Saxon’s Distortion by C.A. Rene

Saxon

“I fucked your sister.”

The beer bottle stops just before it touches Neil’s mouth and his eyes look ready to pop from his skull, “Pardon?” he puts the bottle back down and cocks his head, “my sister? She’s a lesbian.”

“Not last night she wasn’t.” This isn’t the best way to tell him, but I just can’t hold it in anymore. Him and Amelia have been the closest to me in recent years and I don’t want him hearing it from anyone else.

“What the fuck does that mean?” His amber eyes flash with anger, “are you dating or something?”

“Who are you dating, Sax?” Ivy asks as she walks into the family room.

I groan and scrub a hand down my face, I’m not ready to tell her yet. She came over today to talk wedding dresses with Mom, and Neil insisted we play his fucking stupid video game he brought. He also fed me three beers in a row, and I blame him for the verbal diarrhea.

“Your brother fucked my sister.” Neil says with a growl.

“What?” Ivy laughs and her wavy mahogany hair bounces with it. When no one joins her, she turns on me quickly, “you fucked Amelia? How?”

“Well, it started out as self-defence classes and then my belt was around her wrists-”

“What?!” Neil roars as he gets to his feet.

“The belt was around her wrists-”

“Saxon!” Ivy screams.

I throw my hands up, “you both asked.”

“I’m calling Amelia,” Neil storms by me and out the front door.

“Fuck.” Ivy groans and falls into his vacated spot. “I really don’t need this right now.”

“Why are you so stressed over me fucking Amelia?” I take a swig of my beer, “she’s still a lesbian.”

“I just don’t want awkward shit right before the wedding.” She huffs and falls back against the couch cushions, “there’s just so much going on right now.”

“Just pick out a fucking dress and have the red velvet rum cake, Ivy.” I roll my eyes, “stop making shit more complicated than what it is.”

“Ew, what the fuck kind of cake is that?” Her nose crinkles and it makes her look so much like Mom, “and the wedding isn’t the real issue.”

“What is it?” I raise a brow, “why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“You have enough of your own stress lately,” she shrugs.

“What’s going on?”

She looks quickly to the front door and then back at me, “we went to test our fertility and we received the results yesterday.”

“And?” I impatiently wave her on.

“I’m fine, it’s Neil. He has a low sperm count.”

That means…

“So, the first time? It wasn’t?” I don’t want to say it out loud because pain is emanating off my sister in potent waves.

“Yeah, I guess.” She says quietly and chews on the corner of her thumb.

“What are the options?” I ask, changing the subject to spare her feelings.

“IVF or adoption.” She huffs, “the doctor says we can keep trying though, it doesn't mean it’ll never happen.”

“So, go fuck like rabbits.”

“We do.” She grins.

“Ew.”

“Tell me about Amelia,” She leans forward.

“She was a virgin.”

“Really?”

The front door opens, and Neil comes back in, effectively shutting us up.

“You’re lucky,” he points at me.

“I thought so too, but didn’t think it was appropriate to talk about your sister like that.” I take a swig of my beer.

“I’m going to kill him,” he grinds out to Ivy.

“Why?” I stand and head into the kitchen, “it was consensual,” I call out to them, “she enjoyed herself… twice.” Then snicker when he growls again.

I grab two beers and head back to the family room, holding one out for him. He snatches it and opens the cap, guzzling down half in one go.

“Look, you need to stop stressing, it’s making your spunk swim in circles.” I spin my finger in tight circles over my head.

“Fuck,” Ivy groans and slaps a hand to her forehead.

“You told him?” He sounds hurt as he looks at Ivy.

“We’re family,” I lean forward, “you can tell me all about that shit. You need to start meditating and eating walnuts. We can meditate together.” I take a swig on my beer.

“Walnuts?” He screws up his face in disbelief.

“Yeah, I read somewhere that it's good for guys and fertility.” My hand waves around my groin. “See? That’s why we need to talk about this shit, because between the three of us, I’m the only one with brains.”

“We should stop at Bulk Barn on the way home.” He mumbles to Ivy. She gives him a pat on the arm and tosses me a wink.

I get she didn’t want me to say anything but nothing good ever comes from keeping secrets and she should know that by now. Our family is built on a mountain of secrets and every now and then another resurfaces to fuck up our lives.

“So,” Neil’s eyes bore into mine, “what does this mean for you and Amelia?”

“Amelia is a lesbian.” I shrug, “I’m like her college experiment and flirting with being straight.”

“Well, what did Amelia say to you?” Ivy asks him.

“She said they’re just friends and it won’t happen again.” Like fuck it won’t, “but she sounds sad.”

“I didn’t make her sad,” My lips curve upward, “she left me extremely happy.”

“Fuck,” Neil’s hand covers his eyes, “I really don’t want to hear this shit.”

“She’s probably sad because the woman she’s in love with is playing hard to get.” The room falls silent at my admission, and I hold out my fist, doing the motion for a mic drop.

“Woman?” Neil cocks his head.

“She’s a lesbian, I told you.”

“What woman?” Ivy huffs.

“The campus librarian, but she’s kind of nervous, something happened to her at some point. But Amelia is really into her. There’s a huge age gap too, so the woman isn’t really paying her much mind, which honestly, I wouldn’t either, ya know? To Cordelia, Amelia is still a kid.”

“Age gap?” Neil and Ivy say together.

“Yeah,” I grin, “like twice her age.”

Neil chugs back the rest of his beer and Ivy watches him with mild worry; I study them both curiously. Relationships are fucking complicated and secretive. You don’t want your partner to hurt or worry, so you hold in information to protect them, and eventually you’re sleeping on a pillow that’s rock hard with regrets. Lying, no matter how small, how white, is still a lie and when that little lie begins to roll down the side of your steep relationship, it gathers and grows bigger.

I’m good with being perpetually single for the rest of my life. Relationships are meant for the intention of marriage, marriage is meant for children, and all of those are meant to take the priority off yourself, giving it to others. I don’t ever want to do that and honestly, don’t think I can do that. But Ivy and Neil want to, and they would be able to do it so well. They deserve children much like Dahlia, she’s got the motherly instinct, too. Me though? I’ll be the threatening uncle who comes off as a jokester, only to follow everyone around, making sure they’re safe.

“We should head out.” Ivy stands and holds open her hand. Neil drops his car keys into it and stands up beside her.

“Saxon, I love you like you’re my own brother, but I will kill you if you hurt Amelia.” Neil says, the automatic brother threatening line and I accept it because I’ll be using it when Dahlia starts bringing around love interests.

“Got it.” I nod.

Once they leave, I head over to Mom’s office and tap on the door. Without waiting for her to say come in, I open the door and find her staring at her laptop screen.

“Hey.” I close the door behind me, “I would’ve come to speak to you sooner, but it looked like Ivy had a noose of tulle around your neck.”

She snorts and closes her screen, “that was exactly why your father and I chose a courthouse ceremony, then celebrated with a party in our backyard.” Her face turns serious, “how did it go at the Head meeting?”

“It’s done and she admitted to everything, just like you said she would.”

“I knew there was some decency in her. Thank you, Saxon.” She smiles at me, pride shining from her eyes, “your cousin can now rest a bit easier.”

“What’s next?”

“Those teachers I told you about? The ones who moved to Manitoba?” She shakes her head, “they’ve come back. Looks like they’re on the run from suspicion at a few schools over there.”

I know what these teachers did to Ivy, Mother told me in confidence, and I was ready to chase them down. She told me to have patience and she was right. They’re back.

“They’ve been in Toronto for about a month.” She murmurs.

“A month?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, “have you heard what’s been going on in Toronto?”

“Not their MO, but yeah I have. Your uncle says you’ve been helping.”

“Are you sure they wouldn’t be involved? They were planning some shit with Ivy.” I argue.

“As much as they’re scum, they did have consent before doing what they did. In all cases.”

My shoulders drop with an exhale, bringing my fingers to my lips. “What’s the next move?”

“I have the address of the new high school they’re at, did you want to scope them out together?”

“Nah,” I shake my head and stand, “I work better alone. Text me the address and I’ll head over tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she smiles at me, her bright blue eyes twinkling, just like Ivy’s. I close the office door behind me, knowing she’s nowhere near going to bed, especially since Dad is still away on a trip to pick up a car. She doesn’t sleep well without him, and this is her chance to give in to her need to be a workaholic.

I yawn forcibly and almost lose my breath with its strength, trips to New York and back always kill me. I can finally crash, for a few hours at least.

There’s an urgent knock at my bedroom door pulling me out of my deep sleep. I sit up and rub the heels of my hands to my eyes.

“Yeah.” My voice cracks with sleep.

“Saxon?” Mom’s voice floats through the door and then she opens it a crack, “Emmett has been trying to get a hold of you, there’s been another attack.”

I’m instantly awake and jumping out of my bed, “when? How long have I been out?”

“I’m not sure, and ten hours.”

I grab up my phone as Mom closes my door again, and press Uncle Emmett’s contact. I throw on some clothes as the phone rings.

“I’ve been calling you,” he says as he picks up the phone.

“Sorry, I crashed.” I yank on two different coloured socks, “tell me what happened.”

“Another female victim attacked outside of the library, the librarian found her and brought her in.”

“Cordelia?” I pause.

“Yeah, and maybe you can come down here and get her to talk because she won’t say a fucking word.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“She wants the victim to speak for herself when she’s ready.” He huffs.

“Sounds like she has a victim mentality herself.” I muse and rush into the washroom. “I’m gonna piss and brush my teeth and then I’ll meet you… where?”

He promises to send me a text with directions to the Toronto Police Department and hangs up. I finish up with my teeth and rush downstairs finding Mom and Dad in the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re back,” I say to Dad and give him a once over. He looks tired and older.

“Yeah,” his hand scrubs down his face, “just got in. Where are you off to?”

“You need a fill in on what’s been happening, but I don’t have time.” I grab his shoulder and give him a squeeze, “but Mom can.”

“Be careful,” he calls out to me as I rush to the front door.

I take the Ducati today because forty-five minutes is way too long of a drive in the car. I pull up to the police department twenty-five minutes later and rush inside. Uncle Emmett is waiting with a cup of coffee in his hand and large blue bags under his eyes.

“Bro,” I tsk and step forward, “you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his bloodshot eyes.

“Like literal shit, man. Are you sleeping?”

“I’ve been trying but with this happening, I can’t seem to make my mind stop.” He exhales and his shoulders slump with it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out. Where’s Cordelia?”

“In the interrogation room,” his voice drops, “they’re trying some scare tactics on her to make her talk.”

“Excuse me?” Rage begins to boil my blood. “What tactics?”

“She’s cuffed and they’re calling her a person of interest.”

“What? How?”

“They’re saying she’s in on the planning and providing of the victims.” He rolls his eyes. “Like I said, they can’t hold her for longer than twenty-four hours and this is their way of making her talk. Why won’t she say what she saw?”

“My guess? Cordelia was once a victim herself and maybe a group of men forced her to do things at one time. She’s reclaiming what was once taken from her. Just a guess, though.”

I can see pride shining from his eyes and he smiles at me, “I really believe you’ll be the one to crack this.”

“So, how can I get her out of there?”

“Know any lawyers?” He asks, and I give him a grin.

“Actually, I do.”

“Saxon,” Uncle Tommy growls as he gets out of his car, “I’m not a lawyer, I only file owner registration for vehicles with the city.”

“Close enough,” I shrug, “and you look dapper in that suit.”

“Fuck’s sake.” He grabs his suitcase and stomps up the stairs.

This isn’t his first rodeo pretending to be a lawyer to get one of us kids out of holding.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

I fill him in as we walk down the corridor to the administration office. “They think she’s raping females?” He looks at me incredulously.

“No, but they think she knows something and they’re not above accusing her of such.”

“Got it.” He nods as he stands in front of the administration window. Sitting behind it is an older lady but she’s cute with her blonde hair up in a bun and minimal makeup. Her blue eyes scan over my uncle and she gives him a smile. “Thomas Williams, legal representation for Cordelia Edwards.”

“Oh, I didn’t know she called her lawyer.” Her brows furrow as she looks to the cop behind her.

“She didn’t get a chance to, which I would like to remind you, is a part of her memorandum rights. Were those read to her while she was being cuffed?”

He’s like a shark to blood once he gets going.

“This way,” a cop stands with a huff, “she wasn’t arrested, just held for questioning.”

“You’re going to have to stay here,” he says to me, “but don’t worry, I’ll get her out soon.”

“Is that Tommy?” Uncle Emmett says behind me as he comes out of the washroom.

“Yep.” I grin.

“He’s still doing this for you guys, huh?”

I nod and we both sit to the side, waiting for Uncle Tommy to bring out Cordelia. Uncle Emmett and Uncle Tommy aren’t as close as Mom and Uncle Tommy are, and it has everything to do with the fact that Uncle Tommy is not a fan of my late Uncle Carmelo.

Uncle Carm shot Tommy in the head when Mom was taken by her father. It’s a long story but needless to say, Tommy survived and he’s not fond of Uncle Carm, understandably. Uncle Emmett understands as well, but they just never really grew close. Even with Tommy being Cameron’s dad and Carmelo Jr being close to Uncle Tommy, Uncle Emmett has just always maintained his distance.

About fifteen minutes later, Uncle Tommy comes out with a pissed off looking Cordelia behind him. I grin when her pale skin flushes with anger. I like that look on her, not such a meek librarian after all.

“Emmett,” Uncle Tommy nods.

“Tommy.” Uncle Emmett nods back.

“I had to sign some paperwork stating if she’s called in again, her attorney is to be present, make sure she has a real one next time.” Uncle Tommy sighs.

“I’m right here, asshole.” Cordelia growls, “why don’t you tell me that?”

My grin blooms into a wide smile and I can’t seem to take my eyes off her, I really like a pissed off Cordelia.

“I did tell you that, but reiterating it to my nephew, who made sure to get you out of this mess.” He explains to her patiently. “Anyways, I’ll see you later this week, I heard we’re having dinner when Sharla gets in?”

“Yeah,” I answer him, but my eyes are still on a fuming Cordelia.

“Cool.” He bumps my fist and heads out.

“I need to speak to a few people here, I’ll see you later.” Uncle Emmett nods.

“Thank you,” Cordelia says to him as he passes, “for helping.”

“I just made a phone call; Saxon here did the rest.” Uncle Emmett says as he heads down the corridor.

“Thank you,” Cordelia blows the hair off her forehead, “this has been terrible and all because I helped the victim.”

I press my finger to my mouth and guide her out of the station, “let’s not give them any ammo.”

Cordelia

He’s walking me to my car that’s still sitting at the emergency entrance of the hospital a few blocks away. He said he brought his bike, and he doesn’t have an extra helmet but offered to walk and talk with me. I stare at the chiseled side of his face and watch as his jaw clenches every so often, he is quite handsome. I can see what has Amelia so intrigued.

“You keep looking at me.”

I quickly turn my head and look straight ahead, “sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he chuckles, “she told you.”

“Yes, but that’s not why I was… you know.” I wave my hand toward his face. “I’m trying to figure out why you went through all this trouble to get me out. You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know you?” He gasps and holds a hand to his chest, “I’m wounded.” Then his face breaks out into a smile and the last vestiges of the evening sun flare into his green eyes, making him look deadly gorgeous. “I received a call from my Uncle Emmett, and he said they were holding you for absurd reasons. I came because I don’t believe you deserve that, and needed to know everything that’s happened.”

He’s honest and I’m starting to really like that about him, he isn’t trying to hide the fact that getting me out benefits him as well. With his admission, I decide to tell him everything, leaving out no detail.

“So, the figure you saw in the woods?” He asks after I’m done and we’re coming up to the hospital, “anything distinguishing stand out?”

“No,” I exhale, “I was also in a bit of a panic at the time and didn’t really focus on much.”

“That’s understandable.” He nods.

“But it was a man.”

“That’s a start.” He grins at me. We walk to my car and Saxon leans on the hood by the passenger door, as I stand in front of the driver’s side. “What you did for that girl was admirable.”

“And I think what Amelia has with you is great.” I mean it.

“I think what she has with you is great, too.” He grins and shows off his perfectly straight teeth. He taps the hood of the car and opens his palm across it, “give me your phone so you have my number. Next time anything happens, you call me, too.”

I reach inside the car and pull out my cell phone, putting it into his hand. He enters his number and hands it back. “Thank you.” I nod.

“I’ll see you around.” Then he pushes off my car and begins to walk back to the police station.

“Wait!” I call out, “I can give you a ride!”

“I’m good!” He holds his hand in the air without turning back to look at me, “I like walking.” He pulls his hoodie over his head, and he has this natural swagger of confidence, just something that exudes don’t fuck with me.

I promised myself never to trust another man, and I’m sure I just found the one to make me break it.

Amelia

Saxon: Have you checked on your library piece?

Me: OMG

Saxon: At least tell me you’ve banged in the cooking section

Me: I’m not even answering that

Saxon: Videos or it didn’t happen

Me: Will you go away?

Saxon: But seriously, call Cordelia

Why is he telling me to call Cordelia? Why is he even talking about her like they’ve spoken? What the fuck have I missed? Unfortunately, I can’t call her because I don’t have her number and have been sulking in my dorm for two days. I stink and thankfully, don’t have a roommate because I would be ashamed. I’ve been living off chips, granola bars, and warm bottled water.

Saxon: Where are you? Have you heard nothing?

Me: I’ve been marinating in my room. What’s happening?

Saxon: There was another attack last night, Cordelia found the victim

I throw down my phone and fall out of my bed, the stench of my body odor is so strong, making me crinkle my nose. I’ve been such a selfish, jealous bitch and instead of being there for Cory like I wanted to be, I’ve been acting like a brat. I grab some clothes and hop into the shower, finally cleaning away the smell. I rush to get dressed and then I’m flying to the library.

Yellow tape stands out against the dark green treed backdrop and my heart plummets. Cops are moving back and forth in front of the library with the more inconspicuous detectives along the side. Another attack really happened, and Saxon knew before me. Did she call him? Was he the one she thought of when she found the girl? Jealousy stirs hot and thick at the pit of my stomach, and I want to turn around, drive all the way to Whitsborough, and punch my friend in the face.

Cordelia is mine.

It’s like she can sense me because the front door of the library opens and she’s standing there, her skirt blowing around her thick thighs. Her hair is up in her usual bun, but tendrils have escaped, and slip across her face. She looks tired, I can see it in the bags under her eyes and the sallow pallor of her skin, but she also looks sad. I can see her searching my face, probably coming to similar conclusions about my features, and I wait. I want her to be the one who finally gives in to this, to tell me to come to her, help her, and be with her.

My eyes don’t leave her face, and when she finally juts her chin toward me, my heart soars. I slowly walk up to the library and a uniformed figure steps in front of me.

“You can’t pass,” he says to me, his voice dripping with condescension. “It’s an active investigation.”

“She’s with me,” Cory’s voice is hard and unyielding, and those words make my heart beat rapidly. “That’s my assistant, move out of her way.”

He does as he’s told but his grumbling does not go unnoticed, it doesn’t faze me though, she finally wants me. I rush up the front, and she steps inside, holding the door open for me. As soon as it’s shut behind her, I have her back against it, and my mouth on hers. She tastes so fucking good, and I press myself against her, needing to be closer. Wanting to slip right inside of her. She moans breathlessly into my mouth, and I comb my fingers into her hair, pulling it from the bun. I grip onto the strands, yanking her head into an angle preferable for consumption, and her hands land on my waist, her nails digging into me.

When my lungs are on the verge of exploding, I yank my mouth from hers, and suck in air. Both of us are a panting mess, and her face is alight with colour, the sallowness gone. Pride surges in my chest at the sight, knowing I can make her feel better, and maybe after today, it’ll be me she calls first.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and lean in to kiss her gently. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” She whispers back.

“For acting like a brat and not being here with you.”

“Amelia, I’m glad you weren’t here. Saxon is right, I may not be a target, but you could be, and I don’t want you in the suspect's sights.”

“Why did you call Saxon?” My voice cracks with emotion, “why him over me?”

“You beautifully annoying girl,” she shakes her head as her hands land on either side of my face. “I didn’t call him, his uncle did when I was being held and questioned by police.”

That makes sense.

“We’re exchanging phone numbers today, Cory.” I look deep into her light crystal eyes. I won’t tell her I’ll be giving her my heart too, because it’s too soon, but it’s the truth, nonetheless. She nods and slips her hand into mine, dragging me further into the library. It’s empty and the sounds of our feet shuffling along the carpet is so damn loud against the chilling silence. She leads me to the table I had her spread out on a few nights ago and pulls out a chair. We sit and she rests her chin in her hand, the other strumming along the wood surface. She’s nervous and suddenly, so am I, my stomach twisting with dark premonition.

“I was locking up and leaving through the back,” she begins and my stomach rolls with her chilled words, “it was so quiet, Amelia. Like not even the rustling of leaves or a chirp of a bird, deadly silent.” Her fingers rub along her jaw that’s tight with emotion, “I could feel something, it felt dark and suffocating, and I couldn’t seem to move fast enough. I sat in my car, my heart pounding, and my key in my hand instead of the ignition. I sat there and stared out to the trees,” she points ahead, just beyond the brick wall is the side of the library I went down a few days ago. “Like something in here,” her hand lands on her lower belly, “something in here knew what was happening and yet, I just sat there.” Her chin trembles, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Don’t,” I reach over and grab her hand. “Don’t do that, you can’t blame yourself for someone else’s sins.” I’m familiar with the feeling all too well, having lived with it for years after my sister Charlotte died.

“She stumbled out of those bushes, screaming and crying, like the Devil himself was on her heels.” She leans across the table and spears me with her eyes, “I too know the Devil, all too well.”

I don’t know what she means by that, but I can see the trauma lining her light blue irises and sense the heaviness of her lingering pain.

“You were brave.” I tell her and mean it. The way she looks right now, a woman who’s swallowed down her own fears to save another, reveals her bravery in folds.

“She…” she swallows and drags in a breath, “she was a mess.” Her voice comes out strangled, “blood everywhere,” she motions between her legs, and a sob catches in her throat, “so much blood.”

“Who was it?” I need to ask but really, I don’t want to know.

“Sonia.”

Sonia, she’s studious, and serious about her education. She’s in a few of my classes and she’s a candidate for valedictorian when we graduate. The dark feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to rise when I realize, no one is safe here. No cameras or security can do shit, this campus is surrounded by trees and in between the buildings are numerous spots hidden from the public eye.

Pretty, petite, Sonia. Quiet and shy. This whole thing is making me sick.

“I’m glad you were here to help her, because if you weren’t, Cory…” I trail off but we stare at each other knowing where my thought was going.

“I got her to the hospital, and they immediately called in the cops.” She rolls her eyes, “I was taken to the station and cuffed to the table. It was hours before your friend showed up.”

“He’s your friend now, too.” I mean it but it doesn’t make me any less jealous.

“I hated when you told me you slept with him.” Her words make me still and I’m afraid to even draw in a breath, “but I can see why you would.” That jealousy burns brighter, and even though I don’t have a right to feel it, I fucking do. She wants Saxon and maybe I want him too, but she can’t want him.

Fuck.

“I know that look,” she smiles softly, “I don’t want your friend Amelia, men have long been out of the picture for me. But he’s special and I can see myself trusting him. That’s all.”

Funny thing with jealousy, it doesn’t ever fully disappear, even when you hear something that should eradicate it. No, it’s still there, causing pain, and providing an abundance of mistrust.

“Trust me,” it’s like she’s reading my mind as she reaches over and holds my hand. “Men are not my thing.”

“Saxon isn’t a normal man,” it’s the truth, he’s unique and unpredictable. “He worms his way inside you and makes himself at home long before you even realize it.”

“That’s your story with him,” her brow rises, “not mine. I respect him and appreciate him being there when I needed him. He’s the first man to prove to me he thinks beyond his dick.”

Her words are filled with vitriol, and I reply before thinking it through, “who hurt you?”

“Not who,” her eyes drop to her lap, “what.”

“I don’t understand,” I shake my head.

“My parents were hippies living in southern California, married right out of high school and decided to drive across the country.” She looks off as her mind takes her back, “they got to Idaho and met a woman by the name of Zoey. She introduced them to another travelling group and offered to let my parents join. They were on a mission to show the people of America the one true salvation. I was just nine months old.”

“Like Jehovah's Witnesses?”

“Worse.” Her eyes begin to tear up, “Jehovah’s Witnesses are annoying and relentless, but they aren’t dangerous. Zoey was married to a man named Bruce Canon, Bruce was the leader of this ‘movement’ as they called it, but it was more than a movement. The Canonite Order as they would call it, was discriminative and dangerous.” Whatever she’s about to confide in me, is dark and depraved, and probably a piece of her history she’s never made public. “My parents gave up every possession they owned to the order, money, jewelry, and even me.” My heart stops and I stare into those icy blues, witnessing her turmoil.

“You?”

“Children brought into the order became Bruce and Zoey’s property.”

“What do you mean… property?” I whisper, a chill seeps into my very core.

“We no longer were allowed to have singular families inside the unit, we were all one big family, and Bruce and Zoey were our figurative parents. Parent is too good a term to give them though, leaders, owners, fucking tyrants.” She rarely swears and I haven’t ever seen this much hatred projected from her gorgeous face. “Once a child is brought into the Canonite Order, they are given to Bruce and Zoey to… raise. Raise is such a broad term. All children were given to Bruce and Zoey and used to create the next generation of Canonites. We were never put in school, we were never allowed to be around other children, and we were forced into experiments.

“My earliest memory is of Zoey giving me a sippy cup of sweet tea, only it wasn’t just sweet tea, it was laced with a hallucinogen and a cocktail of hormones, ones to make us develop faster. Girls and boys were always separated, except during the weekly sermons, in fear we would develop lustful feelings. Then after every sermon, each girl, aged five and up, were inspected. ‘All little girls have to stay pure, we have to check’ was what they would tell us.”

“Oh God,” I hold my hand to my mouth.

“Once a week we went through that inspection,” she spits the word out like it’s poison, “and eventually as we grew older the inspections became something more, ‘When your bleeding starts, breeding starts’.”

“Breeding.” I know what it means in the logical sense, but I can’t comprehend what it means in the way she experienced it.

“Breeding.” She nods, and a single tear courses down her cheek, “I was eleven years old when I began bleeding, and therefore my breeding started. We weren’t paired off with the boys as most would think, they had their own form of torture when they came of age. All breeding was done with Bruce Canon, to further the agenda of the Canonites and to produce superior offspring.”

My stomach churns as I try to imagine a young Cordelia and her world being shattered by the adults she trusted.

“I was raped on a weekly basis after that and when I would attend the sermons, I tried to tell my parents what was happening, in hopes they would save me.” Her voice catches and she curls her hand into a fist, pressing it to her mouth. “They didn’t want to save me, they were so proud Bruce had taken such a liking to me, you see, most girls were visited only once a month during their ovulation period.

“I was thirteen when I gave birth.”

My ears begin to ring and my stomach flips in an effort to dispel its contents.

“She was small, very pale, and her face stayed in complete serenity as she laid in my arms. My first child was a stillbirth, and her tiny body was so skinny, having not made it to the third trimester. Her tiny nail beds weren’t even developed, and her eyelids were so thin, I could nearly see through them.” More tears run down her face and my heart cracks open inside my chest, “this was only a slight hiccup in their plan for me, since most first pregnancies failed in the Canonite Order. Within a month, I was back in the breeding cycle and forced to accommodate Bruce in my bed once a week.”

“Cory…” I don’t know what to say and she continues on as if I said nothing.

“I was in a severe depression, and knew I had no one to help me. So, when I found out I was pregnant a second time, I swallowed a bottle of aspirin and almost died, but successfully ended my pregnancy. I couldn’t stand the thought of bringing a child into the same Hell I was in. After that, Bruce was angry with me, and I was no longer on his breeding cycle.”

“That’s good,” I nod, “did they kick you out of the Order?”

“Oh no,” she chuckles but there’s no humour in the sound. “I wish that were the case, but no. I was deemed insufficient and placed in the pleasure house.”

My mouth becomes like cotton, dry and tasteless, and my heart rams itself against my ribcage at her words, “like a …”

“Prostitute,” she nods, “only free.”

“No…”

“I was turning fifteen, and my days were spent cleaning houses and every one of my nights were spent on my back. There’s only one prerequisite to becoming a whore in the pleasure house, you can’t be able to reproduce.”

“How…”

“There was a very well-known doctor who would visit our small compound, a frequent visitor to our pleasure house himself and a good friend to Bruce. He performed hysterectomies on all the females who were deemed insufficient. It was a blessing and a curse for me at the time, but I could at least be rest assured knowing I would not be bringing any children into the Order.”

“I’m so sorry,” my own tears spill down my cheeks.

“Some days, I can still feel the cold metal of the morgue table on my back. We didn’t have gurneys, we had metal tables. Gurneys were for all the girls giving birth to populate the Order. The metal table and I became well acquainted in the course of a year. I was in there plenty of times to be treated for STDs. All curable, thank goodness and in that time, I became a favourite to Doctor Lancaster. There was no way out of the Canonite Order, the only way to leave was to stop breathing.”

She must see the confusion on my face and reaches over to run her fingers over the back of my hand.

“I attempted to commit suicide a second time,” she admits, and I can’t stop the gasp rushing from my mouth, “I slit my wrists as I laid in my small cot, just before my first client was due.” She flips her hand over and there’s a pale white line, about two inches in length. I don’t know how I never saw it before now, but it’s camouflaged well with her pale skin. “The doctor was called, and he declared me dead on sight… only I wasn’t. He bandaged my wrists while I laid on yet another metal table and was put in a body bag. I was out of it for most of the journey and when I woke up, I was in a satin soft bed, my back cushioned with the softest mattress. I had never felt anything like it in all my sixteen years.”

“He helped you escape.”

“Only to bring me to a new Hell, only this one was disguised as Heaven. My first few weeks were spent eating expensive foods, wearing luxurious clothes, and sleeping peacefully each night. At first, I was beyond happy, and Doctor Lancaster made sure to make me feel like I was a princess. It was a false sense of security because as soon as all my guards were down, he began visiting my bed, and unlike the men in the Order wanting a quick in and out, Lancaster was a deviant. I was beaten, tied up, raped, sodomized, and sometimes, all in one night.”

“How did you get away?” I whisper.

“I killed him.”