Slap

Henry drove the boat. He loved feeling the air rush over him and the spray on his skin. The boat rose and fell as it met the waves head on, and he found himself laughing. He was so happy in this moment. He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the waves slap against the side of the boat. He knew he was the only craft in the area. No one dared to venture out near his destination.

Oops, Henry glanced over his shoulder at his unconscious daughter. Our destination. Our home.

He had wrapped Dawn in a blanket, because the Seattle air was brisk. He didn't want her to get sick. She was still out, but it wasn't because of the choke. No, if he had only relied on his violence, she would be awake now. In fact…

Henry glanced over his shoulder at her one more time. Dawn didn't move.

The drugs will be wearing off soon.

Henry Wakefield pushed boat to go faster, speeding towards his childhood summer home, his happy place, the place of his Baptism of Blood.

Harper's Island.

XxX

For one flickering moment, Dawn was awake. She had struggled and crawled her way through the black and into the light. She saw a slit of light and fought off the curling, squeezing thing that threatened to drag her under again. It was like a snake, coiling around her body, tempting her to surrender and find peace in the abyss. Dawn clawed it away, she strained toward the light.

Finally, finally she opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt so heavy…so…

Her eyelids collapsed again, and she had to fight to reopen them. Her dark eyes slowly, painfully, roamed around her field of vision. She couldn't turn her head, it felt like it was chained in place. Her eyes found her wrists. She futilely tried to move them, but they barely raised a centimeter off the ground. She found a black zip tie bound her wrists tightly together. She feebly tried to pull against them, but she only succeeded in leaving red marks.

Was I drugged? She thought through the oppressing fog. Why didn't he kill me?

At last her eyes fell on her captor, her father, her Dad's murderer. She realized vaguely, in some detached, out-of-body way, that she was on a boat that Henry was driving.

Her eyelids dropped suddenly, as if they couldn't bear the weight of being open. Dawn tried to open them again, but it was like they were locked, the key thrown away deep into the recesses of her being. The fog clouded her mind. The snake slithered around her body, gripping her. Dawn struggled to remain awake, to fight the darkness.

As she faded away, one clear, lightning bolt of thought struck her.

She was going to Harper's Island.

XxX

Abby sat at the table and blew her bangs out of her eyes. She had called the house several times, but received no answer. Dawn's cell was nonresponsive too, even Jimmy didn't answer. Abby told herself not to worry. Her daughter was often forgetful and let her battery die, and she liked to go outside or into town. Jimmy lost signal all the time, so Abby consoled herself that everything was fine. Just then, as she resigned herself to stop calling, her editor walked in. She pasted on a smile and greeted him.

XxX

Henry docked the boat. There wasn't another craft in sight, nor was there another person. The only sound that greeted his ears was the waves and the birds screeching, tweeting, and cawing overhead. Henry glanced at the flock of different birds and smiled.

It felt good to be home.

Henry walked back to his daughter and picked her up in his arms. She wasn't heavy in the least, but of course he was used to bigger bodies and hauling them around. He began the long walk toward their house.

"Welcome to your new home Dawn," he said.

His daughter didn't, or rather couldn't, reply. Henry brushed the hair out of her face and smiled.

About ten minutes later, Henry was unlocking the front door. He kicked it open and immediately walked up the stairs. He turned down the hall and walked into a room. Dawn, still unconscious, he placed on the bed. Henry looked around the room and felt a stab of sadness.

This had been Abby's room.

He had put Abby in here years ago. He had wanted her to have the space as her own after he killed everyone. Now, with a few modifications, the room would belong to his daughter. Henry's eyes fell on her bound wrists and he contemplated untying them. He shook his head. What if she woke up while he was gone? The lock on the door would deter her sure, but it wasn't a guarantee. Henry decided to leave the zip tie alone. He glanced around the room a final time, kissed the crown of Dawn's head, then left, securely locking the door. He walked down the stairs with a bounce in his step. He was so happy to finally have his daughter. Nothing could ruin it for him.

XxX

Dawn opened her eyes and was met with an unfamiliar room. She shot up, then immediately regretted doing so. Her head spun and her stomach lurched. She dropped her head into her bound hands.

"Crap," she muttered, waiting for the feeling to subside.

After a minute, it did. The inbred stood and looked around the room.

Why aren't I dead? She didn't mean for her thoughts to come off as ungrateful, but she didn't know why he'd let her live. The answer came to her and she found herself laughing without humor. "Right…I'm his kid," she said.

She was an inbred, born of rape. Her real father was a psychopath. Her parents had lied to her all her life. She was conceived on this godforsaken island.

It was a lot to take in.

Dawn walked around the room. She found pictures on the wall.

Maybe I could use the glass, she thought as she got closer to the frame on the wall. She lifted her bound hands to take it off the wall when she noticed something.

There was no reflection.

Dawn was confused; she reached her hand up and touched the picture, expecting to feel cool, smooth glass. Instead, she felt the paper from the picture.

"No glass," she whispered, dazed. He's smarter than I gave him credit for.

She stared at the picture, which depicted a dock on the water, it even had a year on it. A new thought roused her into action as she pulled the picture off the wall.

"Please, please, please," she muttered.

She held the picture in her bound hands as her eyes stared at the blank space it had occupied. She had been hoping for a nail, instead, she was met with a commercial brand plastic hook held onto the wall by a type of foam adhesive strip.

Dawn stared at it blankly. One second ticked by…three…five…

Suddenly, she snapped into motion. The teen screamed in pure anger and anguish as she threw the picture in its frame at the opposite wall. She stormed over to the door and began to bash her hands against it.

"Let me out! Do you hear me? Get me the hell out!" she screamed. She hit the door harder. "Let me go! Monster! Let me out you murderer!" She went on like that for a few minutes, cursing at Henry, calling him every bad name she could think of, spewing every curse she knew. Her throat was raw by the time she stopped shouting. Her knuckles were cut and steadily bleeding. Her blood stained and dripped down the light colored wood that made up the door. Just like her blood, she fell down…down…until Dawn was on her knees, her bound hands still against the door.

"Please…let me out," she whispered hoarsely. "God…please…"

Her mind had registered something she refused to accept yet. Her intellect figured out that if Henry had been in the house, he would have come when she started banging and screaming. However, Dawn did not want to recognize the fact that she was alone. She was completely and utterly alone, even her kidnapper was gone. What's worse, Dawn didn't know what she was more afraid of: being alone in a strange place or being in a strange place with a murderer.

Dawn couldn't stop the tears that spilled from her eyes.

XxX

Henry was walking back to the house, bags in hand. Truth be told, it was only two bags; a backpack and the plastic bag containing what personal affects the hunter would allow his prey. As he passed the shoreline playground, he wondered if Dawn would like to go there. He knew she might consider herself too old, but it had swings. Who didn't love swings? Even Henry himself liked that certain playground equipment and he especially loved jumping off at the peak of the swing. He loved the rush as he plummeted back down to earth.

About five minutes later, he was at the house. The house he and his future complete family would live in, but for now, he was satisfied with his daughter as his only company. In time, Abby will join them, but not now, later, when the time was right. Maybe Abby would come on her own. Henry unlocked the door and was met by silence. He found that odd. Was Dawn sleeping? Or was she lying in wait, ready to attack?

"Dawn?" he called up the stairs.

He got no reply.

"Dawn, I'm coming up," he dropped the backpack on a chair at the kitchen island and began to ascend the stairs.

XxX

Dawn was lying on the cold, hardwood floor. She had given up trying to get out of the room. She was on the second floor, and jumping from the window would result in serious injury or death, and she wasn't that desperate, not yet. She had looked in the bathroom and found no means of a weapon. No razors, only hair removal cream (at least Henry…her father rather, had thought that one through, though the fact that she would need it frightened her to no end). She had found a wide assortment of toiletries, enough to last her a long time. She had opened the medicine cabinet and found no medicine she could overdose on (although, the teen had to admit again, she wasn't brave enough, or like she thought before with the window, desperate enough…yet). However, she had found a pair of tweezers…metal tweezers. She had worked at them for what seemed like forever, she had almost straightened them out completely, to form a line of metal about four inches long. It wasn't particularly sharp, because it was the kind of tweezers that someone used to pluck their eyebrows or remove a splinter. Dawn had taken the tweezers and slipped one end into the box on the zip tie, trying to undo the lock between the bar on the strip that was locked with the clasp in the small square. She tried and tried again, but her hands were shaking too much. Dawn finally decided on cutting through her plastic bonds with her makeshift blade. She kept going, even when her hand slipped and cut her wrists, she pushed on. By the end of it, her wrists were bleeding as well as her knuckles, and her restraints were hardly affected by her efforts. Knowing she couldn't do any more (and that it was too risky to try), she slipped her 'tool' under the mattress, but she had no energy to get on the mattress herself. So she lay on the ground, unmoving, barely breathing, almost curled into a ball, but not quite, as if it was too much effort to completely close herself off.

She heard the front door open and close, footsteps resounding through the space.

Henry was in the house.

"Dawn?" he called.

The addressed just shook her head, as if she were denying that she was the one he wanted.

"Dawn, I'm coming up," his voice was like nails on a chalkboard, making her shudder.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't believe in prayer, but right now, she was pleading with any deity that was listening to save her, to help her, or to just end it quickly and kill her.

She would take anything at this point.

XxX

Henry waited outside the door for a few seconds. He heard nothing inside the room; no movement, no screaming, no crying…

No breathing.

He opened the door slowly, in case his daughter had any ideas about attacking him, but he needn't have worried.

Henry was shocked by what he saw, or rather, who he saw. Dawn was lying on the floor, a small puddle of blood surrounded her wrists. Henry was frozen for a few seconds.

"Dawn?" he whispered. "Dawn, what did you…"

She didn't move at all.

"Dawn!" Henry yelled, worried that she was dead, that she had found some way to do it even though he had altered the room to try and make that impossible.

He ran forward and slid toward his child on his knees. He picked her up in his arms.

"Dawn, ple—" but his plea became locked in his throat when dark eyes looked back at him.

His daughter was alive.

Thank God, he thought as he clutched her to his chest. Thank you. Thank you.

"Dawn, what happened?" he asked the lifeless teen, pushing hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand.

"Sorry," she croaked faintly. "I'm sorry."

Henry shook his head and held her closer.

XxX

Dawn let her father hold her. She couldn't fight him, he was too strong. He wasn't hurting her, but she could feel his restrained strength through his embrace.

"Sorry," she whispered this time, her throat felt like sandpaper. "I'm sorry."

Yes, she was sorry. Sorry she was too scared to kill herself, sorry that she had given up, sorry that she was here, sorry that he had found her like this, and sorry that she was a freak, just like Henry. Who else but a freak could solider on without any grimace after they'd cut themselves? Who else but a freak would sit and plot murder while they waited?

Henry would. She did. The knowledge scared her even more.

Another reason she apologized is because she knew of Henry's anger. She didn't want to invoke it.

He held her a few seconds longer, then helped her stand. Dawn couldn't look at him as he examined her injured hands and wrists.

"What did you do Dawn?" Henry asked sadly.

Why did he keep saying her name? Couldn't he stop?

She realized that he wanted an answer. The teen swallowed. "I-I…"

How could she tell him the truth? How could she tell him that she wanted to leave? That she hated him and didn't want to be his prisoner?

"Forget it," Henry muttered. "We can talk after we cleaned you up and you eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she replied automatically.

Henry brushed her words away, "Come on."

They took a step forward, then stopped suddenly. "Wait," her biological father said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his switch blade.

Dawn's eyes widened and she tried to pull away from him. Her tears flowed quicker.

"Please," she begged.

XxX

Henry felt a stab of regret when his daughter pulled away from him, fear in her eyes.

"Please," she pleaded, tears streaming downs her cheeks.

Henry felt stupid for pulling the knife out so casually. He turned to face his daughter.

"Sweetie, I just want to cut the zip tie. I promise," he said calmly.

She didn't look like she believed him. That broke his heart.

She seemed to decide something, because she held out her shaking arms to him. Henry smiled and slowly, carefully cut at the plastic. When he had done so, he wished he hadn't. He saw the full extent of her injuries and they made his heart break even more.

"Come on Dawnie," he gently took her hand, avoiding the cuts on her knuckles. He led her down the stairs and into the kitchen. There, he motioned for her to sit at the island while he disappeared to get the supplies. When he returned, the murderer found his daughter looking around the room. Henry sat down and faced his daughter (he loved that title…daughter. He loved having someone to give it to, someone like him). He took the peroxide and began to wipe the blood away from the scrapes on her knuckles.

"What happened?" he asked again.

Dawn seemed to stop breathing. "I…I wanted…out," she whispered.

So she banged on the door until she bled, probably screamed herself hoarse too, which was why she couldn't really talk.

Henry finished with the cuts on her knuckles, then moved on to the wrists. "And these?"
"I tried to get out of the tie," she replied simply.

"Were you scared?" Henry was curious.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

She only nodded again.

XxX

Minutes later, Henry was looking around in the cabinets for something to eat.

"Why aren't I dead?" Dawn had been working up the courage to ask her question as soon as he brought her downstairs.

Henry turned and looked at her, she thought she saw hurt flash in his dark eyes. "I love you. I would never hurt you."

Dawn was confused. This was coming from the man who had choked her out and drugged her.

"You don't know me."

"You're my daughter," he returned easily. The ball was in her court now.

"No, I'm not," Dawn bit out, clenching her fists and staring down at her bandaged knuckles and wrists.

"You are Dawn. I've seen that look in your eyes, back at the house, when you came at me with the knife. We're the same."

"I am not like you!" she shouted, her voice cracking slightly from the overuse earlier.

Henry became tense. "Dawn—"

"Shut up! Stop saying my name!" She covered her ears.

Henry strode over to his daughter and grasped her arms, pulling them down. "Don't act like a child."

Dawn yanked herself away from her father, "Shut up! You don't know me! You're not my Dad! Jimmy Mance is my Dad! He raised me! He loves me! You're just a monster!" Dawn knew she would pay for those words, but she didn't care at the moment. She wanted to let this beast know where he stood with her. She wanted to hurt him. He would never be someone she cared about, never be family. She wanted to convey her hatred to him.

Anger flashed across Henry's face.

XxX

Henry didn't understand. How could everything go from OK to bad in mere minutes? How could he go from fixing his daughter to her yelling at him, saying terrible things to him, things that made him angry, uncontrollably angry.

He brought the back of his hand across her cheek.

Slap!

Dawn stumbled away from him, clutching her now throbbing and stinging cheek. She looked at him with tears in her eyes again. Henry felt regret and anguish stab his heart, his soul, once again. He had hurt his daughter.

"Dawn…I…I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.

She looked at him, her body, her eyes screaming panic and fear.

"Dawnie," his voice was a plea.

She didn't give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes shone with tears that were about to fall as she streaked past him. By the time Henry processed what Dawn was going to do, she was bounding up the stairs. He ran after her.

"Dawn wait!" he tried to get her to stop, to listen to him, but she ignored him.

With her head start, she was able to get into her room and slam the door.

Henry stopped at the small obstacle. He was sure he could get in if he wanted to, but he didn't want to scare her any more than he already had. He put his hand against the door.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I was angry," he admitted. "I got mad too fast. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

Heavy breathing from the other side of the wooden door was his only response.

"Come out when you're ready. I'll be waiting."

He didn't know if he would regret those words later.

XxX

Dawn braced herself against the door as she listened to Henry's retreating footsteps. After she was sure he was gone, she slid onto the ground again. Her cheek hurt and she guessed there would be bruising. She closed her eyes and decided something. She would not come out. She would not leave this room. Her father would have to drag her out. She promised herself she wouldn't leave, not for anything. She resolved to starve before she left.

She couldn't get his expression out of her mind.

He looked like he was going to kill her. Is that what his victims had seen, right before he killed them? Was that what her Dad saw? But then, after the anger…there was…regret, sadness, shock. Maybe he didn't mean to hurt her. He sounded like he was the one in pain instead of her. Henry was crazy, of that she was sure but…if he was crazy, what did that make her, his inbred spawn? One thing was for sure, she didn't want to make him angry again anytime soon.

The darkness inside her being crept over her, and she tried to fight it again, but she'd been running on adrenaline. Her body was crashing. This time, she stumbled to the bed before she was forced to surrender to the dark.

XxX

As Dawn was fighting against her our encroaching darkness, someone else was fighting against his own. His eyes fluttered open, seeing only red. A groan passed his lips as he put his hands down, dragging himself up.

"Dawn?" he whispered hoarsely, remembering the panicked scream that had pierced through his consciousness.

Red filled his vision. It was blood. His blood. He groaned as he felt the cut on his head.

"Henry!" the name left his lips before he even realized he was saying it.

Just as quickly, a second name escaped his throat, this time, in a desperate, almost shrill tone. "DAWN!"

Jimmy Mance stood on his feet, he stumbled, but grasped the wall for support. "DAWN!" he roared.

He staggered around the rooms, dragged himself up the stairs, but his daughter was nowhere in sight. Neither was his enemy.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled as he kicked Dawn's bed. He had found signs of a struggle, but he didn't want to believe what his mind was telling him.

Jimmy sank to his knees and stifled a sob. Tears fell down his face.

"He took her," he looked around the room as one, shoulder wracking sob escaped. "Oh God…he took her."

Hey guys! Thanks for reading this far. I still need a name, so please leave ideas in the comments! Please comment! It drives me to write more!