Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Anthology, Contemporary, Anthologies, New Adult & College, Erotica, Collections & Anthologies, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9781940518053
Publisher: Skye Warren
Published: 2014-03-03T06:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

Q Mercer

‡

Twenty years ago

SILENCE WAS MY friend. Always had been. Probably always will be.

Somehow, the air carried me, killing any noise I made, turning me into a shadow. I moved with stealth—a ghost—a phantom. Never a peep—never a sound.

My parents lost me for two days once, and I never left the house. I disappeared inside the huge, rambling mansion we called home, drifting from room to room. Stealing food from the kitchen and camping inside giant, unused fireplaces.

Secrets were hard to keep hidden from a silent, inquisitive eight-year-old. I saw the truth of what went on, and it made me sick to my stomach.

My mother knew, but did nothing, preferring peach schnapps and Baileys to my father. And my father preferred slaves to his wife.

I was five when I first heard the screams. Guttural calls for help, full of distress and heartache, followed by a horrible groan of pleasure and ecstasy.

That was the first day I slipped into the forbidden room, and watched my father beat and rape a girl. Her ass blazed red as he pumped into her from behind.

My little heart raced. I knew I shouldn’t see this. I didn’t understand it. Something bad was happening, but I was too naïve to know. But, on some level, I knew exactly what it was.

My father hurt a woman who didn’t want to be hurt. She hadn’t been naughty like I was sometimes. All she did was cry and curl into a ball. Yet my father beat her with fists and whips. Enjoying her cries, he turned into a purple-faced baboon with pleasure.

The scene scarred my brain for life, irrevocably changing me. I went out of my way to be kind and gentle to every living thing. The cook caught me, time and time again, feeding birds, mice, and other woodland creatures.

My mother fell more and more in love with fruity-smelling alcohol, leaving me motherless, with a rambling drunk.

All while my father amassed a stable.

He already had a stable full of cars: Bugatti, Audi, Ferrari, and Porsches. He owned a barn full of thoroughbreds and world cup racers. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted humans. Girls. Possessions.

On my eighth birthday, he brought home his twelfth filly. She kicked and screamed, until he punched her so hard she passed out. A full wing of the house was barricaded for his new acquisitions. No member of staff was permitted.

But I knew secrets he didn’t. Hidden passageways in the walls—no lock could keep me out.

I watched from air ducting and wall cavities. My stomach twisted as I saw sick, foul acts committed against fragile women.

Rather than suffer boyhood excitement, a thrill of shame coated my life. I wallowed in guilt. My own flesh and blood ruined lives of others. Stealing their freedom and turning them into broken belongings.

I never loved my father, but day by day, my hatred for him grew. I hated that he’d created me. I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted him gone.

On my thirteenth birthday, I broke into the stable while my father wasn’t there.

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