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1
The ground is cold.It’s the first thing I notice when I step off the final wooden plank and feel the loose dirt mush between my toes. It’s an odd thing to focus on, but the unnatural chill of what should be warm soil feels like a warning.Turn around, Carwen. Run. What you find here will ruin you.It pulses through me, an ominous chant to the beat of my own racing heart as I walk deeper into the dim hideaway at the far end of my family’s property line.
This is where I’ve watched Alastor go when he leaves me alone in our home. Alone with the shadows and the empty night sky, he slips quietly from our bed, only on the darkest of nights, and comes here. He thinks I’m oblivious to his deception- either that or he’s confident I would never dare question him- but whatever his reasoning, what’s down in this hole is why he’s grown distant. Why he is now reluctant to do what he swore to me that he would the second he became the head of our family and took me as his wife. Continue our bloodline.
I step deeper into the shadows and suck in a sharp breath. The air feels heavy in my lungs, tasting of sins so vile, each inhale coats the back of my tongue with their putridly evil sludge, and I fight the urge to retch. Whatever he’s doing down here is foul and unclean. Whatever it isneedsto be buried far deeper in the ground.
I squint, taking in the few items scattered throughout the room. There are empty cans and scraps of paper littering the dusty floor, and I hesitantly lift what looks to be a discarded blanket, using only my pointer finger and my thumb.
“Gross.” I gag, dropping the disgusting fabric to the ground and kick away what turns out to be a full can of food with a pull-top still intact, jumping when it clatters into a small stack of supplies against the wall to my left. Strange. Someone must have been kept here. Perhaps this was a punishment room for a previous wife? I know I’m not his first, but I have endeavored to be his favorite. I’m the only woman left in our family, and only the two of us live out here now, so why would he still sneak away and come here?
Something shifts, pushing itself deeper into the darkest corner of the room, and I step in closer, gasping at the sight of a petite, filthy woman sitting cross-legged in the corner with her back to me. Her raven hair is nearly as long as mine, but her dark black locks are noticeably matted and touching the filthy cellar floor. I absentmindedly run my fingers through my own hair, hating the way my stomach flips at the sight of her unkempt strands, knowing Father would be furious if I let mine get that tangled.
“Who are you?” I whisper nervously, uncomfortable at her silence. She must be aware of my presence. The light from the open door above is an immediate giveaway that someone was coming.
No response.
“Turn around.” Nothing, no reaction. No fear. Not a sound. I gingerly wrap my fingers around the blunt end of a razor I borrowed from Father’s shop when I took him lunch and hesitantly lift it from the pocket of my sundress.
“Why are you here? Look at me, girl!” I hiss and step in closer. I’m breathing heavily, furious at her blatant dismissal, but I force each angry huff through my mouth to keep from gagging on her stench. The hot summer air spilling in from above is now making the smell in this dark hovel nearly unbearable, and I’m worried if I keep panting like this, I may faint.
I snap and grab her shirt, spinning her to face me, and stumble back when her sunken ice-blue eyes lift to meet my gaze, her blank stare so horrific it freezes the air in my lungs. Dead. Cold. She lives and breathes, but what’s left of her soul is long past ruined- her very existence infected.
“Why are you here?” I demand, punctuating each word, and she slowly shakes her head, tucking her knees to her chest and rocking to my franticly labored breaths. I take her in, desperate to eat up every detail in hopes of proving to myself that this isn’t what it looks like, but the dried blood caked on the bottom of her ratty gown screams of her reality. I don’t need an explanation to acknowledge this absolute verity… I know what happened here, but bywhose hand?
“Who touched you?!” I grab her chin and shake her. Weak. Foul.Why her?
“Greene. Abomination,” she whispers with a slight tilt of her head, her eyes seeming to look straight through me. I knew the truth, but hearing it hits me harder than any physical blow ever could.Sheis why my husband refused to plant his seed in my womb. This filthy, sinful wretch is the reason I’ve yet to build a family. He wasted his affection onher? Anger ignites in my blood, the very blood that has remained pure for generations, the blood we were meant to pass on to onlyourchildren. She is unworthy, and yet he has still strayed. I shoot forward, pinning her to the dirt floor, and drag my stolen blade across her neck. She doesn’t struggle against me. Doesn’t cry or beg, she simply…bleeds. This whore is just as pathetic in death as she was when she was simpering in the corner, and I watch in disgust while her tainted blood is quickly absorbed into the barren earth beneath us. She is an unworthy sacrifice compared to the sins committed in this tomb.
I drop the blade onto the dirt beside her, still furious. I had hoped releasing his dark secret would somehow squelch my rage, at least temporarily, but her parting breath did nothing but fuel the ire still searing through my veins. She was dead long before I found her, but I set her free, and her filthy soul will only be missed by the man who betrayed me. The man who has brought this corpse into our bed and shame on our family. Our home, our lives, and our bond are now haunted by his misdeeds and as lifeless as the whore now rotting beneath me.
Slowly, I stand, turn my back on the spark to his ruination, and walk toward the stairs. I don’t feel guilty for taking her life. It was my duty as a descendent of Luke Greene. My husband has fallen from the path, grown weak in his fealty with age, and it is now up to me to make it right. I took his whore, leaving this mess for him to find the next time he slips from our bed. He’ll know that I found proof of his offense, and I wonder briefly if he will even acknowledge it. Will he mourn her? Will he hate meorwant to fuck me more? Perhaps both.
I place my foot on the bottom step, slowly climbing the stairs, when it hits me. Do I even want him to touch me now? I know what consequences would await the women in our family should they behave in such a manner, but the men? No. They are supposed to be stronger-willed. Born and trained to lead our families. They would have never done something so shameful. My husband’s mind and body are now contaminated, and when that happens, it is time for someone else to move up and lead the family.
Stepping into the yard, I close the door and spit on her grave. The filthy whore’s corpse now silently rots beneath my feet without ceremony or tears, and I start the short walk back to our house with an extra spring in my step. I take a moment to enjoy the sunshine as its warmth washes over my tacky skin, and I allow the bright rays to ease the chill of Alastor’s truth now settling into my bones. I smile, humming a happy tune to myself. I will remain faithful to my father’s teachings, stay strong and unwavering in my loyalty to our family. I will fix this. I will walk through the shadows to help usher in his judgment day. I will force him to face the weakness he has brought into our home, and then I will punish him. Perhaps the Greene men were born to lead, but the women are much stronger than any of them realize. The lessons we’re taught are torturous; they are meant to break us into submission. But we are fighters. Survivors. Many of our women have fallen because they fought against this life. But not me, Iwantto submit. I crave the strong biting hand of a Greene man, and Ineedto bear his children. No, this is not wheremyfamily ends. Our line- the Greene line- will live on.
When I get inside, I quickly rush up the stairs, strip off my blood-stained sundress, and tuck it away under my bed to dispose of later. I jump into the shower to rinse the putrid blood from my skin and scrub hard, washing twice- not wanting a trace of her on me another second- and then turn off the water. Stepping from the tub, I examine every inch of myself in the full-length mirror I asked him to install so I could watch my stomach grow when we conceived a child of our own. How could he? How could he choose that filth over his wife? His daughter. Why choose her over me? I have the same pale skin, yet mine is healthy, clean, and soft where hers was sickly and carried an almost green tint. Her hair was long and matted, and mine is smooth and clean. My father says I look like both of our mothers did at my age- before mine ran off and his father had to put his down.
I think back to the night he took me as his wife. He had laid in bed with me and told me about his childhood. Whispered things never spoken of in the light of day, a history he had forbidden me from asking about my entire childhood, turned into a gifted story on our wedding night.
‘Your eyes, Wild One’- he sighed- ‘are just as black as my mother’s were. My father claimed he could see her soul in the pits of their darkness and it was pure evil.’
‘Did you see it too, husband?’ I wiggled, anxious for his answer, fearing that the possible similarities could condemn me in his heart.
‘Yes. She was disobedient and would fight my father any time he showed any of us affection.’ He shook his head at the unpleasant thought.
‘I would never do that to you!’ I try to sit up so I can look him in his eyes, desperate to convince him of my loyalty.
‘I know that,’ he grinned, rolling me under him. ‘Now, be a good girl, and show me.’
I shake off the memory. One night. I had one incredible night as his wife, and the next evening, he was sneaking out of our bed to be with her. I clench my fists and breathe slowly. In and out. In and out. Just like Leiv taught me when I was younger. My temper has always gotten me into trouble and would land me at the end of Alastor’s belt more often than not- that is until he realized I had reached the age where I craved it. Every time Leiv and I would bicker over something when we were younger, I would lash out, but he would always stay calm and never held a grudge. Leiv knew I didn’t mean it and would gently guide me in the proper ways to speak to him. I was his baby sister. I was promised to him when we came of age. He loved me, and-wait.
Leiv. He’s been gone for so long, but perhapsheis the solution to this problem. I never questioned Daddy’s explanation the morning after I woke up and found that Uncle Haden and Leiv had vanished because he had said they had run off in the night. They were unworthy of our name, so he removed all traces of them in our home, and I was never allowed to mention them again.
Rule One: Good girls listen to Daddy.
I was always his good girl, so that was it. My heart hurt every single day from missing Leiv, but I didn’t dare mention him. After that, I didn’t have to share my father with anyone, and I loved being his entire focus. So I put it behind me the best I could and moved forward. He taught me how to care for the house and cook- which should have been Mother’s job- and then he trained me in all of the things I needed to know how to do to be a perfect wife- Leiv’s job. But what if Alastor had lied and Leiv didn’t actually want to leave me? He would be a grown man by now; if I can find him and show him how well I would be able to love him… how good it can feel…
