by Tillie Cole
“He spread my legs apart and used his finger first. I held back my scream, but it just seemed to make him angrier. ‘I’m gonna take the devil right from your tainted sinful flesh.’ And he did, because after his finger, he fully took me. He took me over and over, again and again. He came back night after night. He would slice my back with the blade, always counting to eleven. I never knew why he counted to eleven. Then he would fuck me. Fuck me until I couldn’t walk, then he’d leave me in the dark, naked and cold on the dirt; alone in the darkness.”
Maddie released a sob. “My God, Flame. I am sorry… I am so sorry…” But I wasn’t finished, my arms tightening so hard around her small body that Maddie gasped and looked up. “What is it Flame? What else could there be to tell?”
“My brother,” I whispered, feeling white hot pain rip through my body, “My baby brother, Isaiah.”
I began to tell her the worst part of all; about all of the evil. It was all too real, in my head. So fucking real, it felt like I was right back there. Right back when I was eight years old, and everything fucking changed. Right back to the fucking darkness, and I relived every minute…
I could hear him screaming again. He’d been crying for days. Something was wrong. It had to be wrong. But Poppa wouldn’t take him to the doctor, he didn’t believe in doctors. He said that the Lord would heal us if our souls were pure enough to be saved. But my brother wouldn’t stop screaming. I’d been listening to him scream for days as I sat in the hole, in complete darkness.
My body tensed when I heard the front door slamming open and my poppa’s heavy footsteps pounding across the floor. I could hear the rattling of bottles and I knew he’d been out to get more drink. My legs pressed together when I knew what that meant for me. It meant he’d be coming for me again tonight, or today, or whatever time it was.
I winced when I heard my baby brother crying again. Then I heard a crash and my poppa screamed, “Shut the fuck up! Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”
But my brother cried even louder, more and more.
Lifting my hands to my ears, I began to rock; counting to eleven as I rocked back and forth. Back and forth.
A light switched on upstairs, the painful brightness creeping through the small cracks in the door. When the light shone on my naked stomach, I looked down and frowned. I could see my ribs. My stomach had gone in, and my fingers looked small and thin.
I jumped as my brother cried again. I heard my poppa shout out, “I’m done with the two of you, ruining my fucking life. The retard and the one that won’t stop fucking screaming!”
My heart began to race as my brother’s crying got closer. My poppa’s footsteps came closer and closer, then the lock of the door above me opened, and I scurried to the side of my cell.
My nails scratched at the skin over my veins, just as my poppa jumped down into the dirt.
The light from upstairs flooded into my small cell, and when I looked up, I moaned. My screaming brother was in my poppa’s arms. Isaiah was bright red, and sweat covered his body. My poppa had a knife in his hand. When I met his eyes, he bent down and threw the knife at my feet.
It was the knife my mama had used on her wrists.
I stared at the knife, wondering what he wanted me to do. Walking forward, he put my brother down next to me. I stared at Isaiah and pressed myself further into the exposed dirt wall. I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t touch him. I would hurt him, like I did Mama.
My poppa stood up and looked down. “You killed your mother, now you look after this screaming little cunt too. I’m done with you both.”
I panicked as he began to move away. “No, don’t leave,” I pleaded. I held up my arms for him to see the scratches and blood that I’d drawn. “I’ll try harder to remove the flames. I’ll try harder… I… I love you,” I whispered, and pushed my bleeding wrists out further.
But my poppa didn’t reply and he climbed out of the door, so drunk he almost fell. He drank more and more since mama died. “You two being born was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I could never love you. No one could ever love a sinner like you.” Then the door shut, trapping me and my baby brother inside. And then he started to cry. And then he started screaming. The noise from his screaming hurt my ears. But he didn’t stop. He never stopped crying.
Hours and hours passed and he didn’t stop. The light was still on upstairs, but I hadn’t heard my poppa since he left us down here. I was hungry, I was thirsty, but he never came back.
And Isaiah got worse.
When I leaned over, he was looking at me, but his breathing had changed. It was deep and slow, but his dark eyes, eyes like mine, were looking up at me, his thin arms reaching out.
My stomach ached as I said, “I can’t touch you… I’ll hurt you…” But he kept on crying. He kept on screaming until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
My hand fisted into balls as I fought the flames inside. As I prayed to God that they didn’t hurt him. But my poppa had been gone so long that I didn’t think he was coming back. Then Isaiah’s breathing became shallower, but I could still see him looking up at me. And I had to hold him. He was scared and hurt… like me.
I had to hold him.
Holding my breath, I let out a scream and reached forward, picking him up in my hands, then I cradled him in my arms.
But his skin wasn’t hot now. My baby brother was freezing cold. His eyes were strange—glazed over. But he kept looking at me, and I began to rock, like Mama used to do. And I sang, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, just like my mama used to do. It hurt my throat to sing. I was so thirsty, but I sang to make Isaiah feel better.
I wanted him to feel better.
“Twinkle twinkle little star… how I wonder what you are… up above the world so high… like a diamond in the sky…
But it didn’t help.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered when I stopped singing, and heard a crackle in his little skinny chest. But Mama had asked me to look after him, to protect him.
So I began to count. I counted his breathing, and all the time I never looked away from his tiny face. “One,” I whispered, as he took in a slow deep breath, “two,” I continued, hugging him closer to my chest. “Three,” I counted, but his breaths were slowing, “four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…” I noticed that Isaiah’s arms had dropped, his skin was ice-cold, but his eyes were still open and looking at me. Then I waited for him to breathe again. I counted, “eleven…” and I waited. And I waited some more. But nothing was happening. My body started to shake. Isaiah’s dark eyes were unmoving, his body was too still.
I moved my arms, trying to get him to breathe. But he didn’t move. “Twelve,” I whispered, desperate for him to reach twelve. My arms began to twitch. But Isaiah didn’t move. I started to rock back and forth like I’d seen my mama do with him when he was in her arms. “Twelve… please… get to twelve…” But when I moved, his thin arms fell to his side. His head tipped back, eyes still wide, but he no longer stared at me.
Isaiah had gone… just like Mama...
He’d left me too.
I’d hurt him… I’d made him leave me too…
I snapped my head round, and my eyes were blurred remembering little Isaiah. I blinked away the water in my eyes. Suddenly, Maddie’s crying face was in front of mine, her arms cradling my head. “My touch killed him, Maddie,” I confessed in a whisper, and wrapped my arms around her.
“Shh…” Maddie said brokenly, as she rocked my head in her hold. “You did no such thing. It was your father. He left you there to die. Your brother was ill and he left him with you. With no medical help. You did not kill him, Flame. Your touch did not harm your brother or your mama. It was your father’s neglect.”
Maddie leaned back. “But he didn’t reach twelve. Eleven. It was always eleven. Eleven slices on my back, and then eleven breaths from Isaiah. Why is it always eleven? Why did he always count in fucking eleven’s? I can never get the number eleven from my head. Everything’s eleven.”
I inhaled a breath. “My name was Josiah,” I confided, for the very first time in my life. “Josiah William Cade.”
Looking up, I watched a tear roll down Maddie’s cheek. Her fingers stroked down my beard and her lips parted. “Josiah William Cade,” she whispered and she leaned in to press a kiss to my lips.
“I hate that name, Josiah,” I spat.
Maddie nodded her head. “I understand, as I too hate my name, Magdalene. I am glad you shared your birth name with me. I am happy you shared it all. Because now, Flame, we know all there is to know about one another. Everything. All is bared.”
Feeling drained, I laid my head back, bringing Maddie to my chest. The room was filled with silence. I tried to block out the memories again. But I couldn’t. They wouldn’t go. Then as my eyes closed, I felt Maddie kiss my chest. She whispered, “I love you, Flame.”
I sucked in a breath, and squeezed my eyes shut, the images disappearing. I held her closer, unclenched my jaw, and whispered, “I… Maddie... I love you too…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maddie
When morning broke the next day, the light filtered through the thin curtains at the window. I blinked open my eyes, and I instantly felt warm. Two large arms were holding me tightly and my cheek was flush against the warmest of skin.
And I smiled.
And my heart swelled.
Flame. I was sleeping beside Flame. And better still, he was sleeping with me. He was sleeping… in a bed, as he deserved. I closed my eyes, listening to his rhythmic slow breathing, and I felt content.
I lay, staring at the light filtering into the bedroom, and thought back to last night. To everything. Prophet Cain freeing us, seeing Flame arriving to take me home, his kiss on the bike, then making love, Flame stopping, but both of us finding a way to push on through. My stomach dropped when I recalled him explaining about his brother, his mother, and that awful man he had for a father. It was no wonder he deeply believed his touch could hurt. His mama had taken her own life, probably due to his father’s ill treatment, and his brother had died through neglect. Being told he was evil was all he had ever been told. And he was so much more. So much more than he believed himself to be.
I thought of that first day he woke in this cabin. Believing someone was behind me, preparing to hurt me. And Flame had distracted him, to save me. Distracted him by staggering weakly to the hatch he had built into his floor, where he had proceeded to pleasure himself and cut himself at the same time. Though there was no pleasure in this act. And I now knew he relived his father taking him each and every night, administering the slices to his body in his father’s stead. He had grown up believing that his release must be brought through pain. His release—just another expulsion of the evil living within his body.
And the number eleven. Always eleven times. His life was measured in sets of eleven. Flame forever relived the slices from his father’s blade, and the last eleven breaths of his baby brother’s short tragic life.
My arms around his waist instinctively held him closer. Woken from my touch, I felt Flame move underneath me, his chest stilling as his hands frantically felt along my back. He was making sure I was really here.
I lifted my head, only to be met with the intense dark eyes I adored so much. “Morning,” I greeted, feeling a blush rush to my cheeks. Flame’s eyes ran over my naked body and he shifted in his position.
“Maddie,” he replied. I slowly crawled up his body to reach his mouth. Making sure my kiss was welcome, and reading in his slightly parted lips that it was, I bent down and timidly pressed my lips against his.
It felt just as precious as it had the night before, the same swarm of butterflies accosting my stomach, as I had felt the first time we kissed. I broke away, and stroking his hair, asked, “Are you okay?”
Flame’s eyes kept dipping to my mouth and he nodded his head. “Yeah.”
A smile tugged on my mouth and I asked, “And did you sleep?”
Flame breathed out a relieved breath, and replied, “Yeah. I always do when you’re here.”
“Then you shall always sleep,” I hushed out quietly. I felt Flame groan, as his erect length pressed against my thigh. My heart fluttered, and I ached for his touch.
“Flame?” I asked quietly and watched his hand on mine. “Will you bathe with me?”
Flame’s nostrils flared, accompanied by a single sharp nod. I freed myself from his arms and slid off the bed. As the cool breeze wrapped around me, I suddenly felt very naked. I covered my chest with my arms, but Flame’s hand pulled them down. “Don’t,” he ordered, and I blushed anew.
Feeling Flame’s eyes watch me walk into the living room, I headed straight for the bathroom and began running the faucet. The steam from the warm water misted up the room. Absentmindedly, I leaned against the sink as I waited for the tub to fill. Flame appeared at the entrance to the bathroom. His large inked body was naked, and heavy muscles moved with his every step.
The wind escaped my lungs as his gaze targeted mine. And that familiar warm needing sensation built between my legs. Flame entered the room and stood right before me. His hand lifted and pushed back my hair from my face. He held a strand between his fingers. “I’ve always liked your hair.”
I smiled. I reached up and traced the skin under his eyes. “And I have always liked your eyes.” Flame expelled a quick breath through his nose. Stepping closer still, I said, “And now I love them… just like I love you.”
Flame’s hand stilled in my hair and his eyes closed, like he was desperate to hear that confession from my lips. Heart melting, I reached up and took his hand in mine. Flame’s eyes opened and I led him to the now full bath, and turned off the faucet.
Guiding him round me, I gestured for Flame to get into the tub first. He climbed in, dwarfing the large tub, then held out his hand for me to follow. I did not hesitate. Placing my hand within his, I climbed in. Flame immediately pulled me into his arms and sighed heavily, in happiness.
We sat in silence for minutes, relishing the soothing water, then I reached for the soap and lathered it in my hands. Turning round, I asked, “May I care for you?”
Flame nodded his head, and placing my hands on his scarred tattooed skin, I began to wash him, showing with my touch how much he meant to me. I soaped over his arms and across his chest. The entire time I did so, his eyes never moved from mine. Then as my hands moved down his hard stomach, he caught my wrist. I looked up in panic, but the soft expression on his face quickly assuaged any worry. I waited for him to speak, then he finally rasped, “No one has ever cared for me like this before.”
My heart cracked, because as much as my life had been difficult, and as much as I had shunned their affection, I had my sisters. But for Flame… there was no one.
Leaning in, until my breasts pressed against his hard chest, I said, “That is in the past. Because I will care for you every day for the rest of our lives. You are my Flame. I will treasure you always. More than you will ever know.”
Flame’s eyes flared, and with firm hands in my hair, he brought my mouth down to his. The kiss started off sweet and shy, but it was not long before an incredible heat built between us. Flame’s hands left the safety of my face and drifted down across my back, over my hips, to land on my thighs. I could feel his hard length pressing against me as he rolled. When a long groan left his mouth, I let him guide my legs to either side of hips. Breaking my mouth from Flame’s on a breathy moan, I pressed my forehead to his, my trembling hands flush to his cheeks.
“Do it, Flame. I want to feel you inside of me again. I need to feel you inside.”
Flame’s face flashed with apprehension. “Just focus on me, Flame. No pain is needed. No fear. Just us, remember?”
Flame groaned and then shifted, one hand holding my waist. When I felt him at my entrance, he stilled, muscles tensed. I watche
d as his eyes squeezed shut, reliving whatever picture was holding him back. But I lowered down. Flame’s eyes snapped open as he filled me so impossibly full.
“Maddie,” he groaned as he filled me to the hilt. I sat above him, my hands holding his face, and his arms holding my waist.
We both breathed.
Then I felt it. The peace and love that Lilah told me she had experienced with Ky. And I knew nothing this precious could be wrong. I knew that nobody as caring and as loving as Flame could be a sinner. No flames ran in his blood. Just love for me, and that was enough, always enough.
Lifting my hips, I began to move. The beautiful sensation of him inside me ignited my soul. Flame began to meet my movements with his own, the pained-with-pleasure expression on his face making me burn for his touch more.
Moving my lips to his, I melded our mouths; Flame’s warm tongue immediately pushed inside. And it went on from there. Our bodies moving in perfect unison, Flame’s mouth owning me.
And before too long, tension built at the base of my spine. Flame’s mouth ripped from mine. He expelled a long moan, his warm seed heating me inside as a blinding light splintered me apart. I held onto his neck, worried I would float away if I lost his hold.
Fluttering my eyes open, I fell to his chest and breathed in the fresh scent of his skin. Flame’s hand immediately came around me, pulling me close. I felt him relax as he whispered, “I love you.”
Smiling into his chest, I replied, “And I you, Flame.”
Flame sighed and murmured, “Mine.”
And I smiled even more.
Minutes passed as we lay in the aftermath. Then something I had been thinking of came to mind. My finger traced the tattoo on Flame’s chest, when I asked, “Flame?”
“Mmm?” he replied as his hands lazily combed through my hair.
“What happened next?”
Flame stilled and I knew his silence meant he did not understand my question. Tilting my head up to look up to his face, I asked, “After your father left you, and… and your brother died… what happened next?”