Page 1 of Patching Over

BRICK’S HOUSE

PROLOGUE

Rayleigh

Once upon a time, there was a little girl with long, blonde hair that surrounded her in curls…

Unfortunately, my life is anything but a fairytale. No, it’s a flat-out nightmare, one that will only result in one ending — my demise.

That probably sounds a bit fatalistic, but other than the wisp of a memory that I’m convinced is nothing more than wishful thinking, my life has been nothing but hell on earth. My earliest recollection is of my parents, Laura, and Dave, bossing me around, hitting me when I didn’t move fast enough, and totally ignoring my care as they partied and carried on with their friends. School stopped long ago when a teacher asked why I was wearing the same clothes three days in a row, then reported the faded bruises she saw. At least I learned how to read before that happened, although it’s not like I’ve been able to spend my days lost in another world.

I was their punching bag, cleaning lady, cook… and when I didn’t move fast enough because I was healing from a previousbeating, I’d get another one so they could ‘show me who the boss was’ as if I ever had any doubts. My torso, upper legs, and lower back are covered in old scars because they would use whatever was handy when ‘punishing’ me. The one thing I don’t understand is why. I’ve always done the best I could, yet it was never good enough.

This time, however, I’m positive that I won’t survive my new environment. You see, my so-called parents traded me to some man named Enoch in order to get out of their own deaths. They owed him so much money due to their habits that when he came to collect, they offered me up instead.

I’ve been in this place which is little better than a shack for two weeks now. When he picked me up, I saw the cruelty in his eyes as he grabbed my arm and practically dragged me from the house. My parents are definitely worthless as far as raising me goes, but Enoch made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

He dropped me off with the instructions to clean the shithole up, locked me in from the outside, then left. The area is rather desolate, so even if I had the physical strength left to break a window then climb out, there’s nowhere to go. Woods surround this ramshackle place, with gaps between the walls, windows, and door which lets the cooler night air flow through. Three days ago, I started coughing. I can hear a wheeze every time I draw a breath, and any physical activity makes it worse. To top it all off, the food is all gone even though I rationed it as best as I could.

With regard to him demanding I clean the place up, there are no cleaning supplies to speak of. Nothing.

I did my best with what I had; the ice-cold water that came from the sink, a sliver from a bar of soap that was found in the shower, a bottle of vinegar that was in a kitchen cabinet, an old rag I was able to tear to make smaller, a raggedy broom. Over the years, I’ve become rather adept at creating something from nothing except this time, it wasn’t good enough. Enoch arrivedearlier today and went into a rage when he found me, weak and malnourished even more than usual, slumped over the table as I rested in an attempt to finish what he told me he wanted done.

“You good for nothing lazy bitch!” he screamed as his fist slammed into my face, pushing me onto the floor. Several more blows landed, with one of them cutting me when his ring made contact with my skin. I could feel the blood running down my face as I struggled to breathe.

“Lazy, incompetent cunt,” he seethed, his booted foot swinging back and forth against my prone body. I heard a cracking sound when one of them struck my ribs, which caused the wheezing to grow louder.

“Totally useless, can’t even follow instructions, for fuck’s sake.” Each word was punctuated with a kick, slap, or punch.

Pain radiated throughout my body as he continued to make contact with my flesh. I started hearing cracking noises and realized he was breaking my bones. As my discomfort grew, I felt like I was going to throw up even as I began to shake, likely from the shock of his attack.

“I-I-I tried,” I gasped out, forgetting my place which was to be neither seen nor heard. My lot in life was to keep to the shadows, making sure wherever I was at was spotless. Except, in my fatigue, pain, and overwhelming hunger, I forgot.

“Shut the fuck up! I didn’t ask for your excuses,” he bellowed. His fists and feet constantly moved as he continued to beat the shit out of me.

As weak as I was, I wasn’t able to do anything except try to cover my face as I prayed my death would come quickly. I could smell the metallic coppery tang of blood and feel its warmth as it coursed down my face, arms, legs. The thought briefly crossed my mind that I’d finally escape the torment I’d endured for far too long. I’m not sure what I could’ve possibly done to warrant being so mistreated, but at this point, I don’t think itmatters. I can feel Death hovering, waiting to claim my soul. Hopefully, eternity will be better than the hell I’ve lived.

After he stepped back to swipe his hand across his face to wipe away his sweat as well as my blood, he muttered about what he needed to do with my body. “Fucking cunt couldn’t even take a proper punishment,” he sneered, kicking me in the head.

As darkness claimed me, I prayed for peace, blissful peace. I’m so tired of struggling.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but I wake up feeling the cold that has seeped deep into my bones. Something wet is on my face, only I’m too weak to wipe it away. As it continues to fall, I realize that it’s snow, the first snowfall of the season. I have no idea where Enoch dumped me other than outside based on the fact I’m being snowed on; however, I feel a serenity that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

There’s a bit of irony because despite the hell I’ve lived, I have always enjoyed the changing seasons, especially the first time it snows. Everything is pure, untouched, unsoiled. A cough wracks my body, sending pain into every nerve and making me cry out. Granted, I’m as weak as a newborn kitten, but despite that, tears begin to trickle down my face. I mourn the fact that I’ll never know what it’s like to be loved, cherished, or adored. Instead, I’ll pass from this earthly plane only knowing mistreatment, abuse, and pain.

As darkness threatens to descend once again, I hear a voice, one that sounds vaguely familiar for some reason.

“I’m going home. Finally,” I whisper before losing consciousness once again.

I don’t feel myself being cradled in someone’s arms as a voice, one that I haven’t heard in so many years, softly starts to sing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

Madame Laveaux

Darkness shrouds my cabin as I unerringly make my way into the kitchen to get my phone. Waking up from a vision is nothing new to me, but the urgency behind this one has even me hurrying faster than normal.

“Help my girl, please, help her.”The entity that reached through the veil to enter my dreams has my full attention. I don’t know her or who she wants me to help, but I know if anyone can assist, it will be my grandson. Ogun.

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