Chapter 23
CHAPTER
Jenn
The Past
I COULD SEE MARTY and Rhett fighting.
Marty was kneeling over Rhett and punching him over and over. Rhett swung up, hitting Marty on the side of the head and in his ribs, but never doing enough to shake him off.
Repulsion at the violence rolled through me and I forced myself to stand up. I needed to stop my deranged brother before he murdered Rhett.
I grabbed the back of Marty’s shirt and began to pull. “Stop it!” I cried, but Marty kept hitting him.
“Marty, stop it, you’re going to kill him!”
“Good. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before putting his hands on my sister,” he grunted, shoving me away.
“Marty, stop it or I’m calling the police,” I yelled, pulling out my phone with shaking, battered hands.
Marty hit Rhett once more, then turned to me. There was a look on his face I had seen only once before. That look was the reason I had left home.
That look said ownership.
It said danger.
It said he would do whatever needed to be done to keep me.
Rhett had stopped moving. His face was bloody and swollen, and his ribs were already turning purple.
Rhett had gotten a couple of good hits in—I could see that now.
Marty’s lip was split, and the skin beneath his left eye was now discolored.
But Rhett was worse off. He was unconscious, and he needed help.
“Get your bag, Jennifer,” Marty said, standing up. “You’re coming home.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t live like that again.
I thought I had been so careful. I took the last name Moore from a girl I met at church when I was little. She had only been in town for a month or two- not long enough for anyone to really remember her.
I should have known there was no hiding from my brother.
“I’m not asking. Now do as you’re told.”
His knuckles were scraped and bleeding, reminding me of the night I ran away.
The night he had beaten up the boy, Brian, from the bowling alley I had been talking to.
It had been innocent. We had flirted a little, and I could tell Brian liked me.
That night he had kissed me chastely on the lips, nothing more.
But Marty had seen it and had lost his mind.
He had already warned Brian to stay away from me, and when he hadn’t, Marty had beaten him until he begged him to stop.
Brian had wet himself, adding to his humiliation.
Marty dragged me home when he was finished.
“You shamed yourself and our family. You’re nothing but a whore.” Then Marty slapped me.
I was called a whore for simply letting a guy kiss me.
I knew then that everything I had been raised on was wrong. That it was warped and messed up in a way that made my life a living hell.
In a fit of uncharacteristic rage, I cut my brother with the knife I kept hidden underneath my pillow. Subconsciously, I think I had always known the day would come when I’d need to protect myself from the very people who claimed to care for me.
Marty had screamed in pain; the cut was deep. He locked me in my room then went to the hospital, probably to get stitches.
My parents were at church, where they spent most of their time. I knew I was alone. So I took the opportunity to escape. I had been practicing picking the lock on my door for months.
I got out of that room, and then I ran.
I had been running ever since.
Because the rules I had been expected to live by didn’t apply to Marty. He, as a man, was given free rein. He could date. He could stay out past curfew. He could drink.
Me? I had to uphold an unrealistic ideal of womanhood that was impossible to live up to.
And my brother was the worst of them all.
All my problems, all my worries, began and ended with Marty and his need to control me. He was fixated on obtaining total dominance.
He hadn’t always been like that.
At one time we had been close, unified in our fear of our parents and their traditionalism. But as we grew up, things changed. Marty’s thoughts—his opinions—became toxic.
Eventually, he started trying to dictate my every move, which my father approved of. He shared his iron fist with his all too eager son, who took every opportunity to wield the power he thought was his birthright.
My father, formidable and terrifying, took him under his wing, intent on molding him into the image of what he thought a man should be.
Marty began to watch YouTube videos about “male pride” and I would stand outside his door, my ear pressed to the wood listening, terrified of the things being said.
Because in the world my older brother was fashioning for himself, I had nothing—no voice, no say, no rights.
At some point, I had lost my brother and had gained an owner.
His obsession with me had morphed from protection to control.
I pulled out my phone and began dialing. “I’m calling the police.”
Marty’s expression became scary. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said angrily through gritted teeth, and I felt my body tremble. “Give me your phone, now.”
I shook my head. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore, Marty.
I don’t know what happened to my brother, but you’re not him.
” I put the phone to my ear. “I’ll tell them what you did to that boy back home, and they’ll see what you’ve done to Rhett.
They’ll put you away, maybe not for long, but by the time you get out, I’ll be gone. ”
Marty looked down at Rhett’s prone body and then back to me. He seemed conflicted. I knew his desire to restrain and dominate me was at war with his sense of self-preservation.
But in the end, his need to protect himself, and his freedom, trumped his need to drag me home by my hair—for now.
“I’ll be back for you,” he warned, jabbing his finger in my direction. “I swear to God, Jennifer, this isn’t over.”
Marty took off into the trees, and I stared after him, frightened tears blurring my vision. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a storm fast approaching.
I knelt by Rhett’s side and checked that he was still alive. I was thankful when I saw his chest rise and fall. Despite what he had done to me, I didn’t want his death on my hands.
Rhett had ruined everything with his anger and his lies. I wanted to leave this place and the promises he’d broken. I’d no idea he was friends with Marty—perhaps if I had, I could have saved Rhett from becoming just like him. But it was obvious it was too late now.
“Goodbye, Rhett,” I murmured, devastated that he had turned out to be as bad as my brother.
The pain in my head was almost unbearable. A constant throb beat at my skull. Blood trickled down my neck and I knew I needed to stop the bleeding, but it hurt so much. I fought against the black that encroached my vision.
I ran through the trees, leaving Rhett unconscious on the ground at Jagged Point. I didn’t know where my brother went, but I knew I had to get away before he came back.
I eventually made my way to Rhett’s car and was thankful to find it unlocked. Beside it was parked a gray Cadillac I recognized. With a new sliver of fear, I quickly grabbed my book bag from the passenger seat and headed for the road.
But then I stopped.
I had left Rhett vulnerable to my brother. That didn’t feel right at all. I took out my phone and remembered I didn’t have a signal.
The only place to get a signal around here was on the cliffs.
With my heart pounding, I made my way to where I had left Rhett, but I chose to head through the trees in case Marty, or the owner of the Cadillac, was out there somewhere. It was easier to go undetected in the dark forest.
Once I was at the overlook, I saw immediately that Rhett was gone. I thought about calling out to him, but fear took my voice.
I gingerly touched the wound on my head, remembering how Rhett had hit me and then thrown me to the ground.
No. I wouldn’t look for Rhett. He was at least alive, and that was good enough. I knew Marty wouldn’t come for me until daylight. He’d be too worried about someone calling the cops. My big brother always had an aversion to the police.
I sat on a large boulder, nausea bubbling inside me. Slowly things began to come back into focus.
I knew I was badly hurt. But I also knew I was strong, and I could survive this. I had already survived much worse in my short life.
I thought that once I left home, I could put the ugliness behind me.
I was so wrong.
Because there was ugliness here in Fern River too.
Earlier That Day
I had done a good job of laying low and staying out of sight. My phone was full of unread messages and voicemails from Rhett mixed with vague threats from Marty.
Marty: Maybe I’ll come to that B she wouldn’t let him see me after showing up at midnight last weekend, even though he had tried multiple times.
Marty?
I couldn’t imagine the devoutly conservative B&B owner letting a man that looked as if he might strangle you at any minute through the door.
Then who was it?
I slowly walked into the stuffy sitting room decorated in outdated florals and doilies on every surface. An older man stood with his hands behind his back as if he were in a military lineup. He was short in stature, with thin graying hair and piercing blue eyes.
“Jennifer Moore?” His voice had a soft southern cadence that was strangely soothing. I could tell he was charming when he wanted to be. He exuded an aura of confidence and gentility that was disarming.
“Yes?”
“Is that a question? Do you not know your own name?” he barked.
I stood up a little straighter. “Yes, I’m Jennifer Moore. And you are?” I would never normally be rude to someone who was my elder. My father would have tanned my hide to hear me speak that way.
“My name is Clifford Herbaugh.” He waited to see if I registered any recognition. Which I didn’t. “I’m Lucinda’s father.”
“Lucinda?” I frowned.
“Rhett’s fiancée, Lucinda,” Mr. Herbaugh explained, spitting Rhett’s name out of his mouth like a bad word.
I froze, too scared to move a muscle. I felt like I was a rabbit in a snare as Mr. Herbaugh watched my every move.
“I’m a man of importance in this community, Miss Moore. My name means something. I love my family and don’t like to see them upset—or humiliated,” he stated, his voice clipped and hard.
“I never meant to—”
Mr. Herbaugh walked toward me until he was standing close.
Too close. He wasn’t much taller than I was, but there was something about him that made it feel like he towered over me.
“It doesn’t really matter what you did or did not mean to do, only that you and Rhett have made my daughter look ridiculous carrying on the way you have. You have disgraced my family.”
Mr. Herbaugh picked up an iron poker that was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.
“You’re new in town, so I take it you don’t know what I’m capable of, but let’s just say, this will not end well for you.
” He weighed the sturdy piece of metal in his hand, then looked at me, his blue eyes ominous.
I swallowed thickly and took a step back.
There was something scary about this man.
Scary and dangerous. Someone much worse than my brother.
Marty simply didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, but this man, he was used to getting away with things.
And I had a feeling he could make his problems disappear if he wanted them to.
And I knew that for him, I was a very big problem.
“Sir, I didn’t know that Rhett …”
Mr. Herbaugh tightened his hand around the poker, his knuckles white, and my words became strangled in my throat.
“You need to leave town, immediately, before I decide to take matters into my own hands.”
I swallowed again. “Sir, I have nowhere to go—”
“I wasn’t asking you—it’s an order,” he bellowed, his deep voice rattling my bones. “And if you don’t, there will be consequences.” He lifted the poker, only slightly.
Was he going to hit me with it?
I glanced toward the doorway, wondering if I could make a run for it. Would Ms. Stanley help me?
As if knowing what I was thinking, Mr. Herbaugh gave me a cold smile.
“No one in this town will lift a finger to help you against me and mine. You are nothing, Miss Moore. You have no future here. Now get out of Fern River before I do something we all will regret. Forget about Rhett. And forget about any plans you might have made together. I don’t want to see your face around here again, because I will not be held accountable for what happens if I do. ”
He put the poker down and without another look in my direction, walked out of the room.
His words weren’t a threat.
They were a promise.
So I quickly went back upstairs and grabbed my packed bag, paid Ms. Stanley, and began my walk out of town. Once again with no clear direction.
As I headed down the street, I thought I saw Mr. Herbaugh watching me from a gray Cadillac. I could feel the heaviness of his gaze as I walked away from the B&B. I tried not to act terrified as the car began to slowly follow me.
Would he make good on his threat? And if he did, would anyone even realize I was gone?
The thought made me cold. Because no one would miss me. No one would even realize anything had happened to me. Rhett would simply think I had left town.
I picked up my pace.
I knew then that I needed to get away as fast as I could.
Yet, I had ended up right in the lion’s den.