Page 80 - The Houseguest

satisfied enough. Brian spent his days usually seeking drink or weed and didn’t pay much attention to the new tenant and Laura would come and go for days on end with no word, so it mattered not to her.
After two weeks, Brian was awoken to a loud banging on the front door. He glanced out through a hole in the door, a remnant of his father’s drunken fist. He saw men holding open badges. He opened the door as they asked his name. “I’m Brian...Brian Gabels. What do you want?” he answered.
With that, the officers slammed him into the wall. He turned his head instinctively and felt the wood paneling scratching his left cheek as they pushed him harder. They searched and cuffed him and he heard the words they spoke as they escorted him violently down the concrete steps of their crude front porch: “You have the right to remain silent...anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...” Their words faded off into oblivion. He’d heard it all before.
It seems his father had been paying unwelcomed visits to the resident in the shed. He’d kept her tightly gagged in the daytime and raped her every night. Her hands and feet were bound to the frame of an old wooden bed left over from his childhood. He would feed her oatmeal and give her water as she choked and gagged her way through “mealtime”. Once a day he would untie her to use a bucket in the corner for a bathroom, but once a day was not enough and she would urinate on the sheets and through the mattress. That is, until dehydration set in and there wasn’t much left. Brian wondered why the door had been secured with an outside padlock, but figured she did that in paranoia that her husband would find her. She’d given her new
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life