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Chalking it up to me being overtired, hungry, and just exhausted, I drop my towel and slip into the shower, scrubbing up quickly but relishing in the hot droplets of water that cascade off my drained muscles. It feels so damn good. Remembering I want to get a quick read in tonight before Bishop comes to bed, I flick the faucets off and step out of the shower, wrapping the towel around me to dry quickly before stepping into my clothes—or lack thereof.
Hanging up my towel, I pull the door open, welcomed by uncongested air, and peek out the blinds next to the bed, checking to see if Bishop is still out there. He’s there, chatting with Saint and Hunter. I quickly shut the blinds, pulling The Book out from my duffel bag and slipping under the blanket. Lying down, I open to where I was and lose myself back in the story.
5.
Lost innocence
After that night I heard my husband plan the deaths of our leaders, I decided to bury this book until I could decide whether it would be safe or not to continue with writing it. My son turned fourteen today, and tonight, it’s his ritual. At fourteen, my son will lose his virginity to a woman who has far too many years on him than any mother would care to acknowledge. The years I had no say in. I used to fight Humphrey at every turn. Every decision he made that I didn’t like, I would fight him. It started with him yelling at me and then beating me, but he soon realized I took everything he gave me. Once he realized that, he would punish me by beating my son. That worked effectively, because the one day he threatened that, was the day I started obeying his every word. That was the day my shoulders dropped in defeat, and I swore to myself, as God as my witness, that I hope he dies one day soon. Dies a quick death, but dies nonetheless.
“Ma, I’ll be okay. No need to fuss.”
I pressed the crinkles out of his linen shirt, a smile on my lips. A fake smile, a smile he knew so well. My precious son, the one person I wanted nothing but happiness for, but I knew he wouldn’t get it.
“I know, my son. I know.”
He smiled. “This is for the best, Mother. Father knows what he’s doing. The people trust him. I trust him. You should trust him too.” My heart broke a little, but I was grateful he didn’t know what the kind of monster his father was. It was better this way. Nothing good can come for him if he knew. I didn’t want to ruin how much he looked up to his father—even though his intentions were not noble.
I rubbed Damien’s chest. “You’re all ready.”
He smiled. Damien’s white teeth gleamed across his face, the scar he got on top of his lip from when he fell off one of our horses still there. He was four at the time, and now he was fourteen. About to make love to someone who didn’t deserve it, all because his father said so. Because it was his coming of age. Because the younger he found someone, the longer they had to reproduce. The thought had my stomach churning with disgust, but I kept my smile on my face for my son.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Damien. Now—go ahead.”
He smiled at me again and then left our hut. It was much larger than our old one—and my husband always made a note to remind me of that. Of how I owed him for getting me out of poverty, as he would say.
Damien escaped through the curtain. “I love you so very much.” I could feel him slipping through my fingertips already, and no matter how hard I tried to grasp onto anything I could at keeping him near me, I couldn’t. It was out of my hands.
Humphrey was succeeding in manipulating the most powerful men of our time. He had other men—leaders, but not in charge like him—who stood behind him. All had money, all earned power and respect, and together? They were untouchable. Nothing went through their intelligence. No one dared disrespect or cross them. They were feared amongst our people—amongst other people. We had money now. We didn’t know suffering, but I’d rather have no money and a family at peace, than him with all his riches.
I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to discover today—amongst Damien’s initiation. My worst fear. The worst possible thing that could ever happen, happened.
I fell pregnant.
My phone beeping with a text pulls me out of my story. “Fuck.” Frustrated at how it interrupted me just as I’m getting to something juicy, I close the book. I slip it back into my bag, deciding it’s probably a good idea to turn it in for the night, considering. Flicking off the bedside lamp, I snuggle into the blanket and unlock my phone to a text from Tatum.
