Chapter 5 Everett
FIVE
EVERETT
Eight years old
My father ushers me into the room with his fingers digging into my upper arm. He shoves me into a seat and orders, “Stay.”
Where am I going to go? I don’t even have shoes on.
Sometimes I think he talks just to hear his own voice, or maybe he’s trying to convince his friends that he owns me. Not sure why. Everyone in this room knows he does.
I drop my eyes to my hands resting in my lap and see a piece of fuzz on my nightgown.
It’s the most I’ve gotten to wear these past few days.
It’s high up on my neck and falls to my knees.
I might as well be naked, considering it’s sheer.
You can see right through it. And it’s really itchy. I’d rather be naked.
I start to pick at it when the door opens.
I’m not allowed to speak. I’m to be seen, not heard.
“Hello, darlings,” the woman’s voice calls out. It sounds nice and comforting. Much different from the gruff and commanding ones I’m used to here at home.
Keeping my head down, I peek up at her through my lashes. She’s standing with her back to me, hugging my father in greeting. I’m surprised he gives her the time of day. He hates everyone. Especially me.
She wears a pair of black heels with red bottoms. They’re really tall and skinny and come to a point at the end of her toes. I would think that they’re hard to walk in, but she seems to do it flawlessly.
Turning around, I avert my eyes to my hands quickly, but I know I was too slow when her pointy shoes turn to face me.
A hand grips my chin and yanks my head back. Her eyes scan my face, neck, and nightgown. “Pretty little thing.” She smiles at me, and I no longer like the sound of her voice. It went from comforting to threatening with one compliment.
“Well, you would know.” One of my father’s friends laughs.
“I suppose.” She lets go and steps away from me.
Something out of the corner of my eye gets my attention, and I glance to see what it is. I sit up straighter when I see it’s a girl. Like me. That’s new. “Hi,” I whisper, so as not to get the others’ attention.
She stands in the corner with her back straight, hands gripping a vibrant red purse. It matches the bottoms of the older woman’s shoes and stands out against her black dress. Her hair is the color of the sun. Bright and big curls. I wish I could do mine like that. It looks so pretty on her.
“Hey,” I whisper, unable to contain the smile on my face. “What’s your—”
“Everett,” my father snaps.
I slump over, and my pulse races. “Yes, sir?” I ask with my eyes now on the floor.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” he demands.
I frown, looking up at him. All eyes are on mine, and I look to my right to see the girl standing there as still as a statue.
“Well?” he barks, and I jump.
“It’s okay.” The woman walks back to me and gives me a smile that she’s trying to play off as nice. I’m not buying it. I know what the devil looks like, and he’s in the room with us. “Who were you talking to, dear?”
“Uh.” My eyes shoot back to the girl again, and she’s not paying me any attention. I watch to see if her chest moves in her black dress, and I can’t even tell if she’s breathing.
“It’s okay,” the woman assures me. “You may speak.”
I lick my lips nervously. “The…the girl.”
She frowns and looks around the room. “You’re the only girl I see, Everett.”
No. “She’s right there.” I point at her in the corner.
“Quit fucking around,” my father snaps at me. “You’re wasting our time.”
I rub my sweaty hands on my thighs, causing my nightgown to ride up. The woman leans over and pulls it down, fixing it for me. Then she faces my father. “Have you had her tested?” she asks.
“For what?” he barks.
“Schizophrenia,” the woman answers, and I wish I knew what she was talking about. “The poor girl is clearly seeing things.”
I stand on the second-floor balcony of the cathedral, looking down over the pews filled with Lords. All of them in black cloaks and masks.
It’s a confessional.
I’m not even sure what the bastard did to fuck them over, but he’s paying for it.
A woman walks down the center aisle, passing around a glass bowl full of razor blades. They’re going to cut him for his sins.
He must bleed for his betrayal.
The Lords take payment in various ways, but it’s always the same—your life.
Once they are finished, I’ll sew him up and he will be collected. He’ll be dead to the world, but his heart will still beat. I don’t know where he will end up, nor do I fucking care.
Not my problem. I’m just here to do my job.
The woman glances up at me, and I make sure to keep my stare blank, giving nothing away. They can smell fucking fear, and I’m not afraid of her. Not anymore.
Those who don’t know about our secret society wouldn’t know who she really is. She’s as evil as they come. Men worship her. Think she’s the most beautiful creature they’ve ever seen. A goddess. Even my father fell for her, and he hates women.
It’s all a lie.
I’ve seen their version of hell, and although I survived, a part of me died as well. I’ve never been tied to the altar for a confessional, but I’ve been an offering to some. They take and take until there is nothing left for you to give. Then they call you cynical and unappreciative.
They strip you naked, tie you down, and fill you with drugs. “It’s what’s best for you,” they say. “You vowed your life to them.” The fuck I did. I never had a choice.
The Lord screams into his gag as blood pours from his freshly cut skin. He’s also pissed himself. They act so tough until payment is due. Then they’re all the same.
Pathetic.
I’ve been there. I thought it would help. It didn’t. They don’t care. Bodily fluids won’t stop them from getting what they want.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who is calling me. Fuckface. I hit ignore and pocket it. I’ll call him back later.
After everyone clears out, I make my way down to the altar. The Lord strapped to it and I are the only two here in the cathedral.
I softly hum a lullaby while the man lies tied down, spread eagle and naked, to the Lords’ altar. The sounds of the double doors squeaking alert me that the bastard’s ride has arrived.
My back is to the doors as I dunk the sponge into the bowl of water to start cleaning the man off. He’s bleeding from shallow cuts. His peers took it easy on him, if you ask me. I’ve seen much worse.
He screams into the gag secured in his mouth by the leather harness wrapped around his head. The man’s eyes go from mine to behind me to whoever has come to collect him. He’s going to hell. That’s where all of us will end up. It’s what we deserve. A life full of sin isn’t rewarded.
I continue to hum over his mumbled pleas as I feel eyes on me from behind. Heat rushes up my legs and over my back, and my face flushes at the butterflies that flutter in my stomach. My voice grows louder to drown whoever it is out, and I sing the words of “Hush, Little Baby.”
I take my time cleaning the Lord, trying to look unfazed when I really want to run. My heart pounds and my pulse is racing. I’m never affected like this. I drop the sponge into the bucket and feel the water splash my fishnet-covered legs.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around to face whoever is here for the Lord. My breath gets caught in my lungs at who I see. Not one, but two Lords.
Spade brothers. And both of them have seen me naked.
A moment of panic makes me tremble. Are they here for me? Do they know what I do? That I’m betraying the Lords?
No. They can’t. If they were here for me, they would have gone unnoticed and taken me from my bed in the middle of the night, not shown up here. They’re here for him—the Lord who has been cut open like a fish by their peers.
I place my attention on the one I see as less threatening. “A little help, please?” I hold out my left hand to Kashton Landon Pierce to see how he reacts. Does he remember me?
Probably not. That was a long time ago.
He gets up and walks over to the Lords’ altar. His eyes are on mine, and it takes everything in me not to look away and show him that one night with him changed my life.
Taking my hand, he helps me get up onto the altar where I straddle the man’s waist. “Hand me that basket.” I point at a wicker basket on the floor next to the stairs.
Breathe, Eve. He’s just a man. Like all the others who only want one thing—my body.
Kashton picks it up for me and places it next to the Lord’s head. He steps back, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and watches me closely.
I’m sweating, and the blood rushes in my ears. My hands are fucking shaking. I haven’t felt like this in years.
I undo the buckle to the man’s gag, ripping it from his mouth and tossing it to the floor, allowing him to scream. Let him have the focus of their attention for a second.
“You fucking crazy bitch!” He yanks on the ropes and tries to buck me off, but I hold steady, my thighs tightening to secure my position while digging into the basket.
I secure duct tape over his mouth, making sure to wrap it completely around his head several times before I lean over and tear it with my teeth.
Then I pull out my trusty little handheld blowtorch and place the flame against the tape while his muffled screams fill the large space. “That should keep it in place.” I smile as if I’m proud of myself and tap the side of his face. “Those who spill secrets will be silenced.” It’s a Lords motto.
We’ve all got something to hide, and I will take several secrets to my grave.
I go to move, and Kashton gets my attention as he rushes over to me.
I allow him to grab my waist and help me down off the altar.
I mumble a thank you before walking around the altar and facing the other Lord.
I meet his intense stare before I look over my shoulder at Kashton as well.
“He’s ready for you.” I give them a chilling smile, attempting not to panic.