Welcome back to another episode of Holidays In Hell. I'm glad to have heard from so many of you with your comments, concerns, and critiques. I like hearing from my readers and would like to thank everyone one of you, even if you didn't write in. As anyone who has will tell you, I don't bite, in fact, I rather enjoy hearing from you all. Over the years I've been submitting stories to this site, I've become pretty good (online) friends with several interesting people. As a matter of fact, the readers from my last series (Abandoned Blood) and I got pretty close due to all the troubles in my life at the time. In case any of you were wondering, Holidays In Hell was inspired by those very events, not spoil it for any of you in the know. LOL
Though inspired by true events, this story is completely borne of my imagination. Any resemblance to any person, either living or dead, real or fictional, or any event either past or present, is entirely coincidental.This story contains graphic depictions of bodily, psychological, and drug abuses; violence; and sexual acts between two female characters (among others). If any of these things offend your delicate sensibilities, then please leave now, toughen yourself up, then try again. Repeat as many times as needed. This story is copyrighted to me, the author. The author is not responsible for any harms that may befall upon you, either legal, emotional, or physical for reading this story, so consider yourself warned about the ramifications for reading this if you are underage or under your parents' roof.
I must be of a mind to tell you all that this story is not aimed to glorify drug abuse. In fact, it's aim is the exact opposite. I've seen firsthand what's caused people to fall to that level and what drugs can do to a person. I'm writing this story to hopefully bring awareness to a crisis all around us. I'm hoping that maybe after reading this story we can all see the early warning signs and step in to help our friends and loved ones before this happens to them. If you are, or know, someone in crisis and need help, please call or talk to people that can help you.
********************"Halloween" part three
"Mom! Dad! I'm home," Jessica called out to the gloom of her house. She walked across the living room, by-passing her father's den, and placed the bags on the dining room table. "Dad, I've got your keys and change." She listened for a minute before she called out again. "Hello?"
Her father appeared in the threshold and grinned, which sent a new wave of chills up his daughter's spine. "Smells good, Jess," he said as he walked over to the table. Jessica stepped back and turned to the cupboard. "Ah, good girl," he complimented, pulling a two-liter Pepsi out of a bag. "Did they make this fresh?"
Jess exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yeah. I got there as they were getting ready to throw out the previous batch. I got a pound of everything in the clear containers, I hope it's enough."
"You did good," he said grinning from ear to ear.
It was rarely a good thing when her father complimented her on anything. The last time was when she got her IQ test back when she was five, and that was only because she scored higher than he did. Thinking even harder, she couldn't recall any other time, so for him to say what he said sent Jess's senses on high alert.Â
The teenager got to work pulling cups and plates out of the cabinet. She decided tonight was the time to use the fine china, a.k.a. the styrofoam dishes leftover from the Fourth of July party. The house was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of the bags on the table. She gave pause to listen, then realized what was wrong. She slowly turned and faced him. "First of all, dad, it's 'you did well', and second of all where's mom?"
Jonathan stopped his foraging. "She went for a walk. Don't ask me where because I don't know."
Jess felt her lower lip quiver. She steeled herself just long enough to ask, "What happened this time?"
"This time?" he repeated. Jess felt her pulse hammer, it nearly hurt to breathe. Even from across the room he look formidable. "This time, now let me see," he put his massive hand to his chin and started pacing. "This time your oh-so-lovely mother started ranting and raving about how she'll never see her daughter again and that her mind was being taken over by 'them'." Jessica fell against the counter behind her, her breathing coming in rapid pants. "Now, what does your superior brain tell you I did about it?"
The redhead couldn't think. Hell she couldn't even breathe. What was he saying? Did he beat her until she went running for her life? Would he beat her if she answered wrong? Did her mother finally snap and take off? How could she leave her with this abusive alcoholic?Â
"...I-I-I… don't know..."
The tall, burly man belted out an evil chuckle that shook Jessica to her core. "Now THAT is a first." He looked back to the grocery bags and uttered, "Dinner's getting cold."
Jess lost her appetite, her stomach was rolling over. This man's wife took off and all he can think about is his dinner getting cold? Jess felt her chest heave to and fro in a feeble attempt to remain calm and think. While her father rummaged about, pulling the last container out of the bags, her brain started running through her options.
She could go out and look for her on foot, but that would take forever--her mom's got a pretty good head-start. She could swipe the keys from her father and drive around until she found her, but that might get her on the business end of his large hands. She could stay in the house and wait for her to come back, but that meant having to stay in this man's company for that much longer. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to say or do.
"Speechless?" her father said, snapping her out of the thought. "Now you know what I've felt like for the last eighteen years." Jess couldn't help but notice the higher inflection of his voice. He was... happy? He was happy that his wife took off, and that his daughter was feeling lower than the insect he took her for? "It sucks, doesn't it?"
"..."Â
"Not knowing what to do, only that whatever you do is wrong? You're the brainiac, you tell me: how do you make it right when everything you do is wrong?" Jess could only stare blankly at the tile floor. "Every once in a while Jessica, you have to do the wrong thing to make things right."
Jess's mind went into auto pilot; she had no idea how the thought came to her brain, much less how it left her mouth, "Is that why you drink and yell at us all the time, daddy?"
He took a bite of his chicken and chuckled. "I resigned myself to the fact that the man does no right a long time ago. I guess I can blame my own mother for that. But when all that you do is looked at with disdain and ill-regard, what harm can it do to prove them right?"
The poor teenager's brain could compute that one. "What harm can it do?" she repeated sullenly. "Look around, dad. There are holes in the walls from your fists--not to mention mom's head; the shelves are filled with nothing but booze; you're always upset with either me or mom; your wife is out on the streets right now without her meds--"
"That she hasn't taken in nearly four weeks," he interrupted, slamming his hands on the table. Jess sat back in her chair suddenly afraid of what he might do if she kept this up. "The wall is full of holes because I needed something to hit and that seemed like the better choice than you, and your mother--in her whacked-out state--would bang her head for hours on end if I didn't come home soon enough. So don't you dare sit there and make me out to be the only bad guy in all of this." Jonathan took another bite of his chicken as his daughter absorbed that. "I don't know why your mother is sick, but had I known she was, I wouldn't have married her."
"W-what are you saying?"
The man made a frustrated gesture. "I'm saying I'm sick of watching her put herself through hell and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it. I'm saying I've had enough of all of this bullshit that the two of you have caused me, are causing me. You should try it, Jess. Those 'experts' you admire so much don't know shit. Whiskey is the best medicine, rum and gin are good for awhile, but nothing beats a good dose of Jack. When he and I have our conversations, everything is right." He paused to do just that. "Like right now. I'm tired, pissed off, and worn out and he understands, so he helps me." He finished his glass and went to refill it. Jessica retreated away from the burly man, trying to get out of arm's reach. He chuckled half-heartedly at the visage. "You look like you could use one too, Jessica."
A tear ran her cheek. She didn't know what was what anymore. And if she did, how would she know the difference? In one day her whole world, however fragile it was, came crumbling down around her. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. So, like the lump she felt, the child-genius just stood there, her brain numb.Â
"Eat something," her father commanded.Â
It took a moment for the words to sink in. "I'm not hungry," she said with a great deal of effort. Â Â "No?" He shrugged. "I guess that means more for me then."
Jess got up and exited the room, muttering, "Yeah, I guess it does."
The girl went to the living room if only to get away from her father. Her nerves had reached their limit. She collapsed on the couch in a sobbing pile of rainbow colored clothing. Words could not describe what she felt like. Time and space could have stood still and she wouldn't care or notice. And because of that she had no idea how long she laid there. A few minutes? Maybe longer. All she knew was that when she finally pulled her head out of her arm, her father's den was dark. She knew that meant that he'd gone to bed.
Jess had to wait for her eyes to adjust before doing anything. The house was dark, and if she didn't know any better, she would've thought she was the only one there. Squinting through the darkness, she saw the clock on the wall read nine-thirty.Â
"Holy crap," she said, her voice scratchy. Her stomach growled as she got up. "I hear ya," she mumbled.
Jess made her way to the kitchen. A thought occurred to her as she foraged about the cabinets: Her situation was far worse than she pretended it to be. Despite the fact that her father left her enough food to make herself a plate, he really doesn't care about anything or anyone. Not even himself. The hungry redhead put what she found in the microwave and waited.Â
Jess wasn't used to the house being this silent. There's usually an argument or shouting match that kept her up this time of night. Normally she would bury her head in her pillow and count the seconds until fatigue won out and she fell asleep. But not tonight. Tonight her father is sleeping peacefully (most likely) and her mother was outside wandering around. Jess's eyes started to wander at the thought of it. And when they stopped, she was struck dumb.
They landed on her dad's liquor cabinet. Biting her lower lip, she reached for the handle. She opened up and pulled back as if the handle burned her. Carefully she read each label. Jack Daniels; Jim Beam; Crown Royal; Captain Morgan, original spiced rum; Bacardi; Smirnoff; Skyy; Absult; Makers Mark; and so on. Her father's words echoed in the back of her mind. She looked over her shoulder as if someone would scold her for what she was about to do. Inch by agonizing inch, her hand stretched closer to the closest bottle to her, her father's favorite. Gentleman Jack. "The good stuff," according to him.
She screeched when the microwave dinged. She pulled her hand back and closed the cabinet as though she came out of a trance. The redhead pulled her hot plate out and sat down to enjoy what little she could. Though, despite the welcomed silence, there wasn't much in which to take solace. This was still the home from hell. Actually, to call it a home would disgrace homes like Juliane's.Â
Once she finished her dinner, Jess chanced a look at her palm. Her friend's number was still readable, though slightly smudged. She put the plate in the dishwasher and headed back to the living room, the only room with a phone, and dialed her number.
"Hello?" Juliane said after two rings.
"Hey, Ju-Ju," Jess said quietly. She was still afraid her dad would wake up.
"Hey baby-girl, what's up!" Juliane said with a bit too much enthusiasm.
"Um, my day went even deeper in the shitter after I got home." It felt good to get it out. Jess took a deep breath and waited for her friend to say something.
After another moment, Ju-Ju said, "Sweety, I'm sorry. What happened?"
Jess frowned. "I got home and found out that mom and dad had another argument and mom stormed out of the house." Her friend gasped. "Yeah, according to dad she started going on and on about the usual stuff when she's not medicated. He claims he didn't hit her--and I hate to say it, but I believe him--but she just walked out. We haven't heard from her since."
"Did you call the police? Your neighbors?"
Jess laughed a little. "No they stopped taking my calls a long time ago. Actually, I just sort of went numb. For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. My dad was acting really weird."
The tall brunette tensed. "Weird how? Good or bad?"
"I really don't know," Jess confessed. "He kept talking about always being wrong and tired for caring for her and shit like that."
"Isn't that what a husband is supposed to do, take care of his wife?" Juliane asked affronted.Â
"That's exactly what I thought, but he would change the subject if I tried to get it out of him." The meek redhead paused for a second to think of one other possibility. "You don't supposed her killed her do you?"
"Jess, I can't believe you would say something like that. I mean, yeah he's an abusive asshole with a troubled wife, but how could you sit there and think like that." Ju-Ju paused to think herself. "What has gotten into you lately? Where is all of this morbid thinking coming from?"
"Well, Ju-Ju, it's 'from where are you getting these morbid thoughts' first of all, and secondly, it makes more sense than you realize. The man is a freaking sociopath; you didn't see his cold and narcissistic demeanor after telling me all of this. He actually felt better knowing that she was gone. He sort of seemed... at peace, for lack of a better word. He tried to sympathize and empathize with me, that's not something he's ever done, or, if I'm correct, capable of."
Juliane fell back on her bed. "Jess, you have to call the police. Either way you slice it, they have to be notified. If your dad did something, or if she's just missing, you have to call them."
Jess shook her head. "No."
"If you won't, then I will."
Frustrated tears fell down Jess's cheeks. "Don't do this to me, Ju-Ju. I'm begging you."
"Jess..."
"You don't understand. If I call them then something bad is gonna happen to me. I remember what happened last time."
Suddenly alarmed, Juliane asked, "What happened?"
"Well, remember when my arm was in that sling last spring?" She could almost hear her friend nod. "Well, I didn't fall down the stairs as much as I was pushed down the stairs."
Jessica could feel the heat of her friend's ire through the phone. "That son of a fucking bitch."
"So please, don't make me do this. My mom could just be out there somewhere just walking around aimlessly. I'm sure someone will pick her up and get her the help she needs."
"You sure do change your tune awfully quick," Julianenhh accused.Â
"I'm just saying it's a possibility." Jessica leaned her head back and took another deep breath. She could feel her blood sugar rising which would normally make her feel tired. And she should be after the day she's had, but not tonight. The awkward silence over the line gave her some time to think, a little clearer now that she was able to unload a little. "I'm sorry I ruined your evening," she said quietly, remembering that her dad was asleep.
"It's ok hun. I told you to call me if you wanted to talk about your problems, and I'd say this is a hell of a big problem." There was a calm in the silence that formed between them. "You're feeling better I hope."
"Yeah, a little, but it's better than nothing."
Juliane stared up at her ceiling. Then over to the picture on her nightstand. It was of the two of them taken at last year's 'Great May Play Day' that the school throws just before exams every spring. They were sitting on the blanket that Juliane had her feet under. In the background one could see the festivities of the day, but they just wanted to relax on the hillside opposite the football field, away from all of the chaos. Juliane remembered that day fondly, so did Jessica--it was the only day of the year that everyone left her alone.Â
"Juje, are you there?" Jessica asked for the umpteenth time.
"Yeah, sorry."
"What is it?"
"I was just remembering last May. I still have the picture of the two of us." Jess could hear her friend smile as she spoke.
"I still can't believe I let you talk me into posing for that. It felt so weird."
Juliane smiled, at both the change in subject and subject matter. "It's not like I twisted you arm."
"That would have hurt like hell, it was in the sling. You just did a good job with your Photoshopping."Â
"Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
More silence. Jessica yawned but fatigue was not the cause. Her body was very much awake, but her mind was beat. "Thanks for listening, Ju-Ju, and for putting up with all my shit."
Juliane yawned in turn. "Hey," her friend answered brightly, "It's what I do, sweetie."
Jess played with her hair, a nervous tick of hers from way back. With a lock in her mouth, she debated the idea of hanging up now, or try to keep the conversation going. Juliane settled it.
"Well babe, I need to go to sleep," she said with another yawn. "I hope your mom gets home soon."
"Yeah. Me too," Jessica mumbled.
" 'Night hun."
"You too, Ju-Ju."
The phone clicked off a moment later. Jess hung the phone up and plopped her head down on her outstretched arm. Why did she have to remind her of her mom's absence like that? She cursed at herself for thinking that she could have gone to bed without having to think about it. Her mind began to race yet again.Â
"God damn it!" Another frustrated bout of sobbing consumed her. Juliane was the only friend she has, hell she's the only voice of reason in her head. But now, in one day, the whole message is becoming nothing more than static.Â
Jessica stopping counting the ways how her life kept becoming more and more complicated, but, out of everything that happened today, the only event that seemed to have her at peas was the kiss she shared with Juliane before leaving school. She felt at ease with herself, as if some kind of security blanket had been draped over her shoulders and took away all of her problems. Only it didn't, her problems returned the second she walked through her front door.Â
"Why does everything have to be so fucked up?" she said into her sleeve. Her cheeks were getting damp from the amount of tears she cried. The complicated emotion of what she felt in the moment their lips met continued to bombard her already disheveled mind.Â
'…It takes the pain away... Makes everything bearable… Everything you do is wrong… Experts don't know shit… Your crazy and out of touch with reality... You should try it... Makes everything better... You look like you could use one..." Her father's words echoed in her mind's ear.Â
Jessica got up and went into the kitchen. She grabbed one of her father's tumblers, then opened his favorite cabinet. She reread each label before settling on what her dad referred to as his best friend.Â
'He always understands,' she heard him say again.
The teenager poured a glass, taking cues from her old man. The smell alone should have been enough to distract her from doing this, but not tonight. No, tonight, she was going to put her father's theory to the test. Her mind was damn-near gone so she had nothing else to lose.Â
For the first time in her life, Jessica was about to find out just how wrong she could be.Â
Thank you for reading part three of Holidays In Hell. Things are about to start getting dicey. All questions, comments, concerns, and critiques are always welcome. I look for ward to hearing from you.  Â