Kracken's Release: An RBMC novel (Royal Bastards MC, Roanoke, VA Book 5)
Prologue
Moira, age 5
“Mommy, Mommy, look at my picture!” I exclaimed as I ran into the kitchen after school. I was so excited I missed the look of fear that briefly crossed her face, and I also didn’t see that we weren’t alone.
“Moira.”
One word spoken in that tone had me stopping in my tracks. Fear slithered through me as I faced my father who sat at the kitchen table, his face screwed up in a scowl that let me know I was in serious trouble.
I didn’t say anything. Not because I was suddenly mute, but because he firmly believed in the mantra that ‘Children should be seen and not heard’. I seldom spoke when he was around; the punishments I had endured in my short life had drilled into me the fact that it was better if I kept my mouth shut.
He stood from his seated position and stalked toward me, his face icy and menacing. I could feel my knees knocking as they tried to buckle beneath the long skirt I was forced to wear, but I stood there because to do anything else, like try to escape my unfortunate predicament, would bring forth a harsher response.
“What have I told you before?” he asked, his face scornful as he raised his hand, arcing down to slam it across my cheekbone.
A burst of pain bloomed across the entirety of my face and tears filled my eyes, but I dutifully answered. To refuse to do so would be tantamount to waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. “That children are to be seen and not heard,” I replied, tears steadily falling down my tender face. Silent ones, of course; no wailing or sobs were permitted in his house.
“Yet, here you are, hollering down the house,” he sneered, his teeth gritted as he glared at me in unmistakable anger.
I know better than to say anything further. Unless he specifically asks me a question that he deems answerable, I won’t utter another word. From the corner of my eye, I can see my mother slowly shaking her head as if to remind me not to speak. Except… I already know. My body bears testament to my father’s brutal punishments; scars run up and down my back, buttocks, and upper thighs. All areas that can be hidden by clothing. It wouldn’t do for a man of his prestigious position to leave visible marks where people might talk and gossip about what goes on underneath his roof.
“Go to your room, Moira. Perhaps while we’re eating dinner, your hunger will remind you that you disobeyed me, once again.” His voice was cold and unyielding, devoid of any emotion outside of irrepressible rage. I was used to it by now, but it still hurt because I saw how other parents treated their children during various school activities. Other kids’ daddies hugged and kissed them. Praised them. They smiled and treated them as though they were precious, wanted, loved.
Maybe someday, my mind whispered.
I picked up my backpack which had fallen to the floor when he struck me, and without another glance in either of their directions, I headed to my room, my shoulders slumped as I fought back my ripening tears. My face was damp with them, but it was time to push them away as I had homework to get done. It wasn’t much, just two coloring pages, but I knew if I didn’t do it correctly and receive a gold star, I’d be further punished.
I just wished I knew why he hated me so much.
And why my mother allowed him to treat me so horribly.
Moira, age 10
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to me,” I whispered as the hot water sluiced down my freshly beaten and battered body.
The water stung when it hit the open wounds, but I focused on getting myself clean before my ten-minute shower was finished. I didn’t think my body could handle being hit again so soon after my latest punishment.
I still didn’t know what I’d done to earn my father’s wrath this time, but at this point, I didn’t think it really mattered. He never had a kind word to say to me; sometimes, he even struck my mother whenever she tried to intervene and keep the peace.
“Moira! Five more minutes,” he yelled through the closed bathroom door. It wasn’t locked and I knew from prior experience he would burst through when my time was up.
Since I didn’t like how he stared at me if I was caught without my towel wrapped around me, I hurriedly rinsed the rest of the soap from my delicate skin, quietly hissing with the pain, then shut the shower off.
I had just wrapped my towel around my body when he flung the door open. “Get your teeth brushed and get to bed,” he growled out. He sounded disappointed that he hadn’t caught me without the towel, but I’d learned. I nodded my head, knowing that if I didn’t hurry, I’d be punished further for not completing the task he’d given me.
As I quickly brushed my teeth, before I slipped my nightgown over my head, I thought, At least Mama remembered.
She’d cut up five strawberries and had them arranged on my breakfast pancakes. Still, it was a poor substitute for what I knew other kids got; parties, cake, presents. But my life was a living hell for some reason unbeknownst to me.
I just hoped I survived until I was old enough to break free from the prison I currently lived in.
Moira, age 17
“One of our students has received a full-ride scholarship that covers her dorm, tuition, and books for the next four years, due to her stellar academics,” the principal said to the graduating class.
I kept my outward expression the same solemn one I always wore, but inside, I was jumping up and down with giddiness. Because he was talking about me, and while my father was furious that I was going off to college, he decided that it would be acceptable while he found me a suitable husband.
A husband to continue with the congregation’s plan to keep building. A husband to keep me tied to the house, pregnant, while he did whatever he wanted. A husband to subjugate me, keep me down, force me into a life of servitude.
That might have been how I was raised to be, but deep inside my soul, where my crushed dreams and hopes resided, was a rebellious spirit that knew there was more to life, and I wanted it and all it promised. I wanted to be happy, free, loved. Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream, but I was going to go for it while I was away at school. In my mind, nothing could hold me back from pursuing those dreams.
I hated to break it to him, but I planned to never go home. Ever. College was going to be my gateway out of the hell I’d endured for the past seventeen years. Never a kind word; never any affection or words of positivity. It was a miracle, at least to me, that I was relatively normal and not some kind of psychopath.
I managed to sedately walk across the stage to receive my diploma and the thick envelope the principal handed to me that had all the information for my scholarship. I was sure my father would choose my major for me, but I figured I’d be compliant until I turned eighteen, then all bets were off.
Once the ceremony was complete, I made my way over to my parents. My father snatched the envelope away from me then sneered, “If the school wasn’t paying for everything, there’s no way you’d be going to college.”
I didn’t answer, conditioned by years of his abuse to remain silent. He wasn’t telling me anything I wasn’t already well aware of since he had made it clear that he thought further education for a ‘lowly female’ was a waste of good resources.
Shaking his head in disgust, he states, “Let’s get out of here. I have a deacon’s meeting tonight.”
A deacon’s meeting. Somehow, I suspected that the God he had forced down my throat all these years wasn’t like what I had been taught by my peers and reading material. Because one of the things I had known from my own readings was that God was supposed to be about love, light, forgiveness, and goodness. Not abuse. Not torment. Not detestation.
I followed behind him and my mother, my mind whirling on what my future was going to hold while I tried to keep the excitement from showing on my face. No sense in piquing my father’s interest. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
* * *
“Hi, I’m Belle, and you must be Moira,” the girl stated, grinning at me. “I’m so excited for this, aren’t you?”
Since she asked a direct question, I replied, “Definitely.”
“Do you need me to help you get your stuff put up?” she asked, looking around me.
True to his normal behavior, my father dropped me and my belongings off at the dorm I was staying in and left me without a backward glance to my own devices.
“I’d like that,” I said.
The girl sends me a scorching smile before saying, “Cool! My brother and some of his friends helped me out earlier. Oh! They got us a decent-sized mini fridge we can share, and a microwave.”
“I didn’t think we could have those in our dorms,” I replied, as I began hanging up my clothes.
Shaking her head, she corrects my assumption. “No, we can’t have those electric plate things, but Tony, that’s my brother, said he checked about the microwave.”
“That will be handy on those nights when we have to study late,” I stated, pulling out the plain sheets I’d been allowed to get so I could make my bed up.
“Oh, we’ve got to get you some color over here,” Belle said as she saw my matching comforter. “And some jeans for you.”
I glanced down at my long, drab skirt. I was so used to dressing this way, I wasn’t sure I could handle wearing jeans nor bright colored tops. But I was determined to fit in and not stand out, so that meant I’d do it, even if I was uncomfortable.
Moira, age 21
“We’re the perfect age to be camp counselors, Belle,” I whined, flopping back on my bed.
She giggled but didn”t stop putting her clothes away. “So, you want to oversee a bunch of snotty, prepubescent boys and girls all summer long? Yeah, sounds like no fun to me, Mo.”
“Hot guys, kayaking on the river, swimming in the heated pool they have on the premises for the kids, suntans, adventures,” I retorted, remembering the brochure I saw, as well as the website I had perused for hours. “Did I mention the hot guys, Belle? You know what we’ve met so far at school, and you won’t introduce me to any of your brother’s friends.”
“Okay, first of all, ewww, my brother’s like ten or fifteen years older than me, at least,” she replied, shuddering. “I mean, he’s over thirty now, Moira!”
“Just means he and his friends know what to do is all,” I teased, rolling away from the brush she tossed in my direction.
To say I had embraced my freedom after leaving home and going to college would be an understatement. Belle was my saving grace; she did what she called an extreme makeover on me, and I had stylish clothes, a haircut that flattered my face, and the ability to drink most of the frat boys under the table if I wanted to. I was still a virgin, but it wasn’t because I had any hang ups about being one, I simply hadn’t found anyone I wanted to be intimate with yet. I was confident it would happen, especially if Belle would introduce me to some of her brother’s friends. They were totally awesome; always stopping by to drop off money for Belle, or take us to dinner, although that was usually just her brother. Still, I knew as cool as he was, his friends, or brothers as he called them, were probably the same.
“They want to meet us today?” she asked. I could tell she’s caving a little bit from the thoughtful tone in her voice, and I wanted to cheer.
We graduate after this last semester once summer’s over, so this was kind of our last gasp of freedom before the ‘real world’ intruded and took over our lives. I was hoping I would be able to get her to ask her brother to help me disappear, so I didn’t have to go home and face my family, especially my father, as well as the life they’ve chosen for me.
“Yeah, I told them we could meet at the burger shop. We’d kill two birds with one stone since we needed to eat anyhow. Um, one thing, though.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Well, the camp’s down in the mountains of Virginia, not too far from someplace called Roanoke.”
“But they were willing to come here to meet us?” she skeptically asks.
“They live locally, Bella-boo,” I replied. “And before you go all spidey-senses on me, I checked out the website online and everything looked legit.”
Shrugging, she said, “Okay, let me grab my purse and we can go. We wanted to have some fun this summer anyhow, so maybe, just maybe, we’ll add something to our resume that’ll help us with our jobs.”
“You mean the jobs we’re hoping to get when we graduate?” I asked as we headed out the front door. I got it locked up while she headed to her car. It’s a sweet ride that her brother gave to her after she finally got her driver’s license.
“Let’s go and get this shit over with,” she grumbled as we climbed into her car. I knew from her tone she’d prefer to stay home and take a nap, but there’d be time enough for that later today once we’ve landed this summer job.
* * *
“I got a creepy vibe from them that kind of skeeves me out,” Belle admitted to me as we headed back home from meeting our interviewers. The two young men were maybe a few years older than we were, and both were clean-cut, with neatly pressed clothes, including their jeans. Maybe that’s what was bugging her; the men in her brother’s club would label Harold and Roger, the two guys who came to meet us from the camp, as straight up pussies if they saw them. I can’t swear to it, but it also looked like the T-shirts they had on underneath their short-sleeve button down shirts were ironed as well. A tad bit overkill in my opinion. I stopped ironing wrinkles from my clothing when I left home. All of my clothes were wash and wear, for the most part.
“Eh, they said the camp is heavily religious, so maybe that’s part of their thing? Modesty or something?” I questioned.
Because of my background, I was used to dressing in a more conservative way that didn’t expose a lot of skin. Even now with an updated wardrobe, my tank tops didn’t have spaghetti straps like Belle’s did; they had wider straps that covered up my bra straps. My shorts were more Bermuda style, and I didn’t wear capris, I wore jeans.
“Considering our shorts have to be no shorter than an inch above our knees, and any tank tops we bring have to be the thick straps, plus our bathing suits must be one piece? I’d say so,” Belle grumbled. “We’re going to have to go shopping, because for sure, I think the only thing I own that I can actually pack and take with us would be my underwear, bras, and socks. Hell, we even have to wear close-toed sneakers! How on God’s green earth are toes going to turn someone on, for fuck’s sake?” she asked, her voice growing louder even though she’s sitting right next to me in the car. “Hell, I will need new underthings, because mine are all lacy and sheer. Ugh. This is going to be more of a problem than it’s worth.”
“Okay, so the wardrobe is less than stellar, Belle, but what they’re going to pay us weekly will definitely help us out financially next semester,” I replied. Since I’m now living off-campus with Belle in a bungalow that her brother rented for her, I have to work in order to have spending money.
She grumbled before she stated, “I know, and I’ll do it, but right now, I reserve the right to bitch about it.”
“Fair enough,” I teased.
* * *
“We’re so fucked,” Belle muttered beneath her breath as the nondescript white van we were thrown into moves sedately and steadily through town so as not to cause any outward suspicion.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, my eyes trained on the two men sitting in the front seats.
“Whatever they ask, within reason, until my brother figures out something happened, and rescues us,” she advised.
“How long do you think that’s going to take?” I questioned, my lips quivering. I’ve faced the wrath of my father, but it’s easier to face the devil you know than the one you’ve never met.
“No clue, especially since all the trackers I know Sleeper had on me are currently either in my car, or on the ground from where they ripped everything away from me and tossed them. But he and his club are resourceful. It may not be next week, Mo, but hang tough and we’ll get out of this.”
“I should’ve listened to you when you said you had a bad vibe,” I whispered, tears coursing down my face. “Maybe we should’ve had your brother check into them.”
“Well, no use crying over spilled milk, we’ll work on getting out of this,” she promised.
I wish I had known then how broken I’d be by the time her brother’s club found us; I’d have probably killed myself. Because no one wants a piece of garbage like I’ve become.