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After a moment’s hesitation, Kyrie said, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” She sounded convincing, and I almost believed her.
“I just don’t know how comfortable I feel about leaving you here by yourself with everything that’s happened today,” her father said.
“I promise I’ll be fine, Daddy. I just … I want to take a nap.”
“You could always come with us, darling,” Kyrie’s mother repeated. “We can go by the mall after. Get that ice cream you like at the food court.”
“I’m not hungry. Thanks, Mom. I think I just want to sleep.”
The conversation continued for a bit longer, and Kyrie finally convinced her parents she would be okay alone. She promised not to leave or open the door.
The whole time I sat still, quiet, wondering where Valerie was and if anyone would ever worry and protect me the way Kyrie’s parents worried for her.
Likely not.
I stayed still like that, writing melancholy poems in my head about my life as her parents walked down the stairs, as Kyrie sent them off, as she locked the doors, finally returning to her bedroom. She left the bedroom door open and walked to the closet door, letting me into the light.
“They’re gone,” she said.
I sat in the back of her closet, staring at her ceiling, noticing plastic stars pressed to the top. “Why didn’t you go with them? Any place has to be safer than here.”
“Than Hart Hollow? Or with you?” She laughed, knowing her father would hate this.
I let the silence wash over us, and eventually, Kyrie moved close. “What’s wrong?”
I looked at her.
“I mean, besides a girl being dead.” She smiled, a sad thing.
“I need to tell you about where I came from.”
“The ranch?”
“Yes,” I said. After clearing my throat, I started. “I don’t know who my father is. I never have. For years I thought I did. But the man my mother was with, he wasn’t my real father. I didn’t live on a cattle ranch in California. It used to be a ranch, though it’d been years. I don’t know how Markus got it. He didn’t even have a job.” I cleared my throat, leaning against the wall. “Markus was the leader. There were thirty of us living on the property. It was all self-contained, self-sufficient. We had gardens and our own little houses. A cafeteria where we all ate together. And there was a church. Where we prayed and congregated.”
Kyrie was listening intently, no horror on her face. Not yet. If I stopped there, it would be a lovely tale. A quiet life on a ranch with a community of people surrounding us. It could have been nice, could have been a haven.
“Markus believed Jesus Christ was a vampire,” I said.
Kyrie’s face jolted as if she’d been slapped.
I continued. “He believed he was a chosen one. That Jesus had chosen him to spread his message, his pure love, his pure … seed.” I swallowed. “There weren’t many men on the ranch. Just his sons. His son, Leo, was with my mother. His other son, Adrian, was with my aunt Valerie for a while. But … the couples … it was all a lie.”
“What do you mean?”
I closed my eyes. “They were all fucking each other. He was spreading his seed, securing his line. And so were his sons. Any sons had to come from his line. Sometimes, though, they brought in new women. When my mother was fishing for new prospects, I guess she had a one-night stand with my real father? I don’t know. I don’t look like Leo, and I know Markus watched me closely, didn’t think I was a part of his family tree. He was right. Because of that, I was their plaything.”
“What do you mean?”
I wanted to break open, to cry, but I swallowed, pushing down the knot in my throat, the aching in my body. “The women. He let the women have me when they wanted me.”
Kyrie brought her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp, eyes wide. “They … what did …” she whispered.
I couldn’t say it. The shame mingled with what I knew I should say. I should have said I liked it and enjoyed them using me. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. My body betrayed me when they pulled me into darkened rooms, when they touched me, brought me to the brink, let me spill over into their hands, on their flesh, and sometimes, inside of them—though it was forbidden.
I saw them at night, hungry mouths, open palms, the dark abyss of my captors.
All to keep them happy, to keep them there. Because they did not always welcome the flesh of Markus—his seed. Not all of them. Maybe deep down, they saw it for what it was. Incestuous, a violation. So they violated me. Thought it was okay because we did not share blood.
