22 

 I felt like I had been waiting so long to find out what Belle’s big secret was that now I was almost reluctant to have my questions answered. I pictured her as a young girl, maybe just going through puberty or possibly older than that. Sitting in the very spot I was sitting, worried and anxious that at any moment she would be caught. Maybe her brother was her lookout. Maybe he stood right outside the door ready to warn her that someone was coming. Whatever she was hiding in the depths of this small little room must have been so intensely personal that it wouldn’t be right for me to look. 

On the other hand, maybe she was hoping that one day her journal would be found and that her biggest secrets and regrets would finally be purged. Isn’t that why people who commit suicide leave long notes explaining why they did what they did?  I mean that’s what I was going to do. When I was at my lowest low, I remember sitting on the floor at some generic hotel room, pen in one hand and bottle of tequila in the other. The paper I had been writing on with the hotel letterhead across the top had been badly stained by my accidentally dropping some ketchup on it. I had no intention of leaving that hotel room alive. When I said goodbye to my friends for the night, I wasn’t thinking ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I was thinking, ‘Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.’  

I even called my mother for one last time. She asked me for money of course but I made sure I told her I loved her. I was done, ready to call it in, until I got stuck writing that damn note. The things I was saying sounded so dumb. My reasons for killing myself were so insignificant, that I just couldn’t go through with it. I balled the paper into my fist and threw it in the garbage, and then I set it on fire which caused the alarms to go off all throughout the hotel.  The point I’m trying to make is that I was writing out this note in hopes that whoever found it would understand why I was doing what I was doing. If I didn’t want anyone to know I wouldn’t have written it down in the first place.  With that thought in my head, I decided to flip past the first page and dive into Belle’s life.  

I never wanted things to go this far. I mean if I realized things would get so out of hand I would have taken everyone’s advice and left. Sometimes I can be so stupid. Such a stupid child, God I’d get so mad at my sister when she’d say things like that to me. “Belle, go away you’re such a stupid child. Stop following me around all over the place and leave me alone. You have no idea what it’s like to be an adult.” Not that she did either. She was saying those things to me long before she even had a pair of boobs.  

I digress… 

This is so hard for me to say, but it needs to be said so here it goes. I love my family. I always have but ever since I was a small child I have lived in constant fear of my father. His mood swings always scared me to death. He would be able to hide them under his very charming smile but deep down inside all of us saw past the dimples we all inherited into his soul, and in there was one very mean man. I feel so bad saying that because he’s done so much for me and for all my siblings, but it’s true. My dad isn’t a very nice person or I guess I should say, wasn’t.

 My mother always said she’d leave him. After he’d go off on one of his tirades which ended with lots of broken things which my money bought for us, He’d storm out of the house and as my mother cleaned up his mess she’d say how one day she’d take all of us kids and leave this place. It scared me at first, the thought of just leaving him behind. I used to think that if we ever did leave him, he’d get so upset he’d end up killing himself.

As I got older, the thought of leaving him scared me for a different reason. I was afraid that he’d try to find us and when he did, he’d end up killing us all. Like I said, my dad wasn’t a very nice person, not in the least. The abuse started when I was about ten years old. He never touched me until then. All the other kids were fair game but he left me alone because I guess I was his golden ticket.

Now I know I’m using the word abuse which might be a slight exaggeration because he never really hurt me that badly. An occasional push or kick to my butt. If social services were around or even cared about someone like me, they’d probably laugh at my accusations. He actually never really hurt any of us all that bad, except for Tommy. He was brutal to my little brother.  

My mother would beg him to leave the kid alone but her pleading would go unanswered. “He’s not even my child!” He would growl, “He’s just a bastard kid from an affair you had!” and that was true as well. My mother had a rich history of sleeping around and everyone knew it, especially my father. Tommy was the result of her last fling and my dad never let anyone forget that fact.  We all tried our best to stick up for Tommy. My older brothers and sisters even stepping in front of him before my dad would take a swing. It never worked. It would just make him madder. He’d end up being locked in the basement like some monster child, hidden away so no one could see evidence of his wife’s infidelity.  

I used to be afraid that one day someone would be able to see through all the crap that was my fake life. Happy child coming from happy, fully functional family, not a care in the world and everyone loves everyone else. All it would take is one overheard conversation and that mask would end up shattering into a million pieces.  Those thoughts are what started me on my path to depression and alcohol abuse, way before I even had my first period.  It’s like the weirdest feeling that hits you out of the blue. I can be feeling completely fine and ready to tackle the world when all of the sudden, I get the tiniest little lump in my throat and just one second later, the tears start to spill.

There are so many people I could call if I needed them. My family and friends would be more than willing to help, but yet, I just stare at the phone with a blank expression on my face, hoping that this will pass, as it usually does.

Whenever this happens, I end up crying myself to sleep and waking up with the worst headache in the world. People laugh at me when I walk into the room with my red eyes and my aspirin, because they think I just partied too hard and had too much fun. They don’t realize that all night long I’ve had this internal struggle to not just go into my medicine cabinet, find my prescription sleeping pills and call it a day.

People think suicide is an ultimate act of selfishness and cowardice and you know what? They’re probably right. But it’s the suicidal thoughts; those things are what separate the cowards from the strong. It’s one thing to act on them and another to will them away night after night. Not that I’m always suicidal or anything, in fact I rarely get to that point. Lately though, it’s been a rough patch of sad thoughts.

I usually just smile along when they joke about hangovers and how I should just cut my wild ways in half. Funny how they don’t understand the accomplishment I feel just by opening my eyes and allowing myself to start another day.

Isn’t it funny how the people who supposedly love you the most are also the ones who are usually completely clueless? Sorry I keep going off track. Lately I’m having a hard time focusing, this is the only place in the house I feel safe anymore which is kind of weird since it was my brother’s prison before he killed himself… 

“Crap.”  

“What?”  

I looked over at Kevin, who was once again over by the door and trying to pry it open. “Tommy killed himself.” I said as I held the journal in my hand.  

“Yeah, I know.” He said as he turned his attention back to what he was doing.  

“What do you mean you know?”  

“I..” He stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the steps. “Shit…hide that journal.” He grabbed the piece of wood we had pulled up and held it behind his back as he sat down beside me. I sat on the journal and the hole, which was highly unpleasant but luckily because I have such a massive ass, I was able to hide the evidence.  

“Don’t do anything stupid Kevin.” I urged, afraid he’d go all Superman and think he was indestructible. The last thing I needed on my conscience was a dead or hurt Kevin. It was bad enough I had no idea what was going on with AJ and Howie. They could be dead for all I know. Oh my God, how could I let myself get so entranced in a stupid journal when the fate of everyone I loved was in danger? What is wrong with me? The footsteps grew closer and as they did, my heart fell into my stomach. We were trapped like mice in this small room where these people could do anything they wanted to us. Suddenly I wanted Superman Kevin to come out. Hell, maybe I’d be BatNick. I searched the room for something I could grab and use as a weapon just as the doorknob jiggled.  

“Kevin, Nick are you in there?”   

We both looked at each other before Kevin finally answered, relief washing over his face, “Howie, is that you?” 

“Yeah, are you guys alright?”  

Kevin jumped up and ran to the door, “We’re fine but we’re locked in. Can you get us out of here?”  

“I’m looking for something to use to get this padlock off the door, hang on I’ll be right back.”  

“Is AJ okay?”  

“Yeah, he’s upstairs making sure they don’t come back.”

 “He’s up there because he’s a chicken shit.” I added, yes despite the situation, I still had to make fun of AJ. I was now standing beside Kevin with Belle’s journal in my hand. Howie returned within a few minutes and began to bang on the door.

“Guys I almost have it.” He said right as we heard the lock fall from its spot holding us hostage. When the door opened I ran and hugged my D.  

“Are you alright?” He asked after pulling away. 

“Yup, we’re fine but we were pretty sure we were never going to get out of there though, thanks.” Kevin answered as he hugged Howie, the real Superman I guess, just a shorter version.  

“What happened exactly?” I asked as we hurriedly made our way up the steps and out of the basement.  

“Not sure, we heard them come in and so we hid under the beds.”  

AJ jumped when we opened the door to the basement and made our way up into the kitchen, “I’m glad to see you guys, we were worried something might have happened to you both.” He said as he went over and hugged Kevin. Nice, he totally bypassed me and went for Kevin instead.  

“We were thinking the same thing about you guys.” Kevin was quick to say as he looked both Howie and AJ up and down, making sure they weren’t hurt in any way. That was such a typical Kevin move.  

“The place is a mess Kev; they tore the hell out of it.” AJ pointed over towards the living room where we could see one of the lamps laying broken on its side in the hallway.  

“Seems like they don’t even care anymore because clearly they have to know we figured out it’s them again, I mean…right?” I asked kind of perplexed that police officers would be so sloppy in covering up their tracks.

“They must really be eager to find whatever it is they’re looking for…although I have a feeling Kevin might know what that is.”  All three of us looked at Kevin but only my gaze was accusatory.

The other two, still having no clue what I was talking about, looked more confused. “Why would Kevin know what’s going on?” 

“He seems to know things.” I answered AJ as vaguely as possible.  

“Has he been hit in the head again?”  

“No, I haven’t been hit in the head again. Tell us what you know Kevin.” Now I was insistent. He knew about Belle and he knew about Tommy but yet he didn’t feel the need to share that information with me? I felt betrayed and angry. Was this all some kind of game for him?  

Kevin let out a sigh before moving into the living room. We all followed him and watched as he pushed through the clutter and sat down on the couch, “Okay fine, I’ll tell you what I know.”  

“Wow, Nick was right? You do know something you aren’t telling us?” AJ asked as he took a seat next to Howie on the coffee table. I decided it was best to stand. I had a feeling I’d need to pace to keep my temper under control.  

Kevin nodded at AJ as he continued, “This house has a rich history. Lot’s of horrible things have happened here concerning this family.”  

“Yeah, we kind of gathered that already.” Howie said rather smugly, hooray to sarcastic D! 

“Belle’s youngest brother Tommy committed suicide in this house. Right in the room we were stuck in.” He said to me, which I guess I would have let out a horrifying gasp if I hadn’t just read that myself. So far he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.  

“Yeah, that’s what she said in her journal.”  

“It was rumored that it was because the dad abused Tommy.” 

“She mentioned that too although, to me, it didn’t sound much like a rumor but more like a fact.” 

Kevin nodded, “Shortly after Tommy killed himself things started to go downhill for the family.” 

“Like what?”  

“All the investments the father made turned sour and he ended up losing almost everything.” 

“Good, he deserved it.” 

“He started to take out all his frustrations on his family…” 

“How so?” AJ asked. I felt like I was being told a bedtime story that was about to take a scary turn.  

“He ended up going insane and killing some of them.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“It’s said that their spirits haunt this house.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” AJ stood up and I swear was ready to bolt for the door. 

“Relax AJ, it’s just a rumor. There are no ghosts here.” Kevin shook his head. 

“I don’t know man….something shut the lights off on me and Carter when we were downstairs and how do you explain the knife in the monkey.” 

“It was a bear AJ.” 

“Bear, monkey whatever the hell it was.” 

“It’s not true.” Kevin insisted.  

“Why on earth would you buy a place with such a dark history Kevin?” Howie asked, trying to ignore the whole ghost thing as best as he could. 

“Because it was dirt cheap. No one wants a haunted house Howie and besides, I was going to take it and turn it into a shelter for runaways or something like that. You know take something bad and make it into a good thing.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure nothing says I love you to a runaway like a ghost shelter.”  

“Shut up AJ.”

I stood there, silently taking all of this in and wondering if the ghost of Belle was watching us right now. Suddenly all of those things I had read from her other journal made me so sad. How she should have left but chose not to. Maybe if she had left, she would still be alive.

“When did he kill everyone?” I asked. My voice kind of cracked which surprised me a little. 

“They were grown by then. He killed his wife first and then two of the kids.” 

“Did he kill himself after that?” 

“No.” 

“So, he’s still alive then?”  

Kevin shrugged, “I’m not sure.” 

“Oh my God…holy ape shit!”  

“What AJ?” 

“What if he’s the one that’s been breaking in? Maybe he knows that his kid kept a journal of what happened and now he wants it before someone else can get their hands on it!”  

AJ made total sense, he could have easily hired someone to get the journals or rummage through Kevin’s place to look for evidence.

“When he heard someone bought this place he probably panicked!” I said in a much louder voice than I had planned. The three of them jumped when I spoke. I looked down at the journal that was in my hands, “I need to finish reading this thing!” I said, knowing now more than ever how important its contents would be. “If there is proof of her father killing her, than I need to find it in here.” 

“Her father didn’t kill her Nick.” Kevin said as he rubbed at his temples. 

“What do you mean? You just said…” 

“I know what I said, he killed his wife and two of his kids but Belle wasn’t one of them.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Kevin nodded, “Yes, I’m positive.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because she’s the one that sold me the house.” Before I could say anything else he continued, “Nicky, Belle is alive.”