The Wrong Stranger Read online

  THE WRONG STRANGER

  K. LUCAS

  Copyright © 2021 by K. Lucas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  EBook ISBN: 979-8-9850093-0-9

  Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9850093-2-3

  Hardback ISBN: 979-8-9850093-1-6

  Cover Design by Taylor Dawn of Sweet 15 Designs

  Editor: Whitney Morsillo of Whitney’s Book Works

  For my son

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  7. Twenty-Seven Years Ago

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part II

  10. Present Day

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  15. Six Months Ago

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  18. Present Day

  Part III

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  22. Eight Months Later

  23. Six Months Ago

  24. Present Day

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Thank you

  Also by K. Lucas

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Twenty-three Years Ago

  A little girl sat on the kitchen floor underneath the table, holding her doll and its brush—both covered in dirt. She hummed to herself quietly as she brushed the doll’s hair. The kitchen chairs were pulled in close, so she was blocked in from all sides. Sitting there alone for most of the afternoon, she felt hidden.

  But now she was feeling hot, and her tummy was starting to feel hungry. It was July and there was no air conditioning in the house. Her diaper, the only thing she was wearing, was getting full.

  At just four years old, being alone was something the little girl was already used to. Her mommy was always in bed, and her daddy was never at home. So, the little girl spent her days with her doll and her only book. She was used to waiting until she could no longer bear the hunger before she tried asking her mommy for something to eat.

  Normally, her mommy would come get her some chips down from the top cupboard, if the little girl could wait long enough before going to get her. The little girl knew her mommy was usually grouchy if someone bothered her too early in the day. It would only result in a spanking and no food.

  Her daddy said one time, “Mommy only cooks on special occasions.” The little girl wasn’t sure what a special occasion was, but it didn’t happen very often. She only ate chips or cereal, or really anything that came in a package and didn’t have to be put together. The girl had tried pushing a chair over to climb up to the cupboard before, but she still wasn’t able to reach anything by herself; she was too short.

  She hated to get her mommy when she was in her bedroom. Her mommy would get so mad and yell at her, and it usually made her cry. “This is my fucking space, goddammit,” she would scream. Her mommy would spank or hit her, too, if it was a bad day. The room always smelled funny, and the girl didn’t like that stinky smell. There were a lot of empty bottles on the floor, piled on top of clothes and trash, so it was always hard for her to walk in her mommy’s bedroom. She decided she would rather spend her time playing with her dolly or pretending to read while she waited.

  Her daddy drove a big truck and was usually gone for a long time before he came home again. When he came home, he always made sure to play with her for a while and gave her what she thought of as, special daddy time. It was always while mommy was sleeping. She enjoyed having someone to play with when her daddy came home and missed him while he was away. But special daddy time scared her sometimes.

  She got headaches during a lot of those times and would fall asleep in the middle of their playtime. When she woke up, she hurt, and she had a hard time remembering what they did together. She was too afraid to tell him about her owies or not remembering their fun time, thinking he would stop playing with her if she told him. She didn’t want him to leave her alone the way that her mommy did. But he continued playing with her, even though she always fell asleep. The little girl was so lonely that she craved attention of any kind. She was thankful her daddy made time for her, even after all the time he spent working.

  When her daddy was home, he and her mommy would yell at each other a lot, too. Sometimes her mommy threw things at him, or he would accidentally break something with his hand. This never failed to scare the little girl, and she would run and hide under the kitchen table.

  She didn’t have a bedroom of her own, and no brothers or sisters to turn to for comfort, so she felt like under the table was her safest place. Anytime something scary happened, or if her parents were yelling at each other, this was the spot she would run to. She would always tuck the chairs back underneath the table as far as they would go, and hide right in the middle, holding her doll or book as tightly as she could.

  The family lived in rural, northeastern Washington. They had a big yard and some chickens, too, but her mommy forbade her from going outside alone. She wanted more than anything to go outside to play but knew she wasn’t allowed to. One time, when her mommy hadn’t been up all day and it was nearly nighttime, the little girl tried going outside by herself to play with the chickens. After only a few minutes, her mommy walked outside and caught her. Her mommy had slapped her until she bled from her nose and sent her to bed with no dinner. Her hunger pains that day were worse than any of the slaps that her mommy gave.

  After that, the little girl was too afraid to try going outside alone again. She was too afraid to do anything that would get her in trouble. She was too hungry for that. Instead, she waited. She waited and waited and waited. Her mommy would come out of her bedroom eventually. She just had to wait.

  The girl had also become so used to being in a wet diaper; she thought it was normal to wear one all day. When it leaked out the top or sides, she would take it off, but her mommy didn’t like to see her naked when she came out of her room. The little girl had a diaper rash that hurt and itched, but it had been there so long that she didn’t know what it was like to be without it.

  At four years old, she still had not learned how to use the potty, and because she was so neglected, isolated, and abused, she had a speech impediment. The fear that she felt almost daily, contributed to her stuttering the few words that she could say. The lack of nutrition in her diet didn’t help her learning abilities. It caused her to appear severely underweight, despite the high calorie junk food that was her only source of nutrition. But the little girl did not know there was anything out of the ordinary with her health. The only thing the girl felt was truly wrong, was her loneliness.

  That day in July, the little girl was under the kitchen table with her dolly because her parents were fighting again. Her daddy came home, and within minutes, he and her mommy were yelling at each other. “She looks like she’s starving to death, goddammit!” T
he little girl heard her daddy roar.

  “Don’t tell me how to take care of my own fucking kid!”

  “You’re not taking care of her at all! I can see her ribs!” Something pounded against the wall, so she covered her ears, trying to drown out the sound. They were both in her mommy’s room with the door closed, and she was in her safe place. She heard them yelling some more and heard things breaking. She hummed loudly then, with hands still covering her ears.

  Her favorite song was “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star;” she knew almost all the words. Her head started to hurt, so she hummed as loud as she could, thinking that her favorite song would help keep her safe. Sometimes singing helped her head feel better and drowned out the scary sounds that her parents made.

  Then, it was quiet. The little girl let out a sigh of relief, but knew they could start back up any second. After a moment, she tentatively took her hands off her ears. She never knew how long the fighting would last, and since she wasn’t allowed to go outside, she had no choice but to stay there and listen. The house was so small, and her parents were so loud, that even if she wasn’t in her safe spot under the table, she would’ve still heard their argument.

  A few minutes passed. Instead of both of her parents yelling, she started to hear just her mommy yelling. She didn’t sound angry anymore, though. She sounded happy because she was yelling over and over, “Yes! Yes!”

  The little girl was glad her mommy finally sounded happy, but she was still scared. She hated all the loud noises and all the yelling. She was so lonely and wished someone would come out and play with her. Her head hurt her so badly. This time, singing hasn’t helped.

  She blacked out, curled underneath the table, with her doll in one hand and the doll’s brush on the floor beside her. She woke up later, in the same spot. Someone was making noise in the kitchen. The little girl blinked. She saw her mommy cooking something. She thought, it must be a special occasion.

  There was music playing and her mommy was at the counter, chopping something, while she was dancing. “H-hi, M-m-mom-m-my,” the girl said, hesitating.

  “Hi, baby girl.” Her mommy’s words sounded funny, and she smelled yucky, but the little girl didn’t mind. When her mommy was happy, the girl was happy, too. She crawled out from under the table and went to give her mommy a hug. “Watch out for my knife, silly,” her mommy said, dodging away from the girl. She held the chopping knife in the air. “Your daddy had to leave again for more work.”

  “Okay,” the little girl said and then pointed to her diaper. “P-p-pee pee.”

  Her mommy sighed, looking irritated. “You haven’t figured out how to use the potty yet?” The little girl shook her head back and forth, looking down in shame. She wanted to learn, but just couldn’t. She wanted to ask her mommy to teach her how, but she was afraid of making her mad. Her mommy pulled the diaper off, so the little girl was naked. “Go run, and grab me a new diaper,” she said, patting the girl lightly on the butt.

  The little girl plodded down the hallway toward the bathroom where they kept the extra diapers. She rubbed her eyes, still groggy. Her head didn’t hurt anymore, and she was relieved that her mommy was happy now. She smiled to herself, excited for the food and thinking that maybe Mommy would even play with her for a while.

  She might even read my book, she thought. She made it to the bathroom, then heard a breaking sound, followed by a loud thud. The girl frowned at the loud noises. Her hopes of playing with her mommy were quickly fading. The little girl was used to things breaking, but it normally meant that her mommy was not happy, and if she wasn’t happy, she didn’t play.

  The girl heard the noises clearly. She was worried that she was the cause for making her mommy’s good mood go away. Was Mommy mad because she went potty in her diaper? Mommy hated how she talked. Could that have upset her, too? She was afraid of going back to the kitchen.

  The bathroom door was already open, so the little girl continued walking in and turned toward the cupboard under the sink. Pulling it open, she reached in to grab a diaper. It was a new pack, which meant they were packed in tight, and it took her a second to wiggle one out. Once she had it, she closed the cupboard and reluctantly turned to go back to the kitchen.

  When the little girl returned, she gasped in horror. Losing control of her bladder from the overwhelming fear, she began to cry. Urine streamed down the side of her leg, even though she’d just gone in her diaper a short while ago. Broken glass was all over the kitchen floor. Her mommy was sprawled on the ground. The kitchen knife her mommy had been using to cut dinner with was now sticking out of the side of her neck. Her legs were twisted and had glass sticking out of them, and her feet, too. Blood was already pooling around her. She had tripped and fallen, knife in hand. A simple accident in the blink of an eye.

  Her mommy made gurgling noises as blood came up through her mouth. She was gasping for air, trying to say something, but nothing came out. Her mommy was hurt, but the little girl didn’t realize that she was dying. She sat on the floor next to her fading mommy and said, “M-m-m-mom-mmy?” The girl was still naked, sitting on pieces of glass without knowing or realizing that they were cutting her bottom. More gurgling and choking came from her mommy, but no words. Her eyes were wide open, gazing at the ceiling. The girl was crying even harder now, not knowing what to do or how to help.

  Moments later, her mommy was dead. The girl believed her mommy had fallen asleep. She didn’t know what to do, other than try to wake her mommy up. She had been taught her whole tiny existence that she should never wake up Mommy. The little girl was shaking with fear. She didn’t know if she should risk getting into trouble or just wait for her to wake up on her own.

  She thought it was weird that her mommy’s eyes were open while she was sleeping. Her mommy normally closed her eyes to sleep, so this scared the little girl even more. She ran to the table and crawled underneath, thinking maybe her safe place would protect her and make her feel better. But this time, it didn’t work. Her head was pounding again. She could see her mommy laying on the floor from where she’s sitting. Gasping, she put her hands over her face, turning the other way. Minutes passed while she tried to think as logically as a four-year-old was able.

  The little girl was afraid to get in trouble. She remembered what happened the last time she woke her mommy up. She remembered she had thought her mommy was hurt then, too, but it didn’t matter. Her tears fell harder as she remembered the beating that her mommy gave and could give again. She hated getting spankings; they hurt so much! She thought as hard as she could and then decided that she didn’t care.

  The little girl knew she should try to wake her mommy up. She knew what blood was. The girl had blood on her and coming out of her all the time, and blood usually meant that there was an owie. She’d seen it so much that it didn’t make her squeamish at all. It just gave her the awareness of pain, and she thought that with the amount of blood coming out of her mommy, she had to be in a lot of pain.

  The girl remembered her daddy had just left for work. It meant it could be a long time before he came home. He wouldn’t be able to help right now, and she had no one else. The girl gritted her tiny teeth. With all the strength she could muster, she shook her mommy, trying her hardest to wake her up. She shook and shook, but her mommy didn’t move. She cried and screamed, relentlessly trying to wake her sleeping mommy.

  Her small naked body was covered in her mommy’s blood, but she didn’t notice. The fear of being spanked faded, and she was more afraid of her mommy not waking up than anything else. There were little bloody handprints all over her mommy’s face. When she could not wake her mommy, the little girl laid down on the floor beside her body, listening to the sounds of the radio still playing above on the counter. She wondered how long it would be before her daddy came home from work this time. Even though she woke up a short while ago, the little girl fell back asleep, exhausted from sadness and fear and the pain in her head.

  She was left alone with her dead mommy for three da
ys before her daddy came home. The first day, she pushed a chair up to the counter, in search of what her mommy was cooking the night before. She found raw chicken that was partially cut into little chunks. The girl also saw a can of green beans that was open, and two potatoes. She tried to wake her mommy up again, offering some of the food to her. Her mommy still didn’t wake up.

  The next day, she tried to eat the potatoes and could get a little of the skin off, but they were too hard for her little teeth, so she left them. She wasn’t strong enough to get the refrigerator open, to look for anything else to eat. By now, her mommy was starting to reek and looked really scary, so she stopped trying to wake her up.

  The little girl was still naked with cuts on her feet, legs, and bottom from lying next to her mommy. She tried to get her diaper on by herself, but it was crooked and when she went potty, some of it leaked out the side, dripping down her leg. She would just wait for her daddy to come home and help her. He would know what to do.

  She spent her time playing with her doll, looking at the pictures in her book, and sleeping. She played pretend games, imagining her daddy coming home to rescue them. The little girl made up a pretend friend to talk to and play games with. She called her friend Ashley. The little girl was so hungry and thirsty that she cried again. She cried, even when her body had no more tears to shed.