Born Bad Read Free Page B

locks anywhere, not even on the bathroom door. The basement, where he'd take the girls. One at a time. The leather strap, the one with the brass studs. I can still feel it across my back.
    I was just a baby when he started with Fiona—Frankie wasn't even born. One after the other. His property. Mom tried to stop him once. I remember—I was eight, Evelyn was about thirteen. He made her suck him, right at the kitchen table. He made us all watch. "Anytime I want," is what he said. "My property—anytime I want." I tried to go after him — Denise held me back. It didn't do any good. He beat me so bad I woke up in the hospital,
    Mom told them I fell down a flight of stairs. Into the basement, onto the concrete floor.
    He never got Denise. She wouldn't do it. He broke her arm once, twisted it hard behind her back. I heard it snap.
    I don't know what Denise told the hospital, but some social workers came to the house. The older girls, they all said Denise was a liar…she was staying out late, smoking cigarettes, drinking. Messing with boys. The social workers said something to him about counseling.
    When they left, he punched me in the face. I lost two teeth. Then he took Rhonda down to the basement.
    Denise tried to stab him once. With a kitchen knife, when he was holding my hand in the flame from the stove burner. I threw up on myself but he didn't stop.
    The girls moved out, one by one. Fiona is a whore. She works in a club downtown, dancing naked. Rhonda killed herself with drugs. Evelyn went off with a biker.
    He still sees Fiona. Anytime he wants.
    Denise worked as a typist. For a lawyer. She was the smartest one, Denise. She was going to go to law school herself, someday. He picked her up once. Told her Mom was in the hospital. Drove her into an alley and went after her. Denise fought him to a standstill. She told the cops. They picked him up. He said it never happened—he was home with Mom all night. Mom was never in the hospital. But Denise was. Once before. A psychiatric hospital. When she tried to kill herself.
    When the cops found out about that, they closed the case.
    He always said he'd take her. She was his. They all were. Fred is his name. The girl's names were his brand. Fiona. Rhonda. Evelyn. Denise.
    Frankie's name didn't matter. Neither did mine.
    "Can I count on you?" I asked Frankie again.
    He got it that time. Reached out his hand. "It has to be right," I told him. "For Denise. Blowing him up, it wouldn't be good enough. You understands'
    He nodded.
    "No more nonsense, Frankie. Do the rest of your time, no beefs, got it?"
    He nodded again.
    I waited and I watched.
    Mom said he was with her the night Denise was killed. It's an Unsolved Homicide.
    Frankie got out on a Monday. I picked him up. He came to live with me.
    Friday night we went in. The locks only took me a couple of minutes.
    He never woke up. I left Frankie at the head of the stairs while I went down into the basement. Frankie had a tire iron in his hand. "If he comes downstairs, you can do it," I said.
    I know where he keeps his trophies. In this little back room he built in the basement. Under a loose brick in the corner. A red silk scarf, a faded corsage from a dance, a pair of little girl's panties, white. And the pictures: Fiona on her knees, with him in her mouth. Rhonda bent over, something sticking out of her. Evelyn nude, lying down, a mirror between her legs. He didn't have any little-girl pictures of Denise…just a Polaroid of her lying on the apartment floor. Naked. A knife between her breasts.
    I took everything. Left him a note.
    He's a creature. Needs his blood. After the girls left, whenever something went wrong, when he got stressed, he'd go down to his room, take out his trophies, say his prayers.
    Saturday morning, I called the house. Mom answered, like she always does.
    "Put him on," is all I said.
    "What d'you wants' he challenged. Hard, aggressive. The way he told us you had to be…to be a man.
    "Revenge," I told him,