Page 5 of Hell Bent

“Thank you.” Waiting until the nurse left the room, Sway let go of Tesh’s hand and went to search his clothes for anything that might help her figure out where he’d been or possibly who he’d been with.

Pulling out the bags, Sway put them on the small fold-out vinyl sofa. At the sight of his blood-covered clothes, she swallowed the lump that was stuck in her throat. Digging in the pockets of his jeans, she found nothing. Searching the shirt her brother had been wearing, she found a receipt for dinner but nothing else. In his coat pocket, she found a torn piece of paper with what looked like an address scribbled across it along with a word:Funhouse.Folding it, she stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. At the bottom of the bag, she found his car keys and wallet. Putting those in her purse, she put the clothes back in the bags to take them home later.

She’d call the auto shop and have one of the employees look for Tesh’s car and have it towed back to the shop.

Chapter Three

Walking down the dark, metal spiral staircase, the rubber soles of his shoes caused the steps to echo. The old stone walls looked damp from the cold as the reflection of light danced across them.

He didn’t want to be there. He shouldn’t be there. This wasn’t real. Vicious struggled as large hands dragged him down into the basement of the orphanage. His small hand grappled against the steps, trying to grip the back edge to hold on. Pulling his arm from Father Aubert’s grip, he tried getting back up the stairs as screams and moans of pain came from the room below.

Vicious knew what waited for him down there. Knew what they would do to him. His arm was grabbed again, yanking him back down. His small body spun around from the force, and he stared up at the priest. “You’re a sinner and need to be punished, boy,” Father told him.

“No. No. No. I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong,” he screamed as he kicked at the priest through his black robes. Tears streamed down his face, terrified of what was going to happen to him.

Stumbling down into the basement, he saw other boys. Boys of different ages. Boys who were his friends. All naked and bent over a long table with older men behind them. Sounds of painful moans and cries mixed with grunts and skin slapping skin bounced off the walls. Even with the dim light, he could see what was happening. Tears flooded his eyes as he struggled. “No,” he yelled over and over as he was dragged deeper into the room.

Kicking and punching, he managed to break free. Scrambling back up the stairs, he kept his eyes on the large wooden door that was between him and freedom. His small hands shoved the door as hard as he could, opening it enough to get out.Vicious ran through the empty corridors, searching for anyone who might help him hide. Suddenly, Mother Superior stepped into view. Throwinghimself at her, he sobbed against her long black tunic. “Help me,” he begged through tears.

Mother Superior picked him up and began carrying him down the corridor. He struggled against her as she walked back toward the door leading to the basement. Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked against the tile floor. Vicious tried calling out, but she held his face pressed into the black fabric of her habit.

Mary Agnes, one of the aspirants, stepped into the hallway. She saw Mother Superior carry a struggling Vicious toward the corridor where the entrance to one of the older basements in the orphanage was. There was nothing else down that hallway. By the way the older nun was carrying the boy, it appeared he was being smothered or silenced. Either way, it didn’t sit well with Mary Agnes. Too many times she’d been suspicious about the treatment of some of the children, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have any proof of what was happening to them.

Squaring her shoulders, she alerted the nun she was there. “Mother Superior, where are you taking Mason?” Mary Agnes questioned asshe stepped around her, cutting off the older nun so she couldn’t continue down the hallway.

Mother Superior looked at the aspirant. “Father Aubert wants him brought to him.”

Mary Agnes had seen the bruises and wounds on some of the children. Her heart and mind were at odds as to what was befalling them at the hands of those they trusted. “I’ll take him,” she said with a straight face.

She waited for the older nun to argue. Keeping her expression neutral, Mary Agnes waited for Mother Superior to decide what she would do. She could see the inner struggle the old woman was having. When Mason slipped from her arms, Mary Agnes told him to come with her. Taking his hand, she told him to stay silent. When they turned the corner, her heart was in her throat as she quickened the pace. She had a car in the parking lot, and all she needed to do was retrieve her purse from her quarters, then they could escape through the kitchen. What was she doing? Saving an innocent child and herself.

Opening her door, Mary Agnes half expected one of the priests to be waiting on them. When she found the room empty, she went straight to her closet and grabbed her suitcase. She kept everything packed for when she left on weekends to visit her family. She reached for her coat then second-guessed it. If she was seen wearing it, they might get stopped. Leaving it in the closet, she shoved the suitcase back inside and snatched her handbag from the shelf. Mary Agnes looked at Mason. “We’re leaving this den of hell. Okay, Mason?” She watched the boy nod.

Taking his hand, she held tight as they headed down the hallway. With every step closer to the kitchen and their freedom, Mary Agnes’s stomach tightened. Loud voices had her shoving Mason into the shadows of an alcove as footsteps echoed, coming ever closer.

When the sounds moved farther away, she signalled to the boy to go. Down two flights of stairs and through the kitchen, Mary Agnes kept a tight hold on Mason’s hand. Taking a deepbreath,she shoved open the door and took them into the back parking lot. The security lights popped on, causing her to stop momentarily. Realizing they were exposed, she fell against the building’s exterior, which was outside the light’s expanse. What was she doing? This was nuts.

Glancing down at the tear-stained face of the little boy, Mary Agnes stiffened her spine. Her decision had been made. Sticking to the building, she moved Mason along, staying within the dark perimeter outside the reach of the lights.

Running across the pavement, she stayed vigil as they closed the distance between the building and her car. Unlocking the driver’s door, she pulled back the seat. “Climb in and stay down. If they don’t see you, we might have a chance,” she told him.

The boy did as instructed and let the seat fall back into place. Climbing in, she closed the driver’s door just as the back door of the building opened, setting off the security lights. Lying over on the seat, she held her breath, waiting until they went off. After what seemed like hours, the parking area went dark. Staying low in the seat, she fumbled for the car keys and started the car.

Driving out of the parking lot, Mary Agnes checked her mirrors for any cars that might have followed her. She drove all night and well into the late morning hours before letting exhaustion catch up with her. She needed to find a hotel where she could get some much-needed rest. Pulling into a gas station, she glanced over the seat and saw Mason asleep on the floorboard. She wanted to cry at what she could only assume had been done to him and the others.

Vicious came awake, struggling against the tangled sheets. Tearing the fabric away from his sweat-drenched body, he sat up, putting his feet on the wood floor. Swallowing thebile that had risen into his throat, he tried to shake the nightmare from his head, but it was always there, always in the recesses of his mind. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he rocked forward and screamed into them.

The memories of that basement threatened to crush him. Shoving to his feet, he needed air. A drink. A joint. A willing woman. Something. Leaving his bedroom, he walked down the stairs and moved across the living room to a bookshelf. Grabbing a joint from a stash box and a lighter from the shelf, he headed out the back sliding glass doors. He stepped out into the bitter cold night, needing to feel something other than shame. Lighting the joint, he took a long drag and let the smoke fill his lungs.

Exhaling, Vicious knew the joint alone wouldn’t fix his thoughts. He hated the fucking winter months. They always brought those memories back in full swing. Something about the bitter cold, smoke-filled breaths, the sound of snow and ice crunching under rubber-soled shoes, and blacktop parking lots glistening against a full winter moon were all reminders.

Looking out over the black water, he wanted to disappear in it for a little while. But that wasn’t an option. He had never been a coward—not since escaping the hell he’d endured as a child—but jumping into below-freezing water naked was suicide. As much as he hated what the priests did to him and many others at the orphanage, not everyone there was evil. Mary Agnes hadn’t been. She was his saviour. His mother. She had gotten him away from that den of horror at great sacrifice to herself. No, if he were headed to hell, it wouldn’t be because he committed suicide. He wouldn’t disrespect everything she had done to give him a life.No, not in that way.

Chapter Four

Sway sat by her brother’s bedside, silently crying as she watched her only family being kept alive by machines. The doctors said there was no brain activity. She wanted to hit something or someone. She wanted to scream and tear her hair out. She wanted to know why her brother had been attacked and left for dead. Sway knew where she would find those answers. She knew who had them. When she found Jerome Michel, he’d tell her everything she wanted to know.

The nurses turned off the machines that were keeping her brother alive. One by one, they all went quiet. Sway’s hand lay on Tesh’s chest as it rose and fell. Once, twice, then it stilled. The last machine beeped with a constant shrill that signalled he was gone. It was the harshest sound she’d ever experienced.

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