And hell followed, p.1
And Hell Followed, page 1
And Hell Followed
Copyright © 2021 Beckett Riley
Cover Design: Rose Miller
Images: Adobe Stock
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence,
www.lawrenceediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, photocopying, or recording without written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
Epigraph
Warning
Playlist
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Books by Beckett Riley
Acknowledgements
About the Author
You are my blood, my heart, my life and they would have to rip me open and bleed me dry to let you go. I may not believe in judgment after death but if there is, I will ride my steed through the fires of hell to find you and if the devil himself gets in my way, he will beg to God for mercy.
What is normal? Normal is only ordinary; mediocre. Life belongs to the rare, exceptional individual who dares to be different.
~V.C. Andrews
This book is an extremely graphic tale of passion and forbidden love between a brother and sister that contains sexually explicit situations and triggers. If you can’t handle that, do not continue reading.
Listen on Spotify
“Dance me to the End of Love” The Civil Wars
“The Devil’s Tears” Angus & Julia Stone
“God’s Gonna Cut You Down” Johnny Cash
“Broken Cowboy” The Dead South
“The Bottomless Hole” The Handsome Family
“Beekeeper” Keaton Henson
“Stone Walls” Three Tall Pines
“Buckskin Stallion Blues” Amy Annelle
“Adeline” alt-J
“The Unforgiven III” Metallica
“Sonne” Rammstein
“Pass Them By” Agnes Obel
“Riverside” Agnes Obel
“Fuel to Fire” Agnes Obel
“For You” Angus & Julia Stone
“Nothing Else Matters” Apocalyptica
“Better Dig Two” The Band Perry
“Sing Sing” The Bones of J.R. Jones
“Dramamine” Joshua James
“The Lion’s Roar” First Aid Kit
“Small Hands” Keaton Henson
“The Road” Mirel Wagner
“Green Valley” Puscifer
“Lay Low” Shovels & Rope
“Enter One” Sol Seppy
“Lawdy” The Vespers
“Oh Darlin’ What Have I Done” The White Buffalo
“Broken Bones” Paleo
“Far From Any Road” The Handsome Family
Woodsmoke coming from the weathered cabin meandered toward the sky at dusk as the sun slowly descended below the horizon. The brushstrokes of blood orange intermixed with splashes and flecks of red and purple splattered across the sky as darkness gradually engulfed it. Inside the cabin, a young girl sat at the dinner table, staring at the kerosene lamp at the center. The smell of roasted chicken and potatoes filled the whole room and wafted toward her nostrils, but she dared not reach for a single morsel. Her stomach betrayed her and let out a loud growl in response to the intoxicating aroma of the dish. Trying to muffle the sound, she wrapped her arms around herself, hoping the old man hadn’t heard.
In trepidation, she watched him make his way from the kitchen holding two tin cups between his stout fingers.
“Drink,” he ordered, placing a glass of wine in front of her, the scent of cigar mixed with old sweat swirling about him. She jolted in her chair and bit back a scream when he slammed the bottle down, silently cursing herself for making a sound. Wanting to believe that if she remained silent and little enough, she would be invisible. As he took a seat next to her, he took her in slowly, tapping the rim of his tin cup with his index finger as he did. He again urged her to drink up.
“I’m not thirsty,” she whispered. Feeling terrified by his proximity to her, she wouldn’t dare look him in the eye and contented to stare blankly at the wooden floor.
“You’re not thirsty and you’re not hungry,” he boomed, which sent shivers down her spine. Not able to get a response from her, he shrugged, ripping off a chicken leg with his hands and biting off a piece. His loud chewing permanently engraved in her memory.
She watched him refill his glass until the entire bottle was empty and all that stood between her and what she knew would be the worst day of her life were three gulps of wine. Her hands gripped the chair seat she was sitting on. She slowly turned her head in his direction to watch him as he stood up from his place next to her. He was huge. At least at that moment he was. Betrayed by her own body, she trembled like a newborn calf and a glint of tears formed in her eyes.
Not daring to move her head anymore, she stood perfectly still as he made his way behind her chair. His hot, calloused hand on her neck made her skin crawl as he caressed the exposed skin peeking above her collared prairie dress. A rogue tear streaked down her right cheek and over her lips, leaving her with a salty taste as she wiped it away with her tongue. His breathing became heavier when his fingers slithered under her blouse, but she instinctively slapped his hand away. He did not like that. He grabbed one of her braids and pulled her to her feet. She screamed helplessly as she clutched at the air, trying to ward him off while kicking in all directions. She felt utterly insignificant, but that didn’t stop her from screaming with as much energy as she could muster. But all that became useless when he put his mouth over hers, stifling her screaming in the process. The taste of chicken and wine coupled with her disgust for him over-flooded her senses, causing her to retch. Filled with a sudden rush of adrenaline mixed with bravery, she struck his chest with her fists as hard as she could, but when that didn’t work, she resorted to scratching his face. He shoved her away effortlessly and with one slap, knocked her to the ground. His image was slightly distorted through her tears as he crouched over her and got on top. Thrashing violently under him, she tried to fight him off her. They struggled this way until he pinned her arms above her head with one hand and fumbled to undo his trousers with the other.
That’s when she saw the blade slice across his neck, followed by a warm splatter of crimson spraying over her. Shocked and confused as to what had just transpired, she made eye contact with the assailant and relief swept over her like a tidal wave. The tall figure stood behind the dying man held his head back as blood aspirated through his cut. The gurgling noise gradually subsided until the crackling sound of the fireplace filled the cabin once again and the young man holding the knife let the body fall onto the hardwood floor. When he knelt next to the blood-soaked girl, she started to cry uncontrollably and clung to him for dear life as he carried her outside to the dead man’s horse and buggy. She quietly cried the whole ride home in the darkness, the only light coming from a kerosene lamp hanging from the roof of the buggy, making a creaking noise as it swung back and forth. They pulled up to a run-down cabin less than five miles away and the young man dismounted the buggy, helping the girl out and cursing when he saw her busted lip and swollen cheek illuminated by the lamp. He set her down and took the lamp to get a closer look, raising her chin as he brought the light near her face. She could see a muscle in his jaw twitching.
”Sit down and cover your ears.” He pointed to the porch steps.
She nodded and did as she was told, watching him put down the lamp and pick up a drilling hammer that was leaning against a water trough before entering the cabin. Without the slightest hesitation, he walked up to the drunk passed out in a rocking chair, swinging the hammer and striking his kneecap. The shriek that followed rippled through the cabin and reverberated around the green landscape it sat on, dissipating into the darkness. The girl outside wept and pressed her palms against her ears to drown out the horrible sound.
As the man fell to the floor, screaming in pain, he looked at his attacker and the shock bolted through him like lightning. The young man knelt next to him and leaned in, and that initial shock morphed into fear.
“If you ever try to whore her out again, the next one will be to your head.” He looked up at the woman standing against the wall watching the scene unfold in silence and gestured to her bloody mess of a husband writhing on the floor.
“Tend to him,” he said before walking out. He sat down on the porch steps next to his sister, who looked at him, barely able to breathe from the terror snaking through her body. The corners of his mouth turned up into a comforting smile that quickly blanketed her fears. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as they listened to the chaos inside the cabin.
Oklahoma 1863
“Do not be deceived. God is not mocked; for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. Galatians 6:7. Class, can anyone tell me what that means?” asked the Sunday school teacher, Ms. Abbott, as she looked around at her students. “Anyone?” she repeated, making eye contact with a few of the younger students sitting in the front row. All of their eyes quickly averted hers.
The schoolhouse consisted of a single room that served to teach grades one through eight simultaneously, with the youngest at the front and the oldest in the back. Generally, the same rule applied for Sunday school when even some adults attended.
Ms. Abbott saw a hand rising in the back row from the corner of her eye. “Anyone else?”
Silence.
“Very well, Katarina, please explain to the rest of the class what this means,” she said with a sigh as the younger children turned in their chairs to face the back.
Katarina, or Kate as she was called, stood up and smiled. A collective sigh could be heard from a few of the older male attendees. She had dark auburn hair that complemented her warm skin tone with freckles peppered over her rosy cheeks and eyes as green as grass in the springtime. At sixteen, Kate could have her pick of suitors, but every male in town knew that in order to get to her, they would have to get through her brother, Thomas. He did not make it easy, to say the least. There were stories of boys and men being chased away with an axe or a rifle when asking for her hand in marriage. Whether those stories were true or not, they set a precedent for anyone even thinking of approaching her.
“Everything we do has a consequence and you cannot escape that consequence once the action is committed. God is always watching,” answered Kate, staring at Ms. Abbott.
Ms. Abbott cleared her throat, thanked Kate, and told her to sit back down.
She took her seat and looked over at her older brother sitting right next to her, smiling. Thomas and Kate were close. When most babies’ first spoken words were mama or papa, hers was Thomas. Once he was old enough to work and travel with Pa building fences, he stopped attending school and even though she was considered the smarter one despite being four years younger, Kate insisted he go whenever they were home.
When Thomas made eye contact with an older man ogling Kate, he shook his head. Kate’s admirer quickly shifted his gaze. Ruggedly handsome and standing over six feet tall, with a muscular build, most men avoided getting in his crosshairs.
He was fluent in English, although his accent could sometimes be heard, especially when he felt uncomfortable in a situation. With a good reputation for being a hard worker, the family finally earned enough to buy a small piece of land and build a cabin near a small town called Benton near Beaver County in Oklahoma.
As Thomas and Kate walked out of the classroom, Ms. Abbott asked her if she could have a word with her. Kate motioned for her brother to go on ahead and he glanced over at Ms. Abbott, sighing before he left the classroom.
“Kate, how are your parents?” she asked with her signature haughty tone and fake smile.
“They are very well, Ms. Abbott, thank you for asking,” she replied in her flawless English.
“Oh, good. Um, I would like to meet with them soon if that’s possible. There’s something rather pressing I need to discuss with them.”
“What’s it about?” she asked, not breaking eye contact.
“None of your business, young lady. This is something I need to discuss with your parents, not you,” she replied, shifting her eyes away and nervously stacking some papers on her desk.
“Well, Ms. Abbott, you are aware that my parents barely speak English, and most of the family affairs are my responsibility, so if you please, just tell me what’s wrong. I will let them know and we will handle it, whatever it is. How bad can it possibly be?” she asked with a look of concern.
Ms. Abbott sighed and looked down at her desk for a moment. She walked over to the drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper and a tube of red wax as she sat down. Kate watched her write something down and rolled her eyes. Her parents didn’t read English. When she was done writing, she reached into her drawer and pulled out a folded piece of paper, wrapping the one she had just written over it. Ms. Abbott lit a match and held the flame to the red wax, sealing the letters. She held it against her chest, seemingly hesitant to hand it over.
“Your brother forgot his Bible last Sunday along with some… personal writings tucked inside. You are to give this to your parents. You are not to open this, Katarina. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kate placed the letter inside her Bible before walking out.
Thomas was sitting on one of the school steps, waiting for her.
“What did she want?” he asked as he took Kate’s schoolbook and Bible.
“Nothing. She told me to give the others a chance to answer questions.”
Thomas stopped walking and looked at her for a moment, amused. He knew that wasn’t it. Kate was an exceptionally gifted liar, except with him. She could bend just about anyone to her will without them even realizing it, but not wanting to press her at that time, he went along with it.
“Pfft. None of those imbeciles knew the answer. And the word of God doesn’t put food on the table. She should be teaching practical things and stop preaching so much.”
Kate stopped in her tracks and looked at Thomas.
“Some of those imbeciles are only seven!”
He shrugged and put his arm over her shoulder as they walked, smirking proudly when a couple of boys made the sound decision not to look at his sister as they passed them by. Being the older male, he naturally felt the need to protect Kate. They emigrated from Germany and had a difficult time adjusting, moving around for years going wherever Pa’s work took them to and living in isolation for most of their adolescence.
When they reached their cabin, Pa was trying to climb a ladder to repair a leak on the roof, cursing when he bent his knee. He barked at Thomas to come help him. Pa was a big, burly man with a bushy beard covering most of his face. In his late forties, with graying hair and weathered skin, Armin Streicher spoke German most of the time at home and what little English he did speak was difficult to understand.
Kate went inside and greeted Ma, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She wiped away the sweat from her brow before pointing to the pile of dirty sheets and clothes sitting on the floor by the front door. Maddalen was in her early forties and spoke slightly more English than Pa if required to, but normally didn’t speak at all. A gifted seamstress, she was popular among the locals but known to have a short temper. A few of the women in town joked that having measurements taken by Maddalen was as rigorous as a soldier in training.
“Go to the creek before the sun sets. And wash your hair,” she told Kate.
“Yes, Mother,” she mumbled in German before heading to her room and drew the canvas curtain shut for privacy while she changed out of her good dress and put on a light blue cotton prairie dress Ma had made for her. She grabbed a white muslin half apron and tied it around her waist. Kate stared at the Bible sitting on her bed and shifted her gaze to the canvas sheet, making sure no one was near.
Thomas was kneeling on the roof, hammering a wooden plank when he saw Kate carrying the laundry basket.
“Wait. I’m almost done. I’ll go with you,” he said, much to Pa’s disapproval, but Kate insisted he stay and finish repairing the roof.
“I’ll be back before sundown,” she yelled over her shoulder as she began the quarter-mile walk to the creek. Thomas’ eyes didn’t flinch off of her as she walked away. “I don’t like you going alone!” he yelled.
“I know!” she yelled back.
Pa snapped his fingers and gestured to the pile of planks waiting for him, mumbling how it was Thomas’ fault he couldn’t climb anymore.
“Your drinking got you where you’re at, not me,” replied Thomas from the roof, pointing at him with the hammer. Pa quieted down.
When Kate arrived at the creek and set down the basket, she reached into the apron pocket and pulled out the letter, scanning the area to make sure no one was around. Most of the women did laundry on Saturdays, so the coast was clear. Without hesitation, she broke the wax seal and began to read Ms. Abbott’s letter first.
