Itsy Bitsy Spider (Emma Frost #1) Page 2

  "Help!" she yelled while the feeling of utter panic grew.

  What if no one hears me? No you stupid fool. Don't think like that.

  She tried to scratch the door with her fingernails, but had to stop because it hurt. Astrid sat down on the step and covered her face with her hands. She was so hungry now. She looked up at the ceiling.

  Maybe there was another way out? There had to be an air vent somewhere. Astrid got up and went to the end wall with the shelves. She removed some blankets and touched the wall behind it, felt it, scanned it for anything that could indicate that there was some secret passage way or just a small hole that she could get through.

  But there was nothing. She went through the stuff on the shelves meticulously in the hope she could find something to break the door open with. But she found nothing but the flashlight. She rose with it in her hand and ran towards the iron door. While taking the last step, she swung it and smashed it against the door, but didn't even make a bump.

  She cried as she swung it again and again and destroyed the flashlight, but never harmed the door in any way.

  Astrid sobbed and fell to the cold stairs.

  You really are no good, aren't you? she heard her mother's voice say. Got yourself into trouble again. I knew you would. He's not going to take care of you. Be a damned fool if he did.

  No, no, Dr. Jansen says I'm okay, remember? I'm good and healthy and strong. My man doesn't care about me being smart or anything. He loves me, he said.

  You fool. No one loves a retard. No one, I tell you. No one!

  Astrid wiped off her tears in disgust. Why did thinking of her mother always do that to her? Why did it always make her feel so bad about herself? No there had to be a way, there had to be. Astrid stared at the canned food on the shelves, then sprang up and pulled one down. Luckily it was one of those you could pull open. She didn't even need a can opener. This was good, she thought to herself as she pulled it and the sweet smell of ravioli hit her nostrils and tricked her deep hunger even more. This was very good. Astrid searched everywhere and finally found a bunch of plastic spoons. Relieved she sat down and started eating.

  Things always looked better on a full stomach, mother used to say. So as soon as she had finished this can, she would find a way to get out of there.

  5

  2012.

  We took the last ferry to get to the island. I had to drive past the local police station to pick up the key to the house as soon as we arrived. It was almost midnight as we finally found the right place. Everything was dark now and the wind had picked up in the almost barren trees outside. I walked through a pile of dead leaves someone had gathered with a broom earlier before I entered the small building they apparently called a police station. The kids wanted to stay in the car. Victor was asleep and Maya was listening to music on her iPhone. I was tired now and looking very much forward to finally entering my future home and throw myself on one of the beds. The house was still furnished, I had been told by the lawyer who gave me the deed to the house. I took that as a sign that I could move in right away.

  "Are you serious?" Maya had exclaimed when I told her back at the apartment. "Do you really want to live in some dead woman's old furniture?"

  "We'll get our own shipped over there eventually, but until then, yes. Plus it's a really big house. We don't have enough furniture to fill it up. I bet my grandmother's was nice. She was loaded, you know."

  "Couldn't she just have left us the money instead?" my smart daughter argued. "Then we could build our own house or stay in our own apartment and not have to leave the city for some deserted island where only freaks would live."

  "She left her money to grandpa, who's the rightful heir to it being her son. I was just ... I'm sorry we were just lucky that we got this splendid house out of it. I didn't expect to get anything."

  "How do you know it was luck? Maybe the house is really her way of getting back at you," Maya said and went to her room.

  I stuck my tongue out after her, and then returned to my packing.

  The police station looked almost deserted as I entered. There was no one behind the counter.

  "Excuse me?" I said and cleared my throat. "Hello?"

  "Freeze!" a voice said next to me.

  I gasped and jumped. A guy came out of a door pointing his fingers at me making them look like a gun. I raised both arms. He laughed.

  "Boy, you scared me," I said and looked at him the way my annoying teenager did to me.

  The guy laughed. I hadn't noticed until then, but he was quite handsome. Blond with blue eyes, tall and very masculine. About my age, maybe a little older but it was hard to tell. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't get out much as you can imagine. I don't get to have much fun either. Especially not at night. Boy you should have seen the look on your face."

  "That was not funny. My heart is still racing."

  The police officer grinned. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I really didn't mean to. It was just so tempting."

  "Okay, okay. I get it," I said. "Maybe there is reason they don't let you get out much, huh? Maybe they keep you at the nightshift for a reason?"

  The officer tilted his head. "I never thought about it that way. Hmm. Maybe you're right."

  "You bet I am."

  "I'm Officer Dan," he said and reached out his hand. "Dan Toft."

  I smiled and took it. "Emma Frost."

  "Nice to meet you, Emma Frost," he said and kept shaking my hand while still grinning.

  "Likewise, Officer Dan."

  He let go of my hand and went behind the counter. "What can I do for you at this strange hour? Are you visiting our island?"

  "No. We're actually moving here. I was supposed to pick up the key here? At least that's what my lawyer told me. I thought it sounded strange but ..."

  I never finished the sentence before Officer Dan dangled the keys in front of my face. "These should be the ones. We do all kinds of jobs for the public here on this station. Yesterday I walked Mrs. Olson's puppy since she had fallen and hurt her leg and couldn't walk it herself. Keeping people's house keys is the least of our jobs. It's kind of nice though. We get to know people closely that way."

  "Plus it means you don't have much else to do, which means you don't have much crime here on the island. Must be kind of nice, right?" I said and took the keys out of his hand.

  "It sure is," he responded.

  "Well, thanks," I said and started walking towards the door.

  Officer Dan ran in front of me and held it open for me. I chuckled.

  "See you around," he said as I walked out.

  I caught myself thinking I would really like that.

  6

  2012

  He was wondering what kind of mood the old hag was in today as he waited for the garage door to open, before he drove into the driveway. The gravel was loud underneath the wheels of the Mercedes. Why she insisted on still driving this old car when she could easily afford a newer model, Torben didn't understand. But it was her car and her money.

  Torben had worked for Mrs. Heinrichsen for as long as he could remember. Drove her around to wherever she needed to be. Did some handiwork around the house whenever it was needed or at least made sure the right people were called to fix it. He was her go-to guy as they said in the movies. Torben didn't mind that. In fact he enjoyed being needed by someone. Ever since his wife had passed away six years ago the old house seemed so empty. The kids had moved away many years ago, off to the mainland, to the big city to lives of their own and soon forgot all about their old father rotting away on the island.

  Back in the day when Mr. Heinrichsen was still alive Torben had not liked his job very much. He simply didn't like Mr. Heinrichsen and the way he treated people. Well the old lady wasn't much better herself, and age didn't seem to soften her up, but Torben had known her now for many years now and knew she wasn't so bad once you really got to know her. She would boss him around, yes, but now that Yvonne wasn't alive anymore he quite frankly liked to have someone t
ell him what to do from time to time. It had that familiar feeling to it. Like he had a purpose.

  Torben sighed and fixed his cap and tie to make sure it was on straight. Mrs. Heinrichsen preferred him to look right. She didn't like sloppiness and over the years Torben had learned to appreciate it. You didn't find much of that these days anymore. Discipline, self-control. It was all in the character and Mrs. Heinrichsen had helped Torben build his character. She had made him stronger. Not with loving and caring attitude, no by being harsh and hard on him when he needed it the most. Like when Yvonne died. It had nearly broken him. He was about to slide into a deep depression, when Mrs. Heinrichsen told him to stop feeling sorry for himself.

  "Just get over it," she had said.

  She had given him a day off to go to the funeral, actually a whole week, but the next day he had shown up at her doorstep, the cap in his hand asking her if she needed him today. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she hadn't any plans, but she had come up with some.

  "As a matter of fact you're late," she had said with her well-known snort that Torben had hated so much but suddenly found very comforting, very familiar. "I have to see my hairdresser in ten minutes and with all this traffic it's going to take at least fifteen."

  "Then let's get going," he said with a huge smile, then brought the car out. Of course the old lady didn't have an appointment, but the hairdressers found time for her anyway. She had a way like that. She could make people jump for her.

  That was when Torben realized the old woman did have a heart. They never talked about the death of Yvonne or Torben's sadness again, but they didn't have to. Somehow they had found each other, a strange sort of friendship in the middle of it all and that was enough for him. He didn't need her pity or her compassion. He needed everything to go back to normal, and so it had. It made coming home to the empty house a lot easier when he knew there was someone needing him in the morning.

  Torben whistled and waited in the driveway for the big old wooden door to open, but minutes passed and nothing happened. Torben wrinkled his nose. In all the thirty years Torben had worked for the lady she had never ever been late once. A feeling of unease was starting to spread in his body as the minutes passed by and shortly after, he couldn't stand it anymore. Mrs. Heinrichsen was supposed to be at her lawyer's office on the mainland at ten and if she didn't come out now, they weren't going to catch the ferry.

  Torben knew Mrs. Heinrichsen would be very angry with him for doing this, but something compelled him to walk up the stairs and walk into the big old house.

  "Hello?" he said hoping Mrs. Heinrichsen had merely overslept. "Mrs. Heinrichsen? The car is ready for you? The ferry leaves in half an hour."

  As he received no answer Torben's heart started racing in his chest. This was not good; he thought and ran up the stairs and down the hallway. He knocked on her bedroom door with the cap in his hand.

  "Mrs. Heinrichsen. We're going to be late."

  He knocked twice, three times, and when there was no answer after the fifth time, he took in a deep breath and did what he had never done before. He walked into Mrs. Heinrichsen's bedroom.

  "I'm sorry to do this but ..."

  Torben froze by the sight of the old lady lying on her bed with her empty eyes staring into the ceiling. Then he cried. Not because he was reminded of the time he had come home and found his wife in the same position, dead by a heart attack on the same bed she had given birth to their two sons, not because he was sad that he was now going to be really alone since no one would need his services any longer. No Torben cried because of what had happened to her body. He cried and sobbed because never in his sixty years of living had he been in the presence of such cruelty.

  7

  2012

  I was woken by the sound of sirens in the street. My sleep had been uneasy and it had been very late before I even got to put my head on the pillow. I looked at my phone.

  "For God's sake. It's eight am. I might as well be back in the city with all that noise."

  I looked out the window and saw the island's police car (yes I would later learn that there was actually only one!) drive past my new house. It stopped further down the street in front of what looked like a big gate. I rubbed my eyes and decided to take a shower. I had a busy day ahead of me unpacking our boxes and getting to know our new home.

  Victor was jumping down the stairs after ten minutes. I had barely managed to find the pots and pans to begin making the bacon and egg I had brought with us in a cooler.

  "This house is awesome!" he exclaimed.

  I couldn't help smiling. It had been a long time since I had seen him this happy. It warmed my heart and filled me with hope for our future.

  "Are you hungry, buddy? I'm making eggs and toast and ..."

  "Mom have you even seen the yard yet?" he asked with sparkling eyes.

  "No I have not had the pleasure ..."

  Victor jumped up and pulled my arm. "You won't believe it. It has Douglas firs; it has ash, and birches and even cypresses."

  "Oh, really huh?" I said sleepily while my son dragged me through the beautiful old living room and through the doors leading to the backyard. To me it looked mostly like a wild forest, but I knew to Victor it was like heaven. He had been into trees for several years now and always complained that living in the city was dull and dead, we might as well live on the space station circling the earth, he would say. He loved trees and always dreamed of having his own yard. I smiled and put my arm around him forgetting how he hated to be touched. For a second he forgot as well. While he watched the big dark trees that were completely blocking the view of the ocean beneath the yard, I got to hold on to him for just a few seconds, something I hadn't been able to in years without him breaking into a hysterical scream.

  Then he remembered and pushed away my arm. He walked closer and looked up at the mighty trees in front of him.

  I pushed back a tear watching him. He looked like he was dancing between them, turning on his feet, laughing. "Don't get lost in there," I said half laughing, half choking. "I'll get that breakfast ready for you in a jiff," I added and walked back towards the kitchen.

  I chuckled with happiness as I put bread in the toaster and found out how to work the stove.

  "What's all the fuss about?" Maya looked at me like I was a babbling idiot and walked into the kitchen.

  "Victor is excited about the trees in the yard. Have you seen all the big trees? You know how much he has always wanted to live in a house with a yard full of trees."

  "That's so ..." Maya stopped herself from saying something. I guessed she could tell by the look in my eyes that this was not the moment for one of her usual sarcastic remarks.

  I smiled and served the breakfast. I called for Victor and he came storming inside with the biggest smile to his face.

  "Don't stuff your mouth," I said but didn't mean it. I was glad to see him eat like a healthy happy boy and not pick in his food with a fork stating he wasn't hungry as usual. This was certainly the change he needed, if not for anyone else, then it was certainly good for him, and that was enough for me.

  "So what are there like schools here?" Maya asked while avoiding the bacon and sticking to the egg and toast.

  I chuckled. "Of course. I already contacted them and they know you're coming. Starting next week after we have settled in. You have four days."

  Maya scoffed. Victor didn't seem to notice anything. He swallowed the rest of his food and left the table.

  "Don't forget your plate." But it was too late. I ate the rest of his bacon and then took some more from the pan.

  "You know that stuff is really bad for you, don't you?" Maya said.

  "I do. But I also know that I like food and I like to eat and I am not a teenager anymore so I don't have to worry about my appearance constantly." I took another piece and crunched it between my teeth just to be defiant.

  "I thought you wanted to lose weight. It's all you talked about when we were back at the apartment. How you though
t moving to a new place might help you get back into shape and so on. "

  I made a grimace. "Well sue me for being happy. I'll start running again. I used to love running."

  "Yeah right, that'll happen."

  "Really? Is that what we're doing now? Making fun of me because I'm a little on the chubby side, is it? Seriously Maya. Can't you just lay off the witty remarks for once and try to enjoy this new adventure?"

  Maya snorted then she got up from her chair. "Well for you maybe. And for that tree hugger out there, the little weirdo, but what about me?"

  "What about you Maya?" I asked annoyed. "Not everything is about you, you know?"

  "Nothing is ever about me!" she yelled.

  I was startled by the tone in her voice. It sounded so much like when she was younger, back when she still needed her mother to fix everything. It dawned on me that maybe she still did need me after all, that maybe she wasn't so grown up as she had pretended to be.

  "What are you saying, Maya?"

  "I'm saying that you just made this decision to move all of us here without even asking me. It's all about what you want, what you need or what Victor needs. It's never about what I want. I had friends. I had good friends. I might never see them again. How do you think that feels?"

  "Maya. Sweetie. Of course you'll see them again. You'll go on holidays and maybe some weekends. We'll figure it out."

  "And what about Dad?"

  I sighed. "What about him?"

  "Will we ever get to see him again or have you just decided that he's out of our lives as well?"

  "That is not my decision to make, Maya and you know it. Your father was the one who moved out. He was the one who said his girlfriends couldn't handle you. Not me. I wanted you to see him, I wanted you to go there every other weekend like most kids in a divorce, but he made the choice. He made the decision, Maya. Not me."

  "Because of Victor," she cried. "Because they couldn't handle Victor and all his seizures and panic attacks. That's why. Not because of me."