In the Bedroom

By B.J. Kusmirek

After years of abuse at the hands of her husband Shane, Mackenzie Rogers quickly divorces escaping with her life and running as far away from him as she can. Leaving behind her family and her home in Riverside California, she settles down in Tomahawk, a small town in northern Wisconsin.

Soon she finds out the little house she purchased and just moved into has its own dark past as well as a life of its own. With her ex-husband planning her demise, Mackenzie finds herself swept up in a whirlwind of love, lies, friendship, murder and revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jan 5, 2006
• ISBN: 9781412227483

B.J. Kusmirek

B.J Kusmirek has enjoyed writing her whole life. Writing this novel has been both healing for her as well as fun. She is currently living with her family in Northern Wisconsin and working on her next novel, Punish the Innocent. For mom and dad who still help me through life and who always believed in my dreams, even when I couldn't, I love you.

Book preview

© Copyright 2004 Brenda Kusmirek.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book that includes the U.S. Library of Congress Classification number, the Library of Congress Call number and the Dewey Decimal cataloguing code is available from the Library and Archives of Canada. The complete cataloguing record can be obtained from the National Library’s online database at:

www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN 1-4120-3635-6

Image303.JPG

This book was published on-demand in cooperation with Trafford Publishing.

On-demand publishing is a unique process and service of making a book available for retail sale to the public taking advantage of on-demand manufacturing and Internet marketing. On-demand publishing includes promotions, retail sales, manufacturing, order fulfilment, accounting and collecting royalties on behalf of the author.

Suite 6E, 2333 Government St.,

Victoria, B.C. V8T 4P4, CANADA

Phone           [phone]

Toll-free       1-888-232-4444

Fax               250-383-6804

E-mail          [e-mail]/robots/04-1463.html

10         9         8         7         6         5         4         3

Contents

Prologue

One

TWO

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty one

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Thirty

Thirty One

Thirty Two

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Thirty Five

Thirty Five

Thirty Six

Thirty Seven

Thirty Eight

Thirty Nine

Forty

Epilogue

For mom and dad who still help me through

life and who always believed in my dreams,

even when I couldn’t. I love you.

Prologue

Last night she thought she would die. Today she planned her escape.

***

Her husband was in one of his moods again, that always frightened her and she found it hard to sleep.

It was midnight when she woke up to the slamming of the kitchen cabinet doors. Then suddenly he stood in the doorway, shadowed by the hall light behind him.

He screamed at her. Get the hell out of bed you lazy bitch. How can you lay there and just sleep when I’m not in bed too?

She quickly did as she was told not wanting to upset him any further. He gave her a good shove as she walked past him. He ordered her to take off her nightgown and kneel in the middle of the living room. The rough rug that covered a portion of the hardwood floor dug into her tender naked knees.

He walked around her, over and over again, yelling obscenities and calling her awful names. Sometimes he’d kneel down in front of her and stare at her with crazy eyes, spitting in her face before he rose again to walk in more circles around her cold naked body.

When she began to cry, he kicked her, once, twice then a third time before disappearing back into the kitchen to slam the cabinet doors again.

She stayed there kneeling, knowing that to move would be a big mistake. How insane he acted tonight, more so than any other time. She shook with fear, unable to even imagine what he might do next. He came back into the living room then and quietly asked her why she was still there. The look on his face had softened a little but she saw something behind those eyes as he told her to go to bed and get some sleep, something evil and it made her sick to her stomach. It told her to run, run for her life and run now. Forget about the fact she wore no clothes, just run. It wasn’t long before he stood in the doorway again.

The ritual went on for most of the night and by four in the morning her knees where sore and bleeding from the abuse they had taken from the rough carpet. Tortured mentally more then physically, her mind felt as if it no longer belonged to her. When he sent her back to bed for the last time, she could only lay there staring at the doorway, waiting for the next round.

Chuck-chuck.

Her heart dropped to her stomach with that sound. He stood in the doorway again and she could make out the silhouette of the shotgun he held in his hand. Suddenly everything seemed so surreal. She was cornered with no way to escape so she closed her eyes and prayed, oh how she prayed. God give me one more chance, just one more chance to leave the crazy bastard and I will. I promise. And while she prayed, she waited for the blast of the gun that would have taken her life.

If he’d wanted to scare her, he did. If he’d wanted to kill her he could of, but she concluded he was, unable to make up his mind, unclear himself of his own intentions, so he just stood there ready for either decision.

When she made it through the night still breathing, she thanked God for answering her prayer and sitting here now, thanked him again.

The coffee tasted bitter in her dry mouth and she added another spoonful of sugar, but it didn’t help. The bitterness she tasted wasn’t from the coffee, she realized, but from the fear she was feeling. Fear of leaving, fear of staying knowing that either decision would be a fight for survival. He was going to hurt her no matter what, and after last night, maybe even kill her.

This morning he left for work earlier then usual giving her the opportunity to put into motion the plan that would change her life forever. She picked up the phone and began to dial.

One

A full moon danced brightly across the layer of ice forming over the new fallen snow, giving it the appearance of white glass. During the evening hours the temperature plummeted from a cool twenty three degrees to almost thirty below with the wind-chill. Frost bite or death would come easily.

Intelligent people stayed inside, drinking hot chocolate or red wine while warming themselves in front of a fireplace. Some might be found nestled in their beds alone, dreaming of warmer times, or with a lover entwined in a moment of heated passion. Bodies wrapped so tightly you couldn’t tell where one began or the other ended.

It was a night not unlike many of the nights in northern Wisconsin during wintertime.

Alone and warm, Mackenzie Rogers lay sleeping in her bed. From the outside she looked peaceful and calm, giving no indication to the horrific dream playing out in her mind, a dream now two months running with no end in sight. In the world of her unconscious mind, there was no cold. In fact it was quite warm, but it was dark. So dark she couldn’t see where she was going or where she had been and this proved to be quite a challenge when the need to run and hide from someone was very crucial.

For the moment however, she found seclusion behind an old dumpster, taking the opportunity to try and catch her breath. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. Boom..Boom..Boom. and she felt it pulse in her ears as she strained to listen for approaching footsteps, knowing full well he would come for her once again.

Then as if her thoughts knew of the future, she heard them, a step, maybe two. They sounded close. He seemed to be walking cautiously as he searched for her, maybe listening for her as she was listening for him, both waiting for the other to make a sound of any kind.

Frozen in fear, she could only hope that he would walk past her and continue his search in another direction taking him far from where she sat now, but there were no more footsteps. He was standing somewhere close…waiting.

It became so still and quiet she feared he would hear her breathing or the sound of her heart beating against her chest. She squinted through the darkness, but couldn’t make out any signs of movement, no silhouettes, nothing. As Mac contemplated the whereabouts of her assailant, she felt a hand grip her shoulder. Silently she screamed waking her from the dream. It was 3 a.m.

She sat up in bed pulling at her nightgown. Yuck, she whispered. It was soaked in sweat and she shivered from the dampness of it. The sheets were a little wet too but she was not in the mood to change them… Not now… Not after that dream and seeing as she was still scared shitless, she couldn’t even bring herself to get out of the bed right away so she could change her gown.

Okay, she had two choices here. Stay where she was and try to sleep in her soaked nightgown or say screw it, it was only a dream, but was it only a dream. Then why did it come to her every night revealing a little more of itself each time and why did it feel to Mac like a warning or a message of some kind? In fact it had started to bother her so much that even during the day her thoughts were consumed by it and what it might mean and when she wasn’t deep in thought over it, it would nag at the back of her mind like a bad headache. It couldn’t be her imagination, could it? No, it felt too strong right in the pit of her stomach and she learned to trust that feeling.

Well this wasn’t making her feel any better or any less frightened, maybe a clean dry nightgown would.. not! It was now or never.

Damn it, she cursed out loud leaving the safety of her bed and flying over to the dresser, which seemed a continent away, to grab the first gown she could find. This was not the time to be picky. Quickly she ripped off the wet one, threw the dry one on and sprinted back to bed. Pulling the big quilt tightly around her neck, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly the room felt too big and no matter which side she laid on, the other side felt unprotected. If there had been a wall to push her back up against it would have been a big help. She made a mental note to move the bed.

This sucks, she said under her breath and after what seemed like hours sleep came, restless, full of disturbing images that attacked her unconscious mind with a vengeance. The dream though, did not return.

TWO

The phone rang.

Shit, Mac growled rolling to pick it up.

Hello? she mumbled into the receiver.

Whatcha doing?" It was Becky, her best friend of twenty years and who right at this moment sounded way too cheerful for Macs mood.

You scared the shit out of me. What time is it? Mac asked.

What do you mean? You weren’t still in bed, where you? Becky sounded surprised. Its one o’clock.

In the afternoon? Mac practically screamed in the phone. I can’t believe I slept so late. But the pounding in her head told her she had. She always managed to brew up a good migraine when she slept too long.

I can let you go, Becky offered

No that’s okay. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. God I feel like dog shit on a rainy day.

Becky giggled then fell silent. You had that dream again didn’t you?

It’s no big deal. She lied. I just don’t understand why I keep having it. It’s kind of creepy you know?

Becky found out about the dream the time she spent the night after Mac first moved into the house. You know girl stuff. Watch movies, pop popcorn. Talk of first loves, lost loves, high school and old times, but all the great memories were lost in that dream and Mac awoke during the night, as she always did, screaming. She scared Becky quite a bit that night and after a little consoling and a lot of coaxing, Mac spilled her guts about everything and in the end felt better that someone else shared her fears even if it was just knowing of them.

Are you okay? Becky asked. Even though she spoke softly, her voice echoed loudly in Macs ear because of the headache brewing in her skull. She held out the receiver.

I’m fine. Just tired and my head hurts. You know me.

I’m coming over.

No I’m fine. Her head started throbbing and she rubbed at it with her free hand. If she didn’t take something for it soon it would get out of control. I think I’m just gonna hang out and be lazy. The days already wasted anyway. I’ll be okay, really.

Becky tried to lighten the dark mood that suddenly hung over their conversation by calling Mac a nickname they’d used on each other since childhood. Turd bomb! It made Mac smile even through the pain.

You act as if you always have to go through this stuff by yourself. I know how tough you are, you don’t need to keep on proving it to me, okay? Now I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.

Before Mac could say another word, there was a click and her friend was gone. She was glad to be off the phone.

It took all the energy she could muster to crawl out of bed, but she managed somehow and grabbed her robe off the bed post as she headed for the bathroom.

Her medicine cabinet was scarcely stocked, Zoloft and Xanax, her prescribed meds, thanks to Shane, a bottle of an over the counter sleep aide and her Excedrin, that at the moment, she so desperately needed. If she caught her headaches soon enough the Excedrin would be all she’d need, if not she would need an injection, hence the Imitrex in the medicine cabinet and she hated the injections. Not giving them to herself but what would happen to her afterwards. The horrible feeling of warmth through her veins as the medicine traveled through her body, her throat tightening to the point where she felt she was struggling to breathe, like being choked from the inside. The feeling of impending doom, although short lived, is terrifying and then… sweet release. Her headache would be gone, her body exhausted. A nap was always good after one of those. She downed the aspirin without water, a talent seasoned pill poppers acquire, and headed downstairs.

The house was still so new to her. Even though she’d lived there a couple of weeks all ready not everything had been unpacked. There where still boxes throughout the house. Right now all she wanted was the coffee and a cup and she had no clue where they were. Staring at the many possibilities in front of her, Mac began opening the cupboards one by one. She searched through each one several times… Nothing.. Frustrated she slammed the doors shut. But she hadn’t given up, no siree. How hard could it be? One little can of coffee, one goddamn cup and you would think from the difficulty she was having that she was searching for a small diamond in a crystal palace. She knew they weren’t in any of the boxes because she remembered unpacking them but she hadn’t made coffee here yet and the two cups she owned were so brightly colored. Why couldn’t she find them either?

Count to ten, try again, her motto when things made her mad and right now she was pissed.

Better count to twenty.

And then she searched again, this time successfully.

***

Once satisfied the coffee pot was actually brewing coffee and not just hot water, she headed back upstairs to take a shower. Halfway up she froze having this weird feeling that if she turned around there would be some one at the bottom of the stairs… watching her. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. She took a deep breath and quickly turned around but there was no one there. Of course there was no one, why would there be? Shaking her head as she rolled her eyes, she headed to the bathroom silently praying Becky would get