Fury's Love. Tess Mathews
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Her heart wanted to scream his name, but she spoke in a terrified whisper. She crouched by her father.
"Belle, run." Her father's voice trembled.
"Papa, you're hurt, Where's Mama?"
She scanned the dark room. There, a little way from, her lay another form, and she knew it was her mother. She dragged herself to the lifeless body.
"No, Belle," she heard her father's weak protest.
"Wake up." Belle gently shook her mother's body. "Please, Mama, wake up." She touched the side of her mother's face, only to draw back when a sticky substance covered her hand.
"Belle," her father's voice reached her, "she's gone, and I will be soon. Don't look at her. Remember her life, Belle, not her death." Belle's father struggled to talk, his breathing growing shallower as the seconds ticked by.
She crawled back to him and cradled his head in her lap.
"Belle, run…live."
"Papa, I can't leave you and Mama."
Belle heard the clunking of heavy boots making their way down the stairs.
"Belle." Judge Alston racked his body to gain a gasp of air." Go now, Belle…remember us as we were," he wheezed, "don't let this moment define your life…live, Belle, be happy."
Belle wiped a tear from his eye and leaned her head down against his. "Don't leave me," she whispered.
Judge Alston's hand shook as he raised it to cup his daughter's face. "Run." His hand dropped with a thud.
"I'm not leaving you or Mama. I'll save you, Papa." Denial flooded her heart as she refused the reality in front of her. She got to her feet and made her way through the kitchen. She edged her way through the foyer, hugging the wall with her back.
One of the intruders whistled a tune as she slid into the stairwell closet. Belle shrank into the back of the closet, her back pressed against the wall. She slid down, crouching in the solitude of a dark corner.
Her frenzied mind hindered her ability to focus and think. Rubbing her temples with her fingertips, she attempted to clear her mind, but to no avail. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself. Desperate to do something but helpless, she remained in the darkness and trembled.
What do I do? What if they find me?
Small bands of light leaked through the louvers of the closet door, casting eerie shadows. Belle's eyes darted in the dim light searching, searching…
A weapon…a weapon. I need a weapon! Mama's sewing basket. Yes…scissors in there…I could…I could stab one of them. If I had to.
She rose on wobbling legs and rummaged the shelves, searching for her mother's sewing basket
Bam!
Belle's body jolted at the sound of the gunshot, and fear drove her back to her hiding place.
Bam! Bam!
The murmur of voices reached her ears. Her limbs wobbled and shook as she crawled to the door. She needed to hear them.
"What ya go and do that for? They's dead already."
"Just making sure."
"Come on; let's finish and get outta here."
A shudder of grief racked her small body and agony seared her heart. As hot, bitter tears washed her face, she clasped both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. With rapid, shallow gasps, she breathed in the rank air and felt sick.
Hideous laughter broke into the darkness.
Belle shoved her small body under the lowest shelf and curled her legs up to her chest like a baby in its mother's womb. But unlike a babe in the womb, there was no sense of safety, only terror.
A spider crawled on her hand. Belle swallowed hard as it proceeded to crawl up her forearm. Sweat gathered on her brow as she saw the red violin and realized it was a black widow. Not able to move, she watched as the spider crawled off her arm and onto the floor. It then walked past her face and into a hole in the wall. Taking a deep breath, Belle rolled out from under the shelf. She sat in her dark corner and listened as her parents' murderers destroyed her home.
Between the sounds of furniture being overturned and precious objects being smashed, she heard the melodious whistling of one of the intruders. She thought the foreboding tune would drive her mad as she heard it over and over. But the maddening sound was driven from her mind when she heard footsteps approaching her hiding place. Fear should have kept her crouching in the darkness, but she spied a broken slat on the bottom of the louvered door. Desperate to see if she could spot anything that would identify the murderers, Belle pushed through her fear and crawled to the door.
She rubbed her eyes in a feeble attempt to sharpen her vision, and she could see red boots in front of the door. Belle's heart pounded in her throat and sweat ran down the curves of her face.
Dear Lord, she silently prayed, please let him pass by.
"I wonder what they keep in here?"
Belle's breathing slowed as she heard the voice of the man who had just shot her parents. Her eyes centered on the doorknob as it began to turn. The sound of her heartbeat hammered in her ears, and the lump in her throat became a burning desert. Belle's eyes widened, watching the knob turn. Left. Right. Left. Right. The door jiggled, and a cold numbness washed over her body, sinking to her core. Her breathing became mere puffs of air as she waited for the one turn leading to her discovery. She trembled at the thought of what they would do to her if she were found.
"Damn door is stuck."
He yanked on the door.
After a few more attempts, Belle knew the door would open.
"Hey, lookie here!" the whistling man shouted out to his partner.
The man with the red boots released the doorknob.
Belle crumbled to the floor.
"What?" he shouted.
"Come here and take a look. I think we hit the jackpot."
Belle heard footsteps walking away from the door, but she received no sense of relief.
She had no idea what they'd found. Maybe it was the money her father hid in his desk or her mother's jewelry; she didn't care. She could hear them talking in the foyer.
"Let's get out of here; we done what we wanted and got this to boot."
"All right, but there is one last thing I want to do. I want to burn down this fine house. I don't want nuttin of that judge's life left standing. Let's start it in the old judge's study. There's plenty of paper and books in there. I'll toss this lamp to start it going; should burn in no time."
Belle heard the commotion from her father's office, her father's precious books thudding as they hit the floor, furniture upended and the smashing of glass, followed by a pause then laughter.
"Let's get the hell out of here; this place will be an inferno in a few minutes."
The sound of a few quick footsteps and Belle knew they were gone.
She sat paralyzed by fear, unable to move, even when she smelled the smoke. Fire! They set the house on fire! For a moment, Belle accepted her fate, willing to sit in the closet until the smoke overtook her.
Knowing her parents were dead stole her desire to live without them. Her eyelids drooped closed. She waited. But there in the darkness as she awaited death to overcome her, a thought came to her. What if they are still alive? What are you thinking? They were shot multiple times, but what if? The thought nagged at her, and her eyes popped open. I must go to them.
A light stream of smoke leaked into the closet. Springing to her feet, she tried with all her strength to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Stuck, maybe from the heat,