Iniquity (An Inferno World Novella)

by LeeAnn, Emery

  The next day, there was another note telling me that he would be gone for a few days, and that I needed to stay inside. I didn't like to disobey, but I did like to push the limits. I was not going to stay inside for days. That was boring as hell. I walked through the woods to check the traps. Mercy was true to her word and was sitting by the tree that she had hid behind the day before, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  “You came.” She said excitedly.

  “Are you always this hyper?” I asked bemusedly.

  “I’m just happy to have someone to talk to,” she replied.

  I didn't venture far, wanting to stay close so that if I heard Luke pulling up, I could run back inside before he saw me. He had ordered me to stay inside after all, but what he didn't know, would not hurt him or me. My skin was already carved with scars that someone else had earned for me, or thought that I had deserved.

  “It looks like you didn’t catch anything,” she pointed out with a huge grin planted on her face as we approached the last trap.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. The lack of animals in my traps was putting me in a bad mood, but that it had somehow made her even chipper was downright pissing me off. Maybe Luke was right, I should have stayed home.

  “It appears that way, huh?” I was aggravated, but I couldn’t really be mad at Mercy just because she didn’t share in my misery. So I took a deep breath and fought the urge to grab her by the throat and snap her neck like the little rabbit that she resembled. “I’m going back in now. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Her grin fell from her face. “Do you have to?” She scraped her toes against the ground, shy looking away.

  “Yeah,” I replied, “but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  “Alright, deal,” I agreed. I didn't want to admit it, but I was actually looking forward to having her company when I walked through the woods.

  I WAS GETTING USED to Mercy’s visits, even looking forward to them. Just having human contact had kept me from going stir crazy.

  She usually chattered about nonsense. She told me about her life as a runaway, and that she was squatting in a building on the other side of the woods. She was always fascinated by my hunting technique but only as a spectator, she said that it would hurt her heart if she had to do it herself. She didn't think that she would be able to bring herself to kill an animal.

  Oddly, her innocence made me start to care about her, and so I took her under my wing. Our meet-ups in the woods became a regular thing, something that we both looked forward to. She began asking me to take her to my house. She was very curious about my place. The more that I said no, the more persistent she had become. When she asked why she could not come to my house, I lied and said that my daddy was extremely ill, and that he didn't want visitors. I also told her that was why, if there was ever a day that I didn't show up, it was because he needed me to take care of him, and I would have to meet her the next day. She told me that she understood, even if she did look a little sad. Honestly, I think that she was just relieved to have somewhere to go most days.

  Whenever it started to get dark, I would always part ways with her, so that I knew that she would make it home safe. I had given her a pocket knife to carry for protection and had taught her the best spots to stab an attacker if she ever found herself in that unfortunate situation.

  There came the day that she met up with me. There were bruises all over her face, and she was walking with a limp. I looked her up and down, trying to stop my heart from beating so fast, when the girl burst into tears and threw her arms around me.

  Not sure how to handle this, I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her and tried my best to calm her down.

  “Mercy, tell me what happened. Who did this to you?” I tried and failed miserably not to sound angry. I wanted to gut someone for hurting my friend. Someone had to pay.

  “T-this guy,” she started in a shaky voice, “he is a new squatter. He f-forced himself on me, and when I t-tried to get away, h-he hit me.” She was crying nonstop. “Eve I was a v-virgin. He took that away f-from me.” She fell to the ground sobbing. My heart broke for her. I remembered when Luke had taken my virginity and the pain it incurred. I was tough, but Mercy was not.

  How dare this asshole take advantage of this sweet young girl? “Mercy, take me there.”

  She looked up from the ground, shaking her head as if to say no with a petrified expression on her face. She inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly, trying to steady her nerves. “Please don’t make me go back there. I cannot. He is there. I snuck out. He told me that he owns me now.”

  I gave her my blankest stare. Predators show no emotions. That was my lessons kicking in. “Show me who he is.” She hesitantly got up. We walked quietly through the woods. She took my hand and held on to it the entire way. She needed my support; I knew that. I needed to kill the bastard who hurt my friend. In some way, I think she knew that too.

  We came out of the woods in a clearing behind an abandoned four-story building. “This is where I live,” she whispered.

  I nodded, not needing to say anything, just squeezing her hand in encouragement. I knew how hard that this must be for someone as fragile as she was.

  “I want you to point him out to me,” I instructed her, “then go back outside and wait for me.”

  She looked up at me, tears streaming all down her bruised face, and then she hugged me tightly. “Please be careful,” she whispered in my ear. I nodded, holding back a predatory grin. She didn't need to worry about me, but it was nice that she did.

  There were many people sleeping in the building. Most of them had set up their own permanent little residence with cots, coolers and even a blanket fort. It was interesting to know that childhood imagination was nothing more than preparation for homelessness.

  Mercy pointed to a lump that was sleeping naked in a huddled mess on the fourth floor. She started shaking. I saw the pelt of the rabbit that she had asked for and some other little items that we had found in the woods during our time together. This must be her room, and this guy decided that he would prey on the weakest one and steal everything about her, including her body.

  Well, that was his first mistake. His second mistake was being brave enough to sleep after attacking a girl. I looked pointedly at the hallway so she would know to leave. She nodded solemnly and then hurried out, glancing back at me from the doorway. I smiled briefly at her so that she would go.

  I walked over to the snoring man. His flaccid cock was stuck to his upper thigh, caked with her dried virginal blood. Fucking piece of shit. I took out my knife, kneeling down by the sleeping form. I shoved the sharp tip in where I would assume his spleen was. I wanted him to bleed. A lot. I pulled the knife out and stabbed him again. It felt good, pushing the blade inside his wet, warm body. I kept stabbing him, over and over, never letting the blade slide into the same hole twice. During the process, his eyes flew open from the pain hitting him. The shock of realization that a stranger was attacking him showed in his fearful eyes. He began to flail and tried to get up, until I straddled him, pinning his arms down to his body with my legs.

  “You like to attack young girls?” I asked in a growl. “How do you like this?” I sneered at him as I bent down and clamped my teeth around the soft, pulsating flesh of his neck. I ripped my head back, taking out a bloody chunk. His mouth opened in a loud, squealing scream. I spit the chunk of flesh into the gaping hole. He gasped and gurgled as his own meat lodged in his throat. I placed my hands over his mouth and nose, letting him suffer as he slowly suffocated. He began twitching and jerking, his legs kicking, and his arms pushing against my thighs in a failed attempt at flailing. I kept eye contact as he choked to death on the chunk of his neck, his face turning from a bright, angry red to a deep shade of purple. Thick veins bulged in his face, and I smiled sweetly at him as his body went limp and the light left his wide, horrified eyes.

  I stood up, covered in his blood, and gathered Mercy’s stuff. Once I had everyth
ing, I walked out of the building and met Mercy. She took one horrified look at me and then threw up. I looked down at myself with a shrug. I guess I did look like I had just taken a bath in blood.

  “Do you have someplace else where you can sleep?”

  “Do I need to worry that he will find me?” She asked in a scratchy voice.

  “No. He will not be bothering anyone anymore,” I said dismissively, “but your room is trashed. You need to go somewhere else.” I needed to get her settled somewhere so that I could go home and get cleaned up before Luke saw me in this state.

  She gawked at me with a confused expression. I realized that she must be in shock. I sighed audibly. “Mercy. I need you to focus. You are safe, but I need to know that you have a place to stay now. I don't want to leave you here. You seriously don't want to go back to that room, trust me.”

  She nodded meekly and then looked at a building across the street. I took her hand and walked with her over to it. There was a water spicket on the side of the building. Bending low and turning it on, I cupped my hands and splashed the water on my face. The coolness was soothing. I stripped out of my outer shirt; it was completely soaked in blood. My undershirt was not as bad, but my jeans were just as done for as my outer shirt. I balled up my shirt. I could just pitch it in the fire when I got home along with my pants.

  I looked at her with a soft gaze so as not to spook her more than she already was. When I caught her attention, I nodded toward the water and stepped away so she could rinse off and get a drink.

  “Thank you.” She quivered as she bent down to take a drink.

  After she had her fill, I smiled down at her and took her hand, leading her into the building. I wanted to make sure that she had a safe place to sleep, without having to worry about a pervert taking advantage of her vulnerability. It was pretty beat up inside, fading and chipped paint and dirty floors, but we found an empty room that seemed somewhat habitable. Unlike the dregs that occupied the last building, this one seemed to house mostly families. I talked to some of the women, explaining what had happened to Mercy. They were outraged, telling me that they had kicked that same man out of their building the night before for harassing the women. This building had more men who could protect the women than the other place. It was definitely a step up, and I felt comfortable enough to leave her in their care.

  Ready to go home, I told her that if she felt like she needed to rest for a few days, to do it. I would be around when she was ready. I had a $20 bill in my pocket. I pulled it out, shoved it in her hand and muttered, “For food.” We hugged briefly, and then I left. This was one of the rare times I hoped that my brother was not there.

  On my way home, I noticed a moving van in front of the house that was on this side of our lot. The secluded properties were not visible to the other due to the stretch of woods between them. I just happened to have walked past a small clearing in the copse of oak. I would have to snoop, to learn about the new neighbors, but it would need to wait until another day. Right now, I had to get home and make myself presentable.

  Chapter Five:

  Eve

  Luke was spending more and more time away. I slept in his bed at first in hope that he would wake me up when he came in, knowing that I was at risk of being punished, but I missed his touch. He would either not come home or would just sleep on the couch, instead of getting into bed with me.

  One morning, I came into the kitchen and saw him drinking coffee while reading the paper. Joy filled my soul to see him there. It was becoming such a rare sight that I looked at him with a swell of hopefulness.

  “Luke?”

  He finished what he was reading before he acknowledged me. Then he pulled the paper down and lifted his eyebrows in response.

  I was suddenly stricken with nervousness, knowing that I was treading on thin ground. His somber expression told me as much. I asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Did you?” He gave me an impartial shrug.

  “I-I meant...” I was flustered for a moment, not sure how to respond.

  “What do you mean, Eve?” He was becoming visibly irritated, which was only making me shake more.

  “Y-you don’t touch me anymore.” I said, barely above a whisper.

  As he stared at me, his expression hardened. I felt my stomach drop. I was not sure what was going on but I could tell that it was bad. His eyes narrowed and he said, “When I can trust you again, I will touch you. You have proven yourself unworthy.”

  My eyes welled with tears. I wanted to sink into the ground, knowing that he was disappointed with me. I didn't know what he meant by it, but if he was this angry with me, I must have let him down somehow. I heard his chair scoot back over the linoleum. The next thing I knew, he was grabbing my arm. Without a single word, he dragged me to the cellar.

  I begged and pleaded for him not to do this. I told him that I would do better. He smirked at me maliciously, shoving me so hard inside the cellar that I hit the ground with a loud thud, the weight of my body landing on my arm. The door slammed shut as he locked me in darkness. I winced as I sat up, holding my elbow as the sting from the impact spread up and down my limb.

  No matter how much older that I became, the cellar didn't get any less daunting. At least it was bigger than the closet that my mom used to keep me locked away. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what my misdeed was. What was he talking about? Since I first came to live with Luke, I tested my boundaries with him, sure. But I thought that he admired my belligerence sometimes, even though it pissed him off when I disobeyed. Apparently, this was clearly one of those times.

  I sat in the bleak blackness, surrounded by my thoughts. The realization of what it must have been that I had done wrong hit me as if it were a physical blow to my gut. In a panic, I began to pace. I yelped when I hit my elbow on the wall, trying to feel my way around in the dark. Mercy. He knew about Mercy. Shit. Now, because I became close to her, her life just became more dangerous than it had already been. He had always told me never to involve anyone else in our life. They would not understand our family, and family was all that was important.

  Damn it, I was so stupid. This was all my fault. If I would have just listened to him, not been so stubborn, and stayed home... He had given me these rules for a reason; she would not be a part of our fucked up life. I would go see her one last time when and if he let me out of here, and then I will tell her that I was moving far away so she would not come around anymore. That should keep her safe.

  Now, I needed to focus on getting in his good grace again. I would prove myself worthy. Shaking my head, I curled my lip, disgusted at myself for being such a terrible sister to him. He didn't ask much from me, I could have listened to him, but, instead, I always had to push him. I had to test the limits. As much as I needed his touch and his approval, I just could not seem to stop myself from being such a pain in his ass. I felt the urge to take a strip of skin from my leg and cursed that I didn't have a knife on hand. Needing to feel something, some sort of punishment, I slammed my face against the wall. Pain erupted in my nose, but it didn't bleed. I could not even do that right.

  I slid down to the dirt floor, kicking the metal bucket along the way. That would be my bathroom as long as I was in here. I felt my chest tightening up. The panic was setting in. Taking deep breaths, I tried to stave off the attack. Nervously, I shoved my hand in my pocket, and I was rewarded with the hard bulge of my knife.

  I laughed hysterically. It was there the whole fucking time.

  I pulled it out, but my shaky hands fumbled and it fell to the floor. Feeling around for it, I felt something skitter across my hand. Normally, that would not bother me, but in the dark, it scared me, making me wrench my sore elbow.

  I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. Doing a half-assed job, I gave up and began feeling around for the knife again. After numerous swipes of my hand back and forth, extending my arm outward, I finally found it. I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed it as if it
were my lifesaver, flipping it open.

  I looked down at where I knew my legs to be and pursed my lips. Changing my mind, I pulled up my shirt up. I felt the blade press into my side and then the blood drizzling down my waist. The endorphins that came with the pain of the cut finally brought me back from my ledge.

  He would be pissed about that too, but I needed to be calm if I was going to be stuck in this dark hell. I could not let myself think of Mercy. I could not let myself think of everything wrong that I had ever done. I could not let myself think of anything else that was going to set off another panic attack. There was nothing that I could do to solve any of my issues while I was trapped in here.

  Being in this situation, in the silence, blackness, oblivion, it always made me think of my childhood. There were things that I had locked away inside of my head that I did want not let out. This room didn't give me that option. As much as I tried to keep them shoved away, they continuously slammed into me as if they became physical manifestations. My mother had no problem with letting men use her body. However, sometimes those men wanted to include me. If it meant more drugs for her, she gladly let them add me to the mix.

  Her only rule was no penetration. Apparently, in her addled brain, that was her being mother of the year. She would chain me by my ankle to the leg of the coffee table, and whatever the men wanted, I was expected to participate. The chain ensured that I didn't run away. It ranged from me just watching, because that was what got some of them off, to me suckling my mom’s breasts like a baby while they fucked her, to me fondling their balls while they were inside my mother. She always made me strip down for the men. I was disgusted and humiliated but I knew the beating I would get if I refused.

  One man in particular always made me press my lips to her pussy while he jerked off and came all over her face. He would hold the back of my head, pushing my face so tightly against her that it was difficult to breathe. He was a weekly visitor, and every third or forth visit, he would pull his dripping cock away from her face, yank on my hair until I was staring up at him, and he would rub his come-coated cockhead across my lips. I hated that the most. Somehow, no matter how tightly I clamped my mouth shut, the salty, poignant taste would stay on my tongue for the rest of the night. When I complained about it, my mom would blacken my eye and throw me back into the closet.