“Okay, okay, um, let me get Peyton and we’ll go,” I tell him while I walk into our daughter’s nursery. I gave Peyton a little bit of Benadryl before she went to sleep, hoping it would help keep her quiet while we run out of the compound. I know enough to know a screaming baby would alert anyone who’s awake, so hopefully we won’t run into that issue. After all, there are so many more obstacles for us to jump through.
After I have Peyton wrapped up in a blanket, I head into the living room and see Eric is standing by the door with his jacket on waiting for me. “We’ll have to be quick about this,” he mutters lowly, like the seriousness of what we’re about to do is finally settling in.
“I know, and we will. We’ll get out of this, Eric.”
He turns to look toward me, scans over my body. “You’re sure you want to do this? You want to leave?”
Immediately I nod. “I can’t stay here anymore . . . I can’t . . . not with . . . not with the t-things . . .” I lose track of my words as a chill runs through me at the memories.
A hand over my mouth. Cloth being wrapped around my eyes so I couldn’t see. The hand being replaced with duct tape, and then hands . . . so many hands going over my body. It was hands . . . and then it was other things . . . then my clothes were being cut off and . . .
Eric’s fingers against my cheeks pull me back into reality as he wipes my tears away. “You were thinking about what they did again, weren’t you?”
I don’t nod, but I do lock eyes with him.
“I told you not to think about it. You were chosen, Vanna. It was to be viewed as an honor, not a trauma.” Eric said he understood my feelings after it happened, how he knew I was afraid, petrified of even leaving our small two-bedroom house. But in times like this I don’t think he understands at all. It’s almost like he’s defending them for their actions.
Instead of replying I hold Peyton in my arms and walk out the door. Eric follows closely behind me and we make our way through the hole in the fence. I hand Peyton over to him while I squeeze through and then he passes her to me and I hold her while he makes his way through, then covers up the hole with some old shrubbery so it doesn’t look suspicious.
“I hate it when you act like it was okay for them to do it,” I tell Eric as we make our way through the field, now a good distance away from the compound. Kansas has never felt like home to me, but that place . . . it felt like Hell. I might be half a mile away from it, and still it feels like my body is now relaxing, knowing I’ve made it out of such a horrid place.
“They were elders who chose you, Vanna—”
Lights surround us and my heartbeat intensifies while an unsettling feeling sinks deep in the pit of my stomach. I clench Peyton to my chest tighter and rush off to the right, but I’m swiftly grabbed by the back of my hair and my precious baby girl is ripped from my arms.
“No, no, no! Eric!” I scream my husband’s name. “They have Peyton, they have—” and it’s that moment I realize the person who’s holding Peyton in his arms is none other than my husband.
It all sinks in, how he betrayed me . . . what he did here . . .
How could he do this?
“You never take a child that belongs to our family from us, Vanna,” Matthais states with an authoritative voice. He’s the leader of these lunatics. I call them lunatics because I’d never call them people. They kill women who are unmarried and dress provocative, those who they deem are filth that walks the earth. Their favorite way to end their lives is to drown them, believing they’re cleansing their souls and the Earth as well. Ironic how these fascists kill women for being promiscuous but will rape wives of their members. Yet the wives are told it is a great honor.
It’s anything but that.
It’s horror.
“How could you do this to me?” I question my husband, finding it difficult to swallow this pill.
“I’d never do anything to harm our daughter, you foolish woman. How stupid are you? She’s in the safest place she could be here on the compound, not out in the open with all the violence . . . all the sick people out there who’d want to hurt her. How could you fall into such a doubtful mind, Vanna? You were such a believer, and now . . . and now you’re nothing but a void, a shell of a woman I used to love so much.”
Tears stream down my face, not only at what Eric’s done, but what he’s condemning our daughter to. I know it’s more than likely I won’t make it out of here alive, but to force her into this life, into a life where she’ll eventually be raped too when she’s of age . . . it sickens me. There’s no way I could’ve stood back and let this happen to her. I needed to fight, and at least I tried . . . I only wish I tried harder.
Out of nowhere a strong throbbing sensation strikes at the back of my head and within moments my vision is blurred. Soon enough the darkness takes me.
Blinking my eyes repeatedly, it takes me a few moments for my vision to focus in on the scene around me. I tug my arm in an attempt to wipe the beading sweat off my face, but quickly realize I’m bound to the chair. Looking down, there’s duct tape wrapped over my mid-arm, confining me against the arms of what I believe is a wooden chair.
A drilling sound comes from my left and I instinctively turn to look at the sight, but as I turn my head my chair’s being turned in the direction of the sound. Instantly, I know I’m not alone in this room. The drilling sound comes to a sudden stop and I breathe in deeply through my nose. The eeriness flooding over me is enough to make me nauseous, so nauseous I could throw up right now.
I look through what appears to be glass and on the other side is a woman with light brown hair. She’s strapped down to some sort of medical chair and the straps remind me of what you’d see in the movies, especially those old school asylums.
The drilling sound suddenly comes back on at full force and the woman in the chair screams, thrashes her arms, legs, anything she can. It’s now, I realize her mouth is forced open with some sort of contraption, and the man in the room with her must be a dentist. Either that or he’s one of the people Matthias hires to torture people . . .
“Do you know what’s happening right now?” Matthias’ voice comes from behind me and a chill runs straight down my spine. Suddenly, the breath I took a few moments ago escapes me. I knew I wasn’t alone, but I had no idea it was him who was in this room with me.
“I don’t have a clue,” I tell him honestly, keeping my eyes fixated on the woman before me, even though the way she’s thrashing around is killing me. The last thing I want to do is watch this, whatever this is . . . but I won’t look at this sick man. I refuse to do such a thing.
“My friend in there is filing down her teeth, making them look identical to yours incase the investigators go that far.” His words come out callous, bone picking cold, enough to make a grown man grow nervous.
Matthias has some sort of plan, but what the plan consists of I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to know.
“Vanna, the woman in that room, she’s nothing but a sick individual, offering her body as a way to pay for her next meal. She will be put down soon enough, but I thought she looked quite similar to you . . . similar enough to work. I’ve even gone the extra mile and got a fake I.D. with your name on it attached with her photo, and when the investigators find her, they’ll believe it’s you that’s dead.”
Investigators? When they find her? What is Matthias getting at?
“What are you doing, Matthias?” The man loves nothing more than when people question him. I’m confident he gets some sort of ego boost from it all.
Matthias turns another light on in the room and as he does his sneer tells me whatever he’s about to do is sinister.
“You still have to ask?” he questions, but it comes out more like a cackle. “I’m killing you, Vanna, without even touching a hair on your head. You wanted to leave our group, you wanted to take a child of ours back out into the filth ridden world? Well, this is my punishment for your selfishness. You can never speak of our loyal servants, even if you
tried no one would believe you. After all, you’re dead.” Matthias stops speaking and looks through the glass where the man has put down his instruments. The woman’s screams have turned into exhausted moans and Matthias walks up to the glass, banging his fists against it three times.
His man on the other side bends down and picks up a jug of kerosene, slowly begins to pour it over the woman, and then pulls out a box of matches from his back pocket. He backs up into the corner of the room and lights a match, tossing it on the woman and her body lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
She screams louder than I’ve heard her before, though they quickly die down. Even her limbs stop moving and she doesn’t continue thrashing. Her body is simply still and the man on the other side picks up some sort of bucket and pours it over her. It looks like powder, but I have no idea what it could be . . .
“You won’t be able to touch us, Vanna, not now, not ever—”
My heart beats harder than it ever has before as I sit up on the bed. I put my hand over my chest and breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm myself down after the worst of my memories comes flooding back.
They call it post-traumatic stress disorder, but even the words seem like they aren’t painful enough for the agony that comes with it. I’ve tried to bury the pain with alcohol, marijuana, even food, coffee, anything I felt like at some point it could help. The issue is that it doesn’t, nothing helps and I highly doubt anything will help until I have Peyton back in my arms.
Glancing over at my phone, I tap on it and see it’s only four-fifty in the morning. Sucking in another heavy breath, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and rise. There isn’t any way I’ll be getting sleep after that, so I’d best get up and at least make myself useful.
I head down the stairs and enter the kitchen, but I can’t be in here for more than five minutes before the distinctive sound of feet on the stairwell comes from the hallway. God, maybe I shouldn’t have come down. The last thing I want to do is talk to anyone this damn early, especially before coffee.
Chapter Five
Ricochet
Pulling my arm over my head I stretch and get ready for the day. I don’t remember hearing my alarm go off so I roll over and grab my phone, realizing I could’ve had five more minutes of blissful sleep. Fuck, whatever. I get my ass out of bed, throw on some fresh gym clothes and head downstairs. Every morning I have the same routine, I get my ass up, throw on some new clothes, have a nice hot cup of coffee, and head to the gym around the corner.
Coming down the stairs I notice the light in the kitchen is on, which is odd for this time of day. It’s early, and the only person who’s ever up this early is Boss when Destiny’s having a bad night. Though, she hasn’t had one of those nights in a really long time. Destiny’s out of that nasty habit now thank goodness, but toddlers should be, I guess. Hell if I know, I don’t have kids. She makes me want to have them. The sort of happiness I see on Cowboy and Tala’s faces, when I get the opportunity to watch from afar, as they look at her . . . it must be somethin’ really good, somethin’ I eventually want to try.
Turning the corner, the first thing I see is the color of her bright hair. She’s sitting at the island, hunched up with a hand over her forehead. I don’t say anything at first while I make my way over to the coffee pot, open the cupboards, and pull out a coffee filter and some grounds. I still don’t say a word, ignoring the massive elephant in the room while I start the coffee and lean against the counter.
Now, as I look at her, both hands are over her forehead and she’s breathing in and out roughly through her nose. I want to let it be, but let’s face it, I’ve never been that type of dude. The only ones who ignore shit right in front of their faces are pussies.
“Morning,” I keep my tone casual, like normal, and wait for her response. I don’t take my eyes off her body, and quickly enough she’s responding to me.
“Morning,” it’s one word, but I’ll take it.
“Coffee should be done in a few minutes,” I say matter-of-factly, carefully assessing the situation in front of me.
“Cool.” Her tone is so cold, and her voice is gravelly, like she’s parched or she’s fighting back the urge to bust out into tears before my very eyes. I’d bet on the latter.
“What’s going on with you?” I cut straight to the point, waiting for some sort of response. A few moments pass by and I still don’t get it, so I speak up again, only this time I clear my throat, “Venom, what the hell is going on?”
She moves her hands from her face and stares right at me. “Nothing.”
“You’ve never been a bad liar until now,” I’m blunt, but I get straight to the point.
She pinches her lips together and I don’t miss the way she curses under her breath. While she’s making her frustration clear, I don’t give a flying fuck. I want to get to the bottom of this.
“Just leave it alone, will you?”
“Not gonna happen. I’ve bit my tongue for a few days and I’m not going to ignore something happening blatantly right in front of my eyes. You’ve been drinking more, sleeping less. You’re snapping at the people who care about you . . . what for? What the fuck is going on?” I really wish I knew her name, that I could pull it out of a hat but I don’t know that about her. Hell, I don’t think any of us do. After she first came here, I brought it up to Boss, but Boss told me it didn’t matter what her past was, or if she wanted to keep things from us, how it was a safe place and she could keep whatever demons she had in the past right where they were. It’s insane. Venom is as close to me as Emerson is and yet I don’t even know her fucking name.
“Nothing is going on. I’m just tired. I told you already.”
“Bullshit. Something’s going on and you’re not talking to anyone. How are you even getting it out?” At this point my tone’s getting nastier as I’m now getting frustrated. She could’ve just told me and I might’ve been able to help her somehow, but instead she’s only getting more and more upset, more guarded.
“It’s my business, Ricochet. If you don’t like it then oh well,” Venom snaps in my direction and the coffee beeps at the same time, signaling it’s ready.
I turn around and get her a cup before getting one for myself, then go and hand one off to her. She leaves the cup on the island for a minute before taking it, and while I’m aggravated as hell with her, it is a peace offering of sorts.
I stand while she sits and we both sip on our coffees. After a few minutes, I think we’ve both calmed down enough to speak normally. “If you’re not gonna talk to me about it, will you at least get your energy out somehow?”
Venom raises her brows. “Yeah, and how do you suggest I do that?”
I shrug my shoulders and take a sip of coffee. “I don’t know. A fucking workout? Something to get your heart rate up and some sweat goin’.”
“I’m not fucking you,” Venom immediately says.
“When did I ever suggest that? Jesus. I mean, you need a workout. Fuck. You finish your coffee and then I wanna take you somewhere.”
Thankfully she didn’t put up a fight when it came to this. She finished her damn coffee, changed her outfit and met me back downstairs. Now we’re walking down the street and I’m about to take her to the one place where I find solace. Some people go to church, or temple. Not me. I come here—the gym.
I’m not one of those muscle heads who lift weights and get into bodybuilding competitions. But, every now and again I need to get some frustrations out in a positive way. There isn’t always stuff goin’ on at the club. I mean, we get into issues with people and whatnot, but it isn’t like those situations are ref’d and you have someone telling you if you’re takin’ it too damn far. While I don’t mind my adrenaline pumping every now and again with a situation I can’t control, I don’t go looking for trouble. It’s how I became good friends with Frank, who owns the place around the corner.
I pull the door open for Venom and the two of us walk in. Not many people are here this early
in the morning, but Frank and a few of his boys are always around. It’s like they never leave the place. “Aye, Ricochet! What’s up, my man?” Frank calls over to me, standing from where he was sitting a moment ago. He’s wearing some sort of jogger outfit and has a gold chain hangin’ around his neck.
“Nothin’ much, just comin’ here to get some steam burnt off. This is Venom, she’s in the club with me. Venom, this is Frank.” The two of them say their introductions and I cut to the chase. “You got anyone she can spar with for a bit?”
He grimaces. “Not right now, man. Marlena won’t be in until seven at least but knowin’ you you’re not gonna be around that long.”
“Yeah, maybe twenty, thirty minutes,” I reply.
“Alright, you spar with her then. You know how to take it easy, and I know you won’t hurt her, so you help ‘er get out whatever she needs to.” Frank’s opened up his gym to everyone who needs it, even the homeless on the streets who can’t get an accessible shower. He shows them how to defend themselves if the situation were to arise, and they get to shower after their session with him or one of his guys. He’s got a good heart, that’s for damn sure.
“You cool with that?” I ask Venom, who I doubt has ever done this in her life.
She gives me a curt nod and I lead her to the back so I can wrap her hands and we can get started.
Chapter Six
Venom
Ricochet proceeds to wrap my hands in some sort of fabric. It’s the typical stuff you see in the boxing and MMA movies. I actually remember it the most in Southpaw, but that movie really struck a chord within me.
“Okay, come here, I’m going to start you with some upper cuts and jabs,” Ricochet tells me, acting like I must know what he’s saying. Obviously, I don’t, so I furrow my brows in confusion and hope he’ll explain. “They’re fancy words for what I’m about to show you. Relax, Venom. Just relax and let’s get some of that frustration out. Alright?”
Venom's Secret (Iron Vex MC Book 4) Page 3