Author's Note: Hello gang! Just to let you know, this chapter is rated a strong "R" for language and violence. You've been warned.
Chapter 3: Childhood Lost
Zachary Matthews lay back on his bunk at the Walter P. Carter psychiatric hospital and closed his eyes but sleep refused to come. He was restless tonight, eager to be back in the real world and out of this forsaken place. They had kept him here longer than he had thought they would since the judge had ordered him here just over three years ago. But now the ending was in sight, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel; he was being released in three days.
He sighed and rolled over onto his side with his arms tucked tightly against his chest. He opened his eyes and looked out the barred window at the stars. When he stared at the stars, he could delude himself into thinking that all was right with the world. He attempted to shut out the chattering, calls for assistance, and occasional screams of the other patients. Zachary resented being put in this place. He knew he did not belong here. No matter what the judge, the media, or his doctors said, he was not crazy. Just because he had lived with Dr. Hannibal Lecter and become something of his protégé did not make him crazy. The fact that Dr. Lecter had tutored him through the slayings of 11 convicted sex offenders did not make him crazy, hell, if anything, it had made him society's protector. They should have given him a medal, not locked him away in a loony bin.
Hannibal, he thought gloomily.
He would never see his mentor, his father figure, again. The showdown between Dr. Lecter and Clarice Starling had taken place a couple of months before Zachary's murder trial.
He's dead, Zachary's head wailed at him. I'll never see him again. She took him away from me.
Indeed, she, who reminded him terribly of his own mother had incredibly shot and killed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the man who had taught her so much, the man who had advanced her career in so many ways. Clarice Starling was the last person Zachary ever thought could kill Dr. Lecter.
She ruined my life, he thought bitterly. She and that goddamn partner of hers. Why couldn't they have just left us alone? Hannibal revered her but she's no better than a common whore. First she betrayed him by killing him, then she betrayed him by marrying her fucking partner. Christ, the damn bitch needs to learn some respect.
Zachary could feel himself becoming worked up, despite the medication he was on to control his brain's chemical imbalances, and took deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He was being released in three days, now was not the time to cause problems.
For the last three years, Zachary, despite his anger at being put in the hospital to begin with, had been a model patient. He had taken his meds when instructed, he had gone to counseling and group when told to, and he had caused no problems whatsoever. He had originally thought that with his exemplary behavior he would be released from the in-patient hospital within a matter of months. But that had not been the case. His doctors here at the hospital had ended up diagnosing him as borderline schizophrenic and he had had to undergo a rigorous therapy and medication regimen. Of course Zachary had known the doctors to be full of shit but he never said anything to that effect.
He remembered sitting through session after session with his main psychiatrist, Dr. Steven Collinsworth. Zachary could still hear the man's voice…..
"Tell me about your mother……"
Mother, he thought now as he lay awake and dry eyed in his small lumpy bed and his heart broke at the thought of her.
How beautiful, how loving, how kind hearted and amazing Jasmine Matthews had been. Thanks to Dr. Lecter, Zachary had learned about memory palaces and had eventually come to develop his, although certainly not to the extent that the Good Doctor had developed his own. He closed his eyes now and delved into his memory palace. He did not have to roam far to find her, his mother and Dr. Lecter were the only main items within his palace.
Zachary saw her as his child's mind remembered: tall and graceful with her long red hair sweeping halfway down her back and her sparkling blue eyes shining when she laughed. Although Zachary had to admit that he did not remember her ever laughing much. Oh how he had loved her. He had been the eldest of six children and she had called him her "little man" from his earliest memories, the one man she could truly rely on. Yes he had loved her. He had loved her to the point that his doctor had deemed he had an Oedipus complex, or a deep sexual desire for his mother, but Zachary consciously refused to believe that. His mother had been his whole world, his shelter from his father's storms and his anchor in a turbulent world. But he had always hated himself for having been powerless to help her, powerless to ultimately save her and himself.
Now as he lay in his bed with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Zachary Matthews remembered the day he lost his faith in mankind, lost his innocence, and lost his entire world; the day he lost his mother.
Middleburg, Loudoun County, Virginia, 1994
Ten year old Zachary Matthews was awakened by his father's roar coming closer as the man staggered up the hallway of the tiny clapboard house just outside the town of Middleburg in rural Loudoun County. He was already drunk and it was barely seven am.
"Wake up you stupid shit!" His father bellowed, banging his fist against the wall, making the picture frames that hung there jump and clatter.
Zachary threw the thin wool blanket off his thin, lanky frame and jumped out of bed, quickly rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes. He hurriedly pulled on his dirty overalls from the day before, his hands trembling as he tried again and again to buckle the straps.
"Get out here and make my breakfast goddammit!" His father shouted drunkenly.
Randy Matthews had reached the door to the cramped room that Zachary shared with four of his brothers and sisters and reached for the knob. As he was about to turn it, the door swung open wide and Zachary beamed nervously at his father.
"Hi dad," he replied quietly. "What would you like for breakfast?"
Randy teetered back and forth on unsteady legs in the doorway and glared at his oldest son.
"What the fuck took you so fucking long ya dumb shit?" He jeered. "Dreaming your sweet faggot dreams in la-la land weren't you?"
"I'm sorry dad," Zachary said sheepishly, bowing his head.
Zachary walked carefully past his father toward the kitchen, bracing himself for a blow that thankfully never came, continuing to rub the sleep from his eyes as he went, and wondered where his mother was. According to his father, it was his mother's job to prepare breakfast. It was "woman's work."
"Make me some pancakes boy," Randy grumbled as he lurched up the hall behind his son.
Zachary winced and turned around bravely to face his father. "I'm sorry dad but I don't know how to make pancakes."
"What!?" His father barked and Zachary flinched involuntarily at having incurred his father's drunken wrath. "Goddamn fucking stupid bitch!" He yelled and swung his fists over his head in the air as if striking out at an unseen foe. "Fuck! All I want is some goddamn pancakes!"
Zachary watched his father's tirade in silence, knowing it would play itself out soon, thankful that the man was striking at the air and not him. Randy stopped as suddenly as he had started and regarded his son contemptuously.
"Well do you know how to scramble eggs? Or are you too pussy to do that too?" Randy sneered, his lips pulled back around his mouth, showing his brown tobacco-stained teeth.
"Yes, dad," Zachary nodded dully. "I can scramble eggs."
"And toast?"
"Okay, toast too."
Zachary turned back around and made his way into the kitchen, still wondering where his mother was. It was early June, the last week of school before summer break, and already the northern Virginia heat was suffocating. Even this morning, at seven am, the diminutive kitchen blazed with heat from the sun streaking in through the east window. Zachary sighed and set about preparing breakfast as droplets of sweat began to form on his forehead. He pulled out three eggs from the clanking refrigerator for his father, knowing that the man would pitch a fit if he used any eggs for breakfast for his siblings; cereal was good enough for the "goddamn kids."
Randy Matthews stumbled to the kitchen table, collapsed into a chair, and lit a cigarette. It was not long before smoke permeated the tiny kitchen. As Zachary went about the task of scrambling eggs and toasting bread, he waved his thin arm to clear the smoke from his face. Inwardly he sighed. His mother, Jasmine, had told his father that the doctor had told her not to be around cigarette smoke, that it was bad for the new baby she was carrying, baby number seven. At first Randy had laughed cruelly and said the day he quit smoking in his own "fucking house" was the day he died. When Jasmine had timidly pushed the subject further, she had received a hard backhand across her face and told to keep her "cunting mouth shut and mind her own fucking business."
"Hey boy," Randy croaked, rubbing his stubbly face and peering at Zachary through the smoke with bleary eyes. "Get me a beer."
Zachary nodded and dutifully retrieved a can of generic beer from the battered refrigerator. As he placed it on the table in front of his father and turned back around to head to the stove, the man slapped Zachary's buttocks and smiled lecherously.
"Thanks." He paused. "So I guess if you're gonna be doing the womanly chores around here, I can start referring to ya as a woman huh?"
Zachary ignored his father's comment and returned to the stove; God help him if he burned the eggs. He heard his younger brothers and sisters beginning to wake and slowly but surely each one made their way into the kitchen at the smell of the cooking eggs. Zachary methodically poured cereal into four bowls and dribbled a miniscule amount of milk over the cereal. As he placed a bowl in front of each child, he saw the disappointment in their eyes at being given cereal again instead of eggs but even the second youngest child, a two year old, knew better than to voice an outrage while their father was present. Each child had come to learn this fact the hard way, by being beaten when they dared show the slightest displeasure over something.
Zachary finished up preparing his father's plate and placed it in front of him. He watched as the man eyed the food a bit apprehensively and Zachary held his breath. But finally Randy tore into it and Zachary could breathe again. He watched his father and siblings eat in silence for a moment then made his way slowly down the hall to his parent's room, intent on finding his mother.
The dimness of the hallway after the brightness of the kitchen caused him to blink as he went until his eyes adjusted and the coolness stung the sweat that now covered his body. He reached the door to their room and, finding it ajar, pushed it open. He looked first to the crib in the corner of the room and saw the youngest of the Matthew children, one year old baby Sarah, still asleep. He looked then to his parent's bed and in the darkness of the room he could barely make out his mother's thin form under the worn bedspread. He walked slowly to her side of the bed and peered at her.
Jasmine Matthews had been a vision to behold in the prime of her life. An athletically built young woman, heiress to a sugar plantation fortune, with fiery red wavy hair and shimmering blue eyes, she had been many a young man's midnight fantasy. But it had been the dirt-poor, tall, lanky cowboy with black hair that had caught her eye as a sophomore in high school. She had been 15 and he had been 20 and it did not take long for smooth talking Randy Matthews to convince Jasmine O'Connor to share his bed. For her, the affair, her first, had been exciting in that it was strictly forbidden by her parents. For him, it had been the chance to stick it – literally – to a rich bitch from a family that would rather spit on someone like him than look at him. Neither of them had intended for their relationship to last for an extended period of time.
But when Jasmine had ended up pregnant two months later, Randy's father had forced him to 'do the right thing' and marry her and her family had completely disowned her. Nine months later at the age of 16, Jasmine Matthews had given birth to a seven pound healthy baby boy and had never once heard anything from her family. Her physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of her own husband had begun not long after Zachary's birth and the once vibrant, spirited, independent young woman had over the long years become a hollow shell of herself. Now, at age 26, Jasmine looked at least double her age, with deep lines threaded throughout her face and gray beginning in her hair.
But that did not stop her eldest child, Zachary, from falling helplessly head over heels in love with her. He had always only seen her as beautiful and strong. And she was the only person in the whole of the world that took time to talk to him and ask his opinions. Zachary and his mother had shared a strong emotional bond from the beginning. Except for his black hair, he looked just like his mother; the same well defined facial features that hinted to refined breeding. Jasmine had relied on her son Zachary to be her distraction from the pain of losing her family and gaining an abusive, cruel husband. As he grew older, and more children came into the family, she relied on him more and more, both for emotional, moral, and physically support.
The Matthew family was by no means well off. Randy Matthews could not maintain a steady job because of his drinking problem and his attitude problem and Jasmine Matthews stayed home to care for the house and children, according to Randy "as a woman should." Despite the meager finances, however, Jasmine always made sure to pocket a few coins here and there over the course of each month in order to treat Zachary to an ice cream cone every month at the family owned "Potters Ice Cream Parlor" in Middleburg. These outings became a time that was looked forward to by both son and mother. Zachary and his mother would sit on stools at the counter and he would order the same thing every time, a single scoop rocky road ice cream cone. He would eat the treat and listen to his mother talk as he swung his feet lackadaisically from the stool. His mother, who never had enough money to buy herself an ice cream, would tell Zachary about her childhood; about the ponies and the tennis lessons and the piano lessons and her dolls and dresses, with a reminiscent far-off look on her face. Totally absorbed in the look and smell of his mother, Zachary would sit contentedly and watch her talk as he licked his ice cream.
Now as he approached her side of the bed, she stirred and opened her eyes. Zachary sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and she smiled tiredly.
"Hey my little man," she whispered and reached her hand out to take one of his.
"Mom are you ok?" He asked tentatively.
She nodded slightly. "I will be Zach. I just need to stay in bed for a day or so."
"How come?"
"Cause I lost the baby," she said quietly.
Zachary did not quite understand what that meant but he knew it was not good and he did not want to press her about something that might hurt her. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.
"Don't worry about anything, okay Mom?" He whispered and began to stroke the hair back from her forehead. "I'll take care of everyone while you need to be in bed."
Jasmine smiled sadly. "You're the only man I've ever been able to count on Zachary. What would I ever do without you?"
He shrugged, embarrassed. "It's okay Mom. I love you. Is there anything I can get you or do for you?"
"No. I just need to sleep some more." Jasmine closed her eyes.
Zachary kissed her softly on the forehead and quietly made his way out of his parents' room. It was time to get his brother and sisters ready for school. After Zachary, the next oldest child was eight year old Rachel, then seven year old Julie, five year old David, two year old Steven, and one year old Sarah. Zachary knew he would be missing school to take care of Steven and Sarah until their mother was well enough but since it was the last week of school before summer break, it was not like he would be missing much anyway.
He walked into the kitchen and saw that only Steven was still eating, the others had already finished. He could hear them in the room they all shared together getting their clothes on and Zachary smiled. So far they had been excellently behaved. He was certain they sensed something amiss with their mother still being in bed.
Once he'd gotten the older children off to school and sent Steven outside to play, Zachary set about cleaning up the breakfast dishes. His father staggered into the kitchen and pulled another beer out of the fridge. He eyed his son washing the dishes.
"Hey Dad," Zachary asked innocently. "You going to work today?"
Randy Matthew's left hand flashed out and slapped Zachary's face. His head rocked back and the glass he had been washing slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor.
"Mind your fucking goddamn business, faggot!" He roared into Zachary's face. "I'll fucking go to work when I fucking feel like it!"
Zachary cringed. His father pushed him down by the back of his head toward the floor.
"See what you did, you little shit?" Randy screamed, his face turning red. "You broke a glass. Goddammit! Clean that shit up! Now!"
Tears had begun to streak down Zachary's face, blurring his vision. His father pushed him down so hard that Zachary put his hands out to brace his fall, and they landed flat on the broken glass, slicing them badly. He cried out which only enraged his father further. Randy reached down, grabbed Zachary by the back of his overalls, and pulled him up so their faces nearly touched.
"Shut the fuck up you bitch!" Randy hissed and Zachary could smell his stale, reeking breath. "You're so goddamn useless. You can't do anything right." He shook Zachary like a rag doll and Zachary struggled to stop crying. "You fucking faggot," Randy said and dropped Zachary to the floor, directly on the glass. "You're such a whiney, sniveling little girl. Be a man, dammit! Suck it up! God you make me sick!"
Randy stormed out of the kitchen, continuing to mutter profanities. Zachary sat up, wiping his face as best he could but the cuts on his hands left trails of blood across his cheeks. He gingerly moved his legs to examine the damage done by the glass. The cuts there were luckily smaller, the glass having been slowed by the denim of his overalls. He sniffled and stood up on wobbly legs. He turned the cold water on in the sink and stuck his hands under the streaming water, wincing as it stung. Salty tears continued to roll down his face.
Zachary flinched as he felt an arm around his shoulders before realizing it was only his mother. Silently she took his shaking hands, making sure they were thoroughly cleaned out and shard free. Zachary put on a brave face, attempting to be strong for her. He hated to let her see him cry. He was supposed to be there when she needed him, not the other way around.
Jasmine pulled a dish towel out of a side drawer and wrapped it around his hands. She held him tightly to her, stroking his hair softly. He laid his head against her swell of her breasts, willing the hitching sobs to stop. She kissed the top of his head gently.
"I'm so sorry, Zachary," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's not your fault Mom," Zachary replied and lifted his head just in time to see his father enter the kitchen carrying a baseball bat.
"Well, well," Randy sneered. "If you're well enough to get outta bed to tend your faggot son, then you're well enough to clean this fucking pigsty." He shook the bat at the two of them. "Get to work bitches."
Through his pain, Zachary felt rage beginning to build within him. He was suddenly furious with his father's treatment of his mother. He was certain it was Randy's fault that Jasmine had "lost the baby" and the way he degraded her had to stop. He wiped the remaining few tears from his face, smearing the streaks of blood there, and took a step forward.
"She needs to be in bed, Dad," he said quietly but firmly.
Randy looked incredulously at his son. "What the hell did you just say?"
Zachary flinched slightly but refused to back down. "She needs to be in bed," he repeated.
Randy took a step toward Zachary, the bat upraised. "Who the fuck do you think you are you prick?"
Jasmine stepped in between her husband and her son and put a gentle hand on Randy's arm. "Randy, please," she replied quietly. "I'm fine. Let me get dressed and I'll get to work."
Randy glared at his wife with bloodshot, weary eyes and shoved her away from him. "Don't you touch me, cunt."
"Leave her alone," Zachary called defiantly and took a step forward.
That is when Randy Matthews swung the bat. Even now, Zachary saw it all in seemingly slow motion. He watched his father swing the bat with all his strength, watched his mother step in front of him to protect him, her arms outstretched to ward off the blow, watched as the bat connected squarely with the left side of her face, watched as blood and teeth sprayed from her mouth in a fine mist, and watched as her head rocked backward while her body sank to the floor.
Zachary screamed and covered his hands with his face. He ran to the corner of the room and cowered there, afraid of his father and ashamed of his fear at the same time. His anger only fueled instead of abated, Randy brought the bat down upon his wife's body again and again as Zachary recoiled in the corner, whimpering like an injured puppy. He was powerless to do anything, powerless to stop his father or help his mother. He watched, tears streaming down his face, as his father pummeled his mother again and again with the bat although she lay perfectly still until finally, his energy spent, Randy abruptly turned and, clutching the bat, stumbled through the kitchen to the small living room, and out the front door.
To be continued. Please review.
Guber: LOL to your suggested movie title! "In the Claws of a Cannibal"!! Haha, that's great! Thank you for reading and reviewing. And as usual, I'm saying a word about future chapters!
Ducki: Thank you for your review, I appreciate it. Yes, things have quieted down a bit for Clarice, Will, and the GD. I think it's time to shake things up, don't you?
Shifter: Thank you for your 2 reviews and I'm glad you think this doesn't suck. Showers are kind of difficult to give to a 3 year old and a 1 year old, baths are much easier! Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. And yes, I would definitely think you could call Aurora the GD's girlfriend.
Troesnaja: Well, you'll just have to wait and see what's in store! Thank you for reading and reviewing.
Clariz: Thank you so much for your kind words. Yes, it is different seeing Clarice married with children! I'm happy you think I'm pulling it off. Thanks.
DevilsQT: LOL to your review. There will be some torture in this story but I will not say of whom. Just remember, I'm an equal opportunity torturer! LOL! I'm glad you are continuing to read this despite the lack of H/C moosh. And thank you for reviewing.
Kurt: Hmmm, me rent things asunder? Naw, not me!! LOL! Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Morbid: As always, I love your reviews! They make me laugh! Although I didn't quite understand the whole my mom's a drill sergeant thing but that's okay! LOL, yes, we'll see Josh and your character Michelle soon, just for you! Thanks for your kind words and thanks for reviewing.
Tilly: I know, I know, it's disgusting isn't it? The whole happy family thing? Ah ugh, the Wiggles? God no! I can tolerate Barney at least slightly more than I can tolerate the Wiggles!! LOL! Hey thanks for reading and reviewing.
Saavik: LOL! You are the only person who picked up on (or at least who commented on) the whole Mr. Mom thing and I thought that was one of the funniest bits of the chapter! Ah well! Thanks for your review, I loved it.
Shattered Mug: Aw, thank you for saying this story doesn't suck. I don't know, I was in a funk that day I posted chapter 2. I know the storyline of this story and I know it's not going to be as good as the first story (in my opinion) and I was having doubts if I should continue or not. But fear not, I will not quit! This story will be finished one way or the other! Thank you as always for reading and reviewing. And yes, enjoy the silence before the storm, for it is coming!
