by T. R. Graves
After what seemed like hours later, Phil's arms finally hung at his side—too weak from beating Marcus to be lifted another time. That's when Owen once again yanked me up by my hair. He pulled me behind him, out the front door, and down the stairs to the front yard.
"Get 'em both out here. Now! Brian, you tie Marcus to that tree. Joe, you make the whore watch so she knows what she's gonna get next!"
I'm as barefoot as Marcus and Sammie. The bitter cold temperature dropped low enough for the grass to harden into frozen blades that made it feel like I was walking across a lawn of ice picks.
My granny pajamas were not nearly enough to keep me warm. I shivered with cold and fear as Owen knelt me in front of my uncle who was tied up in a manner that made it look like he was hugging the giant oak. I had a view of him that was so close and perfect I could practically count his every tensed and rolling muscle. Both Marcus and I steadied ourselves for Owen's unbelievable cruelty.
Sammie had no intention of accepting her fate with the grace Marcus embraced. She dropped to her knees, wailing. She tried to take advantage of any feelings Phil might still have for her and begged him not whip her. She swore she would do anything to them and for them if he would spare her a lifetime of disfigurement.
Taking advantage of Sammie's loud and dramatic display, Marcus glanced over his shoulder toward me and said, "Emi, your momma never wanted to leave you. She loved you as much as a momma could love a baby. Owen killed her because he thought she cared too much for me. He let his jealousy get the best of him and left you without a momma."
Marcus's words snatched every ounce of my attention. I no longer cared about my aching stomach and head or my bleeding nose and mouth or my cold and burning feet. All I could concentrate on was the words Marcus had just given me... his final words to me. For my entire life, I'd been led to believe that my mother had been a tainted whore who'd happily left me behind. Something about knowing my mother cared for me brought tears to my eyes.
With pure and undiluted rage, and before Marcus could say anything else, Owen snatched the handle of the bullwhip from Brian's hand and expertly released the first lash toward Marcus's back. As soon as Owen's hit struck, blood splattered everywhere, including on my face and pajamas.
Owen stood close enough for me to get an up close and personal look at the weapon and for me to feel the icy current of wind generated with each vicious strike. There was no way for me to ignore the sharp barbs embedded along the lash or the way those pieces of metal ripped and shredded my uncle's back.
The first blow may have been brutal and absolutely left a wound that would never heal, but Owen was nowhere near finished. Out of control, he struck out at Marcus over and over again. It was as if he had a lifetime of hate and anger pent up that needed release.
At first, Marcus cursed, howled, and moaned with each mutilating strike. It didn't take long before Owen turned Marcus's back into a bloody and mangled mess. By that time, I noticed Marcus's responses began to weaken. He no longer cursed with each hit, but he still groaned in pure agony. Well into the beating and after Marcus had endured more lashes than I could count, his head rocked a few times until it finally lulled to one side.
In a satisfied and clinical way that shocked me almost more than anything else, Brian announced to Owen that Marcus was dead. There was no sign that Marcus was anything more to him than a stranger. He absolutely didn't feel the grief I felt over losing my uncle, one of the few people in the world who would protect me with his life.
Owen's response was equally cold when he used his skinning knife to cut the ropes that bound Marcus to the tree. As soon as his limp and lifeless body thumped to the ground, Marcus's face rolled toward the spot where I was still kneeling. To my horror, his eyes were wide open and cloudy with death.
In the background of my mind, I heard someone screaming so long, so loud, and so frantically that I wanted to beg them to stop. It wasn’t until Owen backhanded me again, knocking me back, that I realized I'd been the person screaming bloody murder.
Lying face down on the freezing grass and letting the icy dew numb my bruised and injured cheek, I decide I might really faint. An idea that didn't seem so terrible since I was convinced I would be the next person tied to the tree and whipped. When my eyes blinked open and I came face to face with the very dead Marcus, I couldn't fight the weakness another second. I let the blackness consume me.
When I came to, a teary-eyed Tess was caring for me. She confirmed for me that Marcus, her youngest brother, was in fact dead. She also told me no one else had been whipped that night. Though, Sammie had been moved into the union hall where she'd have to live the rest of her life as a whore.
From that moment forward and for the first time in my life, I hated. It was the pure kind not weakened by any other emotion. Sammie was the target of my animosity. Because I despised Sammie, I couldn't think of a better punishment for her than to live her life as a whore. After all, that's what she was.
My disgust wasn’t limited to Sammie. It bled over and tainted the love I'd had my entire life for my father and brothers.
Three weeks after Marcus's murder, I returned to the union hall, but not until Owen demanded I get my ass back to work. I was too afraid of him and what he'd do to me to push him. If he'd kill his only brother, there was no telling what he'd do to me.
A few days after I returned, I accidently walked into the classroom where Sammie was cleaning. She was bent over a mopping bucket and her shirt had drifted up. I saw every perfect muscle ripple on her back, and I hated Sammie even more. I'd be made to endure a lifetime of nightmares filled with the mangled mess Owen had made of Marcus's back. The visions haunted me. Marcus was beaten and dead because of Sammie and her selfishness. Her part in his death was unforgivable.
For the longest time, it was all I could do to not ask Owen and Phil why they didn't whip Sammie or send her away like they would've done to any other woman who'd been caught sleeping around. Then, one day, I was going to the union hall's kitchen in search of Tess. Two of the whores where tucked away near the broom closet, whispering (gossiping). They had no idea their every word was echoing along the tiled floors and paneled walls.
According to what they said, Owen wanted Sammie in perfect condition because he had plans for her to become the Riddle men's personal whore. I almost gagged when I heard them talk about how my father and brothers shared her. Apparently, she was with a different one of them every night. Owen more so than any of the rest because he was the leader. Sammie was hands down the most beautiful whore. That meant she was Owen's. It didn't matter that she'd been promised to Phil before her downfall.
While I eavesdropped, I learned that Phil was lucky to get any time with her because Owen wasn’t known for sharing. I wanted to scrub my brain with a Brillo pad when I heard them talk about how Phil had taken a liking to watching Sammie have sex with Joe and Brian just so he could be with her every night she was away from Owen.
There are just some things a girl shouldn't know about her father or her brothers. Their very active and dysfunctional sex lives tops that list.
I still remember the moment the two women realized I'd heard them gossiping. Fear instantly sucked every drop of blood from their faces, and they apologized profusely. With as much disgust as I felt, I shook my head and walked away from them. To this very day, I've never mentioned one word about the sick secrets I learned that day.
I'm jerked firmly back into reality when Lorenzo steps toward Sammie. The ache in my chest over Marcus's death is back, and I curse myself for mentally reliving that night. I'd spent months burying the details so deep that I almost never thought of them anymore.
I use my shoulder to wipe a tear that's dripping from my jaw and loosen my fisted grip. When I do, I notice the tingling associated with the return of blood flow to my fingers. With the same gradual progression, there's a gentle burning in my stomach. It's as if I can feel the acid burning a hole all the way through.
This is a symptom I'm familiar with
. It's the reason I had to start burying my feelings and pretending Marcus's death wasn’t traumatic for me. Forgetting had become a matter of self-preservation.
Silently, I finally admit the amount of stress I'm under. It's not just about Marcus. It's about the way of life I'm being forced to embrace, the eggshells I walk on daily, and the fact that I'm obligated to sit in the woods and wait for everyone to leave the cemetery before I can go home.
Catching my eye is Lorenzo's bizarre reaction to Sammie. Instead of eyeing her like he wants to smack her around for making a mistake (the way he looked at Hester), he gazes with the kind of fervor Levi had earlier for me.
There's no doubt in my mind that Lorenzo has been hypnotized by Sammie's beauty like so many men before him. He's so enamored by her that I suspect for a brief moment that Lorenzo might take Sammie right here in front of everyone.
Every woman in their vicinity notices the same thing and quickly looks away. None wants to bear witness when Lorenzo makes the mistake of touching the one whore who's off limits to anyone not given special permission by Owen himself.
I sarcastically chuckle when I realize Lorenzo has no idea what he has in store for him with Sammie. He deserves every horrible thing he'll get with her.
Facing her adopted son, Tess takes a bold step in between Sammie and Lorenzo. I'm curious about who Tess is protecting: Sammie, the seductress, or Lorenzo, the villain. Neither deserves her intervention. In fact, I quickly wish Tess would just let them get together. Them. Together. A match made in heaven.
Something about what Tess does sends Lorenzo into a fury. He strikes her, knocking her to the ground.
"You fuckin' bitch. You may keep me from Emily until Owen gets back, but you ain’t keepin' me from these whores. I'll do whatever I want to them and with them, and you won't say a word about it."
I've seen enough of his abuse. I jump from behind my tree. When I do, Tess, who's the only person low enough to have a direct line of vision to my hiding place, sees me.
The look of pure terror that crosses her face stops me mid-step. As I stare into her eyes, Tess shakes her head. I know she is begging me not to make another move. Not to give myself away. I follow Tess's wordless commands for no reason other than that of keeping her safe. I nod toward her, but know in my heart if Lorenzo does one more cruel thing to her, I'll claw out his eyes and deal with any consequences later.
Without one ounce of regret for taking a hand to his adopted mother, Lorenzo uses one hand to grab Sammie by the hair at the nape of her neck and the other to lightly slap her ass a few times.
"You better guard these boxes with your life from now on. You understand me?"
Lorenzo controls Sammie's head movement with the hair fisted in his hand, making her head bob up and down.
"I'm gonna take these boxes to the warehouse just like Phil told me to. When I get back to the union hall, I'm gonna tie you up and spank you until I'm sure you've learned your lesson."
Again, Sammie nods. When a seductive grin crosses her face, it registers with me that she's actually looking forward to Lorenzo's promise of punishment. I can almost hear her purr with excitement over the prospect of meeting up with him later.
Coming to terms with the fact that Lorenzo's spanking is something Sammie wants desperately, I feel the gentle churn of acid in my stomach.
That fuckin' asshole better not ever think about doin' anythin' like that to me. If he does, I swear to God I'll kill him.
He open-mouth and deep-throat kisses Sammie before jumping in the truck and spinning out. I know him well enough to know that the dirt kicking up and into the face of every woman standing behind the van is purposeful.
As soon as the women close the cemetery gate behind Lorenzo's van and the taillights disappear down a hidden road that runs parallel to the commune's fence, Tess orders all the women back to their houses and beds, reminding them she still expects to see them bright and early at the union hall. They all moan, groan, and leave.
Once the graveyard is empty and Tess has every light out, I sneak over to the fence's hole where I'm met by a very, very angry Tess. Her lip is swollen and bleeding where Lorenzo hit her.
"What in the hell are you doin', Emily? Are you tryin' to get yourself killed? You know he will if he catches you," she yells quietly while nodding her head in the direction Lorenzo had just driven.
"I know, Aunt Tess," I say, staring at the blood dripping down from her lip and getting angrier by the second.
Tess decides not to ask any questions about what I was doing in the forest at night. At least, she isn’t going to ask any questions right now. I’m sure she’ll quiz me later.
"I want you to take the woods and get home now. I'll talk to you tomorrow about this," Tess says, pushing me toward the trees leading to Owen's house.
I don't wait around. I take off running as fast as I can. My hour is almost up, and if I don't answer the phone, Levi might try to do something silly like break into the commune.
My side aches with cramps, and I can barely breathe—much less speak—by the time I make it in Owen's house, up the stairs, and into my room where the phone is buzzing vigorously.
"He... ll... o." I'm breathing so fast I can't get through one word without stopping to take a breath.
"Emily! Jesus Christ! I thought something happened to you. Are you okay?" Levi yells. He's as frantic as I assumed.
"I'm... fine."
"Tope, you can call off the dogs. Emily made it home."
I can hear Tope in the background. He sounds as anxious as Levi as he barks orders.
"Just... let... me catch... my breath," I beg.
I lie down on my bed, close my eyes, and listen to Levi and Tope talking to each other until I recover enough to talk.
"I'm sorry I worried you, Levi," I say.
"I have you on speaker, Em. You had both of us worried. What the hell happened?"
"Nothin’. When I got to the cemetery, there were people there, and I couldn't go anywhere. I knew you’d be worried, but there just wasn't anythin' I could do."
Tope sighs. "Don't worry about us, Emily. Our only concern was for you. Now that we know you're safe, I'll let you and Levi have your privacy."
"Tope...?"
"Yes, Emily."
"Thank you for bein' willin' to step in and help me... even though you don't really know me. I... appreciate it," I say with as much sincerity as I feel.
Tope doesn't say anything for a long time. "You're welcome, Emily. Remember to call me should you need anything."
"I promised I would, and I will. Good night."
"Good night," Tope says.
As soon as I hear less background noise, I suspect I'm no longer on speaker phone.
"Em, are you really okay?"
I smile. "With the exception of being exhausted from running so hard and so fast I almost got sick, I'm perfectly fine."
"I know you're tired. The last few days have to have been stressful on you. You know... breaking out and in and out and in. I want you to get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, you and I'll talk until your eyes droop with sleep."
The last thing I want is to get off the phone with Levi, but I hear the exhaustion in his own voice. He's spent at least twenty minutes worrying something happened to me. Now that he knows I'm safe, he needs to rest as much as I do.
"O-okay, Levi. Don't worry about me. I really am fine," I say, trying to make myself sound perkier than I feel.
The truth is that my nausea is still getting worse, but that's not something I'm going to share with anyone.
"I want to..." he says nervously before pausing and clearing his throat. "Em... thank you for... earlier." His words are so sweet and tender they melt my heart and warm my aching belly.
"There's no one I'd rather share my first time with than you, Levi. I hope you know that," I say.
"I'm glad. Now, go to sleep, babe. I'll call you tomorrow night after Tope and I make it back home. What time works best for you?"
"Is ten o'clock too
late for you? That'll give me time to do my work and my chores and make myself seen around the commune beforehand. I'm gonna be very careful with this so I don't raise anyone's suspicion. If I change anything, I might be givin' off clues without meanin' to. Does that sound like a plan?"
"That sounds great, Em. We'll talk until you're tired every single night."
"Perfect."
"Good night, Em. I love you."
"Night, Levi. I love you, too."
I run to the bathroom, wash my face, and throw off my shorts before climbing into my bed for the night and dreaming of the most beautiful man in existence: Levi.
Everything about Levi's presence in my dream is hot and in the moment. Somewhere in the background of every kiss, every touch, every embrace lingers Tope. He's steady and quietly patient, tolerating my relationship with Levi. But only just.
CHAPTER 10
A Stranger Among Us
Emily
While I've never needed a clock to wake me, I always set one out of fear that I might accidently oversleep. When I groggily awake to its buzz, I'm grateful for my time obsession.
Before I get out of bed, I glance at the phone and see an envelope symbol in the corner. When I touch it, a message from Levi pops up.
Levi: In my heart and soul, I'll hold memories of you for a lifetime. Until we meet again and create new ones, —your most fervent admirer... Have a great day, Em.
My heart warms. This man is as bewitching to me as Sammie is to the men of the commune.
The difference is that Levi is kind and wonderful and puts others before himself. Sammie's never put anyone before herself a day in her life.
Me: You’re quite the charmer, Levi Ian Bryson, the man I love!
Remembering I have to talk to Tess without anyone around, I crawl out of the bed, shower, brush my teeth, and dress. Normally, I'd run downstairs and fix myself a bowl of cereal and a steaming hot mug of coffee. Today, I can barely put one foot in front of the other because my stomachache is so bad. It's as if the underlying stress I've been experiencing since Marcus's murder has suddenly exacerbated to the point I can no longer ignore it.
