Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“She can’t even text on that. Or take pictures.” Marcy chimes in from her safe zone in the hallway.
“She doesn’t need to text or take pictures. She needs to call me if she needs me, and she needs to answer when I call. That’s all she needs to do with that thing.”
“Okay, okay.” Marcy holds up her hands in surrender. “Can we go?”
She wrinkles her forehead and sticks her tongue out at the back of Eli’s head while keeping her eyes pinned on his ass.
I smile at the grumpy man that towers above my barely five-foot one-inch frame. “Everything will be fine.”
I push onto my tip toes and tug at his shoulders. He relents, bending that steel-straight spine of his low enough so I can brush my lips on his cheek, feeling the course texture of his beard.
His body goes rigid as my lips connect to his cheek. He steps back as though he’s been shocked by the cattle fence, then grumbles as I pass by.
“Eleven o’clock. Cell phone on. No bullshit.”
“Bye, Mr. Heartson!” Marcy quips as I toss a smile then blow a kiss over my shoulder, watching Eli reach for the wall on a shudder, his chin falling as he grabs the top of his head and squeezes.
CHAPTER 2
Eli
The twenty-foot tall flames flickering into the sky are a mere spark compared to what’s burning inside of me.
Take her.
Take her.
Take her.
The voices inside my head are relentless.
Growing by the day, as I fall to my knees and pray for my obsession to run its course. But I know that’s impossible. She’s always with me. Whether she’s in my presence or not, the voice and the thoughts won’t leave me alone. They beat inside of me like an ancient drum and my dark impulses are becoming harder and harder to resist.
She’s yours. Do what you want.
Get in there. That pussy is ripe for breeding.
She’s eighteen now, claim what is rightfully yours.
I lurk in the treeline like a stalker. I give her a curfew so she will think she has some freedom but that’s an illusion. I’m with her always. If she is not under my roof, I’m not far. Ever watchful.
There is danger around every corner and she will never be harmed.
Not on my watch.
The thoughts I have of plowing into her, bent over the milking stall, are shameful. She’s innocent, I’ve made sure of that, but the sound of her gentle voice coming through the wall at night haunts me.
It turned from the soft sing-songs of a little girl into the chirping pop songs of a young teenager.
To now, the muffled moans of a young woman calling out to someone named…Daddy.
If her fantasy man is anyone other than me, I will find my way into her dreams and castrate the motherfucker.
I’d never loved a woman before her. I’ve felt the low buzz of lust long ago, but being the freak of Mumford my romantic life did not have a course set for a happy ending. They teased and toyed with me as I grew into an adolescent. Then exposed their cruel games in the most public of places for the entertainment of the whole class.
Luring me out on a Friday night under the lights of football field, dressed in a fifty-year old suit with cuffs that brushed above my ankles and a suit jacket that strained over my shoulders and needed another six inches in order to button.
How I believed I had been voted homecoming king I’m not sure. Youthful delusion, when the most popular girl in school holds your hand and tells you she’s wanted you for years. Eighteen years of being an outcast turns a young man hopeful. When the carrot was dangled, I lost myself in the glimmer of being accepted.
Only, as I stood on the sidelines that night, the Mumford High School stadium filled, the cruelty of women exposed itself to me in a blinding white light.
She held my hand as we walked onto the field, our crowns held up as the crowd roared. The homecoming court surrounded us.
Her crown was placed on top of her head.
Then mine was handed to me.
Confusion dulled my senses as the stadium went silent. I looked over to see her smile, then nod at the others.
As my hands held the crown, six girls surrounded me wearing their pink and purple gowns, fingers slipping under my suit jacket as I tried to piece together this ceremonial ritual.
I was not king. I was the joker. Standing on the field, my pants and underwear at my ankles as the crowd once again roared.
Before Ruby was born, I farmed and believed the lie that there were good women out there as my grandfather always said, I just needed to make the effort.
Every effort was met with lies and deception. I did not fit into this part of the human experience and after my own mother ran off with a salesman, there was no convincing me of the benefits of female companionship.