Insane

by Emery LeeAnn

  INSANE

  By: Emery LeeAnn

  2020©

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover by Creative Chaos Designs: Pre-Made Covers

  Formatting by Creative Chaos Designs

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet without the permission of the author, which is a violation of the International Copyright Law and subject the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real except where noted and authorized. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The product names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  ABOUT EMERY LEEANN

  OTHER BOOKS BY EMERY LEEANN

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to Donna Owens who not only is an amazing friend, but she allowed me to make her crazy in this book! Love you to pieces, woman!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mary, Katherine, Grace

  My name is Mary, Katherine, and Grace. You can use any one of those, I am all three. Of course, we don’t all speak at the same time, at least not out loud. We usually squabble amongst each other internally, but it’s a tight space, all our big personalities being stuck inside one head.

  From the outside I’m sure I look like a normal girl. Except you won’t see me. My Uncle keeps me locked in a barn. Convinced I am possessed. I mean seriously, if I was possessed, wouldn’t I be able to break free from the locks?

  I guess I come across as a little unnerving. I think it’s more the fact that I know I’m a multiple, most are not aware. We all live together, protecting each other.

  Most people only use a small percentage of their brains. For Multiples, we use a little more. It’s like we have a house set up in our mind with various rooms. In all the literature we have read, the goal is to convert all the personalities into one secular persona. We don’t understand that. Why would you want to do that?

  Mary, Grace and I are all special and unique. Without one of us, the others couldn’t survive. Having one personality, well, would be dreadfully boring.

  Mary, she is the quiet, timid one of us. She tries to keep us out of trouble although we don’t know how effective she is in tempering us. She could recite the bible chapter by chapter, verse by verse. It had been ingrained in her soul; it’s tattooed on her bones.

  I’m Katherine. I’m the one who slid us into womanhood, got us through our first consensual sexual experience, and knows how to interact and hold an adult conversation. I’m mostly the one that talks and acts on our behalf, although I don’t like it, but Mary is too shy and Grace, well, Grace is something else entirely.

  Grace. You really don’t want to meet Grace. She is the protector, our guardian. She is fierce, loyal and true. She also has an appetite for pain, especially if she’s the one inflicting it. Most of all, she will cut you, gut you and feed your brain to the birds just for glancing at us.

  We have read all the multiple books we could get our hands on to try and figure out what, if anything, we are supposed to do. That poor girl Sybil, could you imagine? That many personalities? We laughed and chattered about trying to squeeze that many into us for days. It’s hard enough having the three of us in here, let alone having seventeen. How many personalities can one person have?

  The weird thing for us is, we simply don’t remember. We think our host body has a separate name, like we have a fourth persona. The one who is the body we are in, we live in and will probably die in. We can’t find it though, the fourth one, but that might be because we don’t remember anything before the age of seven. We discuss it often; we assume we were hurt and abused. We don’t know it to be fact, but it’s a feeling in our gut that signals us toward the truth. Maybe that’s why Grace doesn’t speak a lot, and again, we assume that is why she was created; to take the abuse and save us.

  Our names, those stemmed from our family being very religious. I know our Uncle is. He stands outside the barn and reads from his bible everyday trying to cleanse us. At first, we actually listened. We wanted out of the barn; we didn’t want to be chained up. As time passed, Grace and I stopped listening, only Mary paid attention. By now we are certain, he has no intention of letting us out.

  We had lived in harmony with him for over a decade with no problems. Then my aunt passed away. A month later, Mary happened to be the one in the light, when he tried to put his hand down her shirt. Said we should pay him some kind of rent for living in his house. Mary got scared, tried to push him away. He slapped her hard across the face. Grace pushed her out of the light, threw him on the floor and had a knife to his neck. We calmed her down and she let him up.

  Unfortunately, he went to his room, grabbed his shotgun, and hustled us out to the barn. Said he saw the devil looking out at him. That actually made Grace smile.

  So here I sit wondering, how do we get out of here, and what the hell do we do, when we do get out of here? There’s no doubt in my mind that we will be freed; we will work hard to make that happen. We can’t depend on anybody to save us, we must save ourselves.

  Maybe if we knew what or who abused us it would be different, I don’t know. But since we don’t, we are quite happy to be together.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Uncle Wilk

  I took that girl in after her whore of a momma let all those men use and abuse her. She had been beaten, bruised, and broken when we took her in. My Martha and I did everything we could to give her a good life. We knew she would be messed up in her head, who wouldn’t be after all of that?

  She has lived comfortably for the past ten years. Now that Martha has died and moved on to the heavens above, I am lonely. I wasn’t going to hurt her, I just wanted to show her how she could help out around the house. There was no need for my bed to be cold if there was a grown woman in my home. She refused; one moment she was pure and innocent, bible verses coming out of her sweet mouth, then the next she was vicious, and I almost lost my neck.

  I swear though, it’s like that girl is speaking in tongues. She has different voices and dialects. Something has finally settled in and made her plumb crazy. I didn’t have a choice but to put her in my barn. If someone found her, I would just explain that she attacked me with a knife, and I didn’t want to see her arrested. I mean, one look at her and anyone would believe she is possessed.

  I started my daily sermon to her after I walked out to the barn. I had brought her dinner with me. If she wanted to eat, she would listen to the gospel first.

  “A whore is a bottomless pit; a loose woman can get you in deep trouble fast. She’ll take you for all you’ve got; she’s worse than a pack of thieves.” I began when I heard her tiny voice say, “Proverbs 23:27 and 28.”r />
  The child did know her verses. If she could only behave in the house, in my bed, properly, we could live in harmony. I would make her an honest woman. We could wed. No one around here would say anything about that.

  “Now concerning the matters about which you wrote: ‘It is good for a man not to have sexual relations with a woman.’ But because of the temptation to sexual immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise, the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.” Smiling I took a deep breath as I heard her crying softly inside the door. “That was 1 Corinthians 7:1-5. I would’ve made a fine husband for you. I can be still, if you can learn how to behave.”

  Taking her dinner over to the door, I unlatched the top flap and dumped a bowlful of the kibble inside. Some might call it harsh that I was feeding her dog food, but if you act like a bitch, you get treated like one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mary, Katherine, Grace

  “I’m cutting his balls off.” Grace spit out. She didn’t talk often but when she did, it was usually a gem like this.

  “He is an old fool.” I tried to tell her to calm her down. I didn’t want her upsetting Mary anymore than she already was. Mary was sweet and innocent; those words would never be heard coming from her. She also got upset easily and I was always the one to calm her down.

  Looking around to see if there was anything we could scavenge, I tried to bring a solution to this impossible situation. “We have a water hose, so we won’t suffer from dehydration for no—”

  “Unless he turns the water off.” Grace mumbled interrupting my train of thought. Boy, she was full of it tonight.

  “You aren’t helping.” I admonished her as Mary started to cry.

  Grace wrapped Mary up in her arms and took her from the light so I could try to find something, anything, besides the dog food to eat.

  Walking every corner of the barn, it seemed hopeless. Then I saw a gopher. It was chewing on something in the corner. Summoning Grace, I showed her the critter, and the pair of hedge clippers. She came forward and I slid out so she could secure us a meal.

  When she summoned me back, I had put Mary to sleep, and there was a cleaned animal in front of me. We hadn’t figured out how to make fire yet so we had to eat it raw. Still, it was better than the dog food.

  Drinking a ton of water to get the blood taste out of our mouth, it occurred to me that maybe I should fill some jugs or any container I could find with water, just in case Grace was right.

  After filling anything available with the precious liquid, I laid down on a pile of hay, and we drifted off to sleep.

  The knocking at the door the next day woke us up.

  “Get up, whore.” Uncle Wilk yelled. “Are you ready to behave and be a good wife to me?”

  Wife? What the fuck was he thinking? We couldn’t be his wife. We were his niece. Maybe I could reason with him.

  “Uncle Wilk,” I began, “I know you are lonely but you know it’s against the law to marry your kin. What would God say?”

  I could hear him swear outside. “Until you are ready to claim your wedding bed, you will remain locked up.”

  “Wives, be subject to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.” He shouted out.

  Colossians 3:18, Mary whispered. She was scared, positive we would end up dying in here.

  “Psalms 144:1 says that just as David trained for war in order to bring God the glory, we too should take time to train in the areas in which God has gifted us so that we can also bring Him glory in all we do.” His voice sung out. “You know to bring glory, all you need to do, is be a good and faithful wife. Obey, honor, and listen to everything I say.” He ranted.

  Trying to think quick, I wrangled us all up. “Why not agree to it?”

  “Fuck no.” Grace hissed.

  “No, listen,” I tried to reason, “as soon as he releases us we will get out of here, far from this town, for good.”

  They could hear him still rambling. “No.” Grace was adamant.

  Shaking our head, I knew there was no reasoning with her. Another bowl of food was thrust in the hole. Sighing, I knew it was going to be another long night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Katherine

  The next week was pretty much the same. A lot of scripture reading while Mary would whisper out the verse. As bad as we hated the old man, we were glad for her. She loved being in a church setting. While this wasn’t the proverbial church she wanted, she drew us pictures in our mind so we could try to make it better for her.

  “I will find some sticks and twine to make crosses.” I said to Grace and Mary.

  Grace nodded from the background. “What about the rolled-up tarps? Can we use those as table covers?” We nodded in excitement.

  We were shackled at the ankles by a silver tow chain, so we weren’t able to access every area of the barn.

  Looking around at what we could reach, we made a makeshift church to make our Mary happy. Being caged in here, had made her shrink from the light. If we could make her a place of worship, she may just come out and talk.

  We didn’t have an actual bible, but we knew Mary didn’t actually need one. She only needed someone to listen to her.

  We could let her preach to us. It wasn’t our favorite thing, Mary was the religious one, but she was young and we hated it when she was sad.

  I fashioned the crosses together, hanging them from nails I saw sticking out. I made a bigger one, then let Grace come to the light to get the tarp and lay it out like a table. She placed the big cross on the tarp in the middle. Smiling, Grace decided to make Mary a surprise. She gathered a handful of hay, and twisted it around until it looked like a crude doll. Making things pretty was not Grace’s style, but for Mary, she would move mountains. We both would.

  Pulling Mary into the light, she squealed with delight at her makeshift church as she sat down, and picked her dolly up hugging her. “I will name you Polly. Polly would you like to have bible school?”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Mary stayed in the light holding Polly and having Sunday School. We hadn’t seen her this happy since our aunt was alive.

  We were content to sit back and watch her flourish. She usually chose to stay out of the light, letting us take care of things. Her little voice reciting the gospel was so damn adorable. As she finished reading her imaginary bible, she reached down to knock a spider off of her ankle, finding not only the little insect, but noticing the chains that had us tied up. Looking around, she once again came back to the realization that we were not free, we were shackled by a belligerent old man. She crumpled away from the light in a fetal position in the dark, sad again. She should be in a real church, not chained up.

  Grace punched a hole in the door by the feed opening. It cracked a little. Punching it more only produced bruised fists, and splinters in our skin. I finally reigned her in, convincing her Mary needed her.

  Trying to keep us safe, was not always easy. My aunt understood our condition. My uncle, on the other hand, argued that we were faking. Then one day when Mary was out, he talked to her. It surprised him so much, he was convinced we were possessed.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t make it better, his comment about us being a devil worshiper, made Mary cry and brought Grace out. It all went bad from there.

  My aunt could always smooth things over, but since she died, my uncle has let the power over us go to his head.

  We were like a caged wild animal by the end of week three. Everyone was cranky, and bickering. We were feeding off of animal meat if we were lucky, and if not, we ate bugs. No way would we touch his dog food, to the point of sh
oving it back out the door at him.

  We needed a plan. Mary loved the scripture, but Grace and I, we were wearing thin at hearing him preach about obeying him as our husband. The man had lost his damned mind. We decided it was time to take action.

  The next week, we had to proverbially bite our tongues, and speak nicely to the man who had kept us caged. I stayed in the light, letting Mary rest, and Grace stay in the background until it was time to scare him.

  Hiding the hedge shears, so he wouldn’t take our only weapon away, we asked him to come in and talk to us. Finally, at the end of the week, I had sweet talked enough, convincing him how nice and obedient I would be to him now, and how sorry I truly was. The plan was to get him in there, knock him out, and take the keys from him to unlock this cuff from our ankle so we could run away. Grace would be in the light for this. She promised I could trust her.

  Uncle Wilk shuffled in, sneering at us. “You sure do have a stench about you.” His face wrinkled up in a scowl.

  Smiling, I tried to not snap at him. “Yes, well I’m sorry about that. Maybe we could go in the house, and I could bathe myself then bathe you.”

  His eyes lit up when I smiled at him. “Tell me what else a faithful wife is supposed to do to serve her husband.” He said evenly, salivating as he looked me up and down.

  To serve him? As if. He really was going into senility. I was glad it was me out here talking and not Grace. Breathing deeply, I hoped I sounded convincing.

  “Well I would cook all of your meals of course, having your plate sitting on the table for you. I would rub your tired feet at the end of each day,” I paused letting that sink in, “I would keep your house spotless and clean since all I would be doing was being at home waiting for my husband, like a good wife.”

  He reached down to readjust the bulge in front of his overalls as he licked his lips. “And what do you plan to do in the bedroom?” He scooted a little closer, still holding his member in his hand.