Page 6 of Property of Thrasher
“Only one way to be helpful around here, darlin’. Spread your legs or leave. Unless, you plan on joining us or taking Maria’s place in my bed tonight,” I explained with my voice quiet but sharp, “watch where the fuck you’re headed.”
Her mouth parted like she was going to speak, but Maria beat her to it.
“She couldn’t handle me, Thrasher, much less your big cock.”
Something flashed in her eyes before she stepped into our space. She was different. She had this fire. And I couldn’t stop the smile building in this rapid change.
“Or maybe you just couldn’t handle me, bitch,” she remarked with a new fire dancing in her eyes.
My cock instantly hardened at her brashness. What that mouth could do to a man like me, oh I would love to tempt the devil himself for some of that.
Before I could untangle my body from Maria, the mystery woman took off into the crowd leaving me wanting more than just answers.
1
MELODY
Four Months Before the party
Montana had this rare beauty to it. Big skies that went on forever, sun-drenched fields with crops that danced in the breeze, and snow-tipped mountains that could be seen in the distance like quiet Gods overlooking their people. Often I wondered if the beauty was a real illusion or my hometown was the only wicked place here.
There was a time, I used to think I had some fairytale life. The naivety of youth was certainly a magical thing. The outside world seemed like a place to fear. The mumblings of the adults talking about school shootings and crime rates in big cities were like reading a book, it simply couldn’t be real. Except it was and that knowledge fed the fear of the outside world. It all made this place sound like a sanctuary. Part of me longed to see the world, to be out of this bubble. Instead, I came from a place stuck in time, full of male dominated powers and tyrant rules.
All of it covered up in some elegant verbiage of eternity.
And there seemed to be no way to escape it.
I stood on the porch of the old farmhouse. The one I spent my childhood in with my grandparents watching over all of us—my siblings and cousins—while our parents worked.
The house now belonged to the church after my family was considered marked. Something both my grandparents went to their graves despising. My old school Mary Jane shoes crunched the gravel under me as I walked out into the front yard looking back at the home that used to feel like a safe haven. The chipped paint, sagging roofline, and busted windows were all reminders of how far down my family had come.
Once we were well-respected. My last name alone had people assume the best and ignore the worst from any of us. Then everything got turned around because my grandmother asked the wrong questions to the wrong figures in authority.
In this place, no one questioned the elders, but most especially not a woman.
“Melody,” came whispered from a window inside.
I made my way back up and inside already knowing the voice. While I knew her voice, I couldn’t have prepared to see her in the state she was. Lyric looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her auburn hair was braided tight and put up into a bun like always but a few strands had managed to break free around her face. Her cheeks were flush, her skin paled, and her eyes distant like I had never seen before.
A piece of me died inside seeing her in this frail, broken way.
Lyric and I were only six weeks apart in age. My grandmother used to call us her twins. She loved babies and always said we were her special blessings coming so close together. It was a present for her obedience she always claimed.
Looking back, now I wanted to laugh at the entire meaning of obedience.
To this day, I didn’t know what she felt she was in line with God doing to give her a gift for obedience since she tended to be the only one questioning things that had changed in recent years. She was a rebel in our community. It was how they lost the house. Her questioning the bishops marked us all. The church swooped in and gave the whole family a lesson in falling in line or losing everything.
Lyric looked like a ghost of her former self and I had only been separated from her for a month. I couldn’t wrap my head around what happened to my best friend. She was shaken up so bad she was literally trembling in front of me. I didn’t know what to say.
“You okay?” I asked even though I could clearly see she was anything but.
She hesitated before wrapping her arms around me, pulling me close into a tight, desperate hug. Yet, she didn’t speak. I still had no explanation as to why we had to meet here instead of her house and in secret. This wasn’t typical.
“Lyric, what’s wrong?”
She took a deep inhale, her eyes locked to mine. “Melody, we have to leave. We aren’t safe staying here.” She blinked in a dramatic way that sent chills through me. “You’re not safe here.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. My cousin wasn’t one to overreact. She also wasn’t one to go against the grain.
