The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel

by Ditter Kellen

  Grace began to stroke Mud’s back, her soft, tear-filled voice wrapping around Mud like a gentle caress. “I won’t ever allow you to be hurt again, Mud. I promise.”

  Mud openly wept. After all the pain she had suffered in her young life, all the hunger she’d endured, the fear, the sickness. She would finally find relief. “Mama told me there was angels who was sent here to fight the Devil.”

  And Mud’s mama was right. The angels she’d spoken of did, in fact, exist. One of them lay in that bed now, holding tightly to Mud, in the form of Grace. Mud’s saving Grace…

  Epilogue

  Ten Years Later

  Anna Ramer, formerly known as Mud, stood on the podium, looking out over the massive crowd gathered for her graduation.

  Her gaze touched on Talako, his arm around Opa, his wife. The two of them had become great friends to Anna over the years, as had hundreds of other Choctaws Anna had grown to know and love.

  Allowing her gaze to travel over the audience before her, she sought out Grace. Emotion welled up inside her as she took in her adoptive mother’s happy tears.

  Staring into Grace’s eyes, Anna let her mind wander into the past.

  Being the sole survivor of Horace Dyson, Mud had inherited Dyson’s money and lands. Which made her worth more than anyone in the territory.

  Upon her eighteenth birthday, Anna took the money from Horace’s accounts and built a school on tribal lands as well as a new safehouse for those in need. She’d also sold off all Dyson’s lands and donated a sizable chunk of money to the children’s home in Calhoun.

  Grace, on the other hand, ended up with a large amount of money from Jasper’s life insurance policy. Though Grace loved God with all her heart, she’d closed the doors to the church in Jena. Too many ugly memories resided there for her. Besides, Grace now attended church with the Choctaws and seemed to be thriving there.

  Grace had officially adopted Anna a little over nine years ago. And as promised, she’d built them a home near Flora’s grave, where they’d lived until Grace married Red Bear three years later.

  Anna had been okay with moving to Red Bear’s place, since Grace had given her the home near her mama’s grave. Which is where Anna resided to this day.

  Grace had given Red Bear two beautiful children, whom Anna loved dearly. One boy and one girl. Though not blood, they were Anna’s siblings and always would be. Just as Grace would always be her mother.

  Jaya’s tearful face came into view. She stared up at Anna with pride shining in her brown eyes.

  She’d taught Anna to read and write for a year before Grace enrolled her adopted daughter in the Choctaw school on tribal lands.

  Anna, being exceptionally bright, had soared through her studies while eventually dual-enrolling in college courses. She would have her bachelor’s degree in clinical psychology in less than three more years.

  Adjusting the microphone in front of her, Anna took several calming breaths. The last thing she wanted was to break down and cry in front of the masses. “I want to thank you all for being here with me tonight. It means everything to have you here to celebrate my graduation.”

  Breathing through her emotions, she continued. “The past ten years haven’t always been easy for me. The death of my mama not only took a terrible toll on me, it left me lost and alone in a world full of, what I thought at the time were… Devils. But then Grace stumbled into my life and changed everything. For the better.”

  Anna paused through the cheering going up. “Some of you know why I chose psychology as my profession. And for the ones who don’t… I have a story to tell.”

  Allowing her mind to remember, Anna opened up about her past, about her mama and the disease that tore Flora’s life apart.

  “My mama had a mental disorder known as schizophrenia. If you’re not familiar with it, I’ll explain. Schizophrenia is a long-term mental disorder, involving a breakdown between thought, emotion, and behavior. It leads to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation.”

  You could hear a pin drop in that auditorium. “Mama had spent her life being abused by one man after another, and from what I’ve learned over the past several years, she refused to take her medications. Though she was delusional most of the time, I had no way of knowing it. She cared for me the best way she knew how.”

  Anna swallowed with difficulty. “Most of you know me as Anna Ramer. But I wasn’t always known by this name. My name at birth was…Mud. Due to my mama’s illness, she chose my name from a verse she’d learned at the church in the village. I had that verse memorized from the time I could walk.”

  She looked out over the crowd and recited it. “Happy and fortunate are ye who cast your seed upon all waters, when the river overflows its banks; for the seed will sink into the mud, and when the waters subside, the plant will spring up; you will find it after many days and reap an abundant harvest, ye who safely send forth the ox and the donkey to range freely.”

  Seeking out Grace once more, Anna allowed the tears that had been threatening to finally fall. “I love you, my saving Grace, for taking me in, and for always making sure I remember who I am. You taught me not to be ashamed of my past but rather to embrace it, to move forward with dignity and pride in where I came from. You’re my rock, Grace. Forever and always.”

  Mud’s gaze swept over the crowd once more, taking in the somber and teary faces before her. “So, you see? Though I’ve legally changed my name to Anna, I kept my mama’s last name. She died protecting me. And no matter where life takes me from this moment forth, no matter how far I travel in this world, or how educated I become, I’ll never forget Flora Ramer, and I will never forget… The girl named Mud.”

  If you enjoyed Mud’s story, read below for a sneak peek into the pages of I am Elle – Book One in the Elle trilogy. A bone chilling psychological thriller that will touch on all emotions and leave you wanting more.

  Disclaimer:

  Though Mud’s story contained suspense and thriller aspects, I am Elle leans more toward the psychological. If you have abuse triggers, please proceed with caution.

  ****Also, releasing next – The Girl Who Lived To Tell: A Chilling Psychological Thriller.****

  Prologue

  Wexler, Alabama

  Population 2415

  “Elle!” Elijah Griffin shouted, the back door slamming in the distance, a testament to his mood.

  He’d been drinking again.

  Elenore hovered behind the chicken coop, her bare feet catching on briars in her haste to escape her father.

  “Elle Griffin? So help me God, girl, I will take my belt to you if you don’t bring your butt here at once!”

  She didn’t want to leave the safety the shadows of the chicken coop provided. But she was afraid not to.

  If she remained there, and her father found her hiding from him, he would hurt her. Badly.

  Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them back. One thing Elijah Griffin hated worse than disobedience was tears.

  Elenore wiped at her eyes with the hem of her dress and stepped from behind the coop.

  The evening sun had begun its descent, casting shadows along the side of the house and hiding her father’s expression from view.

  But Elenore didn’t need to see his face to understand what he wanted from her, what he’d been taking from her for years.

  She lowered her head and slowly moved in his direction.

  “Where’ve you been, girl?” He gripped her upper arm in a painful hold. “Get your butt in that house.”

  Elenore stumbled toward the steps at the back door. She swallowed back the panic that rose in her throat at the knowledge of the horror that awaited her inside.

  She could feel her father tight on her heels, knew he would be on her within seconds.

  But hard as she tried, Elenore could fight the tears no longer.

  And the tears would make it w
orse…so much worse.

  “Are you crying?” he slurred, his hand suddenly in her hair.

  He jerked her around to face him. “What have I told you about crybabies?”

  “I-I won’t do it again.”

  He stared at her for achingly long moments, unsteady on his feet. “Get in your room.”

  Elenore didn’t want to go into her room. She knew what would happen to her once inside.

  He backhanded her across the face.

  The copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

  With her jaw now throbbing to the beat of her heart, Elenore staggered toward her bedroom door, Elijah following close behind.

  She could hear the buckle of his belt tinkering as he released it and slid it free of his beltloops. She turned to face him.

  “Take it off,” he demanded, nodding to her dress.

  Her fingers trembled so badly they barely functioned.

  He took a step toward her. “Now!”

  Elenore jumped, lifting her shaky fingers to the first button at the top of her dress.

  There would be no stopping her father from what he intended to do to her. There never was.

  Elenore took a slow, deep breath, lifting her gaze to a place just beyond his shoulder. She forced her eyes to relax until the wall behind him faded into the distance. Her vision grew tunneled, and her mind floated off to a place where nothing or no one could touch her. Especially not her father…

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Later

  Elenore kept her gaze on the floor and accepted the two bags of groceries the bag boy handed her.

  “Do you need some help carrying them to your car?”

  She knew the bag boy spoke to her, but she pretended not to hear him. Besides, if he saw that she didn’t have a car, there would be no hiding the pity that would surely come.

  And Elenore hated pity, nearly as much as she despised her father’s pet name for her. Elle. It wasn’t so much the name itself as the way he said it…like a caress. She inwardly shuddered.

  “No, thank you,” Elenore whispered, scurrying off in the direction of the automatic doors.

  The noonday sun beamed overhead, temporarily blinding her with its intensity.

  She squinted against the brightness and hoisted the groceries up higher in her arms. She had a two mile walk ahead of her, and she needed to hurry if she thought to have dinner ready by the time her father arrived home.

  The bags grew heavier the longer Elenore walked, until she thought for sure her arms would fall off.

  A truck slowed to a stop beside her. “Need a lift?”

  Elenore wanted to say yes, but of course, she didn’t. Too many questions would be asked. She’d had her run-in with some of the town folk in the past, which only served to anger her father.

  She shook her head and continued on.

  “Suit yourself.” The truck drove away.

  Elenore arrived home approximately forty minutes after leaving the grocery store. Her feet ached almost as much as her arms did.

  At least her father wasn’t home. For that, she was grateful.

  Since Elenore was no longer a minor, the state of Alabama had cut off any financial help Elijah had been receiving after his wife left him twelve years earlier.

  He’d been forced to work on a more permanent basis, which afforded Elenore a daily reprieve from his presence. She loved being alone, with no one around but her animals.

  Now that Elijah had a little money, he usually spent it on card games and prostitutes, which kept him busy more often than not.

  Today would be a “not” day.

  After putting the meager amount of groceries away, Elenore tied an apron around her waist and strode out to the chicken coop to gather the eggs.

  She shooed the hens aside while attempting to dodge the piles of chicken droppings in her path. If not for the eggs and occasional meat the chickens provided, Elenore would go hungry.

  Elijah left thirty dollars on the kitchen counter every Friday. Barely enough to buy the essentials, such as toilet paper and shampoo, let alone bread and canned foods.

  So, Elenore had quickly learned how to budget…and shoplift anything she could fit in her pockets.

  Once the eggs were gathered, she took out the chicken she’d killed the day before and started dinner.

  Elenore had learned at an early age to shut down her emotions and do what had to be done. Besides, she told herself, killing a chicken was essential to her survival. Nothing more.

  The old clapboard house she shared with her father quickly grew hot after turning on the oven. Even with the windows open, it became stifling. If not for the giant oak trees surrounding the house, she would probably be forced to cook outside.

  Elenore wiped at her damp forehead with the back of her hand and switched on the television to watch the local news.

  A pretty blonde anchorwoman sat behind a horseshoe-shaped desk, her red lipstick gleaming in the overhead lights. She spoke into the camera. “Alan Brown makes the third person reported missing in the past two months. All three men are said to be from Haverty County, Alabama.”

  Pictures appeared across the screen, with each man’s name resting beneath.

  Elenore wiped her hands on her apron and moved closer to the television.

  “Hector Gonzalez,” the anchorwoman continued, “was last seen nearly eight weeks ago at his place of employment. Dennis Baker went missing approximately a week later. And now, Alan Brown has disappeared. If you have seen or have information on the whereabouts of any of these men, we urge you to contact the Haverty County Sheriff’s Department immediately.”

  The sound of a vehicle pulling up out front brought Elenore’s head up. Her father was home.

  She quickly switched off the television and hurried back to the kitchen to check on the biscuits.

  His truck door slammed, filling Elenore with dread. There would be only one reason for his early arrival home… He’d been drinking.

  He stomped his way up the back steps to the kitchen and threw open the door. “Elle!”

  Elenore could smell the liquor on his breath long before he leaned down and spoke mere inches from her face. “How long before supper?”

  She backed up a step. “I—It’s almost ready.”

  His eyes narrowed, his gaze slowly lowering to her chest. “Good. That means we have time for a father-daughter talk.”

  Elenore swallowed her fear. “T-talk? What would you like to talk about, Daddy?”

  “Take it off.”

  Nausea was instant. “I— The biscuits will burn.”

  “I don’t give a crap about biscuits.” He took a step forward, his hand going around to her backside. He squeezed it painfully before jerking her hard against his body. “Do what I said, girl.”

  Elenore’s insides turned cold. There would be no stopping him, no talking him out of what he was about to do. She’d been through it enough times to know what would come next. What always came next.

  He released her, spinning her around and shoving her toward the small kitchen table against the opposite wall.

  The sound of his belt coming off could be heard over the thundering of her heart.

  “Turn around,” he slurred.

  She couldn’t face him for fear she would vomit on him.

  He stepped in close behind her, pressing his disgusting erection against her backside. “Turn. Around.”

  The vomit she fought so hard to hold back shot to her throat, hovering there in the form of bile.

  He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, his wet, disgusting mouth hovering next to her ear. “You look just like your whore of a mama.”

  “D-Daddy, p-please,” she whispered, knowing without question that begging would do no good. It never did any good.

  He twisted her hair tightly in his hold and forced her forward until her face pressed hard against the tabletop.

  His free hand yanked up the hem of her dress, tossing it upward around her shoulders.


  Her underwear came down next, and then the sound of his sliding zipper echoed throughout the room with haunting finality.

  Elenore gripped the edges of the table in preparation of the pain she knew would come.

  She bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from crying out, her gaze locked onto the wall in front of her.

  She forced her eyes to relax, the sound of the table scraping across the floor beneath her fading to the background. Her vision grew tunneled until her mind slipped into a place that shut out the pain and humiliation of his invasion. A place he couldn’t follow. No one could follow…

  Chapter Two

  Elenore awoke the following morning, her entire body throbbing in pain.

  She rolled over in bed to find the sun had already risen.

  Panic quickly gripped her. Her father would be up soon, wanting his breakfast.

  She tossed the covers back, wincing as she threw her legs over the side of the bed.

  The tenderness at the juncture of her thighs was matched only by the pain in her shoulder.

  Glancing down, she took in the bruising on her upper arm, the same arm her father had held behind her back as he… She shut down her thoughts, her mind unwilling to recall what had happened to her in that kitchen.

  A knock sounded on her door.

  Elenore righted her tattered nightgown and surged to her feet.

  Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest in anticipation of Elijah’s entry.

  Odd that he knocked, she thought with more than a little fear, watching intently as the doorknob turned and Elijah stepped into the room.

  He stood there, staring at the floor for long moments, and then he extended a cup in her direction. “Thought you might want some orange juice.”

  Confusion began to mingle with her fear as it always did. The man standing before her now was not the same man who had hurt her yesterday afternoon when he got home.