Stranded Ch. 09

Welcome to my dark little corner of the universe, as with almost all the things I write, this story consists of many dark, non-consensual themes, a little DV, some violence/abuse, imprisonment, kidnapping, and occasionally even a little bit of torture. If any of this or my terrible grammar offends you, then this is not the story for you! Stop now! It's been a busy quarter, sorry for the delay, I cannot wait to start working on the next!

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Arioch untied his mother while Dale and his boys waited outside, leaving the front door open, allowing a breeze of fresh air to roll in. Just as I was wondering if he was going to chain me again, he called Odin inside and made him sit by the front door.

"And in case you get a wild hair up your butt, Freya is walking around the perimeter until I return. Help her clean up, I'm going to make sure they actually leave, then I'll come back to fetch you." He turned to his mother, tossing a blanket from the back of the couch over her naked still form.

"Mother, if she tries to leave...kill her." I turned to Skye, she had finally wrapped the blanket around herself and was sitting down in the chair Ephraim had previously occupied.

"Of course, dear," she replied, then he was gone.

"Can I help?" She gave me a small smile.

"My robe, on the back of my bedroom door, could you fetch it for me please?" I nodded. Odin let out a low rumble as I walked past, but I kept my pace slow and as long as I didn't go near the door, he seemed content to continue doing such. I was nervous about what horrors I'd find in her room, so I didn't bother to turn on the light, but what happened to be shining in from the bay window was enough to illuminate the tragedy. From what I could see, it was mostly empty. There was no furniture besides a few trunks against the wall and a giant dog bed in the corner of the room. Was that where he made her sleep? I quickly grabbed her robe, shutting the door behind me before making my way to the table where I draped it over her shoulders.

"Would you like some water?" I offered. Why are you helping her? She's the enemy! I wanted to hate her as much as I hated her son, but whenever I looked at her all I felt was overwhelming pity and disgust; how was I supposed to hate someone I pitied?

"That would be lovely, thank you." By the time I returned with a glass she had her robe on with the sash tied. The robe was a dark red with golden vines covering the surface. She thanked me and took a few sips before setting it down on the table.

"I heard what happened last night...how are you feeling today?" I glared at her.

"I was branded like livestock, how do you think I'm feeling?" I demanded. God did it feel good to speak freely again. I hadn't realized how difficult it was to keep my mouth shut until my safety had begun to depend on it.

"You must understand, it's important they mark us, it protects us. The vines specifically represent our family. Other sects are different. Dale has a tree entwined with his, I've also seen one with antlers, a cross and even one with mistletoe."

"I don't want his protection!" I snapped in return. If his protection meant being passed around his family like a damn chip bowl, I didn't need it.

"Being chosen is hard, but when you are called upon by the Lord, you must answer. It is our sacred duty to take care of this family. You should feel honor in your role, you are very lucky to be chosen, my dear." The cool, calm anger returned with such ferocity my hands started tingling. I clasped them tightly together and rested them in my lap. The last thing I was feeling at that moment, was lucky.

"Did you even try?" I finally asked, no longer able to hold back.

"Excuse me?" While her eyes were a little glassy, my words seemed to snap her out of her post-coitus haze.

"You were free once, you got away and stayed away for a decade...tell me, how long before you just gave up?!" I expected her to respond with anger; rage was something I easily understood but she just looked me up and down and gave me a small, sad smile.

"I was a lot like you once. Stubborn, defiant, quite a bit mouthy too. I called all the women weak, told them they were nothing more than brainwashed idiots." She snorted in amusement, shaking her head at the memory.

"Submitting to Clyde became a lot easier after he sent Samson away...He knew I would never leave without him; I couldn't risk what would happen to him or take the chance of never seeing him again. When he was home for the summer I was kept in the basement and chained. The better I behaved, the more time I could spend with him. After a few years, it became easier, eventually, your heathen life will fade away and it won't hurt so much... It is very easy for you to sit there and judge me, you've barely even stepped foot into my shoes." I felt the anger leave like a balloon deflating in my chest as her words sank in. I couldn't even imagine how helpless she must have felt.

"I at least gave him ten years as a carefree boy. Coming back was never something I wanted for him, but I think his time out there at least helped soften up some of his rougher edges."

"Soft is not a word I would use to describe your son, like ever." Maybe psychopath. Her eyes narrowed at my comment.

"It can get confusing to tell the difference between the two sometimes, but if you get to know Samson, you will start to see. He's not like the others and he's not like Arioch."

"You said he has poisoned blood in his veins, what did you mean by that?" Her smile disappeared and she stood abruptly, shuffling her way into her kitchen, making herself suddenly busy. She started pulling out raw materials and mixing bowls. It was clear she didn't want to answer the question and just as I was about to give up on getting an answer, she spoke.

"Clyde wasn't Samson's biological father, but he was the only father Samson's ever known. Clyde's younger brother Christopher was the one who fathered him. Sometimes Clyde had to make long trips into town for supplies, Dale's business was a local operation back then, and he left his little brother in charge. At the time I thought anything was better than Georgie; I thought he was a mean son-of-a-bitch. I was instructed to obey Christopher as if he were my husband, not as if it mattered whether I was obedient or not." She seemed more at ease to talk as long she kept the rest of her focused on her task, she didn't use measuring cups or spoons, she didn't seem to need them. By the smell of the batter I knew right away it was pancakes.

"Who's Georgie?"

"He was Clyde's older brother. Even on their worst days, neither of them could hold a candle to their baby brother. There's a sickness that runs in his blood; something dark and ugly. He can fight against it all he wants, but he can't change his nature." I opened my mouth to argue, it was thinking like that, that allowed it to be acceptable behavior. It meant he didn't have to take responsibility. But then I closed it, it wasn't really something I felt I could argue against anymore. I had seen enough of his family to know there was something wrong with nearly every one of them. Was it lethal genetics or just their destructive upbringing?

"Does Sam know that Clyde is not his real father?"

"Well of course he knows!" I jumped as Arioch appeared in the doorway, causing him to chuckle. How the hell does he always manage to do that?! I needed to be more observant.

"The men gossip worse than the women and they always seem to think children are incapable of eavesdropping. The Cousin's told us all about Christopher, about the things he would do, the things he taught them to do...he was quite the monster. Did you also tell her what happened to him?" Skye froze and when she looked in our direction there was pure, unfiltered fear in her eyes.

"No, would-would you like me to?"

"I think you've told her more than enough, mother." She nodded dutifully and went back to her pancakes, but it was easy to see she was shaken.

Arioch turned his attention back towards me, closing the distance and he sat down beside me, placing his large warm hand over mine.

"Don't you know darlin', curiosity killed the Kat." My mouth went dry as my stomach dropped.

"I thought...I thought to get to know you were what you wanted," I whispered, blood draining from my face. If he was going to keep changing the rules I was never going to survive.

"No, that is what Sammy wants, I could honestly care less. I don't have the same incessant need to be loved that he does. I would rather have your obedience, loyalty, and submission. There isn't much to really know, Christopher was a sick and disturbed man, Aunt Em killed him the night mother led them astray. I think I would have liked him."

"What's going to happen once Dale calls the conclave?"

"Well, I imagine I'll be receiving a phone call shortly to announce their arrival. We'll end up hosting some of them, the rest will stay with Dale. They'll conduct their own investigation into Dale's claim. May take a day or two, they deliberate, pray, and then usually deliver their sentence. Sometimes it's a fine, other times it's some sort of retribution. Worst case scenario, we'll all be executed. Or I will and you'll most likely be married off to someone else. Wives are usually divided among the remaining family members, but I'm all that's left of mine...at least until I start pumping you full of babies." I shivered at the thought.

"There is a lot you must learn before their arrival. I am far more tolerant of your unruly behavior than they will ever be."

"What about your mother and sister? What happens to them?" I jerked my head towards their direction.

"I have somewhere safe for them to stay while the conclave does their investigation, I am touched that you care." He gave me a satisfied smirk and I resisted the urge to pull my hand away.

"I don't think I can do this," I announced, I wasn't a very good liar. Arioch seemed to see right through me, so why did he seem to think I could fool the rest of his family?

"And what exactly is it that you cannot do?"

"Pretend to know nothing, pretend the other night didn't happen. When you left me alone with them, again, he threatened me. Told me if I confessed, he would make sure I was exempt from all punishment, that the Lord would reward my honesty."

"And what did you tell him, dear wife?"

"Exactly what you told me to tell him, that I don't know where his boys are." He studied me for a moment before nodding.

"Good, then you're learning!" My hand itched with the urge to wipe the smug smile off his face, but I dug my nails into my palm instead. I didn't need his approval; so why, then, did it feel so good to have it?

"Would you like some breakfast?" Skye asked softly. Arioch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he drew his attention away from me and towards the smaller woman in the kitchen.

"No thanks, mother. I need you and Eliza to pack, you should remember what needs to be done from last time. We have quite a bit of our own work to get done back at the house." He grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet. I whimpered; skin pulled tight, but I didn't fight him. He glanced down, evaluating.

"Perhaps I will give you some easy work today," he thought aloud. He kissed his mother's forehead, but where Sam's touch made her smile, Arioch's made her pale. The trip back was quiet, and it gave me some time to think. I had figured out a few of Arioch's triggers; violence, defiance, and liquor. It seemed to be the unholy trinity that drew him from the depths of Sam's shattered mind.

"What is a bleeding pit?" I asked.

"Generally, it's a giant hole in the ground where women go when they are suffering Eve's curse. Sometimes it's a shed or caged area outside, something a little more humane. Your inferior hormone structure makes you unstable, especially when there's more than one wife or several daughters. Then you find it's necessary to have one just to keep the peace in the house. You women turn bitchy when you're bleedin'. Then your bodies synchronize, and all hell breaks loose."

"Why don't you have one?"

"Sam thinks they're primitive traditions and I compromise on the things where I can. He's not exactly stable in case you hadn't noticed. He's tried to kill himself a few times now, so I try to keep the kid happy. You just happen to be one of the things that are currently making him happy." It was strange to hear those words coming from what I considered to be a broken part of Sam's psyche. Was he even real? Did he technically exist? If Sam died, that would be the end of him as well; no wonder he was constantly coming to Sam's rescue. Upon returning to the house he brought several boxes upstairs, reinforcing the bottom and after he secured the chain around my ankle, he opened his drawers and began dumping all his clothes onto the floor. All the clothes I had literally cleaned and put away the day before.

"Keep the white undershirts, button-up shirts, and nice jeans. When you're done reorganizing that, you'll need to go through the closet. Keep dresses with flowers or pastel colors. Sammy hates being stifled, but it's for his own good."

"Why are we packing it?"

"Being different in this family...well, it can be dangerous. Dale tolerates him, but Sammy's already on thin ice after that damn wedding dress he insisted on having. That one I don't quite understand; tradition was good enough for Megan. He continues to insist you're different, so I indulged him. We don't want to give the conclave any reason to decide against us. It's not always God who influences their judgment, to believe otherwise would be foolish." Arioch never bothered to sugar coat things, and I found myself appreciating it. I didn't want to be comforted, I wanted to be prepared.

I reached into the pile of clothes and started my task, Arioch pecking my forehead on his way out. I listened to his descending footsteps before I was able to relax my shoulders. Being a domesticated housewife was not on my list of life goals, I had foreseen a future that involved getting my Ph.D., maybe even opening my own clinic. Possibly, even writing a book if I came across an interesting case. Like a religious fanatic with a split personality? I shook my head vehemently, the last thing I wanted to write a book about was my current experience. I wanted to go home and purge my mind of him and the rest of his defective family. The future was so uncertain, and I was terrified of what it held for me. By the time I got to the closet, I had already filled up one of the boxes. I leaned against the dresser, easing the strain on my leg. Nearly a third of the closet was filled with dresses, several of which consisted of prints that would rival Ms. Frizzle's wardrobe. But these weren't made for me. I folded and packed them, pausing when I came across the Galaxy one. I hated the overall design of the dresses, they were far too conservative, but I liked this fabric. If I learned to sew, would Sam allow me to design my own dresses? Something that reached maybe my knees, with shorter sleeves. I smacked my head a few times, trying to push the vile thoughts away.

I didn't want to start thinking like that, it was too hazardous. The closet took less time since I wasn't forced to refold everything and place them carefully back in their designated drawer. He had to have done that on purpose, just to irk me. As if the entire situation wasn't hard enough, he had to go and be a bully on top of it. I folded the tops of the boxes, but I didn't attempt to lift or carry them downstairs. Instead, I took the time to walk around, ignoring the rattling of the chain behind me. The guest room was almost as I remembered it, only now the bed was stripped bare, and I found all the drawers empty except for a bible in the nightstand. I walked to the window, glancing at the charred remains in the fire pit. I was starting to feel as though I had lost everything. Well, not everything. My thoughts returned to the journal currently nesting in the locked drawer downstairs. It was really all I had left except for the husk of my car. It was a painful reminder that I had been too trusting, too naive. I limped my way to the bathroom and by the time I was finished, Arioch had returned and was now unloading a box.

"What is this?"

"The easiest way I can explain it, religious crap. It will put the conclave more at ease during their stay and anything that gives us points is worth trying."

"Are you scared of what's going to happen if they decide against you?" He flashed me that arrogant smile of his and shook his head.

"Do you honestly think I don't have a plan in place if they do decide against us? That I'm not prepared for the worst? I would have thought you were paying better attention by now, KitKat." I frowned, I hated when he talked down to me.

"What's your plan?"

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Your only concern should be obeying. I have everything taken care of, and you need to have faith in that." I pressed my lips together, holding several retorts back. He shoved a partially opened box in my direction, and I began unwrapping the crosses, the small figurines of Jesus, and the stack of Bibles, placing them where he directed. The longer I was on my feet, the slower my pace become; and when I began to limp, he finally gave me more of that sweet nectar. I experienced a moment where I debated the health complications that came from long-term use, but the moment passed just as quickly as it came. Arioch and I spent the rest of the afternoon packing away things the conclave would disapprove of and replacing it with more 'religious crap', there seemed to be endless boxes of it. For lunch I made a salad while he grilled steaks on the back patio, glancing in through the window above the kitchen sink every so often. Once lunch was over, he set me up with a bucket of cleaning supplies and instructed I begin with the living room.

The amount of dust gathered was almost thick enough to weave into a sweater, and I made several trips back and forth to the kitchen sink before the afternoon was over. When dinner rolled around, he forced me to rest, propping up my feet and giving me a glass of water. I could hear him bustling about in the kitchen as Hank sat beside me, resting his head on the arm of the chair, wet nose pushing gently against my forearm as he waited patiently for affection. His fur was short but soft, almost silky, and he was warm. The more I scratched behind his ears, the further he pressed into me, lifting his muzzle to occasionally lather me in slobber before returning for more scratches.

"Who's a good boy," I cooed, earning me an onslaught of kisses that left me nearly gasping for air. I laughed as I pushed his face away, only to have my hand covered instead.

"Hank, that's enough!" Arioch announced. The hound immediately tucked his ears, lowering his head as he shuffled away, curling up on the dog bed beside the fireplace.

"Dinner is finished," he announced, holding out his hand. I didn't take it because I needed it, I took it rather than risk any consequences for refusing it. He held out my chair, tucking it in as I sat down.

He was just about to sit down across from me when I heard his phone ring. At first, it startled me, not because the rest of the house was silent, but because I had become so unaccustomed to hearing a phone. But the sound was nothing more than a nuisance, a reminder of my foolishness. I chewed my bite of mashed potatoes as I watched him flip open his phone and answer it. I could only hear a low mumble in between each of his responses, but judging from the look on his face, it wasn't Ed McMahon with a million-dollar check.