Title: Angels in a Cage: Chapter Six, Upwards Swing
Rating: PG-13 [mild language & violence]

Summary: The summer of '86 had a lot of changes for Chris and Alyssa. But were they for the better?




Standing over Alyssa’s suitcase, Howard frowned. For two months he had fought it, even tried to pick some place kid friendly. But everyone at work convinced him, probably with urging by Marilyn, to take his new wife on a honeymoon before the baby was born, without Alyssa. It was something that resistance was futile, but he just couldn’t leave the young girl with his ex-wife. There had been other options such as leaving her with Marilyn’s brother and his partner or even Marilyn’s parents. But he felt rather awkward asking them since he was only part of their family for two months. And that meant leaving Alyssa with Emilie for two weeks while he and Marilyn went to Victoria for a brief holiday.

“Daddy? Am I going away too?” Alyssa asked.

“You’re going to stay with your mother for a few days.”

Her eyes instantly widened, “No no no no. Please, Daddy, don’t make me go. I promise to be good. The baby can even have my bed! Don’t make me go!”

Crouching in front of her, his eyes went to hers as big tears rolled down her cheeks, “Baby girl, I’m not going to be gone for very long. And I will leave you a phone number you can call if you get scared and need me to come home and get you. I promise.”

“Don’t make me go,” she pleaded again, her cheeks wet with tears.

Howard’s arms encircled the young girl, “We won’t be apart for long, princess. I promise.”



Slinging back another beer, Chris discarded the empty bottle. Rubbing his face, he smirked and then glanced around the room. The band was long gone, Susan supposed to be by after a Screaming Trees concert. It was just him and his beer. And he was rather okay with that. Drinking alone definitely beat drinking in a crowd, unless it was a crowd of people he actually liked.

Actually, maybe he should get up and give Andy a call. Or Jeff. Or Kris. Or fuck if he knew. Maybe he should just find some friends outside the music business, since they could all be jamming somewhere. Or maybe he should just keep sitting there alone, drinking his beer and scratching his balls. Which reminded him, his balls did itch again. Maybe he should take a shower before Susan showed up. Then she would be more likely to suck his cock...

Getting up he picked up another bottle of beer, twisted off the top, and headed towards his bedroom, bottle to his lips. Completely decided upon finishing the beer before he reached the shower, he sucked hard on the bottle, slowing his steps. Standing in front of his dresser, a shabby, beat up piece of furniture, he drained the rest of the beer, feeling it slosh in his belly. Smirking once more to himself, he set the bottle on the top of the dresser, caring not that it rolled off and landed on a pile of clothing.

Leaving the shower with a slight glimmer of moisture on his skin, Chris did not bother to pull any clothes on or really dry himself off. If anyone was about, it would be Susan and he was quite all right with being naked around her. It would speed up things.

He was a bit disappointed to not find Susan any where around and so headed back to the fridge in search of more beer. Pulling on the cracked plastic handle, he wrenched the door open, a few bottles of condiments stolen from the restaurant clinking with the force. Eyes flicking to the various kinds of mustard and ketchup as he reached for a beer bottle, he suddenly frowned upon realization that his fingers were grasping at air.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he muttered. “Now I’m going to lose my buzz and—”

The front door opened, cutting off his words. For a slow moment, he thought perhaps the robbers were trying the front door this time instead of a window. But that was fairly foolish, more so because his girlfriend was now standing in the doorway, a nimbus of yellow-bug light illuminating her shape.

“Hey.... Sssssssssuzzze,” he greeted.

Stepping into the house and closing the door behind her, Susan made her way over to him so he wouldn’t stumbled and fall face down onto the dirty floor, “Hey, Chris. How much did you drink tonight?”

Attempting to shrug, he lost his balance, his hand flailing out to find something to catch himself with. This lead to his fist shooting through the thin, cracked drywall. Had he not had twelve bottles of beer coursing through his veins, Chris may have reacted more quickly, may have screamed out in pain the instant it happened. Instead his gaze focused on the image of his hand shoved into the wall and he burst out in giggles.

“Christ,” Susan muttered, stepping over to the wall and slowly extracting his hand from it. “We should probably go to the hospital and have them—”

“Nooooooooooooooooo.”

Sighing, she nodded, “Okay, okay. Let’s go into the bathroom where the light is better and let me look at it. Then we need to talk.”

“We not talk now?” he asked, letting her slip her arm around his waist and lead him back towards the bedroom.

Not really understanding what he was asking, she ignored his question, stepping over a pile of clean clothes with a beer bottle on it. Later she would talk to him about his unclean habits. Easing the drunken man to sit his naked ass on the toilet seat that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the last time she did so, Susan held his arm out, flattening his hand in hers to look at it better. Frowning, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He hadn’t broken the skin or anything. Maybe icing it would be good enough. But for some reason she didn’t think she could get the drunken man to keep ice on his hand.

“Chris, we need to talk about us. No, we need to talk about you living here. I don’t like it one bit. I know it’s cheap and you like it for that reason, but it’s not a good place to be at all,” she declared softly, kissing his fingers, before urging him to stand. “I think maybe you should move in with me.”

His eyes lazily found hers, hooded eyelids obstructing part of his view of her face, “Huh?”

“We’ll just talk in the morning,” she declared. “After you sleep this off.”

“Ssssssleep?”

“Come on, Chris,” she tugged him out of the bathroom. “If you lay down and be good, I’ll let you do anything you want.”

“Really?” he asked with hope in his voice.

“Yes. Now lay down.”

The moment Chris’s head hit the pillow he was out, just as Susan had expected. Maybe a hungover conversation would go a bit better. But she wasn’t holding her breath.



Sitting on the hard wooden floor that had not a single rug upon it, Alyssa pulled up the lining of her suitcase. She had been instantly glad that not only had she hidden the phone number her daddy gave her in her book, but that she had hidden her book in the lining of her suitcase. Upon arrival at her mother’s house four days before, she had been forced to scrub the floors and walls, to polish all of the silver, and of course to say rosary every other hour. And now that the house was apparently as clean as Emilie would like it, Alyssa was confined to her bedroom.

The tiny room consisted of a single cot, not even a true bed, and a nightstand above which a shiny crucifix hung. No other furniture filled the room which really was more like a large closet than anything, not even a chest of drawers for her to keep her clothing in. The doorknob was absent on her side of the door, so that she relied entirely upon her mother’s whim to leave the room. Had she been asked, Alyssa would have chosen to remain in the room. At least there she was safe from her mother’s acid remarks, reminding her that she was a child of sin and would always be, more so because of her father’s taking of another wife. She really just wanted to go home.

Slipping the sheet of paper with the phone number on it, Alyssa took off her shoe and hid it in there. Hopefully when she was released later, she could sneak to the telephone and call her father. Remaining seated on the floor, she attempted to read her book in the dim light. Only a single light bulb hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating the room at all. She probably should have kept it off, so that her mother would not invade her tiny space, but she didn’t really think of that at all.

Until the door flew open and wild gray eyes stared menacingly at her.

Alyssa instantly slammed the book close, hiding it behind her back. Without even a moment’s pause, Emilie stalked over to the young girl. One hand circled Alyssa’s upper arm, pulling her to her feet. Her other hand darted behind her daughter’s back, snapping the book out of her clutch. Glancing at it, Emilie glowered even more.

Dragging Alyssa out of the room, she ranted about how the stories were filled with nothing but sin and unclean thoughts. Not understanding at all why Winnie the Pooh was against God and the Bible, Alyssa barely figured out what her mother’s intentions were before it began. Her mother’s fingers no longer bruising her wrist, Alyssa fell to the ground. Her eyes instantly widened, tears rolling off her eyelashes as the older woman began to tear the pages out of the book. Screaming at her to stop, she stumbled back to her feet, reaching out to rescue her book. Emilie’s elbow jutted back, catching Alyssa square in the nose. Falling backwards back onto the floor, her small fingers instantly covered her gushing nose as the blood intermixed with the tears on her face.

Page by page, Emilie shoved the pieces of the book into the fireplace. Though it was September, there was no doubt at all that her mother was going to light a fire and burn her precious book. Alyssa remained silent, knowing it was better than to declare how much that book meant to her as it was one of the first one’s Marilyn had read with her. But she nearly launched her bloody self into the fireplace when her mother struck the match.

“I HATE YOU!” she shouted and ran quickly into the kitchen, grabbing the phone and stretching it into the nearby bathroom.

Quickly shaking her shoe off, Alyssa picked up the slip of paper with her father’s number on it. Not pausing she dialed it, hoping to speak to him before her mother realized what she was doing. The phone rang three times before someone answered, a voice she didn’t recognize. But her daddy had said that would happen and that all she needed to do was tell the person who she was and who she wanted.

“Hello. My name is Alyssa Morgan and I’m calling to talk to my daddy. Can I talk to him please? It’s very important,” she quickly blurted.

“One moment please.”

Every heartbeat that she waited to hear her daddy’s voice terrified Alyssa even more. She knew that if her mother had figured out that she was reading in her room, she would clearly figure out what she was doing in the bathroom. Luckily a locked door stood between her and the witch. She only hoped she would talk to her daddy first.

“Hello?” a gruff voice said

“Daddy? Daddy, come, please. She... she—”

“Alyssa? Aly, baby, what did she do?” panic filled her father’s voice.

“Daddy, just come. I’m scared,” Alyssa remarked. “Daddy, I—”

The distinct sound of silence cut off her words. She knew her mother had finished her evildoings on her book and found the phone cord stretched to the bathroom. Hearing the pounding on the door, Alyssa moved to the very back of the bathroom and sat on the tile, pulling her knees to her chest. Her face throbbed though the stream of blood had slowed to a trickle. Her only hope was her mother wasn’t strong or mad enough to break down the door before her daddy got there. Oh she hoped her daddy got there soon.



He was absolutely ecstatic, not that anyone could tell by looking at his face, not that there was anyone around to look at his face. Everything was suddenly falling into place. The band had a new drummer, he had a new apartment, one that Susan approved of, and he had a better job at a better restaurant. Life was good. It wasn’t great, but it was good.

Oh who the fuck was he kidding? It was great. How else could it be classified when thebest drummer in Seattle chose them? The guys were all going to get together later that week and discuss a topic he wasn’t too keen on, but least they were functioning as a band again. He could handle the fact the rest of them wanted his girlfriend to be their manager, as long as they were a fucking band. Oh yes, he was feeling very much better about it all.

Heading from the kitchen with a glass of water, Chris sat down on his couch. After setting down the glass, he reached for his guitar and stopped. Instead his fingers picked up a pair of black lacy panties. A Cheshire smile graced his features. Apparently when she left, Susan hadn’t picked up all of her things, but left him a little reminder to exactly how they broke in his new couch. Just the thought made his pulse quicken, but he chased away the thoughts of sex, not needing to be touched with arousal when talking business with his band and his girlfriend. But then again maybe he could call her and get her to come over earlier than the band so they could work out their tension together...

Getting back to his feet, Chris returned to the kitchen, panties still in hand, and reached for the phone on the wall. Dialing Susan’s office number, he didn’t bother to chase away the smile on his face. A few minutes later, he hung up the phone and glanced around the apartment, wondering where he would fuck her first, because he was certainly planning on at least three rounds before the guys showed up. Life was good.



Not bothering to turn off the vehicle, Howard hurried up the walkway to the door. Knocking was never a consideration he even had, instead his fingers curled over the doorknob and he walked straight into the house. The slight aroma of a fire in the house tickled his nostrils, drawing his eyes to the still smoldering scraps of paper in the fireplace. Filing that image away in his mind, he quickly sought out his daughter, caring not at all where his ex-wife could be.

He found them both in the same location, or at least presumed as much as Emilie was chiseling at the bathroom door handle with a Phillips screwdriver.

“Leave her alone,” his baritone voice commanded.

Emilie turned at the sound of his voice, her angered eyes meeting his, “She has sinned. She—”

“Is almost six years old. I hardly think she has sinned in the eyes of anyone, especially God,” he interrupted.

“But she—”

“Shut the fuck up and move out of the way,” he glowered. “I’m taking my daughter home.”

Emilie’s mouth dropped open at his profanity, which was the precise reason he had used it. Leaving her slack-jawed, Howard pushed his ex aside and moved in close to the door. He knocked softly, the special knock that he knew Alyssa would recognize as he used it on her bedroom door at home. Hearing no response, worry filled his soul. He repeated the knock.

“Alyssa? Princess? Daddy’s here. Everything is going to be okay now,” he declared softly. “Open the door, baby girl.”

Waiting for a long moment, he finally felt the doorknob turn under his fingers and the door swing in. His dark brown eyes instantly went to his daughter’s face and intense pain and anger filled him, chasing away all of the worry. Dried blood scabbed around her nostrils, dark stains evident on her pink Care Bear tee shirt. Pale crusts clustered in the corners of her blood-red eyes, clearly indicating dried tears. Without even another word or thought, his arms reached out and gathered her safely into his arms.

Standing he turned, glaring eyes meeting his ex-wife as Alyssa hide her face on his shoulder, “Don’t ever fucking think of seeing my daughter ever again. You’ll be lucky if you don’t spend the next decade in jail.”

Carrying the young girl out the door, kicking the screen door so harshly that the top hinge broke, Howard returned to the car without another look at Emilie or the house. Marilyn quickly opened the back door to the car as he neared, helping him settle his daughter in the backseat. She kissed Alyssa’s forehead before rounding the car and scrambling back in herself, eyes watching her new husband close the back door and climb back into the running vehicle. Everyone knew that their lives changed the instant the doors were closed and the car in reverse. They just weren’t sure how.