Thou Shall Not: A Dark Ten Commandments Anthology

by Michelle Brown

  How did we get here? There was a time we were so happy; the world was endless as long as we were together. Tears fill my eyes and pour down my cheeks at the fact that my soulmate, the one who would write me love notes and sneak them into my pocket, now hates me so much her only option is snuffing out my existence.

  “Why, Azalea?”

  She laughs in a maniacal way. “Asks the man who’s been raping me for years.” I’m about to apologize, try to explain things, when she adds, “You suffocated me, forced me into our son’s bed, and made me no different than the sinners we eradicate.”

  It’s incredible how quickly a single moment, a single sentence, can change every molecule of everything you’ve ever felt and snap it right down the middle. She hurt my son. Our son.

  I lunge for her when I’m thrown backward with a BANG. My veins catch fire before the left side of my body screams in agony. Blood blossoms over my shoulder, dripping down my arm, surrounding a deep hole. She actually did it.

  When I look up, it’s down the barrel of a gun. “Get on the embalming table, and lie down.”

  I struggle to stand and do as she says, but I don’t know why. I’m not leaving this place alive either way. With a roll of duct tape, she confines my arms to my side, unknowingly adding pressure, relieving some of the pain from the bullet wound. After repeating the process with my legs, she does exactly what I was terrified of. More tears fall as I watch her fill a large syringe with embalming fluid.

  “You’re going to feel the same agony you’ve caused me to feel for years. The only difference is, you get the grace of the reaper.” Finding a vein in my arm, she slides the needle beneath my skin. “There was a time when I loved you.”

  “What happened, Azalea? We were having problems before I...” I can’t even bring myself to say it. I close my eyes as my heart lays heavy between my ribs. For the first time, I truly understand what I did to her. I’ve rationalized it for years, refusing to admit to myself what a horrific thing I was doing to my wife.

  And she did it to our son.

  “How long have you been abusing Malakai?”

  Her shoulders fall with her sigh as she pushes the fluid into my body. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. My answer might not even be true.”

  There was something I was going to say, a question I wanted to ask. None of it matters, when pain like I’m boiling from the inside out overtakes my every thought. I know I’m dying as my body melts into the table.

  Heaviness weighs on my stomach, and my eyes fly open to see what else she’s doing to me.

  “We are sinners, and need to be stopped.” She straddles me, and though she’s not a large woman, the weight is excruciating. She’s holding a small surgical knife with tears streaming down her face. “Goodbye, Micah. We’ll see each other in Hell.”

  She holds the blade to her throat, swiping it across before my cry reaches my diaphragm. Blood pours from the wound in her neck like a red waterfall. She involuntarily chokes and coughs, grabbing the cut as if she can stop it from splitting. Her eyes meet mine, and I think in this moment, she realizes the atrocity of what she’s done. To herself. To me. To our children.

  To our beautiful family.

  Her eyes shift to the ceiling before she falls against my chest, forcing me to wail from the agony of it. Blood seeps across my shirt, and even though it burns my eyes and may even make the pain worse, I cry. I cry for her, I cry for our marriage and our children. I cry for the life that could have been if we would have made different choices along the way.

  With my dead wife across my chest, the torture is so unbearable, it feels as if I’m losing my mind. Anger, sorrow, fear, defeat, and every other morose emotion I’ve ever felt reaches a boiling point. Clenching my fists and tensing my body, I open my mouth and do the only thing I can.

  I scream.

  About the Author

  CHARITY B. LIVES IN Wichita, Kansas with her husband and ornery little boy. She released her debut series, the Sweet Treats trilogy, in 2018 and is constantly working on her next release. She has always loved to read and write but began her love affair with dark romance when she read C.J. Robert's The Dark Duet. She has a passion for the disturbing and sexy and wants nothing more than to give her readers the ultimate book hangover. In her spare time, when she's not chasing her son, she enjoys reading, the occasional TV show binge, and is deeply inspired by music.

  For more on Charity B. and her books, visit her website: www.charitybauthor.com

  The Sixth Commandment

  Thou shall not murder

  Genesis

  C.M. Radcliff

  Chapter One

  “OH, GABRIEL,” MY MOTHER croons, wrapping her long fingers around my father’s forearm. “That was such a wonderful service for tonight.” She beams at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek then turns toward me and wraps her arms around me. “Becca, you have no idea how much it means to both of us for you to be home for Christmas!” she almost yells, squeezing me tighter.

  Laughing at how excited she is, I try to wriggle out of her grasp when my lungs feel like they’re collapsing. The three of us are built big, tall and muscular, like a swimmer mixed with a quarterback.

  “I might almost be a doctor, but that doesn’t mean I can fix myself,” I giggle, finally breaking away from her.

  Crossing her arms, she tries to look mad, but the sadness is evident on her face. This is what happens every time I come home for breaks from school. I come home for every single one and yet she still acts like I never do or don’t stay long enough. The guilt is so thick, sometimes I consider giving up my dream of becoming a doctor and just throwing myself into the church with them. But God put me here for an even greater good. God put me here to help others, to heal others and all of that can be done in conjunction with the church.

  I’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours and she’s already making me question it all.

  “Elizabeth,” my father warns in a low voice, lightly rubbing her shoulder. “Leave the girl be.”

  She nods, wiping viciously at her eyes at the tears that had never formed.

  Is that considered a lie?

  Did she just sin?

  Did she break a Commandment?

  My father turns away as an elderly couple approaches him, thanking him for doing the service for Christmas Eve. My mother stands beside me, taking my hand in hers as we watch his animated face interact with the man and woman.

  She gently squeezes my hand. “You know tonight was the first Christmas Eve he has done?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I say, hesitantly. “I’ve never missed a single year.”

  Slowly, she nods. “Remember everything you’ve been taught and make sure it stays that way.” Hastily releasing my hand, she walks forward to my father, leaving me with the lingering hostility of her words.

  Past

  “Okay, Rebecca,” my mom says, slamming a piece of paper in front of me. “Write down The Ten Commandments and say them out loud, every single one.”

  Picking up the pencil on the table in front of me, my hand shakes, making the lines wiggle as I press the lead to the paper transcribing each Commandment in perfect order. My voice is shaky, a whisper as I chant each one to her.

  She grabs the piece of paper, crumpling it and squeezing it into a ball in her large hand.

  “Wrong,” she says, throwing it onto the floor beside me. “Do it again.”

  Looking up at her, she glares at me like I’ve broken every Commandment in the book. Confusion mixes with fear, rushing through my body and spreading across my face. I’ve upset her. Mother never gets upset like this. She’s never scary like this.

  “What are you waiting for?” she barks, pointing at the paper.

  Tears start to fall from my eyes before I can collect myself. Each droplet falls to the white piece of paper, swirling with the black lead marks.

  Pulling the chair across from the other side of the table, the legs drag loudly against the wooden floor as she pulls
it out and takes a seat beside me. Grabbing hold of my hand, she pushes the pencil from my grasp and holds both within the palms of her own.

  “Rebecca,” she says lightly. “Tell me what happened with your kitten yesterday.”

  Ripping my hands from hers, I bury my face in them, sobbing uncontrollably, letting the tears fall freely as my body wracks with my cries.

  “Rebecca,” she says louder, grabbing my shoulder. “What happened yesterday?”

  “I—I—,” I stammer, choking on my sobs. “I murdered my kitten!” I cry out, letting the guilt and sadness consume my ten-year-old mind.

  My mother pulls my arms out from under me, pulling my hands from my swollen wet face. She grabs hold of my face and stares at me intently. “Tell me what happened?” she prods.

  Wiping my eyes and my nose with the sleeve of my shirt, I gather the courage to look her in the eye. “I took her with me to the river to go swimming.” I let out a hiccup, feeling the tears beginning to well again. “The current was strong, and she didn’t know how to swim, so she drowned. And I’m the murderer!”

  “Rebecca, I need you to listen to me very carefully and you need to understand exactly what I am telling you.”

  Slowly, I nod. “O-okay,” I whisper in a strangled voice.

  “You are not a murderer and you did not murder her. It was simply an accident that happened, and you didn’t cause her death, you didn’t plan it. It was just something that happened. She was killed, you didn’t kill her, but most definitely, you didn’t murder her.”

  “But—” I start but she cuts me off.

  “Tell me, Rebecca, is there a Commandment that says thou shall not kill?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

  Quickly, I shake my head, keeping my mouth shut.

  She nods with satisfaction. “You’re right. It says ‘thou shall not murder,’ you see, not kill. Murder and kill are two separate things. Murder is taking someone’s life in a way that is not accidental, it is planned, and it’s usually committed out of malice. Killing is not. Innocent people kill every day. Innocent people die every day at the hands of both murder and killing.”

  “So, I’m not a murderer?” I asked quietly, sniffling as the tears slowly subside.

  “No, sweetheart.” My mother strokes my ash brown hair from my face. “You didn’t murder anyone and you never will. The Ten Commandments are your golden ticket into Heaven. You will do what is right.”

  Closing my eyes, I nod against her hand, submitting myself to the truest words that were ever spoken.

  “Now,” she says, pulling her hand away. “Pick up your pencil and start again and we won’t be done until you can recite them in your sleep.”

  Being a good daughter, one of God’s children, I follow exactly what she says, and I write until blisters form on my hands and every word I wrote is playing on repeat in the back of my mind. One Commandment screams in my head every time we get to number six. Thou shall not murder.

  What an important lesson I’d learned that day.

  A lesson that would live with me for the rest of my life.

  “Becca.” I hear a voice in the distance.

  “Rebecca.” Someone claps in my face.

  “Rebecca.” My father’s face comes into focus as his voice sounds louder. “What’s wrong?” he asks with a tinge of panic laced within his words.

  Smiling, as best as I can, I reach out and grab his arm. “Nothing, Daddy. I was just remembering all of the important things you’ve taught me about faith.”

  He slowly smiles with a pleased look upon his face.

  “Gabriel, Rebecca,” my mother calls to us as she stalks toward us with our coats. “We should get home before the roads get bad.”

  My dad nods in agreement. The church had mostly cleared out at this point, so it was acceptable for us to head home, especially with a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. We all shrug on our coats as my dad tells us to wait there while he gets the car and picks us up.

  “If there’s one thing you should ever know in life,” my mom starts, watching my dad shuffle across the parking lot. “That is one amazing man right there.”

  “And so is the woman standing beside me,” I say, looking over at her with a smile.

  Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, she pulls me close. “We sure are glad to have you home,” she says. “Now let’s go get your dad,” she smiles, leading me out into the snow where he waits for us.

  Chapter Two

  BRIGHT WHITE FLAKES float down from the dark night sky, lightly coating the road winding through the snow-covered woods. My mom sings along to “Silent Night” playing softly in the car as my dad carefully navigates the car as the snowfall grows heavier. Suddenly, she spins around to face me, making both my father and I jump.

  “Jesus, Elizabeth,” he huffs under his breath, re-adjusting himself in his seat.

  Simultaneously, both my mother and I gasp, staring at him. We must have misheard him or something because he would never speak like that. It’s a sin that has been instilled in my mind and ground into my bones from a young age.

  “Gabriel Thomas!” she shrieks. “What did you just say?”

  He glances over at her, rolling his eyes. “Don’t scold me, Elizabeth. You’re the one who startled me.”

  “It doesn’t matter! We are to never speak like that, you know this.” She throws her arms up in distress. “What about your little girl?” She motions toward me. “We still have to set a good example for her.”

  Reaching forward, I put my hand on his shoulder and he looks back at me. “It’s okay, Daddy.” I smile at him. “We all make mistakes sometimes.”

  God will forgive him.

  “You’re right,” he says, nodding at me. “I am the voice of the Lord, I am the one who he chose to speak for him and teach his lessons. You are my daughter, the rightful heir to my legacy to the Lord. Under all circumstances, we are protected, and our sins will always be excusable.”

  My mother starts to chuckle harshly as my dad looks at her, glaring.

  “Is that what you tell yourself to excuse your extracurricular activities, Gabriel?” she sneers.

  Quickly, I look back and forth between them, feeling the tension building in the car as the confusion fills my mind. Who are these people?

  “Enough, Elizabeth,” he growls as he clenches his jaw.

  “What?” she smirks, looking at him and back at me. “You don’t think your precious little girl needs to know about all of your ungodly deeds?”

  “Elizabeth...” he warns her with his voice trailing off.

  I stare at the back of his head, willing him to turn around and just tell me what’s going on here. If there’s anyone in this car I can trust, it’s him.

  “Rebecca,” my mother starts, turning back toward me. “Tell me, when God created the Garden of Eden, who did he put there?”

  I cock my head to the side, perplexed. “Uh, Adam and Eve,” I reply.

  “Very good,” she says, nodding. “So, God intended on man and woman for sexual relations, not man and man, right?”

  Slowly, I nod, the confusion on my face still evident.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, rubbing my arm. “You aren’t getting what I’m saying.” She pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Do you think God would be okay with your daddy having sex with another man?”

  My eyes flash to my dad and his head spins to her.

  “What the fuck, Elizabeth?” he booms.

  “Daddy, what is she talking about?” I choke on my words, refusing to entertain the image she put in my mind.

  “Rebecca, shut up,” he commands, glaring at me before directing his attention back to her. “Elizabeth, you need to watch what you say.”

  “What?” she scoffs. “You don’t want her to know that you’ve been having sexual intercourse with another man?”

  My breath catches in my throat and I let out a strangled sob, an unfamiliar sound. None of this can be true.

  “E
lizabeth!” he all but screams, grabbing her arm.

  I begin sobbing in the backseat watching this all unfold, filled with betrayal and still so much confusion.

  Suddenly a car horn breaks through the yelling and the sobbing and headlights blind my eyes as I glance up, seeing that we’re in the wrong lane facing the front of another car.

  “Gabriel!” my mother shrieks as my dad jerks the steering wheel to the right, pulling the car back into the right lane. The tires spin, losing traction and sliding across the snow-covered road. My dad loses complete control of the car as it slides back and forth with too much speed.

  It all happens so fast.

  My mom screams, my dad yells, the car skates across the road, I sob as the rest of the world around us is silent.

  We run off the road, hitting a small hill, jolting us all from our seats as the car catches air. A loud crunching sound with a bang rings through the air as we hit something. The car flips into the air, hitting the ground multiple times with a crashing sound as it rolls.

  Eventually we stop moving.

  The car comes to a stop.

  There is nothing but silence.

  And then everything goes black.

  Chapter Three

  BLINDING BRIGHT LIGHTS burn into my eyes as a steady beeping echoes in my ears when I reach the end of the tunnel, resurfacing from the darkness. Blinking rapidly, my eyes fight to adjust to the burning light as the sounds around me grow louder, increasing their tempo. As everything comes into focus, the lights I’m staring at aren’t what I was expecting to find. I haven’t arrived at the pearly white gates. They’re simply fluorescent ceiling lights, surrounded by white ceiling.

  Closing my eyes, I reopen them slowly scanning my surroundings. A TV hangs on the wall across from me with machines and monitors sitting on either side of the hospital bed I’m lying on. My head throbs in unison with the steady beeping filling the room.