Page 27

CHAPTER 27

REDLEY

My eyes are already open when the sun comes up the following morning. Despite all the chores that need doing, I just lie there as the sky turns from black to dark blue to brilliant orange. I thank a God I’m not sure exists anymore for the beauty of the world around me and curse him for all the miserable fucking pain.

As far as I know, Porter is still lying dead in my parents’ driveway, and even though I’d love to go and get him, I don’t have an ounce of strength to carry myself, let alone him. Maybe he’ll rot out there, and I’ll push the bones over the cliff one day.

I don’t know what to believe anymore, but nothing good springs to mind. If my soul wasn’t crushed, there’s my body to contend with. Every part of me hurts. My arm muscles scream from the kickback from the pistol. My entire body is bruised from Wolf tackling me to the ground and the cops throwing me before I spent the night in jail.

My lungs complain when I try to breathe too deep, but the most noticeable effect is my stinging pussy. I place my hand down there, feeling around for the first time. I didn’t even know women could feel how Wolf made me feel yesterday. Granny warned me so much about the evils of sex, but the idea never came to mind. She misled me about the Wolf, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

While the sensitive skin stings, nothing feels particularly broken or torn. The bleeding stopped last night, and only when I touch my opening do I notice the injury. It's hot to the touch, and once I get used to the pain, I spend a little time trying to figure it out for myself. I find that same sensitive spot just to realize nothing feels as good as when he did it to me. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the high he brought me to again.

I won’t be his wife.

My stomach growls repeatedly. I used up a lot of my strength yesterday, and I need a good meal to set me straight, but I can’t stand food. The chickens have probably laid a dozen eggs by now, but my stomach isn’t sure how to handle such thorough humiliation. Being used and forced into something you didn’t want is one thing, but how about being used and enjoying it beyond what you thought was possible?

Why the hell am I getting butterflies over it? The worst part isn’t my virginity, though. It’s the way nothing looks the same. The mountain isn’t stalked by a monster and there’s nothing magical, so why the hell has no one even heard of Grimm Groves? But why? Was my family keeping something from me, or did they really not know?

And Wolf? If he’s just a man, then who the hell is he? I don’t even know his name, and I’m not sure I want to.

I fully intend to find some answers. When I can get out of bed anyway. For now, I’m going to lie here and wonder how the hell I got everything wrong, how I believed something that so clearly wasn’t true. Why did my whole family? There really is nothing like excruciating pain and moonshine to make life rough.

I seriously consider filling up the tub with hot water and salt to try to ease some of this soreness. But I don't have the strength or energy to go through the effort. Instead of bathing, I just lie there wondering about my life.

The hardest thing to think about is Granny’s death and whether or not I actually hate the Wolf for that. I understand now that he couldn’t have killed my parents and brother as a little kid, and he certainly didn’t kill people before he was born. So if the only person he took from me was Granny, do I need to avenge her? Was what he said true?

I look at the walls of my bedroom, the cabin her husband built for her, and admit that I hate myself to my bones for not being sure. She was so cruel to me and beat me so badly. When I look at myself in a mirror—which isn’t often—all I can see are the scars covering the side of my face, the scars my own granny gave me for breaking a glass. Did she deserve to suffer for all the things she did to me? Or was all the suffering she did in life enough?

I just don’t goddamn know, but the one thing I can’t deny is that I don’t miss her. My life has been better since she’s gone. Wolf was right about that. I would pray and ask God for forgiveness or direction, but all of a sudden, it feels a lot like talking to myself like I did last night, and I’m still feeling silly for that.

Around noon, someone knocks on the door. I wish more than anything that today, of all days, I could be left alone. I’m partially terrified it’s Wolf again, but something tells me he wouldn’t knock, and that fear quickly passes. Hell, he doesn’t even wait for permission to have sex with me. I’m sure he’d find his own way into my cabin if he wanted.

A shiver runs through me as I imagine him slipping inside and having his filthy way with me again, putting his mouth on me, but not stopping this time—“One minute,” I call, pushing myself out of bed and the fantasy out of my mind.

My eyes cling to my scars when I check myself in the mirror. With thoughts of how I got them so fresh in my mind, I can’t help but look. Did I deserve to have my face covered in scars for the rest of my life? Was Wolf the first person to act protectively toward me since my parents’ passing?

It’s hard to say. Mama and Daddy whooped me too, but they never took it as far as Granny. There’s nothing that can be done about the scars and not much that can be done about the deep, dark circles under my green eyes. Sometimes I forget how light they are, how close they come to matching the leaves beginning to bud, just like Mama’s. My heart clenches, wishing I could ask her for some advice.

I tie my hair back so it doesn’t look like a rat’s nest, but I don’t have much time to make myself presentable. I pull on a flannel and a pair of soft pants, and that’s the best I can do. If anyone needs me to leave this cabin today, it’s not happening.

When I open the door, I find Bobby standing there with his blond hair and awkward smile. The sun burns bright behind him, and I squint for a minute before my eyes adjust. His lips are pinched, and lines of worry crease his forehead.

With his expression, I’m positively dreading whatever he’s come to say.