Wish You Were Dead

“But that came later. Much later.”

“When we were your age we didn’t know. We were too scared to even think about it.”

“Plain looking, with a nose that was too big and eyes too close together. Flat as a board. A face only a mother could love.”

“But not our mother. The double whammy. She hated our looks more than the kids at school.”

“Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.”

“They always found us.”

“The terror we had to live with.”

“The way they stared. The hate in their eyes.”

“Even from our own mother, that stupid cruel bitch!”

“It’s only fair that they feel what it was like. Only fair that they know.”

Their eyes, I thought.

“They should suffer like we did,” Ms. Skelling went on. “Feel like trapped animals.”

“We did, didn’t we?”

She fell silent, gazing off across the room. On the floor I slowly tried to extend my legs again, testing how strong the cords were. Could I break them? And if I did, then what?

Ms. Skelling turned back to me. “Too bad, Madison. You shouldn’t be here. These aren’t your friends. Couldn’t you see that? Do you really think any of them would have come here for you? And now, even if they do, it will be too late.”

She finished eating and went back into the kitchen. As soon as she left, I tried to straighten my legs and pulled as hard as I could with my wrists. The rope was too strong. Keeping my eye on the kitchen doorway, I tried again but felt as if I was pulling my shoulders out of their sockets. A new conversation began in the kitchen: “You can’t take all this food.”

“You expect me to just leave it here?”

“Take the canned goods. Leave the perishables.”

“It could be a long trip.”

“You’ll manage.”

“How do you know?”

“You always do.”

“What about …?”

“Oh, right.” The slippers slapped out of the kitchen again.

“Time for you to leave.” Taking hold of the rope from my wrists to my feet, Ms. Skelling dragged me across the floor, through a doorway into the cold, damp air outside, over the cold wet ground to the rough concrete and stink of the pens. The wet quickly soaked through my jeans and hoodie and pressed against my skin. She dragged me past the pen where Ethan lay, his eyes closed, mouth agape, hair matted and dark with blood, a black collar around his neck. She opened a pen and dragged me in. So I was going in a cage like the others. Then was my fate to be like the others as well? She kneeled behind me. My nose filled with the sharp odor of filth. I shivered in the damp cold. From the tugging on the rope I had a feeling she was cutting it. I was so scared. My stomach was in my throat.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said, trying to sound calm.

“Do what?”

“Put us in these cages. Keep us here. You can go. I promise I’ll make the others swear not to tell.”

The rope was cut. I felt her tug at some of the strands around my wrists to loosen them. Then the gate clanged shut. I swiveled my head around and watched as she went back into the house.

I sat up and worked my wrists free, then undid the ropes from my ankles. I searched my pockets for my cell phone, but of course, Ms. Skelling had taken it. It was dusk. The sun had gone down, but there was still enough light to see. The cold crept through my clothes and my teeth chattered. The gate to the pen was locked. I turned to the other pens and whispered, “Courtney? Adam?”

No answer.

“Courtney, Adam, it’s Madison. Are you in there?”

I heard some scratching sounds. From the doghouse in a pen near mine. Courtney’s head came out slowly, her hair a nest of dirt and pieces of brown leaves. Her face looked boney and streaked with grime; her dry lips were cracked, her eyes sunken. Her lips moved and a hoarse whisper came out: “I’m so thirsty.”

I looked around. Except for a green hose lying on the ground near the house, there was no source of water. An empty bowl covered with a gross layer of crust lay on the ground in each pen.

Lucy died of dehydration.

“I’m so cold,” Courtney whispered. Her teeth were chattering.

I looked around for a way out of these pens but I doubted I’d find one. They looked like they’d been there for a long time.

“Get me out of here, Madison,” Courtney whispered.

“I’ll try,” I whispered back, with no real idea of what to do. “How’s Adam?”

Courtney shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“When did you last see him?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s hard to remember.”

It was getting darker, and colder. The vapor of our breaths seemed to thicken. The wire fencing went over the tops of the pens. The doors were latched from the outside and wide rectangular metal plates prevented anyone from reaching the latch from inside.

I sat on the hard wet concrete and pulled my knees up against my chest, feeling the vein in my neck beating hard with fear, the dampness soaking in against my butt. Why had I insisted on coming here with Ethan? What had I been thinking? How stupid had I been? By now my mother must have come home. She’d see the broken glass and that my car was gone. She’d call the police first and then Dad in London. Then, while Dad raced in a panic to find a flight home, and the police investigated, she would lock herself alone in her bedroom where no one could see, and silently go hysterical.

How could I be such an idiot?

The cold continued to creep through my clothes, and I shivered uncontrollably.

“Courtney?” I whispered, but she didn’t answer. Hoping it might be a little warmer in the doghouse, I crawled inside. The smell made me want to gag and I was glad that in the dark I couldn’t see what I was lying on. I just lay there curled in a ball, trembling, unable to sleep, miserable, alone, alternately furious with myself and terrified of what was going to happen next.

chapter 21

Friday 4:46 A.M.

IT WAS EARLY in the morning, maybe an hour before dawn. I’d never been so cold in my life, lying on my side, curled up tight, shivering, my teeth chattering so hard I had to concentrate to keep from biting my tongue. Suddenly there was loud thrashing in the woods nearby, followed by muffled grunts. They sounded human, but I couldn’t be sure. Then came more grunts and muttering and the sound of something heavy being dragged through the sticks and leaves.

I got to my hands and knees and peeked out of the doghouse. In the predawn moonlight Ms. Skelling was dragging someone. Her arms went around his chest and she walked backward with his heels scraping the ground. It was too dark to see who it was.

“They’re really starting to come out of the woodwork,” I heard her say.

“Very funny.”

“Seriously, it’s time to go.”

“I know. There are just a few things left to take care of.”

She opened a metal gate, dragged the body into the empty pen across from mine, and let it fall with a thump.