New Beginnings
Heading down the sanctuary I sit in the fourth pew from the back, beside Hero and the rest of my family. Casting a long glance down the pew at Hero, Naya, Lark, Ivy, Blue, and Charlie, I wonder what we’re all doing in church. They say Catholics are the worst sinners of all. I agree to that.
Throughout Mass, Hero tenses and becomes distracted by something. His eyes lose focus and he visibly shakes. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and upper lip. As soon as I think he’s about to freak out, Naya takes a hold of his hand and gives his fingers a squeeze. He shudders and pushes down the madness for another day. I never got why Hero loathes churches and priests and religion altogether. Grace used to take us to Mass every Sunday. She was a devoted Catholic and made sure her children followed in her footsteps. Hero and Naya were involved with the church more than I was. I opted for piano lessons rather than joining the Youth Group. There was a scandal involving Father Morris around ten years or so ago—something about having sexual relations with young church members. But it was not publicized. The entire scandal was handled discreetly. I’m still unaware of all the details. But…if Hero was somehow involved, if he was somehow one of the victims, then I’m positive he would have voiced his concern long ago.
Turning my head, I stare at Hero, wondering if he lied to me. His eyes gradually lift to mine. They’re wide but vacant. He looks like an innocent little lamb lost among the flock. This empty look is brief and short-lived before he recovers. Hero gives me a smile so malevolent my spine stiffens and I settle back into the bench.
No.
Surely not a lamb but a stealthy cunning wolf in disguise.
If Hero were involved, I would pray for Father M.
I’ve seen Hero torture tactics and the kid is more cruel and vindictive than me.
There would be no place on God’s green earth that Father Morris could hide. Hero would have sought him with every fiber in his body and made him wish for death that probably would never come.
After the scandal Father M left the church and never returned. Here I sit in the house of God with Isabel, a captive, in the dungeon of my adolescent home. Maybe I shouldn’t underestimate what Hero is capable of either…
When I get home I make call to my agent Stanley.
“You ready to continue touring?”
I take a deep breath, staring blankly at my piano. “No, I want to hold off on touring.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? We’re making money, Hunter. Why the hell would you stop touring?”
“I need time off,” I snap, thinking of Isabel imprisoned in my wine cellar.
“How much time?” Stanley asks, his voice shifting from anger to attentive unease.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s too vague, Hunter,” he pleads into the phone. “I need a date, a time, something.”
“I just don’t know, Stanley.”
“Okay. How about we revisit this in November?”
“November,” I agree, hanging up.
***
I harshly clutch the steering wheel in fear I’ll beg Hero to stay. We sit outside the airport. Taxicabs and people are scattered around us, departing and kissing their loved ones goodbye as we sit silently in my car, looking straight ahead at the golden sunbeams breaking through the thinning clouds. Neither one of us is willing to acknowledge the significant farewell moment; the moment where we part from each other and venture on our own journey that life has in store for us.
“I love you, Hero,” I say, turning to see his reaction. He presses his lips together and swallows hard. He doesn’t like affection from me as much as he does with Naya. Hero is unable to absorb it. I can’t remember the last time I told my brother I loved him. But it needed to be said. It’s necessary.
“Love you too,” he mumbles below a whisper, his lips twitching.
“Don’t take shit people give you no matter how high the promise is. You get me? I don’t care if it takes you to the fucking moon and back.” I will not lose my brother to drugs laced with shit nightmares are made of.
“I hear you,” he answers, nodding. “My lips are as sealed just like Mother Mary’s vagina.”
I lift a brow and he chokes on a laugh. “Keep your dick wrapped. Always. Do not fuck anything without a condom.”
“I’m not twelve, Hunter. I get it.”
We stare at one another for a heartbeat. He stifles a smile. But I can only hope what I can’t convey in words, I express in my expression, whatever that may be. He sighs and unbuckles the belt, opening the door. I get out and we smile at each other before I embrace him in a tight hug.
“Be smart and safe, Hero.”
“I will, Hunter. I will. I promise.” We hold each other at arm’s length and gaze into one another’s eyes before we release each other. I lean back against my truck and watch Hero head towards the airport sliding doors, toting his luggage behind him. This transports me into the past. Where I watched a happy and optimistic Hero enter his first grade class, dragging his large backpack behind his skinny legs. I was filled with trepidation as I am now because I would not be able to look out for him. But I was also overwhelmed with thrill, thrill that he gets to grow and learn from his own experiences. He turns and gives me a two finger solute before disappearing into the swarm of people and from my line a sight.
I’m going to miss my baby brother.
***
I carry a wooden tray that holds a warm bowl of blueberry oatmeal and fresh orange juice along with two painkillers into Isabel’s new room. She’s asleep and sprawled out over the bed like a distressed fallen angel. Her dark hair is fanned all around her and is a deep contrast from the paleness of the snow white sheets. Sitting next to her, I place the tray on the stand that holds the lamp she kept on.
Is she afraid of the dark?
She smiles in her sleep and cuddles closer to me. I snort, amused because she’s seeking comfort in the one thing that continues to hurt her. I poke her cheek.
“Morning, my sweet.”
She groans, beginning to stir. The sheets fall a little, exposing the darkening welts on the backs of her upper thighs. The strangest emotions run through me. None of which are as satisfying as I thought they would be. I did that to hurt her. I can accept that. But can she?
Isabel eyelids flutter. There is a state of hazy obscurity where everything is wrapped in a protective orb and safe from the flying rocks of reality just before the brain wakes. I bet Isabel wished she stayed there in that sanctuary before she opens her eyes to her new reality.
I witness her orb of safety quickly crack and shatter before my eyes and, I must admit, it makes me smile. A very twisted and perverse part of me is elated that she recognizes and acknowledges that I own her, that she is no longer in control of what happens to her, that I am her only source of nourishment. I have her life in my hands. It’s mine to rule now.
“Are you hungry?”
She doesn’t respond. Her wide eyes have never looked more vulnerable and defenseless.
I grasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lifting her face towards me. She screws her eyes shut maybe to avoid mine. I know she wants to recoil, but she doesn’t. “I asked you a question.” She frantically shakes her head. “What did I say before?” I add more pressure to her jaw and she winces. “Verbally. I always want a verbal answer from you. Do you understand me?”
I watch with avid curiosity as her little pink tongue darts out to wet her cracked lips. “Yes. And no, I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure? Lunch won’t be served until noon.”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Despite her response, I release her chin and scoop up a spoonful and attempt to feed her. She keeps her mouth tightly clamped, so I raise the spoon to my mouth and feed it to myself.
“You know, this is really good. Sweet and creamy. I know you’re hungry. You didn’t eat dinner, and now you’re going without breakfast.” My eyes roam over her slender form as she turns her head from me. It’s a defiant gesture, but I’ll let her have that, because that may be the only thing she gets to have. “What’s your plan? Huh? To starve yourself?” My hand runs down the length of her arm, marveling at the soft flesh beneath my hands. She tenses and turns to stone beneath my fingers, understanding the extent of the unspoken threat of my simple touch. As much as Isabel hates to admit it, I own her in this very moment. “Well, Isabel, you don’t even have that luxury. You have no options here. I am your solitary source of sustenance. The quicker you understand this, the better.” I scoop up more oats. “Now, let’s try this again.”
Isabel jerks her head back when I place the spoon to her lips and murmurs, “Fuck off.”
I calmly set the spoon back in the bowl and place it back on the tray. Standing, I take my time when I shrug off my cotton shirt. Her head cocks to the side like a curious puppy. But when I undo my belt, all traces of curiosity vanish. It’s replaced with a building flare of fear, panic, and dread. She gasps and scurries across the mattress, concealing herself on the side of the bed as if hiding will keep her safe from me.
“Since you want options, I’m providing you with two.” Her small fingers bunch in the sheets as she braces herself on the edge of the bed. She does look quite defenseless crouching down like a small timid animal hiding from danger. I smile so wide my cheeks are beginning to ache. “Option one: you get up and sit on the bed and take whatever consequence you have earned. Option two: you stay exactly where you are.”
Isabel nervously peers over the bed. “What happens if I get up?”
“More importantly, what happens if you don’t?” I say through my smile. I’m obviously a sick and demented asshole, but I am arrogant enough not give two fucks about it, though. She’s mine to do whatever I please with.
Isabel slowly but gracefully rises to her feet and then she flops down on the bed. Her eyes are wide and alert. She seems skittish. “Please. I’m sorry,” she whispers as I yank my belt free from all the loops in my jeans. Tittering, I drop the leather strap to the floor where it lands with a heavy thud. It’s like a white flag between us, sort of. I’m not going to whip her again. I don’t have the strength or mind frame for that right now, and I think she’s not motivated by physical punishments. Fear is more her style. I can deliver terror if that’s how she’s used to learning.
She swallows hard when I stand directly in front of her and pop the button of my jeans free. I take her hand in mine and rub it against my face, lips, and then chest. Without warning and as soon as she gets used to the idea of touching me, I guide her hand down to my hardness and press her fingers there. Her eyes expanded and she frantically tries to pull her hand away, but I keep it there.
“If you keep up this disobedient behavior,” I press her hand further into my hard cock, “this will be inside of you. I doubt Max has fucked you in a while, which means you haven’t had much fucking in years. With the way I am feeling right now, I’d split you in two.”
Isabel attempts to shake her hand free and I take this time to savor her fright. I close my eyes for a moment and indulge in the overwhelming predatory sensations that courses through me. I grin to myself, acknowledging the power I have over her, what I can do with or without her consent. Like the sun is to Earth, I am a vital part of her survival.
She needs me.
Sighing and opening my eyes, I let her hand fall away. “Do you understand me now?”
“Yes.”
Taking in her flushed face and body, I smile inwardly at my triumph. It’s a small victory but one nonetheless. “Right. Still not hungry?”
“No, I’m not hungry,” she mumbles, looking down at her fisted hands in her lap. I bet she wish she was bold enough to use them to strike me.
“Fine.” I take a seat in the chair beside her bed and eat her food, staring at her the entire time. “Kneel.”
Her chin lifts as she glances at me. “What?”
“You heard me. Kneel.”
Isabel’s hesitant, but she glides off the bed and kneels eventually. “Crawl towards me.” I watch her jaw clench as she does what I ask. I order her to stop when she’s by my feet. “Now sit back on your heels and spread your thighs.”
She gapes at me and I smile. “But—”
“No buts. Now.” She does as I ask and I sit back in my chair and enjoy the view as I eat her breakfast, wanting nothing more than to eat her. “You wrote Max a letter telling him you went on vacation by yourself.” Her brows furrow when she looks up at me. I dig in my back pocket and pull the envelope out, handing it to her. “Here, you can read it.”
She takes the folded paper out and her eyes quickly skim each line. “It says I’ll be leaving to travel and nothing specific.”
I nod. “That’s the idea. Now, lick it closed.”
Confusion washes over her expression but she does what I ask and then hands it back to me. I put it back in my pocket. Max will get this notice from Isabel sometime during the week. I have to mail it off first.
“He will find me,” she murmurs more to herself.
“I guess we’ll see.”