Flagrant: An Inferno World Novella

by Ally Vance

  As I walk, I ponder on what I’ve learned about myself. I knew Gregory wasn’t my real dad; he came into Mom’s life after I was born, but finding out that the name I’ve carried all these years is a lie was a big shock, and it’s given me hope. I’m not sure who or what I’ll discover when I reach my destination, but at the very least I may get some answers. Even if I find nothing, I’m going to build myself a new life away from the memories. After narrowly escaping from Gregory, I don’t dare go back there anyway. With no one to take his anger out on, it’s only going to fester and grow before exploding uncontrollably, and I don’t want to be around when it does. A prickle of sadness snags at my heart at the few happy memories I’m leaving behind, but in recent years, the bad ones far outweigh the good.

  I’ve hardly taken a break all night, but even though I’ve carried on moving, I’ve slowed my pace. I’m not stupid and didn’t want to have an accident and hurt myself in the dark. The rising sun turns the sky a pinkish-red hue, and I take in the pretty spread of light skimming across the wispy clouds. I let out a heavy sigh and force my legs to keep going, but I’m sluggish with exhaustion and making very little progress. I’ve not eaten or drunk anything since yesterday, and I haven’t slept at all in over twenty-four hours.

  Relief floods through me as I turn a sharp bend in the road and see my destination ahead, finally. A last burst of energy surges through me, giving me a second wind, and I slowly jog down the hill into the town. I just make it to the bottom when I hear the sound of a truck approaching from the other direction. Just in time, I dodge out of the way, landing in the shallow ditch by the side of the road. I manage to catch a glimpse of the driver as he passes unapologetically by, and I frown when he continues on his journey without stopping. Fucker nearly killed me. Shaking my head, I carry on into town.

  By the time I finally arrive at the town, I’m completely famished, so I head to the nearest cafe for coffee and some breakfast. It doesn’t take long before I’m digging into a delicious, freshly toasted bagel, lightly spread with butter, and a coffee that’s both hot and rejuvenating. I needed this. I order a second helping of both and before long they’re gone too, and I’m feeling so much better.

  As I begin my third cup of coffee, I pull the photos from my backpack and stare at them. The picture of Mom with me when I was young makes my heart ache, and the longer I look at it, the more it hurts…I miss her so much. I slam it face down on the table, ignoring the glowering looks from a couple of elderly women at the neighboring table. Next, I pick up the one of the man; it draws me in like a black hole. I sip at my coffee while transfixed by the dark eyes penetrating me from a mere photograph. My breath catches in my chest, and I swallow hard against the pressure, gulping down air. I’m here to find my daddy, but the longer I stare at the photo, taking in the ruggedly handsome features, the neat black hair, and the slight smirk that makes me want to squirm in my seat, the less I want to find those answers, and the more I just want to find him.

  My head is spinning by the time I manage to tear my gaze away from his face. The remnants of my coffee are cold, and the older women from the next table are gone. How long have I been sitting here? I glance up at the clock and realize I’ve been here for over an hour and have spent virtually the whole time staring at the image of the stranger from my mom’s past. Getting up, I feel the ache in my legs return. I’m almost hobbling as I make my way to the counter to pay and ask for directions to the address listed on my birth certificate.

  Destination and directions firmly in mind, I repeat them over and over as I walk the distance on tired, aching legs, letting my determination and the coffee be the fuel that carries me onward. After what seems like forever and feeling close to dropping where I stand, I arrive at an old house with the faded number I’m looking for displayed on its worn, wooden front door. Taking a deep breath, I slowly venture through the gate to the property and down the path that’s sprouting weeds between the paved slabs. By the time I reach the doorstep with a cracked flowerpot next to it, my heart is pounding. I hope I can find some of the answers I’m looking for, otherwise this journey will have been for nothing.

  I knock on the door and wait. After a few moments, the door opens and an elderly lady appears and stands in the shadows at the threshold. She moves closer, and my heart sinks when I realize she’s an older version of Gregory. She even has the same murkiness to her eyes, and the familiar stench of alcohol and cigarettes wafts from her.

  “Aren’t you Kayley Richards little girl? You’re the spitting image of her. My worthless son left his momma behind to go and raise you. What the hell are you doing on my property? I don’t want you here,” she hurls out at me, and I take a step back in alarm.

  “I-I came here to find out who my real daddy is. S-Sorry, I’m going to go,” I stammer.

  A knowing look crosses the old woman’s face, and her eyes narrow on me before her lips twist up into a wide smile, revealing yellowed, cracked teeth. Inwardly shuddering, I go to take another step back, but she lunges out, and grabbing my arm with a fierce, bony grip, she drags me into her fetid house, locking the door behind us.

  Chapter Four

  The farther into the house I’m dragged, the more I want to hack up a lung like a pack-a-day smoker because that’s exactly how I feel when breathing in the stale, smoky air.

  “I’ll go. You don’t have to bring me in here. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I cough, testing her hold and trying to resist her, but the old bat is stronger than she looks.

  “Nonsense, you’re family,” she chides, drawing out the word family in a way that raises goosebumps all over my skin.

  She relentlessly tugs me along behind her and takes me to one of the most depressing sitting rooms I’ve ever seen. The walls are stained yellow with age and years of cigarette smoke, and the whole room is dank and dingy. I feel sick, but I’m not entirely sure it’s only because of the smell. A heavy sense of dread has settled over me like a layer of dust, and I want to choke on it all.

  “Sit,” she rasps in a thick tone, and I glance at the old couch that’s seen better days before reluctantly settling on the very edge of the seat.

  Letting out an impatient huff at my hesitance, she shakes her head before shuffling across the room to a phone so old it’s practically obsolete. She picks up the receiver and dials a number. I can’t hear what she’s saying in a hushed tone with the TV playing in the background, but the repeated glances she keeps sending my way put me even more on edge.

  Once the call ends, she leaves me and walks into her kitchen, situated across the hallway from where I‘m sitting. Through the open doorways, I can see her watching me like a hawk eyeing up its prey, and my skin crawls with unease. It takes what seems like an age for her to boil a kettle and come back through with three mugs of coffee on a tray. We haven’t spoken in several minutes.

  "Are you expecting company?" I ask, desperately seeking an excuse to get out of here as soon as possible, preferably before I have to drink what she's prepared for us.

  “No,” she replies, but I sense that she’s not being truthful.

  She carefully places each of the mugs on stained coasters. She didn’t ask me if I wanted a coffee or how I like it, but I can safely say it’s not the way she’s prepared it for me. She sits down in a worn out, sagging armchair opposite me and lifts her mug to her lips.

  “Drink,” she insists, gesturing at the coffee sitting untouched in front of me.

  I don’t want to drink it, but I don’t think she’s about to let me out of here any time soon, and the longer I sit staring with disdain and dismay at the hideous looking offering in front of me, the worse I can tell it’s going to be. Reluctantly, I lift the mug to my lips and take a mouthful. The hot liquid scalds my tongue, and I can only hope it will dull my sense of taste for the rest of the drink because it tastes vile.

  Then I hear something that makes my heart stall and my blood run cold.

  "Mom!" Gregory's voice booms through the house in time with the slam
of a door, and I jump in my seat, alert and tense.

  Shit! The old bat called Gregory, and it sounds like he's actually sober for a change. Without him in his usual inebriated state, he'll be sharper, and I’ll have less chance of getting away from him now than I did back at my mom's house.

  I'm frozen to the spot. My eyes stare unblinking at the entrance to the hallway as I wait for him to approach. My gaze slips to his mother, and the malice in her expression unfreezes me. I leap to my feet and bolt out of the sitting room. Flying into the hallway, I hope and pray for the element of surprise, but instead crash straight into my stepdad.

  He wraps his waiting arms around my body, and I let out a piercing scream as I start to thrash in his hold, trying to kick at any part of him I can reach. His grip doesn’t slacken, instead tightening until I feel my ribs start to scream under the pressure and my shouts weaken into a cough as he crushes me against his chest.

  “Fia, I’ve been looking for you. You ran off when I was trying to talk to you,” he growls into my ear.

  He may be sober, but the stench of alcohol hasn’t faded from his breath, and his clothes still bear the unpleasant smell of sweat, booze, and cigarettes. I shouldn’t have come here. He takes a step back, bringing me along with him. I dig my heels into the filthy, old hallway carpet but fail to get any purchase and find myself helpless against his superior strength. I wriggle and struggle, digging my nails into his skin, but it’s to no avail.

  “Stop fighting me, Fia. I just want to talk to you,” he bites out, shaking me when I continue to fight.

  Taking advantage of the space he’s put between us, I slam my knee into his groin. Gregory lets out an agonized grunt and doubles over, knees buckling, but he doesn’t relinquish his hold, and I’m pulled down with him, a yelp ripping from my chest as I’m now pinned beneath his weight. Frantically, I try to buck him off, rolling and squirming underneath him.

  “Look at the two of you together!” Gregory’s mom shouts, her face twisted with a sick glee, and he looks up at her with disgust.

  “Mom, how I discipline my stepdaughter is none of your business,” he snaps at her, getting to his feet.

  She scoffs, “Getting as bad as the rest of the family are you? Tried to fight it, but when Kayley Richards popped out one of our own, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the pull.”

  “What?” I gasp, choking on the smell emanating from the carpet that’s now too close to my face for comfort.

  I drag myself up onto my hands and knees and begin to crawl slowly away from the pair of them.

  “Never told ya, did she?” the old bat laughs, the sound reedy and thin.

  “Told me what?” I ask, but Gregory cuts her off before she can answer.

  “Get out, Mom. I need to talk with my stepdaughter,” he barks, and reaching down, he grabs me by the ankle and yanks me back toward him.

  I yelp and grab hold of one of the wooden posts supporting the banister, but it snaps in my hand, and Gregory continues to drag me by my ankle farther into the house. I viciously kick out at him with my free leg, but when he lets go of me, I crash to the floor. His mom is cackling in the background, and I’m fucking terrified.

  “Get that girl under control, Gregory. I’m going to make dinner,” she says, clearly bored of watching us grapple with each other while I try desperately to escape from him, and from this house.

  “If you leave now, you’ll never find out who your daddy is or learn the answers to all those other questions spinning around in that head of yours,” Gregory growls, and I hesitate long enough for him to take advantage.

  A blow to the back of my head sends me crashing to the floor, and before I black out, I hear the faint raspy voice of Gregory’s mom saying, “There was no need to hit her. I drugged her coffee. She’d have been unconscious in another few minutes. Get her upstairs to one of the bedrooms, and for goodness sake make sure she can’t escape. Last thing we need is her getting out.”

  Chapter Five

  Voices speaking next to me filter through a haze. My head hurts as I try to focus on their words without letting them know I’m awake.

  “You’re such an idiot for letting her get this far. What if she’d found him?” Gregory’s mom hisses from somewhere near my feet.

  My wrists are bound, and I feel vulnerable. Who knows what they did to me while I was unconscious?

  “She couldn’t have. He’s careful not to reveal his whereabouts, and it’s not like he’d admit to anyone who he is,” Gregory snorts.

  “Well, if he somehow discovers what you’ve done, keeping his daughter from him and now holding her captive, you’d better not bring that shitstorm to my door. When you ran off with Kayley and helped her to conceal the pregnancy, you signed your own damn death certificate. You told him the baby was born dead, yet here she is, all grown up and large as fucking life,” she retorts.

  “I can handle him, and I can handle her. Neither of them needs to know the truth about each other’s existence. Considering his warped idea of the meaning of family, she’s better off with me,” Gregory snaps.

  “Ha! You can barely handle your teenage stepdaughter, yet you think you can take on Luke? He got the genes, the strength, the looks...and the darkness from the other side of his family,” she laughs, wheezing, and descending into a fit of coughing.

  “Shut up, you’ll wake her,” Gregory scolds.

  I feel his clammy hand on my neck. His fingers press lightly against the side of my throat, checking my pulse. I force myself to remain still, but I’m sure he must be able to feel my heart racing. The knowledge that my family history is within my grasp and that my daddy instils a fearful wariness in my captors sends a thrill through me. I’m fighting not to show any signs of my joy, especially at the thought of Gregory getting his ass handed to him on a platter.

  I hear the sound of footsteps getting fainter, moving away from me. The door, to what I assume is a bedroom, creaks loudly before being clicked shut. I’m alone...I hope. I’m too scared to open my eyes and find out. Instinct is telling me that danger still lurks within the room.

  A hand touches my leg and I jump.

  “I knew you weren’t asleep,” Gregory mutters, loud enough for me to hear.

  I open my eyes, and I’m met with his leering gaze, smirking down at me. I’d scream, but what good would it do when I know the only other person who could hear me won’t help.

  “Silly girl, just like Kayley. I helped her hide from your daddy after he knocked her up. She told him she miscarried, but it was a lie. He was so angry when she ran. She didn’t know what kind of man she’d given herself to. He always was a charming sonofabitch,” he laughs, running his hand lightly up and down my leg.

  I quiver, my breath escaping in short, sharp pants.

  “Let me go, I don’t want to know anymore about my mom and daddy.”

  “Yes, you do. Why else would you be going through your mom’s things and turn up here of all places? I think it burns you up inside; the not knowing is eating at your soul, and it’s starting to blacken and crumble. You can’t stand it,” he hisses, gripping my leg tighter until I gasp. “The best part is he doesn’t even know you exist, and for the second time in my life, I have something he desperately wants, only this time, he doesn’t even know it.”

  “Stop. Please stop, Mom wouldn’t want this,” I plead, trying to pull my leg out of his grasp.

  My hands are tied to the bed frame, and I’m lying flat on my back, unable to do much except try and kick out, but he’s holding me too tightly. As a tear slips from the corner of my eye, his hand continues its journey upward over the denim jeans I’m wearing. He doesn’t stop until his hand reaches the juncture of my thighs.

  “I wonder how he’d feel if he found out that I got to taste you first? If he knew I got to fuck you hard and fill you up before he had the chance to destroy your virginity with his dick,” he mumbles, and I frown in confusion. He must be speaking about someone else.

  I can smell the fresh booze on Gre
gory’s breath. He’s drunk again, as is the norm with my stepdad. The drink is his mistress, the one thing he loves above all else, even more than my mom when she was alive. His fingers fumble with the zipper on my jeans. When I attempt to twist away, he easily flattens me back down onto the bed with a hand on my stomach, holding me in place. He pulls at my jeans and panties, trying to lower them, but he can’t get them down past my hips, and I pray to whatever God there may be that he fails to follow through with his threat.

  I’m crying, loud ugly sobs, as he climbs onto the bed, forces my legs as far apart as my clothing will allow, and slides his hand into my panties. He pushes his fat fingers into my dry pussy, and his mouth lands on my clit, sloppily licking at whatever exposed skin he can reach with his foul tongue. When he finally stops, he moves up until his face is in line with mine and frees his limp dick from his pants. I scream, long and loud, as he attempts to get himself hard, and he clamps a hand down over my mouth.

  “Shut it, you’ll bring my mom back up here,” he grits out, words slurring between his bared teeth.

  His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries and fails to get his dick hard. Eventually, he accepts defeat and tucks it away before straightening up.

  “Damn, guess fucking the family isn’t what gets me going after all. Your taste is sweet, little Greene, just like your momma. Too bad your daddy fucked that relationship up before he could lay his eyes on you,” he sneers, staggering from the room, and slamming the door shut behind him.

  Chapter Six

  As soon I’m alone, I grimace down at my unzipped jeans and partially exposed pussy. There’s no way I can escape, and I’m feeling despondent. I know in my heart that my mom wouldn’t want me to give up hope, though, and something tells me my daddy would be disappointed too. I shrug off the heaviness threatening to drown me, and angle my head to better see the restraints binding me to the bed in this damned hellhole. It looks like strips of material have been used, and I awkwardly twist my body to reach them with my mouth.