Hidden Away

By Priscilla Dee Valenzuela

It's been a quiet few months except on Pine Street, where Helen Baxter, the town scrooge, has been raking in constant noise complaints. What no one knows is she has a dark secret she's been keeping for ten long years.

Hidden Away takes place in the small, tight-knit community of Havensworth, where Nurse Helen works and lives. Her world begins to spin out of control as the accusations against her become more heinous. She slowly unravels and holds close to her the flickering light in her basement.

Her neighbor, little Madilynn Frye, begins to snoop around her property for answers. She soon discovers a boy is being held captive. As his situation becomes more desperate, and with the help of detectives Clark Day and Richard Rodriguez, Maddy does what she can to save her friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887633558

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

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31

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36

About the Author

Hidden Away

Priscilla Dee Valenzuela

Copyright © 2023 Priscilla Dee Valenzuela

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-354-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-355-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To all the people out there who have been affected by abuse and domestic violence

Not all of us can say we are survivors. And not every horror story, like this one, ends in rescue. The true horror, which lies in these stories that many of us carry in our hearts, is that many lose their life's wanting and wishing to be free of their abuser. It is my hope that this story helps others be more aware of the things happening around them—so if the event arises, we might be able save someone from the violent hands of an abuser so that they too can say they survived.

Acknowledgments

Thank you so much to my best friend and husband, who constantly hears me trying to shape and talk about my stories. And thanks for all the little ideas you put into my head to make this story interesting.

I would also like to give a shout-out to all my readers. I am so excited to continue my journey to share these stories with you. The third book is underway, and it is my readers, and the messages I hope they can pull from my writing, that is getting me through this third book together at a speed I have never been able to do with any writing project ever.

Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for pushing me to be better. It means the world.

1

The year is 1984

The young woman stared into her husband's eyes. She looked terrified. How could I have let this happen? How? She should have left her husband ages ago, but that too had seemed like a terrifying idea. She didn't believe she could make it on her own. I'm not strong enough. At least that's how she felt back then.

"I thought I told you I wanted this house spotless. I'm away all day, and I work hard for our money. Still, this house is a goddamned wreck," the man said to his wife, utterly frustrated. He threw his arms in the air in a most exaggerated way as if he were pointing out the smallest of things that his wife's eyes had missed.

I-I'm sorry, Jimmy, the woman squeaked out, sounding like a little mouse. I cleaned all day. I made sure everything would be perfect. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's not good enough, she said, sounding slightly intimidated by what might come for her disobedience. Her voice, though quiet, trembled as she tried to talk to Jimmy. As she tried to save herself from whatever horrible beating he might have in mind this time.

You call this perfect? he said as he reached into a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a large glass plate as if the dirtiness he complained about was blatant. He squinted his eyes at the glass plate. After a moment of looking, he shook his head in astonishment. Oh, Helen. I see soap spots all over this. Are you even using the dish soap I bought for you? Do you see this? he asked, sounding irritated as he used an index finger to point. Why do I even buy you anything to clean with if you ain't going to clean right?

He walked to the garbage can that sat beside the fridge. His work boots sounded heavy and tired as he dragged his feet along the stainless white floor. He wore a plain white T-shirt. The shirt had dry sweat stains around the collar of the shirt and down his back. Plain jeans with small rips and tears throughout adorned his legs. Stopping in front of the garbage can, his eyes looked almost black as he said, This. This is trash.

She crossed her hands in front of her and nervously twiddled her fingers. Overall, she looked like a scared kitten who might at any moment jump somewhere to hide. Her heart skipped a beat when the plate broke as it crashed at the bottom of the trash can. She had wanted to say something. But why should I tell him? She could try to run away before he knew a thing, though that feeling of weakness was too overpowering. How could I manage this alone?

Her head was bowed as she stared at the floor unsure of what she should say or do. The only thing she was able to mutter just barely under her breath was, I-I'm sorry.

He scoffed at her and pointed a finger at his little frightened woman. No way in hell would he ever admit to anyone he made her like this. He made her afraid of her own shadow. After they graduated from high school in 1974, they had even picked the same little college in Havensworth to go to. They had not offered much, but what they were both interested in was offered. Classes for becoming an automotive mechanic for Jimmy, and classes to become a nurse for Helen.

He hadn't always been a terrible person or husband like he was now. She wouldn't have married him the same year they graduated from college if he had been. She'd been more confident then and would have been brave enough to tell him to go right to hell if she knew how controlling he would become. A simple discussion with her husband had become much more than simple. She asked him to leave with her.

She wanted to go start some big new life in a much louder and bigger city than little Havensworth. Much too loud and big for his liking. The look on his face when he found her packed bags stuffed high into a closet so she could leave without him had been murderous. That was the first time he laid a hand on her in a most malicious way. He'd been kind enough to throw a few crumpled dollar bills next to her, giving her his permission to go buy some makeup because she was going to need it. He made everything crystal clear that night.

She wasn't allowed to leave. It'd been him and her for far too long. And no way would he let her step away from their marriage. For this marriage he had worked far too hard to make it work. He always felt he had put her feelings, wants, and needs before his. Though none of that was true.

He kicked his dirty boots off and shook his head at her. "I'm going to go take a shower. When I get back, I expect this—he motioned with his hands over his boots that had kicked dirt onto that spotless white kitchen floor that was never clean enough for him—I expect this to be cleaned. My dinner is to be on the table. And a can of beer. Don't mess this up," he said harshly.

He left the room mumbling things under his breath that she couldn't make out. She was sure it was nothing nice he said to himself. In a rush, she began to go through the motions, feeling numb and quite sick to her stomach. She wore a pair of denim shorts that were frayed at the bottom. Her blond hair was still long and reached to her waist. The shirt she wore had the peace sign on it and was much more vibrant than the way she felt.

She took the boots out the back door and sat them down after banging them together to knock the dirt from them. She swept the cement walkway so that everything would appear perfect for Jimmy before he could peek outside. Her backyard seemed rather dull as she swept away the imperfections she was sure Jimmy would notice if it weren't clean. She walked back inside with her cleaning supplies, all of which had hung in a most perfect way near the back door on hooks Jimmy had placed there for her.

After meticulously sweeping and scrubbing the kitchen floor until the smell of chemicals filled the air, she heated some leftover soup for Jimmy. It would be placed into a sparkling white round bowl and set in a most precise way atop the kitchen table. A spoon sat next to the bowl and an ice-cold beer sat opposite. She waited beside the table for him to get there. She knew he would come…he always did.

And just as the little hand and big hand on the clock that hung on the kitchen wall were precisely on the seven, he walked back into the kitchen. He wore a pair of sweats and socks she knew went up to mid-calf on him. His bare chest showed plenty of upper-body hair that she still found attractive to this day. Even if the way he acted made him less attractive with each passing second.

He stopped moving his feet as his eyes shot around the kitchen, making sure she had done everything he'd asked for. She knew better. In his head, she was sure he thought he asked her to do all the little chores he had made a list for. But the truth was he demanded those chores be done. And if they weren't…well, she knew there would be consequences. Severe ones depending on Jimmy's mood on any particular day.

Everything seems to be in order. Great job, honey, he said as he sat down at the head of the kitchen table, sounding like a much nicer man than he was.

She hadn't expected him to say thank-you, he rarely did. The words felt alien to her. Without waiting for him to say more precious words of appraisal, she began explaining the food that sat in front of him. Earlier, I made a beef and vegetable soup for you. I reheated it on the stove just before you sat down. The soup has ground beef in it as well as potatoes, fresh green beans, corn, and freshly chopped zucchini, with a tomato-based stock. I added all of your favorite spices.

Jimmy's mouth watered as he took a deep breath of the aromatic homemade soup she had slaved over earlier in the day. He looked more like a wolf waiting to strike. As he leaned over his bowl of soup, she reached out for his beer to crack it open. It was just another wifely duty she did for him as per his request. He hadn't opened a can of beer in their house for months now. She popped the can open and set it beside the bowl, but as she pulled her hand back, one of her fingertips hit the can, spilling it. The liquid moved quickly as if it had wanted her to get into trouble.

He jumped up from his chair as the liquid fell from the kitchen table and onto the sweats he had just changed into. The beer slowly dripped onto the kitchen floor. I'm sorry, she said frantically as she rushed away trying to find paper towels, a washcloth, or anything that she could use to wipe him and the table down. Her eyes glazed over with water as she knew she was about to get it.

But before she could get far enough away, he had locked her wrist in a tight grip. I have had enough of your shit for one day! Perhaps this will teach you!

She wished she could run or maybe fight. She could have even screamed something that might have changed what happened on this most ugly night. Maybe a neighbor nearby would hear her and come to her rescue? Or maybe the words she could say herself would have stopped him. But she hadn't said or done a thing. Perhaps subconsciously she was looking for an excuse to do the terrible things she dreamt of inflicting on him. Regardless, she hadn't had the strength to do a thing as he pulled her close to him and then punched her in the face.

She fell to the ground landing on her side. Oof, she groaned and tried to crawl away. A great fear swelled inside of her, and not just for herself. Slowly she moved away as Jimmy stomped on her ankle. He slowly moved up her body landing more kicks on her.

This is going to hurt more in the morning, he yelled. And then she felt the coursing hot pain in her lower belly as he stomped again and again, not knowing he wasn't just stomping on her.

After he stopped kicking her, he went to the table and flipped the bowl of soup over. Just more mess she would have to clean up, and that was perfectly fine with him. I'm going out. For a real beer and some real food, he said through clenched teeth, looking like he couldn't control the rage that seared through him. He disappeared out of the kitchen again. After hearing noises coming from their room, the front door slammed, leaving her lying there in a ball on the kitchen floor. All alone. I'm all alone now.

I shouldn't be bleeding right now. But I am. Her arms gripped her lower abdomen in pain. After going to school to be a nurse, she knew what the pain she felt was. The pain wasn't from the kicks to her legs or the punch to her face. Their baby. My baby is dying. Her denim shorts were stained in bright-red blood that told her this.

She slowly got to her feet crouched slightly from the pain she felt not just in her stomach but emotionally. She stared about that kitchen shaking her head. No matter how much she scrubbed or got on her knees to get the dirt she couldn't see, but knew he would see, she realized, None of this. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him. I have raw fingers, terrible headaches, and now I'm bleeding. All because of him. All because of Jimmy.

She took herself to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Then pressed her back to the door and slowly let herself slide down it until she sat on her behind. She pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head down. With her eyes closed, she began to weep for the child inside of her that was dying. For the child she would never get to meet.

After more time passed, a small puddle of warm blood and clots sat underneath her. Her tears mixed with all the red, as her shoulders began to heave.

And Jimmy? He has no idea what he has done. He has no idea. How is he to be held accountable for any of this? He would probably tell her that it was all her fault. It always was to him. Never could it be his own. She ended up lying on her side, not bothering to clean herself or the floor. She didn't have the strength to do what he wanted anymore. And when Jimmy got home, she would tell him so. No, I'll show him.

*     *     *     *     *

Helen stood in front of the bathroom door covered in blood. The white tiles beneath her were stained a fresh bright-red color, and her occasional footprints here and there could be seen throughout the mess. Her chest rose and fell at a steady deep pace as an angry scowl touched one corner of her mouth.

If anyone were to have looked into her eyes this very moment, they would have seen something different in her ice-cold blue stare. As if some sort of her humanity had disappeared. An emptiness lay in her stare and within her heart.

The bathroom sink had bloody fingerprints all about as did the mirror that hung above it. Mascara ran down her face, and her light-pink lipstick was smudged. Her hair was in a messy bun at the top of her head, and her stomach felt sick as she heard the front doorknob begin to rattle, signaling he was back home.

Not a muscle twitched as she stood there and flicked the bathroom light off and heard his annoying condescending voice. Helen, I'm home. Everything better be in order. Helen, he said, asking her name as only silence filled his ears.

Her hands vibrated slowly, gathering their strength and courage to do what she felt was necessary at