The Beginning
Liviana Jericho
Two years ago…
“Would you both come on, lift his feet,” my father orders. I groan, trying to catch my breath. Grabbing the dead man’s tied legs roughly, my eyes fly to my mother who is struggling with his thighs.
“Can’t we just drag him? He’s already in a tarp?” I ask, raising a brow and my father huffs.
“I don’t know how much time we have left before someone comes looking for him. Stop complaining and just help. This is your fault anyway.” He scolds as his accusations slice through my chest reminding me that I just killed a man out of rage.
Time and time again, when I get overly angry, rage consumes me and I black out—Samantharemembers all too well what happened when she kissed Dillon at the ice cream shop, thinking I didn’t see. Ruthanne bears the scar across her face from the slice I left after I caught her sucking Dillon's dick in the back of the church after I just had fucked him. We fought that night because he cut me too deep, with his knife and I needed to go home and get my kit to stitch up the wound. But when I came back I caught them together. I sliced her right cheek pretty nicely and I don’t regret it. What I regret is staying with the asshole for as long as I did. He’s half the reason I get into the messes that I do and I’m the only one to suffer the consequences. Now we have Michael, my father’s friend who tried to touch me way too many times. I can’t help that when I’ve had enough—I snap and attack. With therapy, I’ve learned I could control my impulsiveness and think about what my next move is, instead of just automatically reacting. Clearly counseling and anger management isn’t working, like my parents wish it would. I thought I was making progress but I guess I’m not.
My father slapping my mother takes me out of my head and into the present.
“Dad, touch her again. I swear to god. You will be next at the bottom of this river.” I growl.
“You both are nothing but vile creatures. I should’ve stayed in Colorado. It’s where I truly belong. Fuck!” He yells pointing at the both of us, as he shoves the body into the river. The sounds of the small waves crashing against the rocks has me taking a deep breath. I never asked them to help me hide the body. I never asked for fucking anything. My father should’ve never put me in the predicament in the first place. My mother is nothing but a trophy wife; that gives him everything and anything he wants. If she defies him he beats her bloody. I’ve watched it all my life. My father wishes I’d been the one who died, not my brother who was just like him. Fun fact is… I am like him except, I have a whole ass cunt and I’m not afraid to use it.
Watching the dead body float across the river, my mother stomps away crying and I roll my eyes.I’ll never be with a man like my father. He’s a piece of shit just like Dillon.Turning around and heading slowly back up the hill towards the car, my father grabs me, spinning me around and wrapping his hand around my throat.
“Not a word to anyone about this, you hear me?” He growls and I nod. “This is not a game or a joke. If someone finds out about this—it’s your life hanging in the balance. Not ours. Got it?” He says and I nod again. He lets go of my throat and walks away without a backwards glance. I follow behind; keeping my distance and once we get to the top, him and my mother get into their car and I get into mine and head home.
As I’m driving behind my parents, a black SUV pulls up behind me, riding my tail for about a mile and then pulls up beside me passing both me and my parents.What the fuck?My phone pings in my cup holder as we reach the gates to my parents estate. Picking it up I see its a message from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Your secret is safe with me…For now.
Chills crawl up my spine and I chuck my phone into my passenger seat.
Not tonight. Not after what I just did. Fuck that– fuck him and his bullshit games.
The Divine
Hayes
Two years later…
“Son, once you walk through those doors and stand in front of those men you are not Hayes Valentine star hockey player. You are Hayes Valentine, initiate to the Divine. You only speak when spoken too, you obey their every order. Otherwise you will find yourself on the other side of the tombs again, paying for your sins. Do you understand me?” My father asks and I nod. The way this man repeats himself every time we are down here is utterly exhausting. He wants me to be like my older brother Maddox but that will never be me. I don’t want this life. Unfortunately, I was born into it and I have no choice but to follow in the footsteps of the ones before me. Even if I hope tomake it into the draft for hockey, I want to go pro but this Divine shit is entirely in my way.
The longer I stand down here, the more my god damn head pounds. It’s so fucking cold and muggy it sends chills straight to my bones. Last night I didn’t sleep very much. I was too busy partying with my boys. I’m pretty sure I am still drunk as fuck as I stand here in my red cloak with a gold belt wrapped around my waist looking like a hobbit. Who ever decided on what we should wear around the deity was a fucking clown. I huff as more initiates pile into the holding room, lining up behind one another single file. The last guy arrives and my father signals another man to open the door for us. We walk into the ritual room as our chant echoes deeply through the space. One by one we walk past the rows of pews. Once we get to the top of the aisle, an elder wields a dagger and slices into our palm, letting our blood drip into a chalice. Then we stand silently around the deity which holds a woman, thrashing against her bindings completely naked and gagged on the long rectangular stone table. Another elder whips her with red leather as another leaves small slice marks against her skin. I wonder how long they’ve been doing this. My guess is hoursbecause of the amount of blood covering her naked flesh. The chanting gets louder and I cringe,“My blood is now your blood, Brother mine. You have our back and we have yours.”
I wonder if Parker is here. He’s one of the very select few that I know is an initiate. This isn’t something we are allowed to discuss freely in front of others and when we are in here, our identity is kept secret until initiation day. One year until we are sworn in and I hope that I fail at every turn just so they kick me out.
“Initiates please step forward. Pick up the chalice and drink.” His voice echos through the concrete room as the chanting continues,
“My blood is now your blood, Brother mine. You have our back and we have yours.”
“This is her blood–” he points to the naked girl screaming. “Her virgin blood will flow through your veins and embed into your soul.” He says then chants with the others and I lift my chalice and swallow down the copper crimson. It’s actually sweeter than I’d like but it’s fresh with a cinnamon aroma to it. After swallowing every last drop, I’m a sick fuck and lick the rim of the metal cup, then place it down onto the table. Eyes burn into my skull but I don’t care. I grin becauseI love the taste of blood. “Go forth my initiates and we will see you on ritual night,” One of the elders announces; as they surround the girl, holding daggers in their hands then slice into her, digging, twisting and carving into her skin. Her screams echo as the sounds of muscle and tendons are torn. I glance back and see blood pouring onto the concrete underneath the deity as they feast on her like wolves starved. I swallow thickly as we leave the room and back to what I assume is our family's room. Entering mine, I take off my cloak and wait for my father to arrive.
Eating women? Cannabalism? I thought this was just virgin sacrifices and blood rituals, not consuming of the human body. I’m not sure my stomach can handle this. What the fuck?
Dreams & Dead Weight
Liviana
One week later…
