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Prologue
Amadeus
When I was a little boy, I looked up to my father—thought he was the greatest man in the whole damn world. I had so many good memories with him as a kid—fishing, hunting, him teaching me how to use a gun safely for the first time. Every evening after dinner, he’d read me a chapter out of the Bible. It was my storytime before bath and bed. I looked forward to hearing one of those stories.
I thought the man could do no wrong, especially since he was a good ol’ Christian, you know? The whole town looked up to him. My mother doted on his every need. He was everyone’s idol, so why wouldn’t he be mine?
And then, he became a preacher, and well… everything went to shit after that.
On the outside, to everyone else, he was still the best man that God could put on this earth. To his family? He was a sick, twisted individual. He shoved so much of that Bible down our throats, with its rules and laws and beliefs, that I had goddamn nightmares about that shit. I grew a hatred for anything inside that book, and I grew a hatred for him, for the church, and every person who thought he shit fucking rainbows.
But I sucked it up. What fucking choice did I have? I had a little brother to protect and teach—behind Dad’s back, of course—that the Bible wasn’t the rule of the fucking land. So, I couldn’t leave, couldn’t run away. And like hell would I have ever reported him. The whole goddamn town thought he pissed sparkles, so I knew no one would believe me about the shit he did at home. Every farmer thought he brought the rain, every cop thought he stopped all the crime, and every family thought he was bringing hope into their lives.
It was a load of absolute bullshit.
I was eleven the first time he raped my mother all because she had a headache and didn’t feel like having sex. His excuse was that it was her wifely duty to give him what he wanted. I wanted to kill him, but when my mother shook her head at me and continued making his breakfast, I realized it wasn’t worth it. Solomon, my little brother, was my only priority. I was my mother’s child, and it was not my job to take care of her and protect her. And it shouldn’t have been my job to protect my little brother, but it was. Imadeit my job. And if anyone wanted to touch him, they had me to get through first.
I was thirteen the first time my father tried touching me inappropriately. After I kicked him in the face and bloodied his nose, I moved my shit into my little brother’s room and put a lock on the door. And every time that asshole would take it off, I put a new one up. I learned quickly how to play his game—learned it so well, I knew how to play it better.
I was the master now. He was nothing more than a fucking pawn.
Andlike fuckwas he fucking up Solomon like that. Solomon might have been his son, but I was his protector. My little brother was un-fucking-touchable. I’d kill for him without even a split second of hesitation.
When I was fifteen, my best friend, Ezra, and I decided we’d had enough of this bullshit ass place with its bullshit Biblical rules, and we started rebelling. Parties, drugs, alcohol, sex—you name it, we fucking made sure it happened. We indulged. I liked the fucked-up sinner I was. I taught my brother how to indulge in it all, too. I wouldn’t let him be constricted to the tiny little box our father tried to put us in.
Our parents had no idea we were behind the parties, the drugs, the alcohol, and all the fucking sex while we were in high school. In fact, no one did. We kept our heads down and our mouths shut, especially since I knew what was at stake if anyone found out my best friend, Ezra, was gay. And boy, did my best friend like to fuck a tight piece of ass.
We were the sinners of the town, and slowly, one by one, we were corrupting everyone.
But I had no idea thatshewould be the one to corrupt me.
ChapterOne
Lillian
Ismoothed my hands down the skirt of my dress, blowing out a soft breath in nervousness. I hated new places, and one too many times, we’d had to move due to my father’s military career. And sure, I was an adult—could choose to stay behind if I’d wanted. I’d turned eighteen three months ago and had graduated high school last month. But staying behind when my parents moved and I was unwed wasn’t done in this family.
Both of my sisters had stayed home after high school until they’d been married off to someone of my parents’ choosing. Both of their husbands had been within the Christian community and were devoted to God. Immediately after both of them were married, they fell pregnant, already doing their duties as wives.
The mere thought of being married off to someone I didn’t know, to someone I didn’t love, and then forced to bear a child to a man I may never grow to care for made my chest tight with fear, made it hard to breathe. What if he was a monster like my father? What if I never knew true happiness?
A loud knock sounded on my bedroom door, knocking me out of my head. I quickly straightened my shoulders and back before opening it, smiling demurely at my mother. She scanned me from head to toe and then muttered something under her breath before brushing past me to go to my closet.
I swallowed thickly. What had I done wrong now? It felt like I could never do anything right—couldn’t dress right, couldn’t eat right, couldn’t sit correctly.
They nitpicked at literally every single thing I did. Sometimes, I even breathed too loudly. I knew they were desperately trying to get me married off, so everything mattered so much more now, but it was exhausting trying to constantly please them.
Mother came out of the closet and thrust a sweater at me. “Cover up,” she ordered.
Nodding, I quickly pulled the sweater on. She’d purchased this dress and told me to wear it for our first Sunday at our new church, but of course,Iwould be the one blamed for how I looked in it or if I showed too much skin.
She pulled my hair out from beneath the sweater and pulled it to drape perfectly over my shoulders. I knew without a word, she expected me to wear my hair like that for the rest of the day.
Finally, she stepped back and nodded her head once. “Good. Perfect. Let’s go. Your father is waiting in the car.”
I quickly followed her out of the house, my hands clasped in front of me like a good, obedient child. I slid into the backseat and settled my hands in my lap. “Good morning, Father,” I softly greeted.
“It would be a good morning if you didn’t take so long getting ready, Lillian,” he snapped at me, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror. I flinched back and cast my eyes to my lap.
