned to see the young man behind me. "Get the hell out of here. Don't be like the rest of us, doing as he bids."
    He played lookout while I called home and sent for the car. I was safe now. Nobody could stop me. I was going home. I was going to be safe with Eddie and Father. Neither of them would let Allen ever hurt me again.
    If I felt any guilt over not bidding farewell to Kassy, I ignored it until I got into the safety of my own home. And it really was much easier to leave than I thought. Their butler, Tyson, had attempted to stop me, but it was no use, I was going home. As soon as the car arrived, Kingsamn came up to the door, obviously noticing that I was being stopped. And Kingsman was not a small Scottish man.
    "What might be going on here?" he asked, his eyes flowing dangerously. "I don't think ye might be trying to stop the girl from leaving here, are ye?" His accent was strange, he never said 'you' but sometimes could have the same accent as myself.
    When Tyson, who was much smaller, saw Kingsman, he backed off with his hands up in the air. "I was just given orders, sir." Kingsman smiled when he was called 'sir'. It made me feel better to know that he was there. He was part of my family, and he would never let anyone hurt me. I felt safe immediately.
    "Come on, Miss Felicity, we'll take ye home." I followed him out, and got in the car. I felt the car lower with my luggage, and then Kingsman was in the front seat and we were on our way.
    I was hoping that Allen didn't have the nerve to chase me down once he got home from work and found out. I had never had any fear of anyone in my life, but now I was scared to death of him. He had hurt me in every way a person could possibly be hurt. Even if my body wasn't in agonising pain, my emotions were shot. I wasn't quite sure how I'd get over this.
    When I got home, my father was there. Kingsman looked at me through the rear-view mirror, and with his eyes told me that he had called my father. I hadn't told him anything that had gone on, but he had got the impression that I was in trouble. But anyone who knew me would have known that I was. I was leaving behind the one person that meant the most to me in life.
    "Why did you have to call here to get home? Is there some sort of an emergency? Is Kassy all right?" he demanded to know answers the moment I walked through the door. He had been standing in the foyer, seemingly waiting to pounce. But I was so unbelievably drained emotionally that I didn't feel like answering.
    I did, anyway. "I don't know if Kassy is fine, Father. How could any girl be fine with the monster you married her to?" I walked past him, and made my way to my own bedroom, a place I hadn't slept in for two months. I wrapped myself in the familiar comforter, and fell asleep before my father could even get to the door to ask more questions.

When I woke I did feel more energised and rested than I had since I had first arrived at Allen's and Kassy's home. I decided that now it was time to go speak with my father. I just wasn't positive that I could talk about it, though. Talking about it meant reliving it. And going back was something I'd vowed never to do. I had already promised myself to block out everything that had happened there.
    I was making my way towards the front parlour to talk with my father, but when I heard the familiar voice of Allen wafting back to assault my ears, I froze. He was here. And he was demanding I go back there, to "help his wife", as he so wonderfully put it.
    I stormed in, finally too angry to hold back. "Help your wife? Helping your wife entitles being raped and beaten and getting pregnant at not even sixteen years old!"
    "What are you talking about?" Allen asked, seemingly genuinely confused. "Things like that were happening in my home, under my roof?"
    "You know they were, Allen. You were the one doing all of it!" I cried out, frustrated. "Don't pretend to be shocked, you psycho."
    "What is going on here?" Father demanded to know. He wasn't looking to me for answers, however. He was looking at Allen, with concern that was apparently for him, not me.
    "I have no idea, but I promise to get to the bottom of it," Allen falsely promised. Father hadn't heard it, but in his voice I heard the undeniable of tone of somebody promising something much worse than just getting to the bottom of things.
    Father turned to me. "Felicity, I really think that you should go back and take care of Kassy. No more of this nonsense. Allen promised to take care of it. You should have gone to him first."
    "Father! Didn't you hear a word I just said? He was doing it to me!" The tears were pouring over my cheeks, no matter the attempt to halt them.
    "Felicity, I happen to be friends with Allen. I don't appreciate you accusing him of something that drastic. Now go take care of your sister," he demanded.
    Something in his eyes told me that he knew. Something told me that he didn't care. Something just wasn't right here. I felt suffocated. And seeing that I had a sort of "thing" about passing out, I feared doing just that. Instead, I turned and got to the shrine room as fast as I could. I shut the door behind me, and locked it tightly, even putting a chair up underneath the doorknob.
    Both pounded on the door, demanding that I unlock it. I wasn't about to do that, though. I sat in a corner far from the door, staring up at the picture of my mother, wishing with all my might that she hadn't died, that she was still here. Maybe she would have protected me. If she hadn't died, things would have turned out so differently.
    "Fine, Felicity, if it's going to be that way!" I was certain when my father yelled that out he was about to break down the door. I curled up farther into a ball. I knew in my heart that it was inevitable. I would have to go back there.
    When they burst through the door, I began screaming. I screamed so loud that I was sure that I would break glass, and maybe even shatter my own eardrums. It was the only way I felt that I could get all of the pain I was feeling out of me. It was the only way I could ignore being dragged out to the car with Allen.
    When we were in the car, I was surprised that Allen did nothing to "punish" me. He drove on silently. The silence was killing, but I was grateful that he wasn't doing anything to hurt me, just yet.
    I walked up to the house, my head down in another defeat. My father was with this as much as Allen was. But why? What was this all about? I needed answers, but I was certain that I wasn't about to get them from Allen. I wouldn't even dare ask him.
    "Take her back to her room. Make sure the locks were changed and she can't get out of there once it's locked," he told the nearest maid. She scurried away to do what she'd been told to do.
    "Get up those stairs. I don't want to even look at you," he growled. "You won't get away this time."
    I walked up the stairs slowly. I felt abused, hurt and betrayed. I had nobody to even talk to. I was so alone; I could actually feel the walls crashing in around me. They were coming closer and closer, suffocating me. I began to breathe faster as I felt my chest being squeezed. I let out a cry, and sat down quickly on the steps, wrapping my arms around myself. I rocked back and forth, muttering a prayer over and over again.
    "Dear God, help get out of here. Help me live and I promise that I will never sin again. I am sorry for everything I have ever done or said." I repeated the words over and over again in a soft whisper. Nobody could hear what I was saying, but they could hear that I was saying something.
    Somebody called Allen, though I don't know who it was. Suddenly, his hands were on my shoulders, and he was shaking me, yelling at me to stop. I stopped for a second until he quit shaking me. Then, when I was still again, I began to try pulling away from him to rock and continue my prayer.
    Instead of yelling at me more, which was obviously not going to work, he picked me up and put me upstairs in the room. I heard the door shut and lock. But nothing mattered. I sat on the bed cross-legged, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, rocking back and forth and mumbling my prayer. I didn't even know if the words I was saying were even coming out correctly. All I knew was what I was meaning to say.
    I had no control over what I was doing. I felt pain like I'd never felt pain before in my life. I knew that I was truly going insane. I wanted to die. There was no point in living any longer. I'd been living miserably my entire life. Why go on?
    I grabbed the razor blade next to me. I had set it there the night before to cut the arms from my nightgown, so that at least part of me wasn't in pain because of the silk rubbing against the wounds. I began slashing madly at my arms, not caring if I was doing it right. I just wanted to slash and slash at something. Suddenly, my arm became Allen's face, and I began to go really crazy, screaming at it while cutting.
    "I hate you! I hate you! I wish you'd die!" My words took a change from prayer to outright anger. Blood was oozing from my arm quickly now, but I was oblivious to the pain I was inflicting on myself. The more blood, the more satisfied I became.
    Finally, my energy ran out, and I no longer was angry. I had taken out all of my aggressions, and it was all gone now. Dizzy, but coherent, I made my way to my bathroom where I cleaned my arms up. They were cut up pretty badly, but none very deep, hardly deep enough to scar. I continued to clean them until they stopped bleeding. Then, I put on a sweater to hide my arms, not even caring if it was summer and very hot in the room. I feared what Allen would do should he see my arms.
    I hardly made it back to my bed before I collapsed and fell asleep. I had lost a lot of blood. But I felt a relief that I'd never felt before. I suddenly had an outlet, something to keep me from thinking about the pain and betrayal I felt. And that made me feel more comfortable with living.
    Allen came to my room that evening with a tray of food. He set it down and then left, without looking at me. He was suddenly so distant, seemingly uncaring. I felt relieved that he seemed to want to leave me alone, now. But it also left me more curious.
    I ate quietly, having calmed down immensely from earlier. I knew that I was going crazy, though. I was too calm for somebody being locked in a room. I wasn't clawing to get out, or screaming. I just sat quietly, uncaring. I had lost all feeling and all sense of reality. I was as crazy as Kassy now, but in a much different way.
    Allen didn't come back until the next morning, with another tray of food. He set it down, and then backed up as I began eating. I looked up, wondering, somewhere in the back of my mind that still cared, what he wanted.
    "There will be rules, Felicity," he announced with an air about him that told me not to cross him. When I didn't respond, he continued. "You will take care of yourself until you have that baby. After you have the baby you may leave, but never speak of this incident again. And after you have the baby, I want you to never again make any sort of reference to any sort of pregnancy you've had.
    "You will bathe twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening before bed. You will eat all of the meals that I bring to you; we want to keep you and that child healthy. And you will obey everything I say. Do you understand?"
    I nodded, though the only thing I really heard was "you are my prisoner". I wouldn't be leaving until I had the baby. I had to cover up the fact that I was pregnant so people wouldn't get suspicious. I hated him! I hated him so much! He was so selfish!
    I continued to eat while there was a raging storm going on within me. Then, after I was finished, I picked up the razor again. Only this time I calmly ran it across my arms. I even hummed as I did it. Then, I even laughed.
    I cleaned myself up again after I was finished. The marks I'd left on myself this time would definitely scar. But who cared? I certainly didn't. I was someone's prisoner, not a person. I was no longer part of the land of the living. I was somewhere dangling between the world of the living, ignored and dead.
    Time wore on slowly. I lived my life silently. I did as I was told, though I was angry inside. When he brought a doctor to see me, I lay willingly, not even feeling anything. When the doctor asked me questions, I nodded or shook my head. I could tell that he was concerned by my behaviour, but had evidently been paid to keep things quiet.
    Allen was the only person I saw every day of my life, except the monthly doctor's visits. I made the mistake of one time asking to see Kassy. When he'd said no, I had screamed "why not?" and he hit me across my face.
    "You will not speak to me that way! I wouldn't mess with me now, Felicity. Nobody even knows you exist anymore. I could kill you and there wouldn't be anyone in the world who'd gave a damn." He slammed out of the room, and I sat on the floor, crying.
    I don't know how many times I cut my arms up. I was always hiding it, though. Allen, nor the doctor, ever asked about it. I could see the doctor wondering, but Allen hovered around, seemingly to prevent any questions.
    I wanted to tell someone so much, but that wasn't going to happen. There was a part of me that wasn't me anymore, but I was still within. I just wanted to get out. But I was weak, and I felt that I truly had nobody. And I couldn't get out to get to Eddie. I knew that he would never agree with Father and Allen.
    It was a stormy morning in March when I went into early labour. I was sitting in the bed, staring at the wall when I felt water on my pants. I looked down to see a rather large dark spot on my pants. I was scared. I didn't know what to do; the baby was at least three weeks too early.
    The pain started out small, but wasn't too horrible. I lay on the bed, trying to deal with it. I had to wait until Allen brought up lunch before I could get help. When he saw me, I looked at him, pleading with my eyes to get me to a hospital.
    When the doctor got there, I was weak and didn't have a choice of speaking. I couldn't talk, or hardly move. Against his wishes, Allen forced him to have me give birth to the baby here.
    "Fine, I'll do it. But I can't promise you that either of them will live," I heard him say. I almost smiled. Was God giving me my way out?
    I was in and out of consciousness the whole time. When I pushed I was weak, but with the doctor's urging I finally pushed out a small but screaming baby boy. He was cleaned, and wrapped up. Allen tried to grab him, but the doctor pulled away. "This child needs care right away. So does the mother. I'm surprised she's made it this far. She is quite strong. Hopefully he has inherited that from his mother," he told Allen before handing me the baby.
    I peered down in the little face, and saw the squinty little eyes look back up at me. He was healthy. I could tell by just looking at him, tiny or not. But the doctor was right. Something was wrong with me. I felt myself still bleeding and getting weaker by the second. And then I passed out again.
    I didn't wake up again until I felt myself being rushed into the emergency room. There was an IV in my arm, and a nurse was talking to me and trying to calm me down. Evidently, I was panicking and not even realising it. Finally, she calmed me down, and I fell back into my deep sleep, not before hearing "we're going to lose her". But I really didn't care if they lost me. Allen was right; I was already lost to the world.

I woke up again in a hospital bed. I looked around, hoping to see someone. Fifteen minutes after I woke up, a nurse came into the room. She looked concerned but happy to see me awake. Without a word, she left the room to get the doctor.
    My doctor, who I couldn't remember the name of because I'd been so lost in my mind when I was introduced, was there with another doctor. They had questions. I could see them on their faces.
    "First things first," the new doctor said. "I am Doctor Coelho. And you already know Doctor Heller." I nodded, and he went on. "Felicity, there is a woman here, a relative of yours who says that you promised to give her the baby and keep all of it a secret. Is this all true?"
    I nodded again. I went with it. I knew that if I didn't Allen would find some way to punish me. The doctor sighed, and looked down at his papers. "Well, your decision nearly killed you. I wish you hadn't decided such a thing, but all that matters is that you're alive. I will check you out in a bit, but first you need to sign some papers, saying that you are giving the baby to a Mrs Diane Morton." He handed me some papers that I signed quickly. He gave them to the nurse when I was finished, and then he began his exam.
    "I suppose there is no reason not to let you go home tomorrow sometime" was all he said before leaving the room.
    I stared out the window of the hospital room. The nurses would often get me to talk, but I had nothing to say. I supposed that I'd been quiet for so long that I didn't really know how to talk anymore.
    I was crazy. I knew that I was. There was no way around the truth. I went home, but I was still in a daze. It was as if what had happened to me previously had never happened. Eddie tried to get me to talk, so did Father. But I didn't say anything. I just wanted to sleep and sleep.
    I stopped taking care of myself. I hardly ate or bathed. I was in a depression so deep there was no bringing me out of it. And now that I was home, it was worse. Everything from the past was coming up to swallow me whole and drown me within.
    They found me in the shrine room the day they sent me away. I don't know how I got there. But I saw sitting on the floor cross-legged, staring up at her picture, rocking back and forth, and cutting at my arms. I was saying something, though I don't remember what. And all I really knew was that now I was crazy. And it was their fault.

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