One of Many (13 page)

First I'll sneak Audrey out of this hellhole and go straight to Langley. Tell him about what happened when I was growing up. No matter how fucking embarrassing it is. Weston beating Audrey. Scamming people out of their money.

My suspicions about Mom's death—
not
a disappearance.

I pull Audrey closer, and she murmurs something in her sleep, disturbed small noises leaking out. She snuggles closer to me and sighs. She's not awake to know as I lean over and kiss her temple, rolling the side of my face against her soft skin.

Peace infiltrates my vengeful thoughts for fleeting seconds.

A furtive noise has my eyes slamming open, my heart hammering.

Weston stands above us like a dark demon, his arm raised with something.
Bat
, my mind conjures in spontaneous recognition.

And then pain explodes, darkness covering my mind like an unwanted blanket.

My last thought is of Audrey and how I can't protect her after all.

Audrey

For the first time in days—hell, maybe the first time in the years since I’ve been here—I lay down to sleep and felt safe. Before being forced to marry Father Weston, I had visions of the world burning, and I wondered each time the sun set,
Will this be the last time?

The world isn’t ending. But if I don’t get out of here, my life is.

Warmth from Kiev’s body relaxes me, and I try to think of a future, of something happy to occupy my mind, but I come up shorthanded. Not being able to imagine a happy ending is as fucked up as my current situation. I snuggle closer to him and drift to sleep, only to be awoken by something shoving against me.

I jerk away, blinking in the dark. Kiev begins to sit up then slumps forward as something hard bludgeons his head.

My heart stops beating. The shadowy figure of Father Weston stands above us, holding a baseball bat in his hand.

Oh shit! Terror paralyzes me. I reach for Kiev, darting my eyes from the devil himself to the man I’d been sleeping next to, the man I think I’m in love with. Silky crimson holds little reflection in the moonlight, seeping from a cut on Kiev’s forehead.

Oh God!

He’s passed out. Passed out and injured, and I need to help him but—

“You filthy little whore,” Father Weston sneers, his lips pulling up to reveal his teeth. “You were supposed to be
mine
!”

My breasts heave with each rapid intake of breath. The bat falls out of Father Weston’s hands, and he lunges forward.

I try and fail to jerk out of the way. He lands his hands on my legs, his fingers digging into my flesh. He rakes his nails down, tearing away the soft skin on the inside of my thighs, and grabs my ankles. I madly flip over and try to hold onto something—anything—to keep him from pulling me off the mattress.

Fueled by pure rage, Father Weston possesses a strength I can’t battle against, and my body falls onto the hardwood. My skin sticks to the floor as he drags me to the middle of the room and climbs on top, pinning me down with his body.

He takes my hands above my head, slamming my wrists against the floor with as much force as he can muster.

“You whore, you bitch,” he mutters as I struggle against him. “You were mine for the taking, and you gave it up to
him
.” He slaps me hard across the face. Once. Twice. Three times and now I’m tasting blood in my mouth. Weston takes a fistful of my hair, twists, and lifts my head off the ground only to slam it down.

I cry out in pain.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he growls and straightens up, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his cock. It’s semi-hard already.

Beating Kiev into unconsciousness and roughing me up is turning him on.

What a sick fucker.

He spreads my legs, forcing himself between mine.

“No!” I scream. “No… no…” I plead, hoping to appeal to something in him, any shred of humanity. It’s useless. There’s no humanity left inside this man. “The Reckoning… you…wait…
no!
”

He ignores my cries and lowers himself, the wet tip of his cock trailing down my stomach. His legs hold mine open, and his weight is suffocating.

I push against his broad shoulders to no avail. I’m trapped underneath him, like I’ve been trapped inside this house.

“Stop! Get
off
me!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He hits me hard in the face then flips me over. “Did you like it when he fucked you, when you let him deflower what was mine? Tell me you like it, you slut.”

“Stop!” I scream.

He puts one hand on the back of my head and presses the profile of my face into the hard floor.

I can’t breathe.

My heart is racing a million miles an hour—my nerves are on fire. My stomach clenches in fear, and I think I’m going to be sick.

He hits me again at the base of my neck, and pain radiates down my spine, paralyzing me, and I can’t get my limbs to move. My fingertips tingle, and bile burns on my tongue.

Father Weston spreads my butt cheeks apart and forces a finger inside. I scream a pain that webs deep within me. “How much did you open up for him, whore? Did you let him in your ass as well as your cunt?” He pushes his finger in deeper. “Did you?”

“N-no,” I force out. Tears fall onto the polished wood. Father Weston takes his hand away and harshly flips me over again. He straddles me and grabs my neck.

He twists his hand, covering my mouth and nose.
I can’t breathe!
My palms slap against the wood, desperate for air.

My body goes into full panic, and all I can think about is getting another chance to inhale and not suffocate. He pulls his hand away not a moment too soon, and I gasp for air.

Then he’s on me again, spreading my legs. “This pussy was meant for me. You were supposed to bleed for
me
!”

Light spills into the room from the hall. “What’s going on?” It’s Anna. Her footfalls draw near, and for a moment, I think Father Weston will stop, move off me, and this nightmare won’t actually happen.

I’m so wrong.

Father Weston is on his feet, getting to the door just as Anna steps inside. Her face pales in horror as Father Weston swings, his big fist colliding with the side of Anna’s head. She stumbles back, hits her head on the doorknob, and crumples to the floor.

I scramble back, my hands closing around the baseball bat. But I’m not fast enough. Father Weston is on me in seconds, yanking the baseball bat from my hands.

“You want this?” He shoves me to the ground and puts the bat between my legs, pressing it against my vagina. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.” He grinds it against my tender sex, and I scream again. He brings the bat back and shoves it against me again. And again. Bruising the place Kiev just loved.

“Please, stop!”

Weston uses the handle of the bat to spread my labia, pushing it against my clit. I whimper, freezing up.

He’s not going to stop. He is going to rape me then kill Kiev. And then probably me.

And there is nothing I can do to stop him.

He throws the bat across the room, hitting Anna’s still body. He’s back on me, precum dripping from his hard cock. He spreads me wide and shoves himself in. Hard.

I’m still sore from making love to Kiev. Still sore from losing my virginity.

Father Weston drives himself in and out, in and out. I’m screaming and crying and want this to end. I can feel my skin tearing, can feel the blood pool inside me. The more I protest, the more I fight for my life, the more Father Weston enjoys his rape of me.

He groans, shuddering as he pulls out and comes on my face. He reaches down and strokes his cock, milking out every last drop. Then he smears it across my cheeks, down my neck, and over my breasts.

I stare up at him, my broken body one aching mass of agony.

Out of breath, he stands and pulls on his pants. Standing above me, he spits onto my stomach, looking at me like I’m nothing more than garbage. He runs a hand through his hair and moves into the hall.

“The Lord has bestowed me with the power to carry out his word,” he says loudly. “I can save. And...
I can punish
.”

I’m shivering, my mind blanking out. I feel everything yet nothing at the same time. Because there is only pain.

“Get the bath ready,” Father Weston says to someone. The floor vibrates, and Ginny stands over me.

I’m trembling, unable to move. Tears blur my vision, and I look up at her, silently pleading. There is no sympathy in her eyes. Instead there is anger. Disappointment.
Annoyance.

She had to get up from a peaceful night’s sleep and deal with me.

“Get up,” she says gruffly.

I can’t. Physically, my body has shut down. I cannot move.

“Get up.” She nudges me with her slipper-covered foot. “Now.”

Somehow, I find the resolve to get up.

“Go downstairs.”

Naked, shivering, and covered in cum, I follow her down to the first floor. Tears roll down my face, and I have to remind myself to breathe. One breath in, one breath out. Keep breathing so I can keep living.

Then I can help Kiev bring this place down. I can watch Father Weston burn, end-of-the-world-style.

“Here,” Ginny says and opens the door to the basement.

I’ve never been in the basement. It’s dark and unfinished. The stairs are rough wood beneath my chilled feet.

Light flickers across the last two steps. My feet hit the cold concrete, and I see Caroline standing by a large metal washbasin that is surrounded by candles. And now Father Weston is behind me.

“Get in,” he orders.

I want to protest. I want to hit him, attack him with everything I have. I want to run and hide. I want the blood to stop running down my legs. I want the pain to stop.

He closes his hands around my shoulders and shoves me forward. I fall, biting my lip, and taste blood. Again.

“Get in.”

I nod, trembling, and climb into the empty tub. Dust and grit stick to my feet, and spider webs break as I move inside. A match is lit and Father Weston lights a tall white candle that’s on a stand at the foot of the tub. Wax has melted then dried along its length, and I know I’m not the first to be in this metal tub.

Behind me, a faucet turns on with a rusty squeak. Then cold water spills into the tub.

I gasp, jumping up. My heart is beating so fast its echoing in my ears, pounding blood through my body so I can run.

But I can’t.

Father Weston and Ginny hold me down. Icy water rushes around me, so cold it steals my breath away. Panic sets in and I grab the sides of the metal washbasin. My slick skin slips off the edges, splashing in the icy water that is surrounding me. Ginny curls her fingers, nails biting into my flesh as she holds me down. I catch a glimpse of her face. She’s enjoying this, like she believes this will actually rid me of my sins.

“Dear Lord,” Father Weston begins. “Let the water wash away her sins. Let her be forgiven.”

“Amen,” Ginny and Caroline say in unison.

“Let go!” I shout, words coming out shaky from my uncontrollable shivering. “Please, stop!”

The tub fills fast and I’m shivering from water cold enough to hurt. Fear of freezing to death dances with the fear of drowning. Which will happen first? How long will either take? Who will tell my parents I’m dead?

“Let her be cleansed of wrongdoings,” Weston continues. “I ask of you, Lord, forgive this lost lamb!”

My body is going numb. The water is up to my stomach. Father Weston, Ginny, and Caroline begin praying.

What is wrong with you?

My teeth chatter too hard to open my mouth to speak. Why are they doing this? How can they think this is okay? How do they not see Father Weston is the one in need of serious forgiveness?

Ginny’s hands are still on my shoulders, still pushing me down to the bottom of the tub. I’m so cold, so numb, I can’t fight her anymore. The water rises fast, covering my breasts.

Another prayer is said. The water is to my chin. Ginny shoves down, trying to push my head under, but the tub isn’t deep enough to drown me the way I’m sitting. I remind myself to breathe. I’m so cold my body isn’t functioning, and I know it won’t take much for Ginny to hold me under the water.

A small stream of water bubbles over the edge of the metal tub and drips onto the floor in a small stream. I try to bend my legs up, try to get out of the water. Water spills, cascading onto the floor, and Caroline finally shuts if off. Ginny lets me go, knowing I’m too numb, too weak, to protest. She straightens up and moves to the side.

Father Weston moves in, holding one hand toward the ceiling like he’s reaching for heaven. He shakes his head, face crumpling in pain. He brings his hand to his heart and lowers his gaze to me.

“My little lamb,” he whispers and takes a step forward and extends his hand again. It lands on my shoulder with a gentle pat. Why is he putting on a show now? For Ginny and Caroline? Aren’t they past that point now? They have to know how insane Father Weston is.

Caroline has her eyes closed, silently praying. Ginny is looking at Father Weston like he’s God himself.

They are just as insane as he is.

“Audrey,” Father Weston starts and begins to push me under the icy water. “I ask forgiveness of your sins. I ask for repentance for your unholy ways.” He plunges me under.

I’m too cold—too numb to fight back.

“The Lord speaks directly to me,” he continues, “and I speak directly to him.”

I go under again. Stay under. I need air. Need to breathe. Father Weston takes a tangle of my hair and yanks me to the surface. My scalp screams in protest, but the sweet air makes me forget the pain. I gulp it in, knowing Father Weston isn’t done. I’m going under again, and I don’t know how long I’ll be there.

“Forgive this sinner. Forgive my lost lamb. Let her return to me, the shepherd. ” He pushes me down again, all the way to the bottom of the tub. Then he releases me, not pulling me up, but not holding me down anymore.