The Antique Read online

  Later their parents moved the sisters into their large spare room, and there the two sisters were locked up in their own cages at night. When Elise turned nine, their parents redecorated the space into a set-piece with a large custom dollhouse. The Chinese dollhouse had a bright red color with intricate designs; it had an open courtyard and two miniature dolls, each one taking on the look of Elise and Maria. She recalled that Mom told her the house was handmade, and given to them as a gift by one of dad’s clients. Unfortunately, that was the only thing good about that room. Elise spent a long time staying inside her cage. They had everything in the house, but they were not allowed to use anything without specific instructions. The worst time was when they had guests in their house. Elise wanted to tell the visitors about the abuse, but she never had the chance until one time a little girl came with a visitor, and Elise managed to free herself with the key.

  Looking down from upstairs against the stair’s guardrail, Elise whispered to the little girl to get her attention. “Hey! Up here...what is your name?”

  The little girl followed the whisper and looked up to meet Elise’s eyes. “My name is Ashley. What is yours?”

  “Elise—could you come closer? I have a secret for you.”

  Ashely followed the stairs up to where Elise were.

  Elise reached out to greet Ashley.

  Ashley looked down on Elise’s wrist and saw bruise lines and cuts on her arms. “What happened to you?”

  “Accidents.” Elise pulled Ashely away from the stairs and whispered, “You like secrets?”

  Ashley nodded and got closer still.

  “Okay. Do you know how to read yet?”

  Ashley shook her head. “I’m three.”

  “That’s great. You can have your dad read it and he can tell you later.” Elise handed Ashley a piece of paper. The paper had writing that read: Help. I am Elise, the Wang family’s oldest daughter. We are being abused. We are locked up in cages. Please get help!

  Ashley looked at the paper and asked, “What is it?”

  Elise smiled. “It’s a secret. You have to give it to your dad, but you have to keep it quiet downstairs and not tell my parents. If you do, the secret will evaporate into thin air. Do you understand?”

  Ashley furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “That’s how this secret works, believe me.” Elise tried to convince the little girl, but she could see Ashley was not sure about the whole thing.

  Ashley’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Oh, you have a dollhouse! Can I see it?”

  “I’m sorry, but it is off-limits.”

  “No! I want to see it!” Ashley tried to force her way in, but Elise was too strong.

  “Kid, do this for me and I will let you touch the dollhouse. Get this paper to your daddy, please?”

  Ashley gave Elise a protesting stare, but she nodded and slowly backed away from her and sauntered back to the bottom of the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked back up at Elise, then crumpled the paper on the ground and sat next to her dad.

  To Elise's horror, Margie saw the paper on the ground, and she picked it up. She read the paper and looked upstairs, but Elise was already gone. That night, they skipped dinner; Mom and Dad took turns belting Elise. She refused to cry and didn’t even whimper. She started counting until she passed out. In her dreams, she saw Maria sitting next to her and singing her songs; there were critters of all kinds surrounding them, and their parents were nowhere to be found. She could snap her fingers and they would be surrounded by sugary cotton-balls. She and Maria giggled as they wolfed down an endless amount of cotton-balls; from the foaming cotton-balls, Elise saw two white rabbits running towards her with faces resembling her parents. She turned and grabbed on to the rabbits and tore them into pieces. It was shocking to her, but she felt peace that night.

  Philip was rarely home, but when he came home, Elise and Maria stayed locked up in the dollhouse room. Mom said it was for their own good. When they were together, they had the best of times, but it could also be the worst of times. They were often scared staying inside the doll room. They would hear arguments from the bedroom next door. Elise could never make out what the argument was about, but things would get loud and sometimes it sounded like items were getting thrown at the wall. The chaos often ended with Dad storming out of the bedroom and his footsteps following him out the front door. That was the cue as to when the physical abuse would follow from Mom.

  Margie would be mad at Philip about running away in the middle of the night, and then she would go into their rooms and punish the little sister. Mom would take the little sister away into the bathroom and tell Maria to stop crying. She would push her into the bathtub and push her head under the water. Elise could hear her little sister’s coughing, but she could not help her. She could never get the choking, coughing sound out of her head. Elise always hoped there would be help somewhere to help them escape, but help never came. The punishments got worse, especially when Dad came home drunk.

  “Shut up! You want to cry? I will give you a reason to cry,” he growled.

  Philip took Maria into the bathroom. Maria was crying her lungs out; then she stopped, but moments later, the screaming started. Philip took one of her plastic toys and burned it with his cigar, then pressed the plastic toy against Maria’s forearm. Elise remembered yelling at her dad to take her instead, but he only looked at her with a cold stare.

  Philip told Elise that Maria needed to learn to love her daddy correctly, or it would mean more intensive lessons. At night, when Elise and Maria were safe from their parents, Elise would sing Maria to sleep. She swore that she would protect her, even if she had to give up her own life one day. Elise remembered that on a particular night the punishment was one of the most severe ones. They cried together in the dollhouse room. As the pain subsided, a full moon emerged from behind the clouds. She remembered looking up at the moon, and it was so clear and pure. She felt that the moon was speaking to her in a language only she understood. She told the moon all of her sufferings and the moon never got tired of her tales. It gave her strength somehow.

  It wasn’t long before she figured out she was double-jointed and was able to contort her body and get out of the cage. At night, she would sneak out to get food from the kitchen and shared it with Maria, but Maria often was not hungry. Finally, one day after one of Elise’s terrible torture sessions, Elise finally got tired of being a victim. She wanted to do something about the pain, so she got out of the cage that night and walked four miles to the local police station in Seattle. She would never forget the look on the front desk’s officer’s face when she walked in. He was a balding middle-age man with a long, curly mustache. He looked at Elise with more curiosity than alarm. She asked for help from him, but to her surprise, he calmly took her to an office and let her talk to another police officer. She told him everything that was going on in her house. They called her dad to let him know about his runaway child, and then an officer drove her back to her house, delivering her directly into Philip’s hands.

  That night, she felt his rage in the extreme. Philip threatened her with a knife. He called the knife “Mr. Justice.” It was an old military K-Bar with a well-worn blade. He said he had killed someone with Mr. Justice when he was in the army, and he had kept it razor-sharp ever since. He pulled her arms out from the cage and tried to scare her, but Elise didn’t beg or cry.

  She stared back at him and said, “You know you are insane, right?” She could see the surprise in his eyes and, however brief, a look of shame; then he covered it up neatly with a cold smile.

  “You know, Elise, I think it’s time for you to have your own scar, just like Maria’s.”

  Elise stared back at Philip and said, “Please make a heart shape.”

  “A heart shape?” Philip inquired with a cold stare.

  “That’s what you should have, a heart.” Elise stared back at him, daring him with a move.

  Philip chuckled. “You are really something else. I
only wish half of my old platoon in the army were as brave as you. You know what? I changed my mind. I will make sure I impress upon you the importance of obedience.” He walked out, then later came back with forceps. The tip of the forceps was holding a ring.

  Elise recognized the ring belonged to her mom.

  He lit up a cigar lighter and held the flame over the ring for a good minute; then he walked over and pushed the ring into Elise's arm.

  Elise closed her eyes and let the burn consume her, but she refused to budge nor scream. The smell of the burning flesh was thicker than the silence in the room.

  “There, I made one for you!” Philip smiled, admiring his work. “Surprised? I made some modifications to Mom’s ring—dammit, these mosquitoes!” He grunted and tried to catch the mosquitoes in his hand. The mosquitoes took off and skirted around Philip’s head before flying away.

  Elise opened her eyes and saw the raw, red mark of a seared heart shape on her arm. There was a large hole in the middle, and blood crawled down the side of her arm. A mosquito landed on her arm, sucking up the blood. Elise thought she was going to feel pain, but surprisingly, the hurt was soothing to her. The burned skin and the swollen red mark was quivering––-as if speaking to her in a whisper, urging her to fight for herself; she realized at that moment she could not let the abuse continue, and she was going to end it that night.

  It was 3:03a.m. She waited until Philip went to sleep in his own room, like so many nights before. She snuck out from her cage and found a kitchen knife. She picked up the knife and felt that it was an extension of her hand. She stared at the blade, appreciating the perfection and beauty of something so deadly. She went into Philip’s study and saw him watching TV with his back facing the door. She waited for a while, then realized that he had fallen asleep with his eyes slightly open. She walked over and stood over him with the kitchen knife. Then she saw the K-Bar. It was sitting on the table next to Philip, and there was also a hand-gun that he had disassembled in front of him and every piece arranged in a neat, clean pattern. She picked up the K-Bar and compared it with the kitchen knife, and then decided to put down the kitchen knife.

  She first wasn’t sure where to point the knife, but somehow she already knew what to do. The knife’s tip almost had a life of its own. It “led” her hand until the tip was over Philip’s chest and she felt her hand synchronized with Philip’s breathing. When he exhaled, the knife went into his chest so quickly like piercing into butter. She let go of the knife in disbelief that she had actually done that.

  Philip’s eyes snapped opened and he sat up. He coughed out a scream, looked down and saw his K-Bar a third into this chest. He turned and stared at Elise in disbelief.

  Elise stood back as blood seeped through the wound and made a wet spot on his shirt.

  He lunged at her with his hands, but he tripped over the coffee table and landed face down, pushing the knife in farther. The K-Bar punched through his heart, killing him almost instantly.

  Elise's heart raced, but she quickly gathered herself and left the scene and went back to her cage. She then realized her job was not done. Too many times concerned teachers would come to visit Elise and Maria, and there was no sign of problem; the police didn’t want to be involved without a warrant. No one wanted to meddle with their family affairs out of respect for her dad. The community really needed to see something severe, something so god awful that they could not ignore. Elise went back out of her cage, and then went back downstairs. She wanted to move Philip’s body to the front door, somewhere where he would easily be seen by a neighbor. But when she got downstairs, Philip’s body was gone. She froze, and then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. When she turned around, Margie was holding the K-Bar in her right hand and a cell phone in the other.

  Margie screamed frantically into the cell phone, “This is the Wang’s residence, I’m at 2875, Willows Road. My kids and my husband are dead––-I killed them––-oh god, I killed them. Please come help, quickly!” She then put the phone on mute and started laughing. “Elise, I already called the police for you; now we have about ten minutes of playtime together. Do you still remember when it was just you, me, and your dad? We were so happy together. We always had playtime before your noon nap. You and I would play upstairs in the spare room. You would make me tea, and I would dress you up as a princess. It was so simple then, but then your sister came…and we realized you and her are both mistakes.”

  “What are you talking about? You are not my mom; give me back my mom!” Elise wailed.

  “That’s right, cry, scream! Make it louder ‘cause it keeps the voices away. The voices came to us nearly a year ago. We tried everything and couldn’t get rid of it. It says you and your sister bear the sins from our past, and we need to rid of it from your soul. The only way to repent is through pain and suffering. I’m so sorry you and Maria have to suffer, but this is the only way…the thing behind the voice is coming to take you and your sister away, and I can’t let that happen. Pain and suffering…it keeps the voices in our head from getting louder.” Margie sobbed as her face temporarily melted back to normal, but something behind those eyes turned dark again. She tried to stab Elise with the knife but got tripped by a table lamp wire; the knife barely missed Elise. Margie got up slowly and searched for Elise. She found her, chased after her with the knife, but Elise was too fast. She ducked again under the dining table. Margie swung the knife at her but missed.

  “Don’t make this too hard for Mommy now. Did you brush your teeth today? I told you a million times you have to go deeper into your molars!” Margie screamed and went after Elise.

  Elise climbed out and ran upstairs. She hid behind the door. Instinctively, she looked for a weapon, and she found a small beer bottle on the nightstand. She swung it against the wall, trying to break it, but couldn’t.

  “Oh, Elise…using a knife is too messy. I think a pistol is in order. See this? This is Daddy’s favorite gun.” Margie pulled the trigger, and a round went off. The bullet punched through the door, missing Elise by a few inches.

  Elise ran across the room and threw things against the door to block the doorway.

  Margie came running into the room, but she tripped over the clothes on the ground. Another shot went off, and the bullet hit the ceiling.

  Elise ran out of the room, and the mother got up and followed her out the door. She fired another round, and the bullet hit the side of the front window, shattering the large glass panel.

  A police officer responding to the call was outside the window holding a flashlight. When the shattered glass rained on his body, he ducked under a bush.

  “Help! My mother is trying to kill me!” Elise waved and screamed at the police.

  Margie fired at the officer.

  The young police officer rolled behind the outside wall and took position next to the shattered window. He scanned the inside with a flashlight and saw the mother pointing the gun at him.

  Margie fired several more shots but missed.

  The officer returned fire; one round hit Margie’s shoulder. She dropped the gun and fell to the ground.

  “Stay down!” the officer ordered Margie as he climbed into the house, pointing his gun at her.

  Margie ignored the officer and smiled at Elise. “I love you…”

  She aimed the gun against her right temple and pulled the trigger.

  More police and news crews came around the house that night. Elise would never forget the image of her mother’s body lying flat on the stretcher. She watched silently as the ambulance took her parents’ bodies away. She thought she ought to cry, but she felt nothing inside.

  “Are Mom and Dad dead?” Maria asked Elise as they were sitting inside the back seat of the police’s cruiser. She had a doll with her from the house. It was a doll that she got when she turned two.

  Elise nodded absently, realizing it was supposed to be Maria’s birthday the next day.

  “Did you kill Mom and Dad?” Maria stuttered, but her face was void
of sadness. She stroked the doll’s hair forcefully until it was a tangled mess.

  Elise nodded again. “I had no choice, sis. They were bad. No, they were crazy…”

  “Okay.” Maria gave her a quick smile and continued on playing with her doll. She ripped part of the hair out of the doll, then threw the doll onto the backseat floor. “This doll is bad, because Mom and Dad gave it to me.”

  Elise hugged Maria tightly around her arms. She felt a wave of sadness overwhelming her, but she forced it down with anger. The anger quickly boiled over inside. Elise needed fresh air, so she got out of the car. The night was cold and windy; the whistling sound batted against her freezing ears with intensity. Elise needed an adult, anyone. She saw a female officer nearby, turning her head towards her; Elise reached out her arms towards the female officer.

  The female police officer reached to take Elise’s arms. “Hey! Don’t run away now. Stay with me.”

  Elise finally collapsed into the police officer’s arms and screamed.

  Elise was traumatized by the incident, and she had daily nightmares; she was sometimes violent to adults and disobedient. The erratic behavior was affecting Maria’s well-being. They were put into foster homes but later adopted by different families.

  Elise got in and out of foster home, but eventually was taken in by a foster parent in Oakland, California. She was extremely bright, beautiful, but had a wicked dark side. Her willowy frame belied her strength and agility. Boys were attracted to her, but all felt something was off about her and stayed away. In her junior high years, she tortured animals to deal with the recurring nightmares and anxiety. It was an urge that she could not suppress. She hid the dark side from everyone, including her foster parents. The nightmare was always the same: she was inside the locked cage, and her sister was crying as her mother unleashed her rage over her for wetting her bed. She could not get rid of the crying and choking sounds inside her head. Then there was her dad, the physical punisher.