The Girl Next Door

Inspired from "The Girl Next Door" a true story of a horrible tragedy.

My thanks to FernieLyn who proofread this piece and gave me some good opinions and insight! Thank you FernieLyn!

This story takes place in a more innocent time.

*

The moment when I saw her changed all our lives forever. It had taken me a few days to piece together little snippets of talk that Andrew, my eighteen year old son had said over the dinner table as we ate our meals before the confused and troubled boy ran next door to continue "playing" with his best friend Jake.

The questions he asked while we ate our meals were on subjects that were troubling.

"How can pain be enjoyable?"

"Why are all girls whores?"

Ginny, my wife's face dropped each time he asked a question. I asked him where he heard these things and he just muttered, "Around."

After he was excused, Ginny and I spoke about the disturbing turn in topics that our son was interested in. A few times I wondered if his friend next door, Jake was filling his head with these things.

Jake was eighteen as well, the same age as Andrew, and as far as we could tell, he was a good innocent young man just like Andrew. That summer, the two of them had been inseparable, fixing their cars together, going to the park and fishing at the pond together, and just hanging out.

Jake's family seemed to be okay as well. Ginny was friendly with Gertrude, Jake's mother. I waved to Fred, his father each time I saw him outside. Jake had an older brother named Jeff, who I suspected was the one who was putting these thoughts into Andrew's head. However, I wasn't sure how to address the issue, short of banning Andrew from seeing his best friend all summer long, which as an adult was pretty much inpossible.

Gertrude's niece was staying with them. Her name was Melanie. Her parents had died in an accident a few months ago and Melanie came to live with Gertrude and her family. Melanie was a small, blonde girl. She was eighteen and she always seemed sad. She had become friendly with Andrew and Jake, and had avoided Jeff as far as I could see.

As I pondered over the last meal, before Andrew had left to go over to the house next door, I wondered what his last cryptic words to me meant.

"Dad, if you had a secret and knew that it was wrong, would it be okay to break the secret, even if you got into trouble yourself?"

These words gave me pause. I kept my face straight and looked at him. He couldn't meet my eyes.

"I think it would be your duty to break that secret if it was wrong," I said. I paused to let him talk. He was not forthcoming, so I prodded him.

"Is there some secret you need to tell me?" I asked.

His face flushed and he shook his head. He quickly excused himself and asked to go next door.

Ginny and I were upset. Something was wrong.

"What are we going to do?" she asked me. "We have to make him tell us!"

I tried to think. I was in agreement with her, but I wanted Andrew to come to us. He had become different this past week. The entire family next door seemed to behave normally, almost like they were trying to behave like so. They all made an effort to be seen by us doing their regular things. Jeff had even helped to wash my car with me. Fred was more cheerful and friendly than ever; he normally said only one word to me before going about his business, now he was actually chatty. He actually seemed to be feeling me out on something, some issue --

Everyone had been normal. Well except for Melanie, who I hadn't seen in over a week.

She was always outside playing. Now I tried to remember the last time I had seen her. All those comments Andrew made, they all related back to an attitude towards a woman, or a girl.

"Oh god!" I suspected.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Stay by the phone!" I told her as I left the house and headed over next door. I hoped that it was just our imagination. I wondered whether I was just jumping the gun. I knocked on the door. No answer.

I tried the door and it was unlocked. That wasn't unusual as the kids ran in and out of there all the time.

Entering the house, I found it empty. "Hello?" I almost whispered. "Anyone home? It's Brandon."

Nothing.

I listened up the stairs and heard nothing, no steps no activity. Strange, both Gertrude's and Fred's cars were still there.

I walked into the kitchen and noticed a door leading to the cellar. The house was built just like mine so I knew that the cellar was a full sized cellar. I heard some muffled noise coming from the door and slowly opened it.

Peering down the stairs I heard some muffled voices. I couldn't make them out so I slowly climbed down the stairs as silently as possible. At the bottom of the stairs I discovered that the cellar had been divided into two rooms. The wall to the other room seemed to be soundproofed and insulated.

I heard a crack. Then a muffled howl of pain. I heard some sobbing and the voice of Gertrude speaking.

I grasped the door handle and opened it.

They were all there.

In the little room.

Gertrude and Fred sitting on a ratty couch.

Jeff, Jake and Andrew were standing.

Jeff was holding a large stick.

They all turned to face me and in a flash, they all registered discovery.

I was still confused as Fred and Gertrude jumped up. No one said anything as I looked beyond Jeff and saw her.

Melanie.

She was naked. Standing with her hands stretched above her head. They were attached to rope that kept her taught and standing in that position. Her wrists were bloody from the rope. Her entire body was cut and bruised. The stick looked to be only one tool that they had used on her.

Her face was matted with dried hair and blood and tears. Her one eye was blackened and her mouth was inflamed. She was sobbing. Looking down her body, I saw written in marker and lipstick words that no eighteen year old, no adult, should have used.

On her breasts were written "Whore Sacks".

Just above her crotch was written "Whore Cunt".

On her stomach, was a bloody scar that they had carved into her. "Use me" it read.

My stomach lurched. Andrew began crying. The others dropped their heads. Jeff ran past me and up the stairs to escape. I heard him leave the house. It took me a moment, but I then turned to Andrew and said, "Andrew, go back home. Tell your mother to call the police and an ambulance." He nodded and ran home.

I grabbed a knife; probably the one used to carve those words into Melanie's stomach and approached her to cut her down. She saw me approached and howled with fear. She struggled to escape me, thinking I was going to inflict more harm and torture on her.

I shushed her and spoke calmly and soothingly to her. Everything was going to be alright. She was safe now. I was here and she wasn't going to be harmed again. She calmed down a little and looked into my eyes. A glimmer of hope was somewhere deep within those pools of blue. I cut her down and she collapsed into my arms.

I could hear the sirens and Gertrude, Fred and Jake had resigned themselves and were now sitting back on the couch.

I rode with Melanie to the hospital. She wouldn't let go of me until they finally sedated her. I met up with my wife Ginny at the hospital. She was aghast when she saw Melanie asleep in the hospital bed.

"My god Brandon, what have they done to her?"

"I don't know, Ginny." I said. "They tortured her. I just have to wonder what part Andrew played in this."

Ginny blanched. I explained how I found them. Andrew was with Jeff and Jake who had been beating Melanie with the stick.

The police questioned me about what I had found. They took me down to the police station where they took my statement and my son Andrew's. It turned out, through Andrew's story, that Gertrude had become so mad at Melanie that she decided to punish her downstairs in the cellar room.

He recounted the horrors that had transpired as Gertrude had forced her sons and Andrew to see what a little slut and untrustworthy whore Melanie was. She was teaching her a lesson. Soon the lesson got out of hand and somewhere along the line Gertrude had refused to let up on Melanie.

She had done things to the tied up young woman, stuck things up Melanie's "cunt". My wife gasped at the word that came out of our son's mouth. How could he know such a nasty word?

Gertrude had Fred, her husband, "stick his pecker" in her first. Gertrude had said that if she was a cock tease, then she needed to feel what a cock felt like. That had upset Andrew as he was forced to watch little Melanie scream and beg for Fred to stop. The blood oozed out her after he was done. She hung lifelessly from her bound wrists.

Over the next few days before I had found her, all the sons had raped her as well. They had been pressuring Andrew to rape her next. Gertrude had tried to encourage Andrew in fucking her by calling Melanie a whore, that it was alright to cause her pain for pleasure and that she would enjoy it as the slut that she was.

This was where his questions had come from on that fateful night when he asked me at dinner. That evening, he was called over to "stick his thingy in her" just like the others did.

In between the rapes, Gertrude had been the one that had written and carved those hateful words into that soft innocent flesh. The doctors were not sure when I brought her in if the scarring would fade away enough that it would be illegible.

Andrew was released under our custody and it was almost morning when we arrived home to go to sleep. The house was quiet and all three of us did not sleep. Ginny continued crying. I tossed and turned. I was sick to my stomach and couldn't get the vision of that poor helpless child out of my head. To further compound things, I kept seeing Andrew there, with a disturbing smile on his face and his pants down around his ankles as he thrust into her.

My eyes snapped open. I had been dreaming about that last part. I staggered to the bathroom and threw up. I popped an alka seltzer and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. I couldn't function without it.

Ginny joined me soon after. We were like zombies as we went through the motions of preparing breakfast. Ginny started to call for Andrew to get up and come down. I stayed her with my hand.

"Let him sleep. Right now I don't think I can look at him."

Ginny had a pained look on her face, but nodded in agreement.

I called into work that morning. I told them a family emergency came up and I would probably be out the entire week. They understood and gladly gave me the time off.

My emotions were a jumble of anger, hurt, embarrassment and concern. That poor girl. How could they do that to her? Those sick people! My son!

"How," I asked my wife Ginny. "How could Andrew be a part of that?"

She sat silently beside me at the table. We held each other.

"I thought we taught him better than that..." I started to cry. Ginny broke down as well.

It was at that moment when Andrew came sheepishly into the kitchen. We looked up at him and the looks on our face told him that this morning was not going to be an easy one for him.

Ginny sat up and put together a plate of food for him while he took a seat at the table. Once we were all seated again, we began to talk to him.

"I guess I screwed up, huh?" he said. His voice cracked a little and he was trying to hold back the tears.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Yes you did."

He started to cry now.

I continued.

"Son, what happened to that girl was so terrible that there was nothing that she could have possibly done that would have warranted that type of punishment. I know that you were not the one responsible, but we are very disappointed in you for keeping this a secret. What in the hell were you thinking?"

He shrugged.

"Well? Answer your father!" Ginny prompted him. Ginny and I had clearly defined roles in the household. I was the disciplinarian, she the nurturer. This time, there would be no nurturing from her or me.

"I don't know," he said. He kept his eyes on his plate, afraid to look at us.

"What type of answer is that?" Ginny's voice rose.

"I don't know," he repeated.

"Andrew...son...I'm sure they put you under a lot of pressure to keep this a secret. But surely you must have known that what they were doing was wrong?"

He broke down, crying now. Sobbing, he looked at us. "I was so confused! I like Melanie! But Jake is my best friend. I didn't want him to get into trouble!"

Ginny was unsure whether to comfort him. She looked at me for approval, I nodded. They had manipulated my boy into going along with this. He had been a witness to the brutality, but had not actually raped her. At the back of my mind I knew that if I had not come over when I did, there was a very good chance that Andrew would have been coerced to rape the poor girl that very evening.

The week went by slowly. I found myself visiting the hospital more often as little Melanie had no one to sit by her. She had awoken screaming the next day in terror. They tried to calm her down but nothing seemed to work. They had administered a sedative to knock her back out. I consulted with the doctors and they told me that she was getting better, but mentally she would be a mess, perhaps for the rest of her life.

She came to while I was sitting next to her, holding her hand. She looked over at me with wild eyes, adjusted her focus, recognized me and then clamped down on my hand even harder. She was calm. I called for the nurse who brought a doctor in to examine her.

Melanie would not let go of my hand. She didn't speak. She started to fidget when the doctor, a man, tried to examine her. I spoke to her softly and soothingly, trying to keep her calm.

"Shhhhh! Everything is alright. You're safe now, Melanie. No one is going to hurt you. They will not hurt you ever again."

She relaxed a little but kept her focus on me as the doctor carefully examined her.

Outside in the hall I asked the police officer what they had planned for Melanie. She frowned. This was a special case. The story had gotten out and the news was covered with all sorts of stories about the case.

"She seems unresponsive to anyone other than you, Mr. Jeffries."

"Please, call me Brandon." I said.

"I'm afraid she will probably be institutionalized. It's too soon to tell and a psychologist needs to see her."

I thought for a moment. I had been mulling this situation over in my mind for quite some time.

"Do you think it would help if I were to take her in? Become her guardian or an interested party?"

The lady was a little surprised.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Jeffries. She is attached to you right now. However given the circumstances, I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"I see," I said. "I feel very guilty about what happened. I know it isn't my fault, but I need to make it up to her. I need to protect her right now. She is looking to me, and I promised her that she would be safe."

"Mr. Jeffries, let's see what the psychologist says after she is examined, I'm sure you want the best for her, whatever that situation might be."

I nodded. "The best thing for her would have been to never have stayed with her psycho aunt to begin with."

She nodded sadly, turned and left.

Ginny and Andrew visited the hospital a few times. Melanie didn't react upon seeing Andrew. I guess that was an improvement. Andrew went over to her and apologized to her. He begged her to forgive him. It took a lot of guts for my son to do that. Afterwards, I hugged him and told him I was proud.

The psychologist came and saw her. I stayed with Melanie while she was "in-session". By this time she was starting to speak again. It was very slow going, but what we got out of that visit was that she felt safe around me, and it became pretty clear that the best scenario for Melanie was to have me become her guardian.

The media grew and grew over the week. They were everywhere -- at the hospital, at our house, and even at my work. Melanie was moved to a secure room away from prying eyes as she recovered.

Before the week was finished, Jake, he turned himself in. There was a debate on whether he would be tried as an adult once charges were filed. I met with the Assistant D.A., a very stern woman named Rosalyn Rust. She was willing to drop all charges against my son Andrew for his cooperation and testimony against the others. Our lawyer recommended we take the deal and I breathed a sigh of relief that my son would not be facing his own trial.

The night before Melanie was due to be discharged into my care, the house next door caught fire. It had been unoccupied since Gertrude's family was still being kept in jail awaiting pre-trial.

Ginny said she called the fire department, but was not surprised when they showed up much later when there was no chance to save the house. It burned down to the ground. The neighbors stood outside and watched it burn. It was sort of cathartic as we purged that evil place from the neighborhood.

Ginny and I helped Melanie into our car as we left the hospital. The media crowded us, begging for a statement. We gave none. They were at our house when we drove up; again, we gave them no comment.

After getting in, Ginny showed Melanie the guest room that had been redone in girl colors, pinks and pastels, with a fresh bed for her. This would now be her room.

Ginny came down and sat with me in the living room.

"Brandon, you are going to have to do something about those reporters."

"I know," I said. They would stay here until we gave them something.

"How about we give them a quick statement?" I asked.

She seemed to agree, but she told me that Melanie should not be present.

I called my lawyer to ask him to help me with a statement to the press, because this was an ongoing investigation. He came over and we were able to hash out something to give to the press. He made sure to stand with me when I exited my front door to give the bloodsuckers what they wanted.

"Mr. Jeffries has a short statement and then he will be able to take a few questions. Because this is an open case, we cannot divulge much information, so please be patient and respect this family's right to some privacy," my lawyer said.

I stepped forward; microphones were shoved into my face.

"Melanie is recovering. Her physical injuries are almost healed, but her emotional injuries may never be. The courts have given me guardianship over her and it is my duty to help her recover from this ordeal. We ask, no beg you, to please leave her and my family alone as she cannot cope with the constant reminder of what she went through."

Looking into the cameras, I faced the reporters before me.

"If this was your daughter, how would you feel? Please respect her privacy and let us try to heal her. She deserves at least that, don't you think?"

The reporters were silent. There seemed to be an agreement.

"I will take a few questions, I cannot promise that I can answer them, but I realize you all have a job to do, so I will give you some time now, in the understanding that there will be none after this."

"How does it feel to be a hero?" asked one of the reporters.

I was shocked. "I am not a hero. If anything I helped contribute to this mess. I should have known sooner."

"What do you mean by that?" He countered.

Shrugging, I said, "I should have noticed the signs sooner."

"How could you know?"

"I just could have been more aware... if I had seen it sooner... I would have been able to help her."

"You saved her life!"

"Did I? What kind of life does she face now?"

They were quiet after that. I was shaking with guilt. Another reporter asked a question.

"How is your family doing? What is the status of your son? Wasn't he implicated in the act?"

My lawyer jumped in before I could answer.

"As far as Mr. Jeffries' son, that is confidential. We cannot comment on that."