AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here is the next installment: a rather 'exciting' chapter. Please send in reviews--knowing that people are reading is what keeps me writing. Thank you and enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: Jake Mallard and Abby Mallard are © me. Drake and the Darkwing Duck realm are © Disney, so please don't sue me--I'm a college student with no money.
CHAPTER 6
The loss of my corporate empire was only the beginning of the events which would lead to my eventual insanity. Mallard Enterprises was my first big success in life. It as built from my ideas and hard work. And then, after several years of running it successfully, it was taken away from me.
After that point, I dreaded going to work every morning. I had to face Todd Swanson's smug, jeering grin as I passed the CEO office, which used to be mine and was now his. I was reduced to a pathetic small, cramped office. It was his way of reminding me of his triumph and my downfall. Everyday, my bill was rubbed in the harsh truth. I was no longer in power; I was just one among many.
Two weeks after my demotion, I received more bad news from Aviamitty. My mother was diagnosed with bone cancer and was dying. I found out that she was carrying the cancer for nearly ten years. She knew of the symptoms and didn't go to the hospital for tests until recently. Unfortunately, she had waited too long, and there was nothing any doctor could do for her.
I'd make the attempt to visit my mother to help care for her when time would allow. But Swanson's grudge kept a tight leash on me out of spite. After what had happened with the Enterprise, I sadly had little patience with my mother. I was angry with her. I was angry because she had waited to do anything about her illness until it was too late. My mother had always been an independent and emotionally strong woman, especially after what she had been through in her life. And seeing her so weak disheartened me. Because of that, I began to slip further into depression.
Weeks passed by very slowly. One night, I raided the undisturbed liquor cabinet at home and began to find comfort in alcohol. It didn't take long for it to become a daily necessity and I became dependent on the drink. My relationship with my family became more distant as each day passed. Abby and I bickered constantly and I barely said two words to my own son. Drake began to hide away in his room to avoid hearing the daily squabbles between his parents.
As Abby and I drifted apart, she made her presence around the house more scarce. Still active in her singing and musical art, she performed several times a week. She made it a point to take on as many jobs as she could during the evening so the two of us wouldn't have to deal with one another. She was sick and tired of my attitude and constant drinking while I was sick and tired of her nagging. The alcohol clouded my judgment and, being as spiteful as I had become, I grew suspicious about Abby's 'activities' when she was gone. The romance in our marriage was slowly being sucked away and I began to suspect her of infidelity.
Six months later, my mother died. I felt more rage than sorrow. The way I saw it, she was just one more person who betrayed me. But I still felt the heartache inside. I was now the only Mallard from my family remaining, I was causing more distance between my wife and I, and my relationship with Drake was practically non-existent. Never had I felt so alone.
But I really had no one else to blame for that but myself. One thing led to another as a chain reaction. I could have handled my demotion and the loss of Mallard Enterprises better than I did. The way I chose to cope came with consequences that I couldn't pull myself out of. One year, I was the most successful and well-known mallard in St. Canard. And then the next year I was nothing but a moping, alcoholic paper-pusher with a broken family.
It wasn't until nearly a year had passed after I lost my company that I finally lost my sanity and committed the most heinous crime. That night would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. If there was one thing I could go back in time and change, it would be that night. The night I lost everything.
The day was like every other for the past few months. However, I got off of work early and immediately came home. The routine was the same: I'd trudge through the door, carelessly toss my keys onto the small table beside the door, and sulk into the kitchen. My first task was to get a bottle of alcohol in my hands to drown out the memories of the day's events.
I looked around the empty kitchen and strained my ears for any sound as I twisted the cap off of a new bottle of straight vodka. Abby wasn't home. I lifted the bottle to my bill and took a long swig before slamming my fist down on the counter, frustrated. But then I remember Abby mentioning to me the night before that she had a performance at a wedding that afternoon.
For several minutes, I leaned over the counter and glared at the far wall. Finally, I retreated into the living room to wallow in self-pity and reflect on how much I hated my life. I collapsed into the leather easy chair facing the TV with my bottle of vodka still tightly in my grasp. Some of the clear liquid splashed from the opening and onto the furniture, but I didn't even notice. And I no longer cared for my posture as I lazily slouched down in the chair.
My eyes darted back and forth restlessly. The only sound was the ticking of the pendulum clock on the wall. Finally, I leaned forward in the chair and outstretched my arm towards the TV to turn on the news. As I leaned back again, the image of Todd Swanson's grinning face appeared on the screen. He was being interviewed about his latest big sale. And I could swear that even though he was smiling smugly at the camera, he was smiling smugly at ME.
With a low snarl, my nails dug into the leather armrest as my blood began to boil. My hateful train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening behind me and then closing quietly. Shifting my eyes to the side, I caught sight of Drake meekly making his way towards the steps. But his attempt to remain unnoticed failed.
"Drake," I growled lowly from my chair without turning my head to face him. "Do you have homework?"
"Um…Yes, Dad," Drake answered nervously from the foot of the stairs. He waited a long moment for me to reply.
"Then get upstairs and get to it," I snapped irritably. I heard the light, rapid footsteps ascend the stairs and disappear with the sound of Drake's bedroom door closing.
I didn't notice it at the time, but I was lucky to have Drake for a son. At only eight years old, he was already incredibly intelligent, did well in school, and stayed out of trouble. But I was too busy wallowing in my own self-pity and reflecting on my unimportant losses to notice my own son's achievements.
Hours went by and I spent every one of them moping. Periodically, I would check my Rolex for the time. By now, it was nearly 7:00 and Abby still hadn't come home. Drake had kept himself hidden away in his room all evening.
Finally, I pulled myself out of the chair and trudged into the kitchen. I threw the empty alcohol bottle in the garbage chair and promptly returned to the cabinet for a fresh, unopened bottle. With a grunt, I yanked the cork out and took a long, soothing swig.
Just then, I heard the front door open. My head snapped to the side and watched as Abby stepped inside and removed her coat without acknowledging my presence. I waited a moment. When she began to stride past the doorway to the kitchen without a glance, I spoke up.
"You're late. Where were you?" I demanded.
Abby stopped and stepped back into the kitchen doorframe. "I had a wedding reception to perform at, remember?" she answered impatiently.
I gave her an unconvinced glower before taking another gulp from the bottle of vodka in my hand. She noticed this and rolled her eyes with a scoff before turning to leave the kitchen.
"Where do you think you're going?"
With an agitated sigh, Abby turned back around. She placed one hand on the doorframe and leaned to the side. "I'm going upstairs to check on our son, assuming you haven't said more than 'go to your room' to him."
"How would you know? You're rarely home as it is and always out doing your 'jobs'," I sneered. Then I added my bitter accusation before taking another drink. "Or doing your clientele in some instances."
Abby's eyes went wide in shock. Her hands came to rest on her hips as her temper began to flare to match my own. "I'm sorry to prove your accusation wrong, Jake, but I wouldn't commit adultery because I have some self respect and dignity, which is more than I can say about you right now. It's as if that bottle is attached to your hand."
Suddenly, I stood upright, the alcohol bottle in my hand, and I slammed it down on the corner of the countertop in fury. The bottle shattered with a loud crash, shards of glass littering the counter and floor.
The two of us glared at one another, waiting for a reaction. Finally, Abby threw her hands in the air in exasperation, turned her back on me, and walked away into the living room.
"Abigail!" I shouted angrily after her. In a fury, I stormed out of the kitchen after her. "Don't walk away from me, Abigail! Get back here!"
"No, Jake! Don't you DARE tell me what to do!" she retorted as she spun around to face me in the center of the living room. Neither of us noticed that Drake had exited his room and was inconspicuously witnessing our argument from the top of the staircase. "I WANT to walk away!"
I fell into a strange calm. The calm before the storm. "What?" I asked quietly. When Abby didn't give me an immediate answer and looked away, I repeated myself in a more demanding tone. "What! Why? Dammit, tell me WHY!"
When I reached out to grip her by the arm, she forcefully pulled herself away. "Get your hands off of me, Jake Elias Mallard! You want to know why? Because I don't even know who you are anymore!" Abby spat in disdain. She exhaled deeply, her voice growing softer but remaining intense and sincere. "For the past year, the romance in our relationship has been growing dim. And now it's gone, Jake. You lost sight of your priority to your family when you got caught up in your precious corporate affairs. And now you'd rather drink away your sorrows and wallow in self pity instead of accepting support from your family. You're no longer the man I married, Jake, and you've been anything but a father to our son for several months."
Abby eyed her set of keys laying on the coffee table before scooping them up in her hand. Side-stepping me, she moved to the foot of the stairs and stopped to stare coldly over her shoulder at me.
"I'm leaving you, Jake. And I'm taking Drake with me."
Something snapped inside me. My eyes widened in shock at her stinging words. I had already lost my pride and dignity. Now I was losing my family. Abby was going to leave me and take my son with her. But I wasn't about to let them go.
Before I could give my actions a second thought, I lashed out and grabbed Abby by the arm, forcefully jerking her back towards me. "You're not going anywhere!"
"Jake! Let go of me!" Abby shouted fiercely at me.
I did let go of her. But I drew my hand back and slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling to the floor with a startled cry.
"No one leaves me!" I snarled and aggressively approached where she had fallen. "I said you're not going anywhere! You belong to ME!"
Abby groaned painfully and turned over on her side. She lifted her head to see me standing over her. Her eyes went wide as they searched my own for the man I used to be. But all that was left was an insane, blazing fire.
With an angry growl, I reached down and grabbed a handful of her blonde curls. "Get up!"
Roughly, I yanked her to her feet by her hair. Abby kicked and yelled, violently struggling to pull herself free with all her might.
"You're hurting me! Jake, stop!" she shouted with another cry of pain. Her arms flailed wildly in the air, searching for my face.
I yelled painfully when her nails came into sharp contact with my eyes. "You bitch!" I shrieked, temporarily blinded. In a fit of rage, I forcefully threw her forward and rubbed my wounded eyes. Abby stumbled forward, lost her footing, and tripped. She fell forward and her head hit the corner of the coffee table, hard. Another shrill cry escaped her bill before she fell to the floor, unconscious.
When I managed to clear my vision, I looked to where Abby had fallen. My eyes narrowed bitterly at her still form. I waited several seconds for her to move. She didn't.
Calmly, I approached where she lay. I crouched down beside her and pushed some of her messed blonde hair back from her face. Blood began to stream down her head and bruises were appearing on her white plumage. And I felt nothing. Not the slightest bit of remorse.
Small, shallow breaths still wheezed from her bill. When I noticed this, I rose to my feet again and disappeared into the kitchen. I returned seconds later with a kitchen knife in my hand. Abby was right. I wasn't myself anymore. I didn't even recognize myself as I was about to do what I would never think of doing in the past.
I crouched down beside her again. The blade of the knife in my hand glinted in the sunset seeping in through the windows as I sadistically ran it along her delicate bill. A cruel snarl crossed my bill as I drew my arm back.
But suddenly, I was jumped from behind. A small figure leapt onto my back and wrapped its arms around my neck.
"Dad, no! Don't!"
A strangled snarl erupted from my throat as the weight of Drake on my back nearly sent me toppling backwards. Unable to see him, I spun around with enough speed to bring him sliding to one side. My hand holding the kitchen knife swung around towards him before I could stop myself. Drake cried out as he stumbled backwards and fell to his knees, slu5tching his left forearm with his right hand. Blood rapidly began to seep through his clenched fingers.
"That was very noble and brave, boy," I seethed and threw the knife aside. Once I was on my feet again, I approached Drake with clenched fists. "Stupid, but nonetheless brave."
Drake gasped weakly while he stared up at me; the tall, dark, intimidating figure that not even I would recognize. His eyes were wide with fright when I reached down and snatched him by the arm to yank him roughly to his feet.
"Dad, stop it! Leave us alone!" he wailed pleadingly as he kicked and screamed, vainly struggling to free himself from my vice-like grip.
I dragged Drake into the kitchen. From one of the drawers, I retrieved a roll of duct tape, and proceeded to carry my son to one of the finely carved wooden kitchen chairs. I struggled to sit the protesting eight-year old in the chair but managed to securely wrap him to the chair in the thick tape.
Drake whimpered and lowered his head to the floor, wiggling his small body at a meager attempt to loosen the tape. "Daddy, why? Why are you doing this to us? Why are you hurting us?" he begged to know.
There was a strange, unusual pause accompanied by an eerie silence as I stared down at him. And then, suddenly, it was as if a gunshot went off in my head. My hand suddenly swung forward and I slapped Drake across the left side of his face with such force that the entire chair nearly crashed to the floor.
His scream if pain pierced my ears but I felt nothing. Again, I hit him, out of control with rage. "You'll learn to speak when spoken to! I'm in charge in this house! You do what I say! And I saw neither of your are going anywhere!" I roared and continued to deliver blow after blow.
I didn't notice Abby regain consciousness in the living room behind me. Her eyes weakly fluttered open at hearing her son's screams and cries. With a light groan, she mustered whatever strength she had left and lifted herself with her arms. And when she saw me beating our son to near death, her eyes narrowed in pure hate.
The knife I had dropped on the floor moments earlier lay just feet away. Abby outstretched her arm as far as she could and managed to wrap her fingers tightly around it's handle. Blood still dripped from the wound on her head, weakening her with every passing moment. But she brought herself to her knees, gripped the knife tightly, and let out an angry yell just as I was about to strike Drake again.
"NOOO!" Abby shrieked. She hurled the knife forward with all of her might, which ultimately brought her collapsing to the floor.
The knife sliced through the air and impaled the back of my right shoulder. "D'yaahh!"
Pain shot through my arm and my chest. I staggered a few steps just from the impact alone and leaned against the counter. My breath came out in sharp pants until I realized what had happened. Reaching over my shoulder with my left hand, I felt around until I found the handle of the knife. The blade had cut through the jacket of my suit and only tore through an inch of flesh. I grabbed onto the handle and took a deep breath before yanking with one swift movement. I cringed and hissed painfully as the blade left my skin, leaving behind a bloody gash.
My head turned and I glared accusingly at Abby. She scowled defiantly in return, but I could see the fear in her eyes. "Leave him alone, Jake!" she tried to demand but could only plead.
"You bitch," was my response in a low growl that didn't sound like my own voice. After a brief pause, I returned my attention to Drake. His head was cocked to one side and his eyes were closed. Bruises, cuts, and red marks were already covering most of his face.
I took a hold of the chair and turned it around so that Drake was facing the direction of the living room. The movement caused him to groan and pull his eyes open to stare forward, confused. "Mommy…?"
Abby shook her head in disbelief. Tears bordered her eyes and she struggled to suppress her sobs for his sake. "Jake, stop this! Let him go! PLEASE!"
"Now, you watch this, alright kiddo?" I leaned down and whispered sinisterly into Drake's ear. "I'm going to show you how to permanently deal with a problem."
At that moment, it was as if I was standing outside of myself. I wasn't the same person. Instead, I watched as the monster I had become slithered like a snake back to my fallen wife. Once again, I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet only to strike her back to the ground.
Just feet away, Drake cried and sobbed as he was forced to watch while I violently pummeled, slapped, and kicked his mother beyond all reason like a ragdoll.
'No! Stop! What are you doing? Don't do this!' I tried to shout at myself. But the thoughts were lost in the back of my mind. I could only watch as insanity turned me into a cold-blooded killer.
My rampage didn't last for more than a minute. I struck Abby one last time with a closed fist and she fell to the blood-stained carpet. Drake's whimpers and quiet sobs were still heard behind me as my eyes locked onto her fallen body. She lay still, motionless. She had not one white feather left on her body. Her once brilliant, golden curls were stained red. The normal goldenrod color of her bill significantly paled. The cross necklace she always wore hung limply around her neck. Not even the shallowest breath escaped her bill.
Slowly, I turned around. Drake had turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't witness my murderous act. Tears had started streaming down his cheeks. My bloodied hands clenched into fists and my bill curled into a snarl before I began to step towards him.
When he heard my approaching steps, Drake hesitantly opened his eyes and faced forward. He had given up on trying to free himself from his bound prison and he was trembling when I came to a stop just inches in front of him. His teary, dark blue eyes bore sadly into mine, which were cold and filled with spite.
Drake's eyes stared past me at Abby's unmoving form, as if hoping she would rise and come to his rescue. But she did not move. Then his gaze returned to mine.
"You're not my father…" he whispered hoarsely between his tiny sobs. Suddenly, his face hardened. "I don't know who you are. I hate you!"
My hand came swinging forward at Drake again, this time in a closed fist. He never got to speak another word as I began to inflict the same upon him as Abby. Mercilessly, I beat him for minutes until his small, broken body slumped in the chair. He was lifeless.
The anger suddenly disappeared from my eyes. My fierce expression fell as I returned to my senses and the realization of what I had done sank in. I turned around and gasped sharply, as if I had just seen my now deceased wife for the first time.
"Abby…?" I whispered in complete shock. "No, Abigail…."
I had to turn my head away, unable to bear the sight. But I turned only to have my gaze fall upon the beaten form of my son.
"Oh, God. Drake…" I choked. I couldn't tell if he was still breathing, but I assumed that he was not. My hand shakily reached out to touch him until I sharply drew it back.
A sob was caught in my throat and I began to tremble. "No! What have I done!"
My hands shot up to cover my face and I broke down, sobbing. My worst fears had come true. I had lost everything and I destroyed my family. Now I was alone with nothing. The most important thing in my life, my family, was gone because of me.
I rubbed the tears from my eyes and looked around frantically, unsure of what to do. For the first time since I was a young boy, I was frightened. Outside, the sun had set and the sky was covered in a blanket of dark thunderclouds.
Pain suddenly shot through my arm again, reminding of the wound on the backside of my shoulder. I cringed and lifted my left arm to clamp my hand over the still-bleeding welt. I knew I couldn't stay there. My spree of violence would soon be uncovered and I would be imprisoned, proof that my life could still go further downhill.
Taking a few final, quick glances at the bloody scene around me, I hurriedly made a quick retreat out the front door. I left everything behind me and disappeared into the night with nothing.