Stranded Ch. 10

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!~

"We have been asked to conduct an investigation into the boy's disappearance," Abraham announced. The rest of the members seated themselves, the younger men fanned out, some went to the living room, others made themselves comfortable leaning against the kitchen counters. Dale stood behind Ezekiel who was doing his best not to look my way, although I could see him trying to from the corner of his eyes. What on earth could he want my hair for? Considering the rest of his kin, nothing I imagined was going to help me sleep better at night.

"You are claiming that Ezekiel here saw the boys heading out and they told him they were headed here. And that was the last time anybody heard from them?" Dale nodded.

"Ezekiel isn't capable of lying, everyone knows that. I questioned Samson, but my gut says there is more to it than what he is telling me. I trust your judgment; I will abide by whatever judgment you see fit."

"Anything to say for your defense, Samson?"

"I never said Zeke was a liar, what I simply implied was that perhaps on their way here, they came to their senses. If they were truly headed this way, then something must have happened on the way here because they never arrived."

There was sticking to truths, and then there was a bold face lie. I feared they could sense it, the way a shark senses blood in the water.

"Alright, wait outside while we question the boy." Neither Sam nor Dale argued, instead I was pulled outside where we made ourselves comfortable on the patio. Despite being outside, Abrahams' voice carried out through the open kitchen window, and it was as though we never left.

"It is my understanding that you were the last one to see them that night, is that correct?" Ezekiel must have nodded because I heard no verbal reply.

"Tell us, what do you remember? Where were you when it happened?"

"I was out watchin' the stars, they're really pretty at night. There is always seems to be more of them when the moon isn't full. I saw them get into the truck, and I stopped Marcus, I said he shouldn't be driving with how much he had been drinkin'. Papa says you never mix alcohol with machinery. Marcus told me unless I could wrestle the keys from his hands, I should keep my stupid mouth shut. I asked where they were going, and they told me they were headed out to fuck Sammy's new wife. Tradition is one of the things that separate us from the heathens, and he said he wasn't going to let Sammy take that away."

"I thought you only had a sister," I announced suddenly. Sam looked my way as if just remembering I was there and looked at Dale, who sat across the table from us and sneered. As if the fact I could speak at all was abhorrent.

"I told you, Christopher was a monster. He made his way through a lot of cousins; Zeke isn't my only half-sibling. It's just the big dirty secret nobody talks about."

"You know it's unwise to speak ill of the dead." Sam rolled his eyes and reached for my hand.

"Don't sit there and act like you didn't want to kill the bastard yourself after what he did to your girls. He's dead now, what does he care what we say about him?" Dale's jaw went rigid, then began to waver. He cleared his throat to hide the slight crack in his voice.

"Because it ain't going to bring them back! It serves no one to bring up painful memories!" Dale growled. He stood angrily, shoving his chair into the table so hard it shook and walked away, feigning rage but I was certain I had seen his eyes brimming with tears. Could Dale cry? The same bastard who dragged a disobedient wife behind a tow truck. Could someone that evil even feel things like loss?

"Go on, ask me. I know you're dying to know, my curious kitten, I can see it all over your face."

"What happened?"

"Suicide pact, he lost seven of his girls in one night." And now three sons.

"Was Zeke's mother one of them?" Sam nodded, giving my hand a small squeeze.

"Whatever Christopher did, it broke those poor girls. Dale appealed to the conclave, begging them for justice and they had Christopher whipped, but it only made him more sadistic. He started to hurt them, really hurt them, he hurt them until they stopped telling. The conclave could do nothing once the girls began to lie for him."

"How-How did they die?" I didn't want to hear it, because then I would begin to picture it. But all knowledge could be useful knowledge if used correctly and it was better to know than let my imagination run wild.

"Hung themselves, he went out to check on the horses and found them all dangling there like Christmas ornaments. Blames himself, thinks he should have done more." Is that why the noose marks had bothered him so much? Or was it one of the things Christopher had taught his boys? Were they sure it was even suicide?

"You're going to be in there with me, right?" I asked, mouth going dry at the thought of being surrounded by so many of them. What if I had another panic attack?

"Just remember to stick to facts, no eye contact unless asked. They will not appreciate your sarcasm the way I do, if you cannot control yourself, they will have you whipped. Answer only what is asked, offer nothing more. I'll be right out here," he pointed to the patio. I could feel the blood drain from my face and suddenly it was already harder to breathe. Some of them were armed; what if they could tell I was lying? What if I said something wrong? I was not someone who did well under pressure.

"Please." The plea was out before I could stop it. I cringed, hating myself for sounding so weak, hating him more for putting me in the situation in the first place. He brought my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on my knuckles. I clenched my free hand into a fist, wanting nothing more than to jerk my other one free. I hated it when he was nice, it always left my head a confusing mess. But that's all these nice moments were, just another part of his ploy to break me down, to make me let him in.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, everyone is questioned alone. They must cut off any influence I may hold over you. They are going to make you promise, they are going to make threats. They will even lie if they believe it will help them discover the truth. They cannot touch you if you follow the rules. I know you are going to be fine, just focus and remember to breathe."

Whatever look was on my face, it did not bring him comfort. He frowned and reached into his pocket as he turned my hand over in his, slipping off the golden wedding band and replacing it with one from his pocket. This one was dull silver, with a small garnet gem that was flush with the band; there was a simple beauty about it.

"This was my Aunt Mariam's ring. It was the only thing Uncle Hank let her keep from her Heathen life. Few people know this, but what they had was the real deal; she was in love with Uncle Hank long before he ever snatched her. The fact that you are the same ring size only confirms how special you are."

"She knew him before?" He smiled and with the new ring placed snugly on my finger, he returned to caressing my knuckles.

"She delivered part packages to the shop. Uncle Hank told me he must have ordered an entire car just to see more of her. I think some of those parts may even still be floating around here somewhere. When he first took her, she thought he was pulling some cruel prank; well, until she tried to leave that is."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"I want you to focus on this ring when you feel yourself start to lose control. It is the best solution I have to offer." Was it something he had been thinking about? Was he worried whether I'd be able to keep the secret?

"Thank you, husband." And part of me meant it, he didn't have to think of my comfort, he had proven that he was more than capable of being vicious.

It was what I knew he wanted to hear. But what comfort could the ring really bring me? It only served as a reminder I was his prisoner, as was the person who wore the ring before me. I opted for a change of subject, less I dwelled on it, the better.

"Why does Ezekiel want my hair?" Sam snorted and shook his head.

"It's pretty strange out of context, but it's nothing crazy. Zeke's a dollmaker, he prefers to use real hair. I don't know much else about it if I'm being honest. My brother is one of the Gifted, in case that wasn't obvious." Was that Gifted in the sense that we called people special?

"I'm not sure I understand."

"He's slow, he's a giant kid that will never grow up, like Eliza; he'll require someone to look after him for the rest of his life. They are God's special people, but some of them are just a little more special, like Zeke. He was gifted with the ability to create one-of-a-kind dolls. Uncle Dale even helped him set up his own online business. Little girls love having a doll that looks like them. Most of them grow their hair out extra-long just to send it in for one. Dale lets him keep all the profits, set him up with his own bank account and everything. Granted he just spends most of it on more doll supplies, but it keeps him happy."

"You sound as though you actually care about him."

"He's one of the few good ones in this family. He stood up for me a lot when I was smaller, often at his own expense. At least until he killed Junior. Kids were ordered to leave him alone after that." I leaned my arm on the table, feeling a bit dizzy. His whole family was filled with killers. How could they sit there and consider themselves Holy chosen people when they were slaughtering each other left and right?

"Who was Junior?"

"His Uncle, he was maybe a few years older than Zeke. He pushed him too far when he smashed Zeke's dolls and Zeke beat him to death with its remains. He completely lost it, gave Dale a black eye before he was finally able to pull him off, but it was too late. Nobody has touched his dolls since." Skye had been right; it had been easy for me to judge when I knew so little. The more that I seemed to learn, the sadder and darker the picture seemed to be getting.

"I thought murder was one of the seven deadly sins."

"Indeed, and he was punished, but it was an accident. Zeke doesn't have a malicious bone in his body. He simply lost control. God can be very forgiving to those who repent and mean it. And don't you purse those lips at me, you heathens have the most sins to atone for." I scoff, then cried out as he began to crush my hand in his, my fingers felt like they would snap at any minute.

"You need to remember your place, wife." He spoke low, between clenched teeth which sent a spike of fear through me. I knew that tone, it was his this-pain-is-nothing-compared-to-what-I'll-do-if-you-continue-with-this-behavior tone.

"I'm sorry, you're right." Tears pricked my eyes, voice strained as I realized my fingertips were already turning colors. Sam released my hand and I pulled it to my chest, rubbing my fingers to sooth them. It was clear that questioning his logic or faith wasn't going to get me anywhere.

What irritated me the most, I was pretty sure he was aware. Of all of it. I believed deep down he knew it was all wrong, he had to. Ten years was young but still old enough to remember the real world, to remember what was right from wrong. You're older than ten and you're already slipping. But even my own logic couldn't shake the certainty I felt in my gut. He held his hand out to me, waiting for me to give him mine again. My hand shook a little, but I placed it back in his and after turning it over he kissed my knuckles and returned to stroking them as if nothing ever happened. Dale returned with a reusable coffee cup that read King of the Castle. With the scent that wafted past as he sat down, I was guessing it wasn't only coffee filling his cup. He had his shades on, despite the patio table umbrella being wide open; providing more than enough shade from an already overcast day. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, maybe all those creases in his face weren't just from aging. The loss of my mother still weighed heavy on my soul, I couldn't imagine how he could lose so many children and keep going. Simple, he just has another dozen to replace them. But something told me that didn't matter, that didn't ease the ache of his loss. It wasn't until I felt him pulling on my arm did, I realize that Sam was even trying to get my attention.

I turned and found Zeke standing beside us, Sam providing me with a safety barrier. I could feel his eyes boring into me, and I squeezed Sam's hand to prevent myself from reaching up and touching my hair.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble." Zeke apologized, his hands clasped in front of him, twiddling his fingers, looking down like a scolded child.

"You told the complete truth, didn't you?" Sam demanded.

"Of course, the Lord punishes liars. I'm not stupid." Sam released my hand and stood, giving the older man a big, strong hug. He pulled away, holding the back of Zeke's head to make eye contact.

"Look at me brother, there is nothing to apologize for. If I am in trouble, it is through no fault of yours, promise."

"Pinky promise?" Sam pulled out his pinky and locked it with Zeke's.

"Pinky promise!" Zeke looked relieved and glanced over at Dale.

"I'm done now, Papa. Can I have some of her hair now?" Dale nearly choked on his coffee as he stood.

"I told you, we did not come here for the girl's hair. Go get your butt in the truck!" Zeke dragged his gaze away from me with his head hanging a little lower and made his way to Dale's truck. Dale stood, nodded at Sam and left without another word.

"You're next," announced Earl from the doorway, eyes burning a path right through me. I stood, legs suddenly rubber, as if I was walking underwater. I kept my gaze forward, but I couldn't seem to move my feet fast enough. They were all going to be looking at me, studying me; trying to find my tell. I didn't even like being under Sam's scrutiny, let alone the entire conclave. I felt lightheaded and dizzy, steadying myself with a hand on the back of Sam's chair.

"C'mon girl! We're not the most patient bunch," Earl grunted. Sam stood, turning me to face him and I stared into his cobalt blue eyes. The blue was pure, like the ocean and I found myself drowning in them.

"You're going to be okay; do as they say and tell the truth." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, before pushing me towards Earl with a swat to my backside. I managed to close the distance. He didn't move from the doorway, instead he held the screen door open and I was forced to squeeze passed him, catching a whiff of his Brute aftershave. Everyone was sitting in the same spots, most of the younger men dispersed, but a few stood dutifully by. I fiddled with the cold silver around my ring finger, running my fingers over the texture of the gem. It was slightly bumpy, providing the perfect distraction. I shuffled to the chair at the end of the long table and sat down, folding my hands in my lap.

"Err...KitKat. We have some questions we're going to ask you, and we need you to tell us the truth no matter the question, can you do that?" Abraham asked.

"Yes, Sir." I replied as the poisonous butterflies returned. Would vomiting on the dining room table make them suspicious? I took slow deep breathes in through my nose, and out through my mouth, trying to keep the taste of sulfur at bay.

"Excellent, Robert, if you'd like to begin?" Robert held his clear oxygen mask against his face and took a few deep puffs before addressing me.

"We are investigating the disappearance of Marcus, John and Judas." When he spoke, he did so in wheezes, stopping to suck in more oxygen from his small green tank in between sentences.

"Tell me, when did you last see them?" I opened my mouth but had to clear my throat to get the words out.

"The day of the ceremony, Sir." Even if titles weren't something, they considered a requirement, I had been raised to address the elderly with respect. My father had told me it didn't matter if they were the mean and grouchy, simply living that long deserves a basic level of respect. Although I was sure this was a scenario my father would make an exception.

"We would like to hear your version of that day; you can start from when the ceremony began." Abraham announced. I glanced up enough that I could see they were all facing my direction and suddenly I could feel every set of eyes on me. They wanted me to relive that day?!

I began to play with the silver ring around my finger, twisting it in small circles as I closed my eyes in a poor attempt to prevent from passing out. I could hear Honey behind me, starting another pot of coffee and I had a brief second of more panic. How full was that coffee tin? Would she know what it was if she found it? I cursed myself for not moving it sooner. How much coffee could they really consume? A hand slapped down on the table's surface, causing me to jump and brought my attention back to the moment.

'I-uh-I...well some stuff is still a little hazy. I had a minor panic attack and it..."

"What do you remember?" Robert interrupted with a hiss, sending him into a small coughing fit and he desperately pressed the mask back to his face. He was dying, I could see it in the gauntness of his face. The slightest blue tinge to his lips told me he didn't have long to go. The last time I had seen my father, he had been on oxygen too. Only his tank had wheels and his mask was strictly nasal. A loud snap in my ear brought my attention back and I paled. Focus!

"I am getting tired child, pay attention!" Robert growled.

"I remember him fighting with Sam about skipping tradition and Dale sent him home."

"Had he been drinking?" asked Abraham. I glanced towards him; eyes focused on his soft Santa-like beard.

"He was holding one at the ceremony, but I didn't see how many he had before he left."

"What happened after that?" Abraham and Robert seemed to be leading the investigation, I could feel Earl's presence behind me like a cold looming shadow.

"We danced for a bit, we gathered things and packed them up or put them away. Then we came inside. It was a day or so before Dale came pounding on the door looking for them." Abraham jotted a few things down on a little spiral notebook, but his handwriting was illegible to my eyes.

"And the noose marks?"

"I was hung from the rafters." It was the truth. I could feel the sweat trickling down the back of my neck and the room started to feel warmer.

" A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will perish." Earl's voice boomed from behind me. I assumed it was another bible quote and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I am not lying," I replied evenly.

"What happened after you went inside?" Robert probed. My cheeks burned as I tried to push the memories back.

"We consummated our marriage." It was the only answer that gave them enough information without giving them every little detail.

"Where?" asked Gerald.

"We are not here for those details, brother." Clive interrupted and I found myself grateful.

"Well, we do need to know if Samson was with you the entire night." Robert argued.

"He was here at the house with me, and he was here when I woke up." Robert's eyes narrowed. I kept my face as neutral as I could and kept my eyes on Abrahams coffee cup. I was nearly done, there wasn't much else they could ask, right?