by Amo Jones
Tatum takes a swig of her drink. “There’s no sex?”
“No.”
She hands it back. “Sounds boring.”
I snatch it back from her. “It is not boring. It’s fascinating.”
“So what is it? Like a memoir or something?”
I shake my head. “Apparently, it’s her suicide note.”
“In the form of a book?” Tatum squeals, taking a chocolate cream donut out of the bag. “How poetic.”
I flip the page open to where I was up to before falling asleep last night, and start reading out loud.
8.
Why?
“No, no, no, no, no...” I shook my head from left to right as another contraction rippled through my insides. “I don’t... I’m not ready. It’s too early.”
“It’s not too early, ma’am. You’re only two weeks early. That’s enough time for the baby to survive on its own.”
Leaning my head back on the cold, hard ground, I looked up to the stars. “It’s not time—”
“Enough, Katsia. It’s time. Do as you’re told and do it with class.”
I looked toward my husband. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me!”
“Woman! You are to do as you’re told, or so help me God, I will slap some sense into you!” he roared, launching at me. I didn’t flinch. My insides were tearing open, my stomach rippling with such pain it could put the fear of death into any man. I was ready for war. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a reason why so many people were surrounding me. My husband’s right-hand man sat in the corner with his wife, who was cradling their newborn son, as well as the rest of the soldiers—as he called them—surrounded him.
“Ma’am, you’re ready to push.”
“Why here?” I whispered out to no one in particular. “Why here?” I scream, just as a contraction hits. I pushed roughly, until my stomach rolled over in pain and my pelvic bone felt like it was shattering under the heavy pressure that was being lumped on it.
“One more push, ma’am. That’s it. I can see its little head.”
Breathing in jaggedly, I gave one last scream and push. With a pop, a bright, burning ring of fire around my crotch, and a wet river flowing between my thighs, I pushed until all the pressure I was feeling was no more. A soft cry sounded out and my maid smiled, wrapping the baby in a throw. “Ma’am, you have yourself a daughter.”
“What?” I smiled, love filling my being. I would have loved my child regardless, but knowing it was a daughter filled me with a different kind of love. The same amount, just different feelings.
The room cut silent. “Repeat what you just said,” Humphrey demanded, moving up the stone step. “Did you just say daughter?” he questioned her, his head tilted. I saw the look pass in his eyes, and I knew instantly right then and there that something was wrong. So very wrong. Husband was livid, absolutely spewing. A girl? A girl had no place for him in his world.
The maid nodded, fear flashing over her face. She looked toward me frantically. “Yes—yes, um....”
He snatched the baby from her hands, and I rose from the stone bed. “Humphrey! Give me my baby right now.”
He took her down, one step at a time. “No. No girls.”
“What do you mean?” I screamed at him, blood dripping down my thighs and my body swaying from side to side.
“Girls that are born from the first nine,” he seethed, turning to face me, “are to be taken care of. Sit down, wife, and do as you’re told.”
“No!” I screamed, stumbling down the step. “Humphrey!” Everything blurred and spun, the cold walls going in circles in my brain.
“Ma’am,” my maid said, her face coming into view in threes. “Ma’am, sit down so I can tidy you up.” Her voice echoed and repeated. My eyes closed and my head tilted back as everything under me fell. I dropped onto my back, smacking the back of my head. Tilting my head up at the dark sky, I watched as the full moon blared down at me.
“How odd,” I whispered to my maid in a daze. “How odd that in this old cave, there’s a hole in the roof.”
I gasp, slamming the book closed. “Oh my God!” I hiss.
“What?” Tatum’s shoving popcorn in her mouth, totally engrossed in the story.
“I know this place that she was talking about, Tatum!” I yell. “We need to go—now!”
“Why?” She stands from the sofa, shoving some Ugg boots on.
“Because I think this place, this cave that Katsia was talking about... I think it’s at Bishop’s cabin, and how cool is it that we could go see it? Maybe I could study it a bit more.”
Tatum stops. “That’s just weird. Maybe it’s a coincidence. That would be so trippy if it was.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But I still want to show him this book and read the rest, see if maybe it is, and then we can all go and have a look!” I can barely contain my excitement.
“History really gets you going, huh?” Tatum teases, throwing her hair into a high ponytail.
“Yes, and more importantly, it’s taking my mind off Ally.”
She nods. “All right then, my history goddess, let’s go!” She smiles sadly.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “My dad used to read me old stories when I was a kid. That’s all.”
“Oh, well that’s really nice. Why does that make you sad?”
She stops, seeming to think of her memories, and then exhales. “I trust you, and I know you care about me.”
“I do.”
“My parents haven’t been home in months. They’re fine, though, because I’ve opened bank statements and seen they’re still spending money. I called the penthouse that kept showing up on these statements and got them to put me through to them. Sure enough, my mom answered. My trust account is still large and I still have access to it. The mortgage and bills still get paid. But they just don’t care, Madi.”
I’m shocked. My mouth hangs open in utter shock, but most importantly, I’m hurt. Hurt for Tatum. “I’m sorry, Tate. Do they usually do this?”
She shakes her head. “I mean, they were always out, but they wouldn’t leave for longer than a week.”
“How long’s it been?” I run my hand up and down her arm as a tear slips out the corner of her eye.
“Two hundred and eleven days.”
“Oh my God!” I whisper, disgusted, and it’s right here when I decide I hate her parents.
“Anyway,” she shakes me off, “let’s go see if Bishop’s cabin has some creepy history on its land!”
We get into Tatum’s car and I turn to face her. “Do you know where his house is?”
“Everyone knows where Bishop’s house is.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I guess that was a stupid question.”
“So tell me more about this Katsia person.”
I start talking about what I’ve read so far in the book, and then I turn to face Tatum. “It probably sounds stupid, but I feel a bond with Katsia. Like she’s lived through all this... dark stuff, and I’ve been able to watch it through her words.”
“It’s not silly.” Tatum shakes her head, turning down Bishop’s road. “It’s not unheard of. It’s why I read.”
“You read?” I ask, shocked.
Tatum giggles. “Don’t act surprised, Madi. Yes, I read. Religiously. It’s what takes me out of my life.” Up until a few minutes ago, I always thought Tatum had a perfect life. Two parents at home, no messed up shit in her background. And now I feel terrible I made that assumption.
“I wish you had told me earlier, Tate. We could have had so many more sleepovers.”
She smiles. “I know,” she murmurs, turning into Bishop’s gated driveway.
“It’ll be locked.”
She pulls the car up the curb. “Well then, we’re jumping!”
I laugh, pushing open the door with the book hidden under my arm. “Looks like we are.”
I walk toward a tree that’s close to the walkway, a branch dangling o
ver the top of the fence that surrounds Bishop’s house. “There! Hold the book. When I get over, toss it and I’ll catch it, and then you follow.”
“Okay.” Tatum nods. “Jesus, I can’t believe we’re doing this. His dad is scary as fuck.”
“His dad isn’t home. He’s away until this weekend. I heard them talking about it while we were at the cabin. Come on.” I hitch my foot on a smaller stub and grip onto the rough bark of the tree, propping myself up. Swinging my leg over the final limb that hangs to the fence, I look down to Tatum.
“Are you sure about this?” she murmurs. “I mean, I know you’re not heavy, but that branch doesn’t look very thick.”
“It’ll be fine, and if I fall, it’s not like it’s a very long drop.”
“Ha ha.” Tatum laughs dryly.
“You’ll be fine. You’re a twig.”
“Yeah, but you—”
“Tate? Shut up.”
“Okay, okay.” With shaky limbs, I slowly stand on the branch, ignoring the creaking my body weight is drawing from it. “Shit,” I whisper. “This is fine. I can totally do it.” I look forward, my eyes staying on the thick trunk, and take the first step. “Shit, shit, shit.” I hurry my steps, and just as I get to the end, I jump and land on the top of the gate. “See?” I grin down at Tatum.
“Yeah, okay, hurry up, show off.”
I jump down off the fence. “Okay! Toss it over.”
The leather book comes flying in the air and I jump to the side, landing on my stomach to catch it. “Shit!”
Tatum jumps down off the fence, landing on her feet. “That wasn’t so bad. Damn Bishop and him not answering his fucking phone. Seriously? Since when does he stop answering the fucking phone when you call?”
I shake my head, dusting myself off. “I don’t know.”
We start walking toward his house. “Hey, have you heard from Tillie?” Tatum asks.
I shake my head. “No, I tried to call her last night, though, but I know Nate has spoken with her.”
“What’s up with those two anyway?”
“No one knows. They’re weird. Nate slept with someone else last night and I lost my shit, told him I’d tell her if he didn’t.”
“I’m not even surprised.”
“Right? But they were so cute at the cabin, Tate. Like, they were like a real couple. But apparently Tillie is fine with Nate sleeping with someone else. I haven’t heard from her, though, and she’s not answering my calls.”
“Like you and Bishop cute?” She smirks, and the sound of his name and me in the same sentence has my stomach fluttering.
“Sort of.” I smile.
Reaching his house, I follow the path to his bedroom at the back of the main house and near the pool.
“Jesus, it’s like The Adams Family house, only newer.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I know, right?” Walking toward his bedroom, I stop when I hear voices coming from what sounds like the ground.
“Did you hear that?” Tatum confirms my theory.
“Yeah, it sounds like Bishop’s voice. They must be in the main house.” I walk to the back, opening glass doors that open out onto the pool and Bishop’s room opposite.
“You sure about this?” Tatum whispers, grabbing my arm.
“Yes! It’s Bishop and Nate. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m not buying it,” she mutters, looking around the house.
“It’s open!” I whisper, pointing to the sliding wall.
“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Tatum grumbles. “I’m scared.”
“Yeah, I guess I would be too had it not been for the cabin weekend.”
“Bishop is a nice guy now?” she asks, trying to reassure herself.
“Definitely not.”
“You could have lied!” she scolds, as we step into the sitting room.
“I’m not a liar,” I whisper calmly.
“Nah, dawg, nah....”
“Nate!” I whisper to Tatum. We turn and follow a door that’s cranked open under the double stairwell.
“Madi, I don’t know about this.”
“Okay, you stay here.”
“I can’t let you go down there on your own!”
“Well then, come. Either way, I’m going.” I walk to the door, pulling it open to voices that are louder.
“Don’t fucking care,” Bishop replies, his tone dark, tormented, and almost unrecognizable.
“You stepped out of the rules. She’s a civilian!” Brantley roars.
I flinch at his tone and sounds of a scuffle from all the glass smashing and someone shoving someone else.
“You and I both know she ain’t no civilian, Brantley.” I clutch the book close to my chest and take the final step down. My eyes find Brantley’s instantly, and he grins. “Well, looks like you got some explaining to do, B.” He smirks at me with a snarl. I can see the rest of the Kings in the room in my peripheral vision, but everything blurs when my eyes land on Ally, who is lying in a pool of her own blood, her neck sliced open, with a dark red gash splitting her throat, blood still pulsing out of it. My hand flies up to my mouth as an earth-shattering scream ripples out of me. In a flash, Bishop is flying toward me.
“Madi!”
I shove him away and turn, running up the stairs.
“Fuck!” Nate barks, and I can hear Bishop’s footsteps chasing me up the stairs. My heart pounds in my chest vigorously. He killed someone. He killed someone. He killed Ally. Tears stream down my face as prickles of fear ripple all over my body. He’s a killer. Bishop is killer. He killed someone. I push open the door just as vomit threatens to surface on the back of my throat. My eyes blur from the river of tears that are pouring out of my eyes, and when they land on Tatum, who is standing there waiting for me, my face pales. I run toward her, only to end up colliding with another body. Falling on my ass with a thud, the book flies through the air and lands on the floor. I can feel all the Kings behind me, watching me, all coming up from the basement.
I rub my hand over my forehead and slowly bring my eyes up to who I just collided with, guessing Bishop’s dad is home. Swallowing through the bile of everything I’ve just witnessed, my vision reaches the owner of the body, and I gasp, shock spreading over every inch of me.
“Dad?”
“Madison!” my dad snaps at me in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“No.” I shake my head. “What are you doing here?”
Dad looks down to the book that’s spread open as Bishop steps up beside me, looking down to it too. There’s an audible gasp that sounds through the air, and I turn to Bishop, my eyes heavy and weak from all the tears. His hand covers his mouth in shock, his eyes wide as he gazes at the book. He tugs at his hair, and I look down to the book, confusion clouding me everywhere. Shuffling over the floor on my hands and knees, I reach it, the next chapter open and ready.
9.
The Silver Swan
The truth is I don’t know what my husband did to my daughter. He said girls are tainted. There is no room for girls in his master plan, and that’s how it always will be. He said they would sell the girls, but something dark and doubtful always tickled the back of my mind. My husband was a liar, a cheat, and a manipulator. There’s absolutely not one part of his body that is truthful or redeemable.
Later that night, after my maid had cleaned me up, Humphrey came back into the cave, sat down beside me, and said, “Girls cannot be born into our covenant, wife. They’re weak by human nature. They must be taken care of at their birth.”
“You’re not God, Humphrey. You cannot deem who bears what when pregnant.”
“No,” he replied simply. “But I can take care of it.”
I shook my head, my heart in tatters, and my life turning bleak, dark, finished. “There will be no Silver Swans born into this family or any of the first nine. They will be demolished.”
“Silver Swans?” I asked, clipped and annoyed.
“The Silver Swan is, in old times, what they would call a tarnished being. Every
girl that would be born into the first nine is a tarnished being. It’s no place for a her.”
“Humphrey Hay—”
I swipe the tears from my eyes, not wanting to read anymore. “Dad?” I tilt my head at my father. “Why are you here?”
He swallows roughly. “I was just sorting out a business deal.” His eyes pinch, worried. “Just some business I had with Mr.—”
Flashbacks come in at full force.
“Your dad has shady business dealings.”
“She’s a civilian!”
“She’s no civilian and you know it.”
“Do you know anything about us?”
“Have you been to The Hamptons before? And be honest with me!”
“Fuck your dad!”
“Trust me, Madison. Your father is no innocent in this!”
“He recognized her! Fuck!”
And then finally, Bishop’s words from the cabin. “Just promise me that you will always know we’ve done everything for your safety.”
All the secrets. The questions, the empty answers and promises. The lies!
My mouth drops open and my chest freezes as realization becomes clear. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my hand coming to my mouth. I look up at all the Kings and then look to my father, whose shoulders are slack in defeat. I look over his shoulder to see a strapping man in a tailored suit. His jaw is square and tense, his eyes dead and emotionless. He flicks the cufflinks on his wrist and glares right through me.
“I’m the Silver Swan,” I murmur to myself, searching the floor for some sort of clue that I’m overreacting. Everyone pauses, no one correcting me. “You all lied to me!” I launch off the floor and point to them all. Hate builds up in force. Tears stream down my face as I turn to face Bishop. “You lied to me. Oh my God!” I step backward, Tatum, being Tatum, following my back. “Who the fuck are you?” I whisper to Bishop, then turn to Dad. “And who the fuck are you, too?” I shake my head.
“Madi, wait!’ Bishop yells as I run through the door, clutching the book in my hand.
“Leave her, son.”
“Don’t talk about my daught—”
They all cut out as I pick up my pace, Tatum chasing me down the driveway. We reach the fence, and it slides open instantly as we get there.
