Saving Columbine

It wasn’t until October 24th, 2006 that Mrs. Anna Harken was able to finally put her plan into action. It had been almost a year since the Macey girls had been kidnapped and Anna was growing more and more restless as each day dragged on. She spent hours watching, witnessing, the terrible things done to Carolina and Linnie.

If she was going to rescue the sisters, she was going to have to gather concrete evidence to bring to the people who had the authority to do something about it. But as each day brought new punishments for the oldest girl, Anna couldn’t take it any longer. She would not allow this to go on any longer.

Waking up every morning, she had to fight off waves of debilitating depression. She sometimes felt so sad and lonely that thoughts of suicide whispered through her consciousness. But that’s all they were: thoughts. Thomas would never approve of her taking her own life, not that she would ever really do it, or even fully consider it.

Lately, though, it had become increasingly more difficult to see only good in the world. She had dedicated practically her entire life to helping the children who needed her most. She fostered the children who were on their way to jail or death. “At risk kids,” they’d been called. She spent that last thirty years teaching art at the high school, she was loved by children and adults alike. But none of that mattered when the first thing she heard every morning while taking care of the chickens, were Linnie’s cries for help.

Anna dragged her aching body out of the bed and slowly made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She stood in front of the window that looked out over the garden. Her gaze fell upon the visible basement window, and images of Linnie being beaten entered her mind. It was time to get that kid out of her situation. Sometimes, Anna had a habit of letting her emotions get the best of her. When Thomas was alive, he’d been able to talk her out of some pretty bad ideas. But Thomas wasn’t here now, and all Anna Harken could think about was getting poor Linnie out of that godforsaken house. She would worry about Carolina at a later date, but presently, she feared more for Linnie’s life and well-being.

Over the past six months, Anna had memorized Wendy and Henry’s schedules. She knew that at exactly twelve o’ clock the house was empty except for Linnie for forty-five minutes. As far as Anna was concerned that would be just enough time to free Linnie from her prison.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!” Wendy shouted down into the basement before slamming the door shut. She didn’t bother locking the basement door when the child was secured in her cage. On the days when she did the laundry and cleaned up the house or helped Wendy with projects or errands, they rewarded her by leaving the cage unlocked and allowing her to wander around the basement. It was rare for the girl to ever go outside, so her skin had become paler than ever before, and all of her baby fat was long gone. Henry and Carolina were the only ones to ever feed her.

Linnie sat at her desk working on her latest story. She found that it made her a lot happier to write stories about killing Wendy and Henry. In her stories she referred to them as the Bad People. The Evil Ones. As time wore on her stories became more and more gruesome. She had become angry and… scary sometimes. Some of the thoughts she had had even began to frighten her.

She also wrote poetry, dark and depressing poetry. And sometimes she just described things. She would describe what she saw or felt. She would describe Carolina and her real parents. Every detail, so that she would always remember.

After writing something, most of the time she would destroy the paper so that Henry would never find it. He liked to give her paper and pencils and pens so that she would write for him. But he always went through her desk and writings. Most of the things she wrote for herself, she remembered. The only pieces of writing that she ever kept were the descriptions of her parents, memories from before she was kidnapped, and some of her better stories.

Ideas would come to her in the middle of the night sometimes and she would have to clamber around in the dark feeling for her matches and candle. Finally, she just left them right next to her bed so she could write by candle light. When her candles and matches ran out, she would have to wait for days sometimes before Collie or Henry were able to bring her more.

She hardly lifted her eyes from the paper when she heard Wendy’s loud voice. Linnie knew that she had a good forty five minutes of quiet alone time before the wench got home. The woman, as evil as she was, was predictable as hell, and Linnie figured that today would be no different. The captive returned her thoughts to the newest story she was writing, her mind a whirlwind of terrifying ideas. A slow smile formed on her face as she squinted at the messy words on the page in front of her. Maybe this story would turn out to be one of the few that she saved.

A noise above her head pulled her from her newest alternate reality. She dropped the pencil in her hand convinced that Wendy must have remembered to give her, her daily beating a little earlier that day. Maybe if she remained completely still an didn’t make any sound, Wendy would forget she was alive, like she sometimes did on her “good” days.

The footsteps made their way through the living room and down the hallway. Linnie closed her eyes tightly as she slowly got up from her desk and took the two necessary steps to her mattress. She quietly sat on the bed and moved to the very back corner, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. A foreboding feeling crept into her being as she hoped and hoped that the footsteps would keep moving down the hall, but they didn’t. They stopped, and she heard the distinctive sound of someone fumbling with the key to the basement door.

It took what felt like ten minutes (three minutes) for the person to fit the right key into the key hole to unlock the door. When she heard the click, Linnie coward further into the wall behind her. A weird thing happened when the door was swung open. Linnie heard a pair of feet pounding down the staircase, but they weren’t the steps of either Edison parent. They were quick and delicate. Rushed.

Linnie heard her voice before she saw her face. “Linnie, dear, are you down here?” Mrs. Harken half whispered. When the old woman reached the bottom of the stairs, she stumbled toward the child who was locked up in a cage as though she were some kind of animal.

Anna Harken expected the child to be happy to see her, but a terrified expression flashed across her face instead. “Mrs. Harken! What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here!” Mrs. Harken shook her head.

“Never mind that! Where is the key to unlock this? I’ve got to get you out of here as soon as possible.” Anna waited impatiently for the answer to her question for only a moment. She extracted the key chain she’d snagged from upstairs, out of her pocket and began to fumble through them looking for the right one. “Aha!” Anna whispered triumphantly, fitting the key into the lock. She unlatched the door, waiting for the child to take advantage of her freedom.

“Why didn’t you just call the cops? How the hell am I gonna my sister home safely now?” Linnie demanded with tears in her eyes.

“There’s no time for crying,” Mrs. Harken urged nervously. “Come on, we’ll figure out how to get your sister out later!” As Linnie was reluctantly moving toward the old woman, they both heard a sound that terrified them to the core of their beings.

Upstairs, the front door slammed open and Wendy’s unmistakable high-heel clad footsteps pounded against the polished hardwood floor. Linnie’s wide, scared eyes stared at Anna pleadingly. The old woman shakily folded the ring of keys into Linnie’s hands.

“Find the key to the cellar door. When you find it, I want you to run, okay? Run into my house and hide for a few days. Lock all the doors and don’t let anyone find you. Stay away from the windows.” Linnie had tears streaming from her eyes and she was shaking her head.

“No Mrs. Harken, no,” she cried in a whisper. Above, they could hear Wendy in the kitchen, but soon, she would discover them.

“Do as I say Linnie,” Anna told her calmly. Before heading toward her own imminent tragedy, she glanced back at the child she was saving. “I found your parents. You can still save Carolina by yourself.”

Tears spilled down Madeline Macey’s once chubby, rosy cheeks. For one second Anna saw the child as she had first seen her. She’d been dressed in a long, plain gray t-shirt. Her cheeks were full and rosy and her hair was slight messy because she’d just woken up. Her lips were bright red, and she had faded bruises scattered unevenly across her arms, legs and neck. Her gorgeous, big brown eyes had been alight with fear and pleading.

The image was gone just as quickly as it had come. The girl trembling in front of her wore an ugly maroon-colored summer dress, and she was covered from head to toe in dirt and bruises. Through her tattered dress, Anna could see her ribs. Her pale skin seemed to stretch unnaturally over her bones.

Pounding footsteps above their heads brought the old woman out of her reverie. She gave Linnie one last weak smile. “Hurry up,” she commanded, turning around and hurrying to the bottom of the stairs. She couldn’t let Wendy stop Linnie from escaping this miserable place. Behind her, she heard Madeline fumbling with the keys in her hand, trying to fit the right one into the lock.

She tore her attention from the task at hand to watch her savior disappear up the stairs, where she would once and for all face her own mortality. As soon as she could no longer see Anna Harken, she resumed her search. It seemed like she'd tried almost every key on the ring before she found the one that fit.

Above her head, she heard Wendy's startled, furious cry. "What are you doing trespassing in my house you nosy bitch!” the woman screeched. Linnie heard Anna's calm voice responding carefully, but she couldn't make out her words.

A sudden, terrifying scream ripped through the house, echoing down in the dungeon basement. Linnie squealed, turning the key and letting the lock and rusting chains fall to the cement floor. Something horrible was going on upstairs and Linnie knew without a doubt that if she didn't somehow get out of this house, she was going to die. Today.

Linnie pushed on the cellar doors as hard as she could, but they wouldn't budge. CRASH!

“Bitch, you're going to regret the day we moved in next door!” Wendy screeched.

“You won't get away with kidnapping those children! You're psychotic!” Anna Harken's trembling voice drifted to Madeline's ears. She pushed on the doors again and again. Her heart felt like it was pounding in her throat. Sweat dripped from her forehead, tears slid down her sunken cheeks, leaving muddy tracks in their wake. Each time she hit the doors flakes of rust sprinkled into her oily hair.

Her legs were shaking and as the noises she was trying to block out came to an unsettling silence, Linnie pushed on the doors with a strength she didn't know she possessed. The doors flew open, causing her to fall backwards as she heard Wendy descending the stairs. Madeline scrambled to her feet and jumped up the concrete steps. Her arms and hands covered with orange rust, her legs were scraped and bleeding, but she didn't notice. She pulled herself out into the bright blaring sun, unused to the way it felt on her pale skin.

Madeline stood out in the warm sun for merely a second before she began to run. She didn't have time to run to Mrs. Harken's house and figure out a way inside. Instead, she raced for the woods. She managed to get across the street and into the cover of the trees before she heard Wendy's voice, calling the name of the dog that had died two months after they'd moved in. Wendy had always suspected Linnie of killing the damn thing, but she could never prove it.

“Alfred!” she called the name of the dog. “Come here boy!” Linnie knew the woman was calling to her. She'd always said that she was lower than a dog. The woman was constantly telling her that she was a stupid, good-for-nothing mutt.

Madeline ran for as long as she could, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. And when she couldn't run any more, she found an empty storm drain and climbed inside. She curled up, leaning against the cement pipe. Behind her, she heard the rats scurrying around in the inky darkness. A shiver crawled down the girl's spine as she laid her forehead against her knees and allowed the last of her tears to fall. Above all else, she was at least grateful that she'd found a shelter out of the wind, although, now she had no idea what the “Edison's” were doing to her sister.

Suddenly, she heard crunching leaves. She froze as a shadow fell over her hiding place, terrified that it was Wendy, or Henry. The shadow moved and twisted until there was a face just inches from hers. “What're you doing in there. That's my hiding spot,” a girl murmured, pushing Linnie further into the storm drain and scooting in beside her, shielding her even more from the cold wind.

“Goddammit,” Wendy seethed as she stared at the mess inside her kitchen. Why had that bitch chosen this day of all days to free that fucking dog? And they'd had the perfect way to murder her and dump her body. If that nosy little cunt had waited just one week, she would have found an empty dog cage. FUCK! Now she was going to be fucking late to her goddamn parent-teacher conference at Carolina’s school.

Wendy dragged the disgusting body down into the cellar. She stared at the old woman's dead body for a long moment. The fearful expression that had been on her face at the moment that she died, still remained on her corpse. Her light blue eyes were empty, yet seemed to stare at Wendy accusingly. Her lifeless eyes knew that it was Wendy who had murdered her. She had been alive one moment and dead the next. It reminded her of the old days; the days that they'd been trying to forget.

You can never really forget the “old life,” can you? an eerily familiar, manipulative voice asked inside her head. Admit it, you miss us, don't you?

“No,” Wendy moaned, holding the sides of her head. “Go away, I want you to go away!” But her voice was weak and They knew it. They would get her back again, and she would bring their beloved Henry with her; she always did.

Wendy turned away from the body, suddenly afraid. She raced back up the wooden stairs and slammed the door behind her, locking it. She was aware, all at once, that she still gripped the sharp meat cleaver in her fist. She opened the door once again and tossed the knife (…weapon of choice...) down into the black abyss. Henry would deal with it all later (you're not getting him back!).

Wendy changed out of her blood-stained clothes and quickly scrubbed the kitchen (she'd do a more thorough job later), before racing out of the house. She was late to her first parent-teacher conference ever, and there was no one left to pay for that except Carolina. What a failure of a day.

***

At Night the Monsters Come Out

By: Madeline Macey

There are footsteps on the stairs

They are coming for me

In minutes, the monster appears

Cruel, lustful eyes unseeing

A smile forms

Outside it storms

I scream, but no one hears

I plead for help; but no one cares

My monster stalks me

Claws wrap around my cage

All I want is to be free

Fighting only increases its rage

When it’s finished, it goes away

But the pain will never stray

I hear the monster laughing

While I’m left bleeding; crying

I want to run as far as I can

That doesn’t fit the rest of my plan

I can’t leave her alone with them

I can’t leave her alone again

The endless night is ending

I am alone until the evening

Shaking and scared, when will I eat?

I’m starving, but they only come to beat

Daylight is fading

My candle’s still burning

Soon it will be night

Thinking, increases my fright

The monsters are lurking

Waiting for the darkening

I curl in a ball and wait

I shiver now, it’s getting late

Nobody knows I’m here

Nobody knows my fear

I close my eyes, ready to pray

Happy Birthday, mine was today

I made a wish, it didn’t come true

That’s okay, they never do

The monsters say I’ll go home later

I don’t believe their monstrous tale