Pretty Little Things

Chapter 2 - Colin

I drained my double shot of Jim Beam down my throat, the burn long gone and replaced by numbness an hour ago. I looked down at my watch, but it was too dark to see the time, which was probably for the best because it would only enrage me further. It was three in the morning last time I’d checked. Annie hadn’t called or texted, but her best friend Mara, whom she was supposed to be out with, had stopped by four hours ago looking for her.

When I heard the doorknob turn, I sat holding my empty glass in the formal living room, veiled in shadows. She stepped inside, walking on her tiptoes as she shut the door behind her, flinching as it clicked loudly into the lock and echoed throughout the cavernous space. She tiptoed to the stairs and grabbed hold of the banister.

“Is this fun for you?” I asked, and she jumped, grabbing her chest as she turned toward the sound of my voice, her eyes narrowed as she searched me out.

“Could you be more dramatic?” she whisper-yelled, not wanting to disturb Connor from his sleep, even though his room was on the third floor and he slept like the dead.

“More dramatic?” I asked as I pushed to my feet. I hurled the glass across the room, and it connected with the inside of the living room wall, shattering into the darkness. “That better?” I asked, arms stretched out at my sides as I walked toward her.

Her hands went over her face reflexively, and as she lowered them she stared daggers at me. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“That so? Where were you?” I hurried toward her angrily. My filter had disintegrated with each drink, and now I was dangling from the edge of aggression.

“None of your business,” she snapped and took off up the steps to avoid me, slipping and coming down hard on her knee, the cracking sound enough to cause me to flinch. She let out a cry of pain as she clutched at her leg, her body splayed on the staircase like a broken doll. This is what happens to girls who get too close to me.

I took the first three steps in one stride and lifted her effortlessly into my arms to carry her up to her room. “Fuck, Annabel,” I groaned as we made it to the darkened hall above, and I kicked open her door with my foot. She cried, her tears wetting my bare chest. I laid her in the center of her bed and brushed the hair from her face, causing her to flinch and clutch her cheek.

“You hit your face?” Through the moonlight coming in through her window, I could see her nod, and the shadow of a forming bruise was already evident. “Hold on.” I hurried back downstairs and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a red dish towel. When I made it back to her room, she was lying on her side, her hand on her face. I pulled her fingers away and pressed the ice pack to her cheek. She flinched, but her hand slid over mine to hold it in place. I stood up and sighed as I ran my hand over my dark, short hair.

“Thank you,” she whimpered, sounding years younger than seventeen and more like that girl I had met a lifetime ago.

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re still going to tell me where you were.”

“I was out with friends.”

“You need to trust me and let me protect you. It’s my job.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Colin. I just want you to leave me alone.” She rolled farther away, and the pain of her words hurt worse than a physical blow could inflict.

“Because you’re so good at taking care of yourself? Look at you? You just kicked your own ass.”

“I don’t need to protect myself,” she bit back, her feelings hurt from my implication that she was helpless.

That was it. That’s what I was waiting to hear. She had met someone, and I had no idea who this guy was, and the fact that she smelled like marijuana did not get by me. The once perfect and innocent Annabel was falling from grace, hell-bent on proving me wrong about who she was. “You can continue to pretend that our life before we moved here was all just a bad dream. I wish I had that luxury. But I know exactly what happens to girls like you who think they are invincible.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” she challenged.

“I prove them wrong.”

She rolled over halfway to face me in the dark. “Go away, Colin.”

I stared at her shadowed silhouette for a moment before forcing myself to leave the room, pulling the door closed behind me but not latching it. My room was directly across the hall, and I slipped inside, leaving it wide open. I slid my dark suit pants down and kicked them off, falling onto my bed in only my gray boxer briefs. I could hear Annie’s muffled cries from across the hall, and it killed me inside that I couldn’t help her, that I couldn’t trust myself.

When her sobs subsided, I was able to drift off into a nightmare-filled sleep, plagued by memories of a youth spent in hell. I was thankful Annie was able to block it out enough that she could project the appearance of functioning normally, but I knew it ate her up inside as much as it did me. I would gladly hold the weight of our troubled past if it meant she would have a normal future. Watching her slowly throw it away killed me inside.

I watched as Taylor’s hand came down hard across Marie’s cheek, and the sound of her grunt echoed in the large room as she fell to her side, catching herself on her hip and hands. Her strawberry blond hair covered her tear-soaked face. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat as he looked over at me. “Disobedience will not be tolerated.” I nodded and watched the girl, a few years older than me but half my size, lie helpless and sobbing on the floor. It was a scenario I’d seen play out dozens of times. It no longer fazed me. It was the way things were. Every story was different and the same. This girl was a runaway who prostituted herself out in order to score drugs. I didn’t know why Taylor even bothered bringing her in, but she fit the profile—blond hair and green eyes laced with flecks of gold—and he was becoming desperate to bring validity to his visions. The church was growing restless.

You either accepted the rules or you were beaten into submission, and Taylor was very creative with his punishments. I carried the scars on my flesh to prove it. “Pay close attention, boy.”

I nodded once and waited. He grabbed Marie’s arm and jerked her to her feet, giving her a second to regain her balance. I was sure that by morning her hip would be bruised, and simple acts such as walking would be difficult.

At fourteen, I was now being taught the inner workings of the church in order to prepare me for the day I would take Taylor’s place. All encounters were videotaped for church records, something I never batted an eye at because it was just the way it was. To say my upbringing was unconventional was an understatement. The Descendants of God was a country-wide organization, and I was living at the epicenter and learning directly from our founder himself, Taylor Woodward.

He unfastened his belt as Marie wrapped her arms around her waist, sobs ripping from her chest.

“Don’t hit me.” Her pleading fell on deaf ears. I was no longer swayed by other people’s pain. My empathy had long evaporated with every scar I received. Bad things didn’t just happen to bad people. This was a fact.

He reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek to wipe away her tears. “Shh, I wasn’t going to hit you. Praying isn’t the only thing you will do on your knees around here.” Her gaze fell lower, and she watched as he undid his pants. I glanced at the red light on the camera that sat in the corner of the room atop a tripod and kept my expression unreadable, not wanting Taylor to see how much this still bothered me when he reviewed the tape. The only thing worse than the depraved acts I was forced to witness was having our leader deem me useless. I’d seen what happened to those who didn’t conform, and I wasn’t ready to meet my maker.

I awoke to my mattress being nudged. My eyes flew open, and I stared up at Annie’s messy, wild hair from a night of restless sleep. She was wearing one of my white undershirts, and it fell to midthigh. Mascara was smudged under her eyes from a late night.

“What’s wrong?” I groaned as I blinked back the harsh sunlight that poured through my window. Annie’s blurry image slowly came into focus. She held out a bottle of water and two pills in the other hand. I grabbed my covers and pulled them up, suddenly realizing it was morning and I was only in my underwear. The evidence of my twisted, fucked-up past was painfully hard, and control was something I lacked when I needed release. “Fuck, you could have knocked,” I snapped.

“You could close your door if you want me to knock.” She laughed as she set the bottle of water on my bare chest. The cold made me jump, and I sat up, my head thumping with the sudden movement. “Here.”

I held out my hand, and she dropped the pills into my palm before tucking her hair behind her ear and sitting down on the edge of my bed with one leg tucked under her.

I swallowed them down and drank the bottle of water in one long sip. Her eyebrow rose as she watched me and shook her head. I rubbed the heels of my hands over my eyes and looked over at her, taking in the purpling of her cheekbone on her otherwise perfect porcelain skin.

“Shit,” I groaned and reached out to run the pad of my finger over the mark, but she pulled back and swatted my hand away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m fine.” Just like that she shrugged it off as if it had never happened. Had her face not bore the mark of the encounter, it would have been erased from her memory entirely. That was what I envied about Annabel. She could block out anything that caused her pain and live in a bubble of contentment. That was why our new life suited her so well. She was a chameleon with a self-imposed dementia.

I shook my head as I sat up farther and ran my hand over the ridges of my abdominal muscles. “Is Grace making breakfast?”

Annie snorted and then laughed at herself. “She did an hour ago.”

I groaned, and she rolled her eyes.

“I woke up late too. I had her save our plates, but you may want to get dressed. Amanda stopped by. You’re welcome.” She grinned and pushed from the bed.

“Fuck.” I fell back and pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes as she left the room. I felt like shit, and I probably looked worse. “Take off my damn shirt,” I yelled after her.

I pushed from my bed, glancing at the full-length mirror on the opposing wall. Working out had become one of the few ways to deal with my growing aggression, and the results were proof that I harbored a lot of rage. My muscles were cut, and I barely had any excess fat, but I still wanted to be bigger, stronger. I was glad my scars only marred my back, and I wasn’t forced to look at the physical manifestation of my sins and my early reluctance to obey Taylor.

I turned on the radio and sang along to “Outside” by Staind as I shoved down my boxer briefs, kicking them off on the floor. I made my way into my bathroom, turning on the light above the sink but leaving the one in the shower stall off to spare myself the harsh light. The water didn’t take long to heat up, and I slid under the spray, closing the fogged glass door behind me.

I dumped liquid body wash in the palm of my hand and rubbed the soap over my chest and down my stomach as I begged for the adrenaline of my nightmares to subside. My hand dipped lower, knowing there was only one way to make those memories fade, and I wasn’t proud of that fact. I gripped my dick, squeezing hard as my hand slid slowly up and down my length. I rested my forehead against the damp sandstone tile and closed my eyes, hoping I could find some sort of release.

The song ended, and waiting for the next to start was quickly killing my mood. Nine Inch Nails faded in through the speakers that were embedded above the shower stall, and I began to stroke myself faster as I pictured small, perky tits with light-pink pebbled nipples. I licked my lips as I focused on the faceless vision, my eyes traveling down a tight stomach while my fingers slipped over my head and back against the base of my cock. I panted, water droplets falling from my lips as I imagined it was swollen pink lips wrapped around me, sucking as my fist gripped her hair, tiny moans in the back of her throat vibrating and nearly sending me over the edge as I pushed her closer, touching the back of her throat with my dick.

“Ah…” I groaned over the music. I imagined her moaning my name, begging for me to come in her pretty little mouth.

“Colin?” Annie’s voice came from inside my room.

“Fuck,” I growled, but I was too close to be able to stop myself as my stomach muscles tightened.

“Colin?” she called again as she got closer, and it sent me over the edge.

“Fuck, Annie,” I panted as I came, struggling to catch my breath as I stared at her emerald eyes through the fogged glass door. She didn’t move for a moment, her lips parted in complete shock and breathing as erratically as me.

“Your shirt,” she whispered as it fell from her fingertips, pooling at her feet, and her eyes locked on mine.

“Leave,” I barked. My words jarred her, and she ran from my room.

I took my time drying off and getting dressed, not wanting to look Annie in the eye after what she had witnessed. I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head.

I stumbled down the stairs in a black T-shirt and jeans, greeted by Amanda at the base of the steps. We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks. I kissed her cheeks as my eyes searched out Annie. She was standing in the doorway of the dining room wearing the low-cut purple V-neck from last night. Her blatant act of defiance struck a nerve deep inside of me, and she knew it. She was fucking with me.

“I’d watch for pieces of glass in your eggs. Grace isn’t very happy with you,” Annie teased, and I was relieved she wasn’t traumatized by what she had witnessed moments before.

“I told your sister I’d help her cover up that bruise after we ate. She really shouldn’t be allowed to walk in heels.” Amanda stood on her toes to kiss my cheek as I glanced behind me at Annie again, with her tarnished complexion and her still bare feet from last night.

“Just don’t paint her up. She doesn’t need all that shit on her face.” I tried to keep the harshness from my tone, but when it came to Annie, my judgment became clouded.

Amanda smacked my chest playfully, but she always wore more makeup than I liked. Most of it stemmed from her being self-conscious. Not that it mattered. She suited my needs.

I walked around Amanda and sat down at the large, ornately carved dining room table that looked like something right out of a castle. Connor was frivolous with his cash, something I would have to spend years correcting should his fortune ever get handed down to his pretend children.

Grace set my plate down with more force than necessary as she narrowed her eyes, accentuating the crow’s-feet in her olive skin.

“Grace,” I called after her as she retreated into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It slipped.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all she said as she disappeared. At nearly sixty years old, she had no patience for my bullshit. Her snow-colored hair was pinned up in a neat bun. She wore a gray dress made out of what looked like burlap, with a white apron tied around her waist. I’d never seen her in anything else.

The woman must have aged twenty years from putting up with our bullshit. Connor had hired her only a week after he took us in; never having children of his own, he wanted Annie to have a woman around. Grace was more of a grandmother figure, and she played the role like one off a sitcom.

Amanda sat down beside me, her denim skirt riding up her thighs as she stole a piece of my toast and took a bite. Her hair was even blonder than the last time I’d seen her, and I wondered how many more trips to the salon before it was whiter than Grace’s. “I love that shirt,” Amanda said to Annie. I couldn’t help but laugh as I glanced over at her, and she winked, proving her point about my choice of women.

I folded my hands in front of me and looked to Annie, who dropped her fork on her plate and clasped her hands together, annoyed but knowing better than to say so. This was a ritual that carried over from our past and was so ingrained in who I was that I would continue to do it, regardless of my feelings, or lack thereof, toward the commune.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this wonderful food and shelter you have provided us. We ask you, Lord, to help Annie fight back against the evil staircase and to protect her from any other inanimate objects that may bring harm her way, and Lord, please bless her with some clothes that actually fit her.”

“Asshole,” Annie groaned, and I tried to fight back a smile, clearing my throat as I opened my eyes. I shoved a bite of scrambled eggs in my mouth, relieved that Grace hadn’t actually put any glass shards in my food, although I couldn’t have blamed her.

I could hear Connor coughing off in the distance as he made his way to the first floor, the stairs creaking under his expanding weight. We glanced back at him as he entered the dining room, taking a seat at the head of the table. My eyes drifted over his charcoal suit, and I shook my head. “You’re going to work?” I asked, knowing he was too sick, but the man had priorities, I had to give him that.

He cleared his throat as Grace brought in a mug of coffee and set it down in front of him. “Thank you, dear.” He picked it up and took a sip before his eyes landed on mine. “Someone needs to pay for all of this stuff. I have cases that are piling up.” But I knew he had become obsessive with his work when his wife had passed away nearly twenty years ago. He had confessed to me one night, not long after we arrived, that helping others helped ebb the guilt from not being able to do more for her as cancer slowly destroyed their lives.

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a few days off, Connor. Enjoy life a little.” I took a sip of my orange juice, my head still throbbing from my hangover. I’d tried, unsuccessfully, for months to get him to take a vacation. He deserved it for putting up with us for the last few years. The man was a saint. I wanted to help him in any way I could, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll be in Jackson for Annie’s birthday. I need you to keep an eye on the house. Don’t let things get too out of hand.” He changed the subject as the girls continued to eat their food.

“I’m sure Grace will keep everyone in line. No one can put the fear of God into someone like she can,” I joked.

“Except for you.” Connor was expressionless as he glanced at me over the rim of his cup, and my eyes narrowed. He didn’t know the half of it.

“I don’t get paid nearly enough for that task,” Grace teased as she sat in one of the empty chairs with a bowl of oatmeal for herself and a freshly sliced peach on a saucer. “I’ll be going with him to make sure he’s getting plenty of rest and taking his medicine. I better not come back to a mess, ya hear?” She took care of Connor like he was her husband, but their relationship was strictly platonic, even though it would do them both some good to enjoy life a little. Still, it made me smile to know she was spending extra time with him, even if it was because of the flu.

“We’ll keep the party low-key. Just a few friends.” I laughed as I shook my head, knowing it would be out of control. Everyone at Annie’s school, West Haven Private Academy, was dying to get inside our house, as well as everyone from Dyer Public.

“What party? I don’t want a party. I’m not leaving this house until my bruise goes away. I look hideous.” Annie rolled her eyes as she scrunched her nose.

“Oh, honey. You have to have a party. The town will be talking about it the rest of the year. The Blakelys are royalty.” Amanda was grinning as she clasped her hands together in front of her teal polo shirt. No doubt she was thinking of the day I would ask her to marry me so she could be one of the elite. She would be waiting a long fucking time. She was oblivious to the circumstances that had brought us into this lavish estate or the endless line of women who filed through the door.

“The party is happening, and you don’t need to worry about leaving the house because we’re having it here.” I raised my eyebrow at Annie. She glanced up at me and looked back down at her plate. Her cheeks tinged pink next to the purple mark. I knew she had thought we had forgotten.

“What happened to your face?” Annie looked at me before looking to Connor, who was leaning toward her, his elbows on either side of his plate. He was just as overprotective of her as I was, and I was glad I wouldn’t carry the burden of keeping her safe alone.

“I slipped going up the stairs.”

“You are as graceful as a newborn fawn,” he joked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes as his gaze fell to me questioningly. It was a fair judgment on his part. He cared for us equally, but I could take care of myself.

“Being chased by a lion,” she muttered as she glared up at me, and I shook my head, trying not to laugh.

I cleared my throat as I pushed my eggs around my plate. “I thought you needed to go to Jasper for the Raymond case? It’s a slam dunk with the doctor’s deposition.”

Connor looked up at me, his eyes settling on Amanda momentarily. “This is a…private matter.”

I sat straight up as I clenched my jaw and avoided Annie’s questioning stare as I shoveled a bite of food into my mouth. I swallowed hard as I chose my words carefully. “I should go with you. I can’t learn the business if you don’t let me tag along every once in a while.”

Connor laughed nervously as he wiped his mouth with the crimson cloth napkin. “You need to be here for Annabel’s party. It’s a big day. You’ll get your chance soon enough.” He smiled warmly over at Annie, who had her eyebrows drawn together. “Well, I should get my bags together. Grace?” He coughed as he pushed his chair back.

“I’ll be right up.” Grace collected her dishes and carried them into the kitchen as I ran my hand roughly over my jaw. “Ya’ll better go on and get ready. You don’t want to be late for church. God sees everything.” Even knowing about our past, Grace refused to let us blame God. From the first day she arrived, she told us stories from the Bible and how God had given her so much even though we were her only family. Her positive outlook in even the bleakest situations baffled me, but I admired her for it.

“Wouldn’t want that.” Annie rolled her eyes as she stood and stretched. I’d never met a girl as stubborn as her and so dead set on being defiant; it was almost adorable if it wasn’t so damn infuriating.

“I’ll grab my makeup bag from the car.” Amanda stood and bounded down the hall to the front door.

“You’re not going to church in that outfit.” I drummed my fingers against the wooden table as she got up and walked behind me toward the stairs.

“Who’s going to stop me?” she whispered as she continued by.

“Annabel, wait.” She paused as I pushed from my seat and walked toward her, sipping my orange juice as I approached her. “We need to clear something up.”

Her eyebrows pulled together, and I knew her mind was replaying her walking into my bathroom because her cheeks flushed and her gaze fell.

“What I meant to say was change your fucking clothes now.” I tilted the glass toward her, and she shrieked as the cold liquid soaked through her shirt onto her skin.

“You son of a bitch!”

Thirty minutes later, Annie came from her room in a sensible white button-up blouse and black pencil skirt. Her hair was curled perfectly down her back, and there were no traces of the bruise on her face.

We drove my car, a black 300S, to the church. It was just Annie and me. Amanda wasn’t very religious, and I preferred this time to be just the two of us. Church in the South was very much a social event, and our presence was always required to represent the Blakelys.

Annie’s fingers ran over the leather cover of her Bible as she stared out the window, watching the world going by, determined to give me the silent treatment. I reached up and turned down the volume of the radio. “You want to talk about the elephant in the room?” I asked. She raised an eyebrow as her gaze fell to my lap.

“I’d hardly compare you to an elephant,” she deadpanned.

I laughed as I shook my head. “Now you’re just being cruel.”

“I learned from the master.” She blushed and turned her gaze back to her window as I turned the radio back up. We drove a few more blocks before turning into Holy Trinity’s gravel parking lot. I put the car in park and turned to Annie, who was still lost in thought.

“Hey.” I touched her leg, and she jumped. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She tucked her hair behind her ear with a nervous smile. “I still don’t really like these places.” She shrugged, and I smiled sadly at her.

“This is a long way from the commune.”

Her eyes searched mine before she nodded.

“Good girl. Let’s go.” I got out of the car and rounded the front of the vehicle, pulling open Annie’s door. I held out my hand, and she slid her fingers against mine as I pulled her to her feet.

I put my hand on the small of her back as I guided her toward the door. We were greeted warmly by everyone we passed. Inside, the church was small but air-conditioned and well maintained. I preferred this to the megachurches you see on television. This was more personal, hands on, although not to the degree I was used to.

Annie and I slid into the back pew as she clutched her Bible on her lap. “You forgot your book.”

“Never.” I tapped my finger on the side of my head and winked. She shook her head and suppressed a giggle as the other members found their seats. I cleared my throat to keep myself from laughing as I nodded hello to Shelly Kline. She’d had her eye on me for a year, and it took everything I had to avoid her advances.

“She likes you,” Annie whispered a little too loudly, and Ms. Baker turned around to give us a disapproving glare.

“She’s not my type.”

The service was short and to the point. The preacher spoke about sin and redemption. Before I knew it, we were back on the road speeding toward home.

“Do you believe all of that?” Annie asked, and her gaze cut to me.

“Believe what?” I asked, my eyes focused on the road ahead.

“That sins can just be wiped away? That you can do anything you want and there are no real consequences as long as you ask for forgiveness?”

There was a pregnant pause as I thought over her question. Was she asking for herself? Was she contemplating committing a sin, or was this about acts committed against her? “Some things are unforgivable, little one.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I felt her gaze burning into me. “Do you still…believe in God?”

I looked over at her angelic face, the innocence still lurking beneath her toughened outer shell. “Yes.” I reached for the radio and turned up the volume to end our conversation.

“She’s the one, Colin. She’s the one who came to me in my vision.” Taylor was wildly animated as he dug through the pile of papers on his desk, searching for something.

“You say that about all the new girls.” I tried not to sound bored, but this conversation was getting redundant, and I was growing tired of our monotonous routine. Taylor would bring a new family into our church and force them to live by his standards, only to molest and abuse their children.

“This one is a pretty little thing. You’ll like her. Her name is Annabel.”

He spent years trying to mold me into him, but he only succeeded in wearing away at my conscience until sick and twisted perversions were the only thing that made me feel at all. It didn’t matter to me in whose name I acted.

“She is yours. A gift from God himself.”