
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9106495.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Credence_Barebone/Original_Female_Character(s)
  Character:
      Credence_Barebone, Mary_Lou_Barebone, Chastity_Barebone, Modesty
      Barebone, Percival_Graves_|_Gellert_Grindelwald, Constance_Barebone_
      (Original_Female_Character)
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Religious_Fanaticism, Emotional_Manipulation, teenage
      romance, Heavy_Petting, Masturbation, Mutual_Masturbation, Voyeurism
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-29 Completed: 2017-01-02 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 20842
****** Pray To Me... ******
by Mutant_Toad
Summary
     What set off the Obscurial in the first place? He had managed to
     contain it most of his life, but what made him finally lose control
     enough to attract the attention of Percival Graves?
     In 1923, Mary Lou Barebone takes in a fourth adopted child. She is
     newly orphaned when her mother is killed. The state had intended on
     turning her out since she was sixteen, but Mary Lou, the gracious
     woman that she is, offered to take the poor thing in and help her
     repent for the life she assumes she must have lived under a single
     mother.
Notes
     For Credence's age, I am under the belief that he was 20 years old in
     1926 when the movie takes place. So for this fic, he will be 17.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Credence couldn’t help but to stare. She was beautiful. He was sure she was
close to his age. It didn’t help the impure thoughts he was having. He would
have to pray for forgiveness for the image of his hands on her hips. She was
dressed more modernly, but he was sure that would change. The drop waist skirt,
her bare legs poking out from under the fabric, the strapped shoe with a slight
heel, the immodestly low cut collar that showed a lovely amount of pale, soft,
clean skin. He wanted to know if the exposed skin was as soft as it looked.
Mama would beat him raw if she knew what he was thinking. It took a great
amount of will to force his eyes away from her for fear of Mama seeing his
gaze.
“Close your coat, Girl,” Mama’s stern voice ordered and she pulled her coat
shut, blocking Credence’s gaze to her chest, “Credence, Chastity, Modesty,” she
named her children, each one standing up straighter as she called them, “This
is Constance. She’ll be joining our family,” he felt a tightening in his
stomach. Most of the children that came here for food and sermons were lucky
enough to not have to stay here.
“Hello, Constance,” the three of them said in unison.
“H-hi…”
Mama’s hand popped her in the cheek. Not as hard as she usually hit. It was a
warning, “We do not stammer.”
“Sorry, Ma’am,” her voice was soft, but trembling.
Credence chanced a few seconds of looking at her again. Her coppery hair
reminded him of a candle flame. It looked ever brighter as she pulled her coat
closed more and it stood out against the black fabric, “Constance’s mother was
a whore and she paid for her sins in death,” he watched her pull in her lower
lip and bite it hard, “After sixteen years of exposure to such a wretched life
style, we can only hope that Constance can repent for her own sins before it’s
too late,” she was only a year younger than himself, he thought.
“How did she die?” Modesty asked without thinking.
Mama gave the youngest girl a look that sent a shiver down her small spine,
“She was strangled by a man she was sinning with,” he watched as tears started
to fill Constance’s eyes. He hoped she didn’t start to cry. Nothing angered
Mama more than crying and weakness, “Let us pray that the same doesn’t befall
her.”
He couldn’t imagine what sort of horrible thing she had done in her life to
deserve having to come here. Mama hadn’t adopted any children in two years.
Modesty had been the last one. Modesty was her ‘baby’ who could do no wrong,
though Credence knew that she secretly threw away their leaflets. Chastity was
her perfect lady who did her chores without question. Credence was her problem
child. He always screwed up.
“The state would have turned her out due to her age, but I was gracious enough
to take on the burden of caring for her. Chastity, you will be sharing your
room with Constance. You will also teach her how to use the print press to make
the leaflets. Credence, you will show her how to handle the kitchen and she
will assist you in handing out the meals,” he was surprised she was putting her
with him. Perhaps it was to help straighten him out a bit more. If he did
poorly in teaching her, it would earn him more punishments, “And Modesty, she
will come with you on leaflet handouts,” which meant the girl couldn’t throw
away the papers, “Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said softly.
“Yes, Mama,” his two adopted sisters responded.
“Yes, Ma’am,” she mimicked him.
“Good. Chastity, take Constance to your room and find her some decent
clothing,” the stuff she was wearing would never be acceptable to Mama,
“Modesty, Credence, back to your chores.”
They all nodded and went their ways. Modesty went to cleaning the chairs and
tables before they opened the doors for dinner. Mama went back to her little
office to finish penning her letters to various newspapers. He watched as
Chastity lead his new sister up the stairs. He felt his breath hitch a little
as her skirt fluttered around her knees and he got a full view of her soft,
bare legs. God was going to punish him for the thoughts he had of how it would
feel to run his fingers along her calves.
He was supposed to go to the kitchen and get started on the soup they would
hand out with their leaflets to the children. But instead he waited till he
heard Mama’s office door close and Chastity’s door close and he quietly moved
his way up the stairs and towards his own room. It was small and the wall was
shared with Chastity’s room. The two rooms had at one point been one large
room, but it would have been inappropriate for him to share a room with her and
Modesty’s room was far too small for his height. A thin wall was built to
divide the room into two rooms. It was nearly bare, holding little more than
his old bed and a wardrobe that was nearly empty. He had a small shoe box under
his bed filled with newspaper clips that he liked reading.
Moving towards the wall, he hesitated for a moment before pressing his ear up
against it. He could hear the two girls moving about the small room. It would
be hard to manage two beds in there and he was sure Chastity was none the happy
about it.
“We wake at five and clean up in the bathroom down the hall. We each get ten
minutes in the bathroom. Credence goes first, then me, then Modesty, and then
you,” she was the newest, so she would have to go last for everything, “After
morning prayers, we have breakfast and Mama gives us our chores for the day.
Dinner is at five, with prayers before hand, we eat after we serve the children
and give them their leaflets. Then evening sermon with Mama, bedtime prayers,
and lights out at seven.”
He listened as Chastity gave the overview of their day to day lives. It wasn’t
always like that. Sometimes Mama let them go out on their own for a few hours.
Those were the times he looked forward to, “I understand...Is it always so
strict?”
“Yes. We like it that way. You will take the bed by the window,” it was the
drafty one. Chastity would keep the bed nearest the wall for warmth. It was her
right the eldest child to get the warmer bed.
“What’s Mary Lou like? Is she always so...stern?”
“You’ll call her Mama or Ma’am. And yes. She is. It helps keep us in line with
the Lord. A daughter of a whore wouldn’t know that though, but you’ll learn. If
you don’t learn, well, Mama has ways of dealing with that,” he shuddered. He
knew what those ways were all too well, “Get dressed and cleaned up. The
clothes are mine and you’re a little taller than me, but they should do for
now. Dinner will be soon. You’ll be helping Credence serve.”
“...Alright.”
He listened as Chastity left her alone in the room. He hoped she didn’t notice
that he wasn’t in the kitchen right away. His ears were focused on the sounds
in Chastity’s room. He heard Constance move about a bit before hearing the
familiar creaking of a bed frame and then sobbing. Slowly, he moved to a
different spot on the wall. It was a special spot. A place where the wall was
even thinner and weaker. He’d tripped once and caught himself on the wall, but
his finger had pushed a hole through a weak spot. He’d been too scared to tell
Mama what he’d done and instead covered the hole with a leaflet.
He removed it and peeked through. It was at just enough of a good angle that he
could see Constant sitting on the bed as he knelt down awkwardly to look. He
had spied on Chastity once or twice, but never in this manner. Those times had
been to see if she knew when he’d done something he shouldn’t have. No, he
wasn’t looking at Constance for that. He wanted to watch her.
Her thin hands were covering her pretty face as she sobbed softly. He knew how
she felt. He had cried like that many times over the years. He didn’t trust
what Mama had said about her mother. He had no doubts that she was dead, but he
doubted that she had been a whore. Constance, even crying, was beautiful.
Perhaps not as pretty as some of the girls and women he had seen walking around
near the expensive stores, but still pretty.
She sobbed for a moment or two longer, but finally wiped at her eyes with her
coat and standing to get dressed. She was holding a familiar, wool dress. It
was Chastity’s least favorite dress. She said it itched. Credence knew he
shouldn’t keep watching as he saw her remove her coat. He knew for sure he was
going to hell as he pressed closer to the wall and watched as she kicked her
shoes off and her fingers started working at the buttons of her dress.
A warm stirring between his legs brought new shame. He’d imagined girls several
times. How it would feel to be held and hugged. To be kissed and touched. He
wondered what a woman looked like undressed. He’d been punished for gazing a
little too long at ads with women in short dresses and undergarments. He
wondered if women really looked like that under their dresses. From what he was
seeing as Constance slowly undressed, they were fairly accurate.
He held his breath as the dress finally slipped down her body. Her white step-
in chemise made him realize what a horrible person he was. It had only happened
a few times before, but he felt a familiar pressure between his legs. He needed
to touch it. It would only take a few moments of self loathing to relieve it.
For the first time, he’d be able to do it while actually seeing a woman.
Her thin fingers ran the length of her body, touching her breasts and her
stomach while straightening out the fabric. She pulled her long red hair over
one of her shoulders and he reached down to unbuckle his belt. He had to be
quick. She wouldn’t take long getting dressed and he couldn’t risk staying in
here much longer.
The sight of her small, perky breasts straining against the bra of her chemise
urged him on as he slid his hand into the warmth confines of his pants and
gripped the hardness tight. He rubbed his palm over the slick head and bit his
lip to keep from groaning. She turned away and bent over to pick up the wool
dress from the bed and he stroked hard and fast at seeing her bottom tight
against the bottom of her underwear.
He continued rubbing, feeling his sac tightening as he watched her pull the
dress up over her hips and onto her arms. He would miss the sight of her bare
arms and chest, but having got to see them at all was a nice memory. It would
serve him well for months of feverish self touching in the dark of his bedroom
at night. The longer he watched, the more he hated himself. God hated him.
Finally lowering his head, he groaned softly as he released into his hand. His
hips twitched a little and he slowly pulled his hand free of pants, looking at
the puddle of sticky white in his fingers with disgust. Credence loathed how
weak he was. He barely knew her. He had only just met her and he was already
giving into temptation. He was a lech.
He turned his eye back to the peep hole and realized she was gone. He hadn’t
even heard her leave the room, “Lord forgive me…” he muttered pathetically.
***** Chapter 2 *****
“Everyone grab your leaflets before you get your food,” Chastity always had to
remind them. Modesty helped hand out the papers as the children filed in to get
bowls of soup. For many of them, this was the only meal they got. It made them
easy targets for the Second Salem preaching. If they wanted to eat, they had to
read the leaflets, sit through the sermons, and hand out the leaflets. If they
didn’t, they would be turned away till they behaved.
Chastity made sure every child had a stack of papers in one hand before Modesty
assigned them a seat at the tables. They would then move to the serving counter
where Credence and Constance would dish out bowls of warm soup. It wasn’t the
best tasting, but it was better than having nothing at all.
The two older teens made sure that everyone only got one bowl and didn’t try to
sneak seconds or steal someone else's. Once the children were served, it was
their job to start cleaning and have it done by the time the sermon started.
Credence carried the large, but nearly empty, soup pot back into the small
kitchen where Constance was readying the sink water, “They ate nearly all of it
tonight,” he said softly. He had trouble speaking normally when he was close to
her. It didn’t help that in the two weeks she had been here, he had touched
himself every night to the memory of seeing her undergarments. During prayer
time, he would ask God for forgiveness, but he knew forgiveness was only truly
given if one didn’t intend on doing what they were asking forgiveness for
again, “There is enough left for Modesty, Chastity, and you,” it wouldn’t be
the first night he went without dinner.
“You have to eat, Credence,” her voice was always so sweet sounding. It made
his stomach flutter, or it would if it didn’t hurt from the thought of going
without food, “You’re the man of the house, you have to eat,” at least that was
what Mama said. That he was the man and he had to learn to act like one. As it
was, she said he was a pathetic excuse for a man.
“I will be okay…” he wouldn’t let any of them go without.
She came over and helped him pour the last of the soup into three small bowls.
They would get to eat soon, “We can share. A little is better than none.”
In two weeks, he had learned very little about her. Modesty liked talking about
her family before they had died. Chastity kept closed off and seemed content
that way. Credence didn’t remember his life before coming here. He knew she had
wanted to talk. They were close in age and it made sense that she would want to
be close with him, but he didn’t trust himself to be close with her. All he
would think about was how good it would feel to break every commandment about
being with a woman that was in the bible.
“Mama will get upset if she finds out.”
“Then we better make sure she doesn’t find out,” she smiled sweetly and he felt
his stomach tingle again.
There were several times she would start to bring something up, but he would
always find a reason to excuse himself. He didn’t want to get to know her more.
It would make it harder to control his thoughts. The few things she did say
made him want her more and made him think about her more. Like offering him the
soup and telling him that they would have to make sure Mama didn’t find out.
They would have a secret together.
She didn’t want for him to answer. She brought the bowl over to him and held a
spoonful to his mouth, “Eat. Please.”
Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and allowed her to spoon feed him the soup. It
pressed against a deep need inside of him to be cared for. To have someone hold
him, love him, and care for him. She even smiled a little as she made him take
another bite. He was sure to anyone else it was a sorry site. A man his age
letting a girl feed him like a child. He couldn’t find it in him to care
though. Instead, he just kept his eyes on her face as she took care of him.
Her long, copper colored hair was pulled back and styled much the same way
Chastity’s was. Her cheeks were rosy from where she had cleaned up before
dinner and had scrubbed her face. Despite the sad way they lived, she managed
to keep a little bit of warmth in her blue eyes. It made him feel good to know
that Mama hadn’t completely broke her yet. He wondered how long it would take
before she was as dead eyed as Chastity.
He realized that she had given him nearly the whole bowl and he took a step
back, finally realizing what they had been doing. Mama would beat him in front
of all the other children if she had seen them like that, “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have ate so much. You need to eat.”
Constance shook her head lightly before going over to the two other bowls. She
spooned some from Chastity’s bowl, but left Modesty’s alone. The youngest
should get the most, or rather needed the most, “No one has to know. It’ll be
our little secret.”
It made him tingle a little when she said that. They had a secret. It seemed
little, but it was still a secret and one that could get them both punished. To
Mama, there were no small mistakes. Everything was deserving of punishment
equally. The thought that they had a secret together now made the corner of his
mouth twitch a little. It was the closest he’d come to a smile in a long time,
“Thank you…” he said lightly.
“Come on. Let’s get the dishes cleaned.”
He nodded fast and grabbed for the pot again, stumbling a little as his legs
felt like jelly. He dunked it into the lukewarm water as she started pouring
boiling water from the stove into it to reheat the sink water. They had done
the dishes together several times, but he always pretended like she wasn’t
there. It was hard to ignore her this time though. All he could think about was
sitting on his bed with her. His head on her chest and her arms around him.
Just holding him, stroking his hair, and telling him how good he was. Making
him feel like he was worth something. That he meant something to someone,
anyone.
As usual, they worked silently. He would chance a few glances at her when he
was sure she wasn’t looking. She seemed focused on her work. Likely because
they were behind schedule due to her having fed him. Without meaning to, he
felt his fingers brush against her hand under the water and his face warmed up,
“I’m sorry…” he muttered.
“It’s alright,” her response was more shaky than usual. Credence told himself
it was because she was embarrassed. They had never really touched before, “...I
don’t mind,” she added and he felt that tingle in his stomach again. Something
in his brain told him that she wanted the same thing he did.
Credence had seen, and been jealous of, the young couples he saw around the
city. Boys and girls their age sitting together on benches in the park. Holding
hands and kissing. Boys surprising their girls with flowers and candies. The
girls getting excited and hugging them in front of everyone. A man going down
on his knee and asking a woman to marry him and how happy it would make them
both look. He wanted those things too.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and hated how much of a coward
he was. Mama would never allow them to be together. They were only family by
name, but she would never believe him if he asked to have any kind of relations
with Constance. Mama would beat him and call him a pervert. She’d say that they
had both already sinned together, even if they hadn’t. He wasn’t even brave
enough to keep it a secret as she had with the soup. Mama allowed them each one
afternoon a week when they were allowed to be on their own and he could have
asked to spend time with her without Mama knowing; but he was too pitiful to
ask. The fear that he was wrong in thinking she wanted what he did kept him
back.
Neither of them spoke anymore as they finished the dishes. They both ignored it
if their hands or fingers touched in the water.
They finished drying the pots as Modesty and Chastity came in with the bowls
from the other children. The two girls sat down to eat their food while
Constance and Credence went about cleaning the bowls, “There’s less than
usual,” Chastity commented as she picked up her bowl and Credence felt his face
getting warm. A look at Constance and the small smile on her lips made him feel
good. They had done something wrong together. As much as he hated himself for
it, he knew that it would feed into whatever fantasy his mind came up with
tonight while he pleasured himself.
“The soup boiled a little longer than usual. Some of it must have steamed out,”
Constance lied as she dipped the dirty bowls into the sink.
It would be difficult to get through the sermon tonight. All he would be able
to think about is her. While he would normally go sit in the park on his free
afternoons, he knew that the three girls would leave as well. That would leave
the house empty and he could be alone in his room. He would be free to touch
himself and try to relieve his fantasies and frustrations for a while.
They finished cleaning the bowls and the three girls finished their meal before
they all cleaned up to sit through Mama’s sermon.
They sat in the front row with children and parents filed in behind them. If
they wanted their children to continue receiving free dinners, it was required
that they attend one or two sermons a week with their children. Other than her
anti-witchcraft lectures, Mama mostly just preached from the bible. Chastity
sat on the outside of the row with Modesty next to her. A bible sat between
Modesty and Credence. Leaving a bit of a space. Constance sat next to him.
Her hands folded in her lap and her eyes facing forward as they listened. It
was hard to keep his eyes from glancing at her once in awhile. He gripped the
knees of his pants tightly as he tried to focus on what Mama was saying. It was
about forgiveness. About how the lord would forgive all, but only if we truly
mean to be forgiven. If someone continued to do the thing they wanted to be
forgiven for, then they could not be forgiven. Did Mama know what he had been
doing every night? No. He was sure she didn’t. If she did, she would have
punished him by now.
Credence sat up straighter as he felt something touch the side of his leg. It
was Constance’s leg. She had shifted her weight and moved closer to him. Her
outer thigh was pressed up against his. Every time she moved, even the
slightest movement, he felt a shiver go up his spine. He tried hard to tell
himself that she wasn’t doing it on purpose. Not so close to Mama.
But what if she was doing it on purpose?
Nervous and scared, he slowly moved his hand. He just barely touched her thigh
with the tips of his pinky and ring finger. He heard her breath hitch softly
and he realized he had assumed wrong. At least till he felt her fingers touch
his just a bit before they both pulled away. He scooted closer to the bible on
the pew seat and she moved away from him.
Credence was sure of it now. She had feelings for him. Even if they were just
barely there, they were still there. She needed some kind of closeness and so
did he. They could take care of each other.
He felt his stomach tighten though as he heard Mama’s voice continue to preach.
Nothing would ever get to happen. Mama would make sure of it.
In the end, he knew that it didn’t matter what they wanted. Mama would get the
final say and she would never let him have anything to do with Constance. He
was a failure and she would be groomed to take Chastity’s place when Chastity
eventually took Mama’s place.
He ignored and suppressed the bubbling anger in his gut as he thought about it.
***** Chapter 3 *****
It was well past midnight and he had managed to find sleep after his usual
self-abuse to lull him unconscious. He hadn’t been able to work up the courage
to ask Constance to spend the afternoon with him several days ago, even after
she had responded so favorably to his touch to her leg. Instead, he closed
himself up in his room and pretended to not be feeling well. Mama had made him
take horrible tasting medicine, but he didn’t complain. It kept everyone away
from him for the day. When he could have been out walking in the park with
Constance, he was instead sitting in his bed and touching himself.
Since she had come here, he had made use of the peep hole several times. He
hated himself everytime he did it, but not enough to keep him from doing it.
She always went to bed before Chastity. That meant he could watch her undress
and dress into her night gown.
She always started with her shoes and stockings. She would stretch her legs out
and run her fingers down her calves for a moment before starting to unbutton
her dress. Mama had got her several dresses in her size. All wool, black, grey,
mid-calf length, and thick. Nothing like the flowy, modern dress she had worn
when she first came here. He knew she hadn’t got rid of her old dress. He’d
seen her take it out twice. It was hidden under her bed in a small box. She’d
look at it for a moment and then tuck it back away.
He’d touch himself as she pulled her dress off and straightened out her
undergarments. Somehow, Credence managed enough strength to look away when
she’d take the chemise off. He’d never be able to focus on anything again if he
saw her body completely bare. It was hard enough as it was. He didn’t need
that. Usually by the time he looked back up, she was in her nightgown and
sitting on the bed. Her fingers would pull her hair from the ties Chastity put
in it and brush it out. He liked watching her finger brush her hair. Even with
the harsh soaps Mama provided, it still looked soft and feathery.
Credence would finish, usually, just as Chastity was coming in their room for
the evening. He would cover the hole back up and get himself ready for bed. He
would usually touch himself at least once more before falling asleep.
He was roused from his sleep by the sound of Constance’s soft voice calling his
name. He thought it was part of the dream at first, but the dream hadn’t been
pleasant. They were rarely pleasant. Credence rarely remember his dreams, but
they never left him feeling good. There was always some kind of dark cloud that
seemed to mist over his thoughts when he tried to remember his dreams.
“Credence…” he cracked open his dark eyes and saw her standing over him. Her
copper hair glowed a little in the moonlight that came in through the window.
Her face looked flushed, even though the room was cool.
“Constance...what are you doing?” Mama would beat them both if she found them
in here together. It didn’t matter what the reason was. He wasn’t allowed in
their room and they weren’t allowed in his room. It wasn’t appropriate.
“I don’t feel well,” she said softly as he started to sit up. The blanket fell
down his body, revealing the long, white nightshirt he had to wear. He knew men
didn’t wear them anymore. It was old fashioned and he knew he would be warmer
and more comfortable in the pants and long sleeve pajama shirts he had seen in
stores. Mama made him wear these though.
He rubbed his eyes a bit as he made his eyes focus from sleep, “What’s wrong?
Why didn’t you go to Mama?”
“...She would be upset if I woke her. I don’t want to wake her if I’m not sick
enough,” he’d been through that. He’d woken up with minor fevers and gone to
her in the delusional hope that she would hug him, give him medicine, and tuck
him in. Instead, she would take his temperature, tell him to man up, and send
him on his way back to his cold room. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t remember in
the morning and punish him for disturbing her sleep, “Can you feel my forehead?
It feels hot to me.”
She could have woke Chastity, but he knew that the eldest sister would be just
as upset as Mama and likely tell Mama about it. Modesty was too young to be of
help. If she really did have a fever, she wouldn’t be able to tell herself with
her own hand. She needed someone and had come to him, “Okay.”
She knelt down on the floor next to him and he was glad he was too sleepy to
realize how close to his waist her face was. He settled his feet on the floor
before reaching over and resting his palm against her forehead. It was warm and
clammy. Where he had feigned sickness days ago, she really was ill. Mama would
blame him. She would say that he hadn’t been careful enough and got her ill. It
wouldn’t matter that she had likely gotten sick from one of the children that
came in for dinner or when she had gone out for her free afternoon.
“You’re warm, but not too warm. No reason to wake Mama,” so far, Constance had
only received one belt whipping and a handful of cheek pops, “I’ll get you some
water.”
She nodded lightly as he got up and moved quietly from the room. He could have
made her go get it herself, but he knew where all the creaky floor boards were
and how to get the cups down without clinking them against each other. Credence
rubbed his eyes as he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen. His mind
was too clouded to take in what was happening, but there were no doubts that
he’d remember it all clearly in the morning.
What he wasn’t prepared for was to see her sitting on his bed when he got back.
She was sitting near the pillows, hands in her lap, hair over her shoulder, and
just waiting. It helped to wake him up completely. He stared for a moment
before walking across the room and holding the cup out to her, “Thank you…” she
said softly before taking a drink.
Credence had fantasized about this before. About her being in his bed. Mama
would be gone and she would come in asking him for something. When he’d come
back, he’d find her laying out on his bed and ask him to lay with her. They
would kiss and slowly start to touch. Her fingers would pleasure him the way
he’d been doing to himself. She’d pant and moan for him. Saying his name with
love and want. They would eventually make love. Giving themselves to each other
for the first time. In his fantasies, it was always their first time. In his
fantasies, nothing he did would disappoint her.
Realistically, he knew that was never going to happen.
She would drink her water and go back to her bed. Maybe she would thank him
again. That would be it. God was never going to forgive him at this rate. He
wished his life was different. Wished there was something he could do to change
not only his life, but to change his relationship with Constance.
Pathetically, he wondered if the spot where she sat would smell like her when
she left. God was going to punish him. He was going to hell for sure.
He stood quietly as she took slow sips. He wished she would just take it to her
room, but he knew she couldn’t. Chastity would see the cup and she would get in
trouble. He at least had a chance of hiding it till he could sneak it back to
the kitchen, “Thank you…” she finally said. He expected her to get up and
leave, but she didn’t. She sat on his bed, looking at him, and toying with the
tips of her hair, “Thank you, Credence. It really means alot to me.”
“...I don’t mind…” he shifted nervously on his feet, staring down at the floor
as she spoke.
“I’m sorry you were ill the other day. I was hoping...uh...I’d hoped you would
have went out with me.”
His head shot up and he stared at her in amazement, “R-really?”
Constance bit her lower lip and he watched as she tugged her hair nervously,
“Yes. I’ve been so lonely since my mother died. I know you don’t spend time
with a lot of people,” he didn’t hide the fact that he was friendless. Even
Modesty and Chastity had what could pass for friends. Most of the other
children called him a freak, “I had thought we could spend some time together.
I know no one wants to hear about me, but it would have been nice to just have
someone to walk with."
Without thinking, he moved quick to sit on the bed next to her. He’d never felt
like this before. She did want to spend time with him, “I don’t mind to hear
you talk. I would like to hear about you,” not that he had made that very
apparent before now. Anytime she tried to talk, he would always find a reason
to leave.
She reached out and grabbed his hands with a small smile on her face, “Really?
I’d like that. I just feel so lonely. Chastity won’t talk to me at all. Anytime
I bring up my mom, she tells me that whores go to hell and if I want to avoid
the same fate, I’ll learn to obey the Lord,” and Modesty was far too young to
discuss those things with.
“You can talk to me,” in the privacy of his room where Mama wouldn’t find out
so long as Chastity stayed asleep, “I’ll listen,” his heart was pounding hard
enough that he could feel his blood rushing in his ears. Her slightly feverish
hands felt nice against his. He wanted to turn his hands into hers and hold
them, but he resisted. Instead, he pressed his hands against his lap to keep
his arousal at bay.
“That would mean the world to me,” her voice was filled with relief. As if she
had been holding back so much for so long, “I hate that everything thinks my
mom was a whore. She wasn’t.”
Credence hadn’t believed that, “Mama says things the way she sees them,” which
was a simple way to say that she lied.
Constance sniffed a little and looked down at their hands, “Dad left when I was
little. I barely remember him. Mom’s family wouldn’t help us. They didn’t like
that she got pregnant before she was married,” he had heard stories like that
before, “She was such a good mom. She always took care of me. We never had
much, but she made sure I never went hungry and I had clothes. We had a nice
apartment. It was small and she slept on the couch, but we never minded that,”
it sounded better than having their own beds here. Credence would give anything
to remember his family. To know that at some point in his life, someone had
been kind to him, “She worked two jobs the last few years. She wanted me to go
to school again,” the only schooling he could remember was what Mama taught
them. She’d never have the chance to go back to regular school again.
“She sounds nice…” he said softly.
“She was,” she lowered her head, leaning over and touching her head to his
shoulder. He tensed and held his breath for a moment as she sobbed lightly, “I
miss her so much.”
Slowly, he reached one of his hands up and touched it to the side of her head.
Feeling her hair for the first time. It was as soft as he’d imagined. It
slipped through his fingers and felt like silk, “How did she die? If you don’t
want to say, you don’t have to,” she had obviously not been strangled as a
prostitute.
“Her boss from the restaurant came to our house. He’d followed her home. Mom
had complained about him before. Saying he was a handsy. He was drunk,” she
sobbed again and he held her head tighter, mostly to try to muffle the sounds
of her tears to keep it from waking Chastity, “I was asleep when I heard her
scream. He was trying to rape her. I...I threw my shoe at him and he let her
go. She fell and hit her head on the table. She didn’t...she didn’t get back
up…” he felt bile rising in his throat and anger bubbling in his stomach, “When
the police came, he said that that mom had ‘offered’ to sleep with him for
money. He said that she gave me drinks to keep me asleep when she’d bring men
home. He said that she fell while they were...together...and hit her head. They
didn’t believe me. They believed him…”
Credence felt like throwing up. He could see why they wouldn’t believe a
teenage girl over a business owning man, “I’m...I’m sorry…” he didn’t know what
else to say. It wasn’t like anything he said could bring her mother back.
Selfishly, he wasn’t sure he would if he could. If she didn’t die, he wouldn’t
have met her. He was sure if she had the chance, she would leave and likely
forget all about him.
Was there nothing he could do or think that wasn’t horrible?
He didn’t get to think too much on it as a knock on his door made them both
jump, “Credence, Boy, are you still awake?” it was Mama.
They both went wide eyed and he reached up to put a hand over her mouth gently,
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I needed to use the bathroom,” he called out. Constance
reached up and touched his hand, holding it against her mouth as he lied, “I’ll
go right back to sleep. Promise, Ma’am.”
“...wretched boy…” he heard her mutter from the other side of the door and the
floorboards creaked as she walked back to her room.
Only once he was sure she was back in her room did he lower his hand. His palm
was warm from her breathing on it, “I’m sorry. I almost got you in trouble,”
though he would get the worst of it, she would have been punished too.
“It’s alright.”
“I should get back to bed. Thank you, again,” slowly, she got up from the bed,
but he still held her hand. He watched her bite her lip before she leaned down
quick and pressed her lips to his cheek. For a moment, he forgot how to breath
entirely. He’d never been kissed like that before, or in any way, “Good night.”
He continued holding her hand as she started to walk away. Keeping it against
his till his arm was stretched out and he was forced to let her fingers slip
away.
Fingers still warm from having held hers, he reached up to touch where she’d
kissed. It was warm too.
***** Chapter 4 *****
“Ma!” he screamed as the leather strap came down on his palms. He tensed and
cringed, eyes squeezed shut tight and fighting off tears, “I’m sorry, Ma!” he
cried, trying to keep the tears from leaking down his cheeks. He felt even
worse as he saw Constance standing in her doorway with Chastity. She looked
worried as Mama lashed his hands with his own belt.
He blamed himself for it. Mama had seen the cup in his room. They weren’t
allowed to have stuff like that in their rooms. Mama said that she fed them
plenty and they had no need to want for more. He had been too overcome by the
kiss to his cheek and her confiding in him last night that he forgot to put the
cup away before Mama woke up and inspected their beds to make sure they were
made right.
It had been sitting on the windowsill.
“I’m not your Ma! What did you have in the cup?!” Mama snapped.
“Water, Ma’am. I swear, it was just water!” he pleaded. He could have told her
that it was Constance’s cup. He could have told her that she had been feverish
last night and needed a drink. It wouldn’t have spared him though. It would
have just got her hands whipped too. It would be hard enough to do his chores
with injured hands, they didn’t both need to deal with that pain.
“Gluttony is a sin! You pathetic boy!” it was nothing he hadn’t heard before.
He always did something wrong. Even when he tried to do it right, it was always
wrong. God hated him and Mama was his earthly punishment for that hate.
The belt came down on his hands once more before she dropped it at his feet,
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’m so sorry…” he sobbed.
“Get cleaned up, all of you, now. Get to work.”
With that, Mama started down the stairs. Chastity and Modesty went back into
their rooms to get dressed for the day. Constance started to walk over to him,
but he shook his head fast and ran for the bathroom so he could cry in private.
Mama would get upset if she saw Constance trying to comfort him and he didn’t
want her to see him cry.
In the privacy of the bathroom, he knew the walls weren’t thick enough to
muffle his sobbing, but at least no one had to see him. He sobbed as he sat on
the edge of the tub and looked down at his raw hands. They were bloodied and
old scars had been burst open. Whipping his hands caused more pain than the
backside beatings. He could go most of the day without sitting, but he always
needed to use his hands.
It would hurt every time he touched a leaflet. It would hurt when he started
getting the pots and bowls down for dinner. It would hurt when the salt for the
broth spilled on his hands. It would hurt when he cut the vegetables and meat.
It would hurt when he served it out. It would hurt when he had to sink his
hands into scalding hot water and soap. It would hurt when he had to hold his
bible for sermon and prayer. It would hurt when he undressed. And it would hurt
when he thought about Constance and tried to please himself.
For days, he would be in pain till it healed over.
Slowly, he stood and moved towards the sink. He caught sight of himself in the
mirror and found himself loathing every bit of himself. His puffy eyes, the
tears on his cheeks, the blood on his lip where he’d bit it during the beating,
and the way he couldn’t stop shaking, “I’m pathetic. I’m worthless,” he said to
his reflection, “I don’t deserve anyone or anything. I could die and no one
would notice,” he’d said these things before. It was nothing he hadn’t felt for
years.
“I don’t deserve her. She needs a man. Someone that can take care of her. I’m a
coward,” he sobbed before sinking down to the floor, “Lord, please, please
forgive me. Please. Why can’t I be a better man? Why did you make me so
pathetic? Lord, please help me…” he’d prayed for help before and it never came.
He had no reason to believe that it would now, “I’ll do anything…” not that his
offer of that had ever helped him in the past.
He stayed there on the floor till Chastity knocked on the door and demanded her
time.
For most of the day, he avoided everyone. Especially Constance. If she came in
a room he was in, he would leave immediately without saying anything. He didn’t
want to see pity in her eyes.
Sadly, he couldn’t avoid her all day. It was time to get dinner ready and he
was forced into the kitchen with her. They moved about silently till he hissed
and groaned in pain as hot broth splashed the palm of his hand. It sent a
throbbing pain all the way down to his toes. Constance rushed over with a cool,
damp rag and grabbed his hand, “Please don’t…” he started, but she ignored him
and touched the rag gently to his palm. It felt good, though it didn’t take the
pain away completely.
“It’s the least I can do…” she said softly as she looked up at him. He was
surprised that there wasn’t pity in her big, blue eyes. Instead, he saw
sadness, “You should have told her it was mine.”
“Then we both would be in pain right now.”
“Don’t do that again,” she ordered, “Half the pain for each of us is better
than you having to bare it all. Don’t try to protect me like that. Is that
understood?”
Credence wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Why couldn’t she thank him and
tell him how brave it was? Probably because he knew it wasn’t brave. It was
just a cup, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again…” she said before dabbing at his hand
again, “And thank you,” his eyes went up. She actually thanked him, “Please
don’t do that for me again. I don’t want you in pain because of me.”
“I...I won’t,” not that he could actually promise that. He had done it for
Modesty when she did something wrong. He would take it for them if he could,
“She probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway though. She never believes me.”
Constance smiled softly before wrapping the rag around his hand, “You just
worry about serving tonight. I’ll get another rag for your other hand. Sit,”
she pointed to the chairs that they sat at to eat dinner.
He hesitated. If Mama decided to check on them and saw him sitting, she would
beat him again and her this time, “I can’t…”
“I said sit,” she ordered and he immediately went for the chair this time.
She wrapped his other hand and went about making the large pot of soup. No one
came to check on them and he got to spend the whole time watching her. Seeing
her move about and cook. A delusional fantasy popped into his mind. That he had
just come home from a long day and she was making his dinner. Just their
dinner. No one elses. She was cooking for him and they would clean up together
before going to bed. He’d kiss her hand, his lips passing over her wedding ring
as they climbed under the warm blanket together and made love. At some point,
he knew he’d have to find a way to stop the fantasies completely. It was
getting harder and harder to be near her.
“Time to serve,” she smiled as she grabbed up a stack of bowls.
“Wait…” he stood up and stopped her for a moment, “Maybe...maybe next week
we...we can spend some time together,” for their afternoon off, but he felt
that was implied, “We could just stay here and talk or we could go walk,” he
hadn’t felt this type of courage before. Her gentle caring about his hands, the
kiss, her need to confide in him, and her thanking him made him feel good.
Better than he could remember ever feeling before, “If you’d like, of course…?”
He watched as Constance’s cheeks turned red. She lowered her eyes bashfully and
he felt warmth in his stomach, “I’d like that a lot.”
The pain in his hands didn’t matter anymore, “That’s wonderful…” he said softly
as he went to pick up the soup pot. All he could think about was spending more
time with her. Private time. Just the two of them together. He knew he’d think
too much into it tonight while he was in bed. Likely that their afternoon alone
together would end with feverish kisses and touches. It was well beyond the
scope of possibilities, but his mind wouldn’t care about that. He wouldn’t care
about the pain it caused his hands now that he knew he’d actually be with her.
Even if it was just for talking.
While he always looked forward to his afternoons alone, he found himself more
eager than ever before. He had plans. Real plans.
Like a normal person.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Credence managed to keep how giddy he was a secret. Mama would never tolerate
him being that happy. She would beat him something fierce for it. He had to
pretend like he still had nothing to look forward to. Even when the truth was
that he had something very nice to look forward to. Even if all they did was
sit somewhere and she cried about her mother, he would never feel happier than
to be with another person. Talking like friends, family, or lovers. Same as
anyone else in the world. He could be someone special for her. A confidant for
her.
When the day finally came, he found himself to be excited and nervous at the
same time. They hadn’t discussed it any further. He was worried if he brought
it up, then he might appear too eager and scare her off. She didn’t need to
know how excited he was any more than she needed to know that he came into his
hand nightly at the thought of her lips on his cheek or seeing her in her
undergarments.
He prayed every day to find the strength to overcome his impure thoughts, but
it only seemed to be getting worse.
Modesty was the first to leave for the afternoon. Off to play with the other
children. Chastity left next, but no one really knew where she spent her time.
Credence had a theory that she went to a church several blocks away. Then Mama
left for her usual business. She had to spread the word. By lunchtime, it was
just them alone in the house that doubled as their Second Salem church.
He waited, nervously, for some time in the pews, but she never came down from
her room. It took a lot to work up the courage to head up to her room and knock
on the door. Perhaps she was ill again. Credence didn’t know what he’d do if
she changed her mind, “C-Constance? Are you alright?”
“I’m alright,” his heart sank a little. He was scared she was going to make him
leave, “Is Mama still here?” her voice was low, obviously not wanting to be
heard by anyone else.
“No. It’s just us.”
“Oh good,” he stepped back as he heard footsteps and the door suddenly opened,
“I was worried she would never leave.”
Credence had a hard time looking away from her. He was in awe. She was wearing
the dress she’d wore when she first came here. The same shoes too. Her hair was
wavy and her lips were bright red. She had shimmery shadow on her eyelids and
she was no longer wearing the thick, black stockings; instead her legs were
bare again. She looked like one of the girls in the magazines Mama would beat
him for looking at too long on the newsstand, “What’re...What’re you wearing?”
She smiled and giggled softly, “We’re going out. I want to look nice. I can’t
stand those wool dresses. They itch something fierce. What? Do I not look
nice?” she sounded genuinely concerned.
“No. I mean...yes. I mean...you look beautiful,” he felt his cheeks heat up as
he admitted it, “Why would you want to dress up for me?”
“It’s not for you,” which made his heart sink, “I just want to feel like me
again. Just for a little bit,” at least it wasn’t for other people. That made
him feel a little better. She wanted a piece of her old life back. Even if it
was just a dress and some makeup.
“You won’t...you won’t be embarrassed to be seen with me?” he didn’t look near
as nice.
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“I look…”
He didn’t get to finish. She reached out and pressed a finger to his lips
before moving her hand down to his thin tie and fixing it a bit, “You look
handsome,” he felt light headed. He thought about what it was going to be like
to walk down the street by her side. Maybe she would put her arm around his.
“Y-you mean that?”
She smiled again, “Of course. You have such handsome eyes too, Credence. I
couldn’t be embarrassed by you.”
He couldn’t help himself. As badly as he wanted to walk around with her, hold
hands with her, and talk with her; he just wanted to be touched. All of his
desires and needs flooded over him at once. She was too nice and too sweet. She
was nothing like any of the other women in his life. Mama and Chastity were so
cold and harsh. They never smiled. Constance smiled for him.
He’d never kissed a girl before. He moved quick to put his hands around her
waist and lean down. His lips came down on her’s fast and hard, it hurt a
little. It still felt good though. Her lips were soft and warm. He didn’t care
if Mama or Chastity saw them. He’d gladly take the punishment for it. All that
mattered right now as her mouth against his. He’d never thought he’d have the
courage to do this, but Constance made him feel like he could do so much more
than he ever realized he could.
Her hands went to his shoulders and he was scared she would push him away, but
she didn’t. Her body relaxed after the surprise and her fingers even closed
around the coat cloth of his shoulders. He wondered if she had ever kissed a
guy before now. He wanted to believe that she hadn’t. That he was her first.
They were both still young and she had already admitted that she hadn’t been to
school in a while, so it was easy to imagine that she hadn’t had much
interaction with men before him.
Against his wants, she pulled away, “Oh, Credence,” his name was said with a
tone he wasn’t familiar with. It wasn’t harsh or angry in the least, but it was
more than sweet. It was heavy and almost needy. He hadn’t heard anything like
it before, but he knew he wanted to hear it again, “Credence…” the tone was
gone. Replaced with her normal voice.
“Please...I don’t want to stop…” he pleaded softly, “...I’m lonely…”
“I know you are…” she slid her hands over his shoulders gently. Massaging them
lightly, “I am too. We should talk about this though.”
Credence didn’t want to talk, “Why can’t we talk later?” he wanted to kiss
again. It had felt so wonderful.
“That’s not the way it works, Credence. We have to talk first. It’s a beautiful
day outside. Let’s go outside and talk. Sit in the sun and enjoy it.”
Something inside him urged him to kiss her again. To make her take his lips on
her own and let their warmth fill his body. She had kissed back. They needed
each other. Talking would just waste time, “I don't want to go outside.”
Credence pulled her close and tried to kiss her again. The response was much
less favorable this time. She gasped, “Credence stop!” and if that wasn't
enough, her hand came down across his cheek with a hard cracking sound.
He stumbled back, hitting the railing where Mama liked to do her beatings, with
his hand on his stinging cheek. His dark eyes were wide as saucers as he
realized what he'd done, “I'm...Constance, I…” he felt hot tears in his eyes,
“I'm so sorry,” he finally got out before sinking to the floor and huddling
against the wooden rails and curling up, “I’m so sorry,” he felt the tear
stinging his eyes and he couldn’t help them falling down his cheeks as he
buried his face against his arm. Mama was right. He was a pathetic failure as a
man.
He twitched hard as he felt her hand touch his hair. It stroked down slowly and
she forced him to tilt his head up so she could cup his slap-warmed cheek. He
was scared she would hit him again, “I’m sorry…” he stammered out softly.
“Credence,” her voice was soft, “It’s alright. I’m sorry I hit you.”
“No. I’m pathetic. I’m so sorry. Why-Why would you...want me? I’m so sorry. I
won’t do it again. I promise,” he sobbed softly, refusing to open his eyes or
look at her.
“Stop it,” she didn’t say it harshly. It was calm and soothing. She was trying
to calm him down, “You’re not pathetic. Dear lord, what has she done to you…”
she was talking about Mama, he was sure of it. His breath stopped as he felt
her arms closing around him. He felt himself being pulled against her, his head
burying against her chest. The warmth of her body washing over him. It felt
good. Better than even kissing her had.
Since he was little, all he ever wanted was for someone to hold him. No one
ever would, “I’m sorry…” he continued to mutter, though at least the stuttering
stopped.
“I’m sorry too, Credence. I shouldn’t have slapped you, but I told you no,”
perhaps not exactly in those words, but she had made it clear that she had
wanted to talk first, “Will you look at me?”
Slowly, nervously, he lifted his head as they parted just a bit. He was sure
his eyes were puffy and red. They always were when he cried. He felt ashamed of
himself. Terrified by what he’d done. He had tried to force himself on her.
Like that man who had killed her mother. What had he been thinking? God must
have thought him a wretched creature. He was surely going to burn in hell one
day, “I hate being alone…”
Constance smiled softly at him, “I know you do. I do too,” she reached up and
stroked down his wet cheek, “I want to get to know you, Credence. I want us to
know each other.”
He didn’t want her to know him. He was pathetic and weak. She’d hate him. He
just wanted to get to the point where they could be physically close like this
whenever they could, “You won’t like me. No one likes me.”
He groaned lowly as she leaned in and kissed his lips softly for just a bare
moment, “Don’t say that,” he turned his head and tried to catch her lips again,
but she brought her finger to his mouth and stopped him, “Come on. I want to
show you something,” she started to stand, her hand wrapping around his arm and
tried to bring him up to his feet.
“Wh-where are we going?”
“Somewhere special.”
Credence wanted to say no. He wanted to go hide in his bedroom and find ways to
forget how badly he’d messed things up. He didn’t like surprises, mostly
because they were never good. It was just another way God hated him. Constance
was brought here to taunt and tease him. To be something he wasn’t supposed to
be able to touch. She had started to get close and God made him do something to
push her away again. This ‘somewhere special’ was another trick. A ploy to make
him feel wanted again, but he knew something would happen, “...no...we
shouldn’t...this was a mistake…”
“Nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer,” she tugged him hard and he stumbled
a little, forced to go where his arm was being taken. He was used to doing
things he didn’t want to do and bad at not doing the things he wasn’t supposed
to do, “Come on,” not that he had much of a choice as her fingers dug into his
arm and started pulling him down the stairs, “Before Mama comes back.”
That got him moving. If Mama came home and saw them stumbling down the stairs
together with her dressed as she was, they would be black and blue for a week.
Constance peeked out the door for a moment before pulling him along. He
realized she had been checking to make sure the wrong people didn’t see them
leaving together. It was a nice day outside. Cloudy, but warm. It had rained
the night before and the streets and sidewalks were still wet. He liked it when
it was cloudy out like this. Bright, sunny days were uncomfortable for him. The
cool breezy ruffled her hair and he had to force himself to look away rather
than looking at her.
He let her lead him down the streets, going several blocks from their home
before she slower her pace, “Where are we going?” he didn’t like not knowing
where he was. He had been in this area before, but he couldn’t figure out why
she would be taking him here. It was a shopping area. Credence generally
avoided it. He didn’t like seeing all the clothing and things he couldn’t even
dream of having. The scents of foods he couldn’t eat upset him. And he didn’t
like they way people looked at him. Like he was vermin.
Even now, as Constance slowed her pace and started walking next to him, her
hand still on his arm, he felt like people were looking at them. What was a
girl who looked like her doing with someone like him?
“My favorite place,” was all she said as she slipped her arm around his,
hooking their elbows together. Nervously, he reached over and set his hand atop
hers. She didn’t pull away. As scared as he was at how badly this could all
end, he didn’t want to stop it.
Credence wasn’t sure how long they walked, but they crossed several streets and
he realized they were fairly far from the Second Salem house. It was a poor
neighborhood, but still nice. The brownstones were old and several generations
of families lived in each one. Even though it was a school day, most of the
kids of school age were running about playing. Parents were likely at work and
unable to make sure their kids behaved.
She lead him to a small, neighborhood park. It was mostly a swing set, a duck
pond, and some trees. There was bits of trash hanging around and the weeds
hadn’t been pulled in quite some time. One of the swings hung dangling by one
chain. The pond was devoid of ducks, but there was an old man who stood by it
and continued to throw in stalled bread that just wet and sank to the bottom.
It was a sorry sight, but it was better than most had.
“Mom and I used to live over here,” she pointed past the park to a small
section of brownstones.
He was surprised to hear that, “Oh?”
“Mom didn’t like me coming here when she was at work. She was always worried
I’d get hurt, but I would sneak out anyway,” she smiled as she lead him over to
one of the two benches and sat down. It was nicely shaded by a tree, “Mrs.
Hicks,” she pointed to an old woman who was walking up to the bread throwing
man, “She loves Mr. Collins. Always has, but she’s married. So she comes down
here to yell at him every day for feeding the ducks, because she says it scares
away her squirrels,” he watched as the woman started talking to the man. She
said a few words and then threw her hands up in the air before slowly walking
off, “And he loves her, so he pretends to feed the ducks, even though there
never are any, and lets her yell at him. That way he can follow her and they
can talk for a few minutes,” as she said, the elderly man followed after the
older woman, “Then they pretend to feed the squirrels together for about ten
minutes before her husband comes down and she says he scared them off. Then
they do it again in a few days.”
They both watched as it all happened. He wanted to be upset that this Mrs.
Hicks was emotionally connecting with someone other than her husband. It was
inappropriate. But he found it hard to judge when he was touching himself every
night while watching her undress without her permission.
“Wait here…” she said with a smile before getting up quick and leaving him on
the bench before he could say anything. A sense of dread filled his stomach as
he thought that she was abandoning him here. He clenched his fingers on the
knees of his pants, staring down at the ground as he waited. He told himself if
she wasn’t back in ten minutes, then he would go home. He’d never forgive
himself for having been stupid enough to think she wanted to spend time with
him.
Credence was lost in his own dark thoughts of abandonment when she came back
and sat down next to him. He jumped a little and felt his cheeks get warm,
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” she smiled and he felt the tightness in his
stomach relax. She’d come back. It meant the world to him.
“It’s alright…” he said softly before looking down at her hands. She was
holding a bright yellow and black checkered wrapped item. It said ‘Abba Zaba’
on the front in large letters, “Wh-what’s that?”
“Abba Zaba bar,” he could read that, so it didn’t really tell him anything,
“It’s candy,” Mama never let them have candy, “It’s taffy with peanut butter,”
he’d never had either of those things.
“Where did you get it?” he would have tried candy on one of his days like this
before, but Mama never let them have any money. She said she provided for them
and they had no need for coins of their own.
“I stole it,” to which his eyes went wide and she giggled, “I’m joking. I
bought it. Mama might not let me have any money, but I had a little of my own
in my coat. It’s the last of it, so no more candy for me, I guess,” to which
she sounded a little sad, “Will you share it with me?”
He nodded quick and she scooted closer to him as she started opening the candy
bar. He was excited to get to try it, “Yes.”
Constance started pulling it from the wrapped, “Credence, can you tell me
something about yourself?”
“...there’s nothing to tell.”
“Nothing at all?” she looked up and managed to catch his gaze awkwardly, making
him feel sheepish, “How old were you when Mary Lou adopted you?”
He shrugged a little, hunching his shoulders over and starting to close up a
little, “I was six.”
“Do you miss your parents?”
He shrugged again, “I don’t really remember them,” which even he knew was
strange. Modesty remembered her family and she was younger than him when she
lost them, “I know it’s strange,” it always made him feel sick when he tried to
think about it, “Can we talk about something else?”
She nodded and held the sticky candy bar up, “You have the first bite,” she
brought it to his lips and he felt warm again, like when she’d fed him the
soup. Slowly, he opened his mouth and took a small bite. It was sticky, but
creamy. The sweetness is what got to him the most. He couldn’t remember ever
tasting anything like it. A low groan escaped his throat and she smiled again,
“Like it?”
“Yes. Very much,” and he did. It was the best thing he’d ever ate. He didn’t
even hesitate as she offered it to him again. Once more, he didn’t care how it
looked for him to being fed by someone else. It made him feel good.
Constance finally took some for herself and chewed it quietly for a few
minutes, “I want to kiss you again, Credence,” the confession caught him by
surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise for once, “But…” there was a but,
“...I want to know something about you. Something just about you that no one
else knows,” she reached over and touched his hand lightly, to which he turned
his hand and brushed his fingers against her palm before pressing his hand
against hers, “Please, Credence. Anything.”
He swallowed the last bit of his candy bite. What was he supposed to tell her?
He had nothing in his life. He woke up, did his chores, and went to sleep. He
had no friends, no family, and no hobbies. The only book they were allowed to
read was the bible and Mama’s leaflets. Though it wasn’t the only thing he
read. Mama didn’t like them reading newspapers, but she couldn’t stop them,
“I...I like reading the newspaper. Mama doesn’t like it, but I keep stories
under my bed.”
He looked up to see happiness on her face. She was pleased with him, “What kind
of stories?”
A small flush came to his cheeks again. He couldn’t admit that he sometimes
kept ads with girls, “I like stories from different place. People writing about
places they’ve seen,” he knew he’d never get to leave the city. People came
into New York every day like it was someplace special, but he just wanted to
leave.
“I like those too,” she leaned her head over and touched it to his shoulder.
It was hard to keep his breath from coming quicker. He felt the familiar warm
stirring between his legs and he was ashamed of himself, “I...I...Uh…” he
wanted to excuse himself, but where would he go?
“We can kiss again, if you’d like, Credence.”
He felt his heart leap and his stomach tingle, “C-Constance, have you...have
you kissed anyone before?” he didn’t know why he was asking. Anything other
than him being her first kiss would just upset him.
“Just one person before you,” it was the answer he didn’t want to hear, “I
thought I liked him, but he was just mean. We were stupid about it anyway. It
was just once,” at least it was just once. He’d kissed her once and he was
going to do it again. She wanted him to do it again. Credence tried to tell
himself that meant something, “Does that upset you?”
“A little…” he admitted, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not sorry I did it, Credence. It might have been stupid, but it was my
mistake to make,” he felt his jaw clench a little, but she reached up and
touched his cheek, “Just kiss me, okay?”
Her lips tasted like the candy bar they were sharing. It was warm again. Soft
and sweet. It was a little awkward, but only because they kept trying to move
their heads the same way or their teeth would hit a little when they would both
try to lean in at the same time. That didn’t matter though. Her fingers touched
his cheek and he hesitantly reached over to touch her waist. They kissed slowly
for a few minutes before pulling apart. He wanted to lean in again, but he
remembered the slap to his cheek.
“That was nice,” she said softly.
“Can we...do that again?” he knew to get permission this time.
“Tell me one more thing about you.”
He didn’t understand why she wanted to know about him. He was boring and
useless. There was nothing special about him, “...my favorite color is red,” it
was the only thing he could think of. It wasn’t like he could wear anything
red. Black, brown, white, and grey. Mama didn’t like bright colors like red.
Especially red. It was the color of whores, the devil, and witches. The color
of her hair and her lipstick.
“I like red too,” she moved in and pressed her lips against his again.
The kissing lasted longer this time. Their lips moved against each others
slowly to start with, only getting more heated as they got used to each others
movements. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as her fingers stroked the back
of his neck and he felt his way along her waist and hips. He imagined her
nearly bare body as she undressed at night. How her backside would strain
against the fabric of her undergarments and how the cool, night air would make
her breasts perky.
When they stopped again, he was very much aware of how tight it felt in his
pants. He shifted and tried to make the feeling go away, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he said uncomfortably.
For a moment, he thought she was going to ask him again, but her eyes went a
little wide as a nearby church rang its bells. He realized what was wrong too,
“We’re going to be late.”
It was one thing to be late, but she still needed to change, “We can make it…”
They made it back in time, though only just barely. By the time Modesty,
Chastity, and Mama were back; he had managed to wash her lipstick from his lips
and she was dressed more properly. He was careful not to get too close to her
that night. Not wanting to hint that they had enjoyed an afternoon together,
much less that they had been kissing.
***** Chapter 6 *****
What pulled him from his room early that morning was a scuffling sound and a
sharp scream. He was half dressed, having his pants and button up shirt on. He
was fixing his belt when he heard it. He rushed out to see what was happening
and saw Mama holding Constance by a ball of her red hair. He felt sick to his
stomach as he saw it.
“Filthy girl!” Mama snapped as she threw Constance down on the floor in front
of his door, by the railing where she usually did her whippings. While
Constance had received a few punishments, she had done little that she’d been
caught for to deserve it. He looked over to see Chastity standing in their door
with her arms folded and her lips pursed tight. One day, it would be her doing
this to her own children, “Wicked girl, just like your mother!”
“Ah!” Constance cried out as Mama brought her hand down across her face. It
sent her sprawling to the floor in a puddle. He heard her sobbing softly and
his whole body twitched. He wanted to rush over and grab her up in his arms,
“I’m sorry!” she screamed as Mama grabbed a fistfull of her hair again and
slapped her hard once more.
Big tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face as Mama slapped her once
again, “You want to be a whore like your mother!”
Fear gripped his stomach tight. Had Mama found out about them? They had been
careful, at least somewhat. They kept to themselves and didn’t try to find time
to be together other than what they were allotted. They would go out together
on their free afternoons to the park by her old home and talk. She did most of
the talking, but she refused to kiss him till he would say at least one thing
about himself. They had only been out together twice since their first time,
but it was already getting difficult to find things to tell her.
But they had got careless the last few days. While Chastity and Modesty made
sure the other children ate their soup and got their leaflets, when they should
have been cleaning the dishes, they had started kissing. Their hands in the
dish water while he leaned down and their lips pressed together. They knew they
had anywhere from five to ten minutes before anyone would come in. It was
exciting and it made him feel good. They had done that for nearly a week now.
Last night had terrified him beyond belief. They had been kissing heatedly when
the door suddenly opened. They pulled apart fast and busied themselves with the
dishes. It was Mama. She didn’t usually come in the kitchen till after the
sermon.
She’d watched them like a hawk for several minutes before coming over and
grabbing Constance’s chin and forcing her to look at her. She’d run her fingers
over Constance’s lips and asked why they looked red. Asked if she was wearing
makeup, like a whore. Constance said she wasn’t, that she had just burned her
lip on a bit of hot soup. She did the same to him. Grabbing his face and
inspecting his kiss swollen lips, demanding to know what had happened to them.
He wasn’t nearly as good at lying as Constance. He said he didn’t know what was
wrong and maybe he got bit by something.
Credence was sure this was his fault.
His attention was brought back to the present as he heard her scream in pain
again as Mama slapped her even harder. She fell back to the floor as Mama
released her hair. She pulled a little silver tube from her pocket and held it
up. It was lipstick, “Where did this come from?!” Mama demanded to know. She
must have inspected her room. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t suspect
something. Credence assumed Mama found the box where she kept the clothing from
her previous life.
“It was my moms! I just wanted something of hers! I swear! I don’t wear it!”
she lied. She wore it every time they went out. Credence liked looking in the
bathroom mirror and seeing her lipstick smudged on his lips and the imprint of
her lips on his cheek before he had to wipe it away.
“Liar! I found the tissues you clean it off with,” it didn’t surprise him that
Mama would go looking even through trash to find what she wanted. Constance
didn’t even try to defend herself. She just sobbed loudly, covering her face
and huddling against the rails, “Credence!”
He jumped at the sound of his name, “Y-yes, Ma’am?”
“Give me your belt,” she ordered and he twitched a little. His eyes went to
Constance as she turned her watery blue eyes up at him. Her eyes were begging
him not to do it, but his hand twitched and he reached for the dangling belt
clasp around his waist. It was to the point in his life that he didn’t even
hesitate anymore when she made him give her his belt to beat him with, “What’re
you waiting for, Boy? Give me the belt!” she snapped and he shook his head.
“N-n-no…”
Her eyes widened and her lips tightened. He heard Chastity shift behind him and
he felt like an ant, “What did you say to me?”
“I...I...s-said...No,” his heart was pounding in his chest.
Mama moved slowly, getting close to him and he took a step back in fear. At the
last moment, she moved her hands out fast to grab his belt buckle. She yanked
it free and he stumbled back, falling back onto his backside and groaning in
pain at the force of the fall. He watched as she folded it in half and gripped
it tight, “How dare you…Both of you. Ingrates!”
She raised the belt and brought it down across his shoulder and he gasped in
pain, “Get over here,” she reached down and grabbed his ear, dragging him
across the floor and shoving him down next to Constance, “On your knees. Both
of you. Now!”
“Ma, no…” he whimpered. He would take being hit across the hands over being
whipped across his backside like a child.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not your ma?”
“Please, Ma’am,” Constance tried to plead with her, but he knew it was useless.
“On your knees, Whore. You want to dress like a whore, you’ll be beat like
one.”
She tried to look at him. Looking for anything in his face, but he knew he
wasn’t giving her what she needed. He was just as sorry and scared as she was.
He wasn’t brave or strong. He couldn’t protect her, “On your knees. Now!” the
longer they tried to put it off, the worse it would be.
Slowly, he turned to face the railings, to look down at the pews, and sat on
his knees, raising his backside up a little. Constance whimpered and sobbed
softly as she did the same. He wanted to reach out and touch her hand or brush
the hair out of her face; but that would only anger Mama more.
He gasped and reached out to grab the railing as he felt the belt come down on
his lower back first, “Horrible wretches! Ungrateful!” Constance cried out next
to him as he heard the snap of the belt hit her. She was still in her
nightgown. At least he had his thicker pants on to help buffer it a little. If
it went as usual, her nightgown would be spotted with bloodied streaks by the
time it was done. He couldn’t think much on it as the belt came across his
backside this time, “Dressing like a whore! Defying me! I feed you, shelter
you, clothe you! And this is how you behave!”
He heard Chastity move quick as Modesty’s door opened. Even though she approved
of what Mama did, the youngest of them was not yet old enough to handle it.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am!” Constance cried out as he heard the cracking sound of it
coming down on her again. He closed his eyes tight, trying not to cry and to
fight back the tears as the belt was on him again.
The whipping continued for nearly ten minutes. His whole body felt numb. His
fingers gripped the rails so tight that the wood was starting to splinter.
Constance was sobbing and whimpering pathetically next to him. She was barely
able to take a breath without it shuddering through her whole body. There was a
puddle of tears and mucus under her face as she rested her forehead on the
railing. Mama wasn’t even saying anything more. She was just proving her point.
Driving it home that she was in charge and would not be defied again.
When it was finally over, Mama dropped the belt at his side, “Get cleaned up
and to your chores,” she ordered before walking off, leaving them on the floor.
“I’m sorry…” he whimpered out softly, too scared to look at her to see the
disgust in her face that she must have for him.
“It’s not your fault…” she whispered.
They both sat there silently for a few minutes before he heard her starting to
move. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more to her. He waited till he
heard her limp her way into the bathroom before he moved. She had whimpered and
gasped in pain the whole way to the bathroom. He tried to stand, but it hurt
too much. Instead, he slowly crawled back to his room and pushed the door shut
before collapsing down on his chest and sobbing again.
Credence felt beyond pathetic.
He’d grabbed for happiness and was rewarded with pain for it.
How could she want him after this?
Fresh, hot tears stung his eyes as he whimpered on the floor. Mama was right.
He was pitiful. It’s why he didn’t have any friends, “God...please...forgive
me…” he said those words before, but he meant it now, “Please help me…” he
wanted help. Needed it. He loathed his life as it was. He wanted to be
different. To be special.
He felt a bubbling inside of him and feared he was going to vomit. Mama would
get upset if he had to clean up the mess. It wasn’t bile though. It felt heavy
and cold. It made his vision cloudy. He’d felt this before, but it felt
stronger now. As he desperately prayed and wished for a different life, he felt
it growing stronger in his gut. It hurt, but it was powerful. It threatened to
break free and he was terrified of what it was.
Credence, once again, pushed back at the feeling. He closed his eyes tight and
pushed back at it.
***** Chapter 7 *****
The day had been rough. Mama had hit him harder than she ever had before. He
was sure that she knew something had happened between himself and Constance.
She may not have seen them kissing, but she would have had no other reason to
snoop around the red head’s things if she didn’t suspect something. He was sure
if she hadn’t found anything in her room, then she would have came to his next.
If she had done that, the most she would have found was the pants he had soiled
touching himself before going to bed that night and the newspaper clippings he
kept. It would have earned him a beating, but not nearly as bad as what they
had both received.
Every movement made his whole body ache with fresh pain. All he wanted to do
was crawl into bed and cry. That wasn’t an option though. No. Mama wasn’t done
punishing them. He was made to polish the pews, tables, and chairs. All before
dinner. He also had to dust the rafters, something Chastity usually did. Then
he had to go make and serve dinner on his own. He only saw Constance once or
twice and only in passing. Mama made her go out with Chastity to hand out
leaflets. They were gone almost all day. Making her walk with her bruised, cut,
and sore bottom all day.
When he did see her, he wanted to tell her that it would be okay. That the
bruises would go away and that the cuts would eventually heal or scar. It made
his chest hurt when he saw the large, dark purple bruise on her cheek from
where Mama had slapped her. Everyone knew what happened to them here. No one
cared though. Why would they? They weren’t important.
He crawled into his bed, hissing slightly as he settled onto the old mattress.
There wasn’t a part of his body that didn’t ache. It would be this way for
days. When he’d taken his pants and underwear off, there was blood on the seat
of it all. It had hurt to pull the fabric away from his body. Reopening several
of the wounds. He usually hated his nightshirt, but it felt nice this time. It
was more open and it didn’t cling to his sore spots.
Even with the pain, he managed to fall asleep. His body was exhausted and that
seemed to trump the pain. He didn’t even has his usual nightly fantasies about
Constance. He was in too much pain and too tired to have pleasurable thoughts
or feelings. He supposed that was the point. Mama always said their bodies were
filthy things. Pleasurable feelings were a sin.
Perhaps God didn’t hate him. If pleasure was a sin, then being miserable was
godly. Credence didn’t believe there was anyone more miserable than himself in
the world.
He woke with a start as he felt fingers on his cheek. He feared Mama, but as
his vision cleared, he saw Constance’s soft red hair in the moonlight and her
pretty, but bruised, face looking down at him. Her eyes were puffy. He could
tell she’d been crying again. He was sure that she had never been hit like that
before. Her mother may have given her a light pop or two on the cheek when she
misbehaved, but never anything like what she had experienced today.
“Can I lay with you?” she asked softly before he could say anything.
“Wh-what?” he wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly.
“Can I lay with you?” she asked again and he stared at her with confusion, “I’m
sorry...I just don’t want to be alone…”
Credence wanted to say yes. He’d imagined it several times. Having her next to
him, the blanket warming them as they slowly removed their clothing, his
fingers stroking her bare shoulders...it had excited him on several occasions.
But not tonight. He was scared, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Mama might
find out.”
“Please…” she pleaded, her eyes starting to water almost immediately, “I don’t
want to be alone, Credence. Please hold me…”
His chest and stomach tightened. He couldn’t make himself look away from her,
“...We can’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
He scooted back on the bed, making room for her to climb in. She groaned a
little in pain as she climbed next to him and settled down on her side. They
were nearly nose to nose in the small bed. Credence had imagined this, but now
that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do. Fantasies seemed so much
easier and less painful. Luckily, Constance seemed to know better what to do.
She reached over and took his hand and brought it around her waist. Likewise,
she drapped hers over his shoulder.
Even with the pain, it felt nice. Her body was warm and soft. Her hand made
it’s way to his cheek and stroked it lightly. He always enjoyed that. He locked
his eyes on hers and leaned in to touch their foreheads together, “I’m so
sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for what she did.”
“She knows. I know she does. She has to. That’s why she went looking.”
Her breath hitched a little, “No. It doesn’t matter if she knows. She’s the one
who did this. We didn’t ask for it. We didn’t do anything wrong, Credence.”
“We kissed. It was wrong. We’re not married,” what they were doing now was just
as, if not more so, worse. Their bodies were so close now.
“It wasn’t wrong,” her fingers started moving away from his face, but he leaned
back into the touch, “Kiss me. Right now. Please,” he hesitated, “Please…” her
eyes were watery again. She was going to start crying. If she cried, Chastity
would hear and tell Mama. They’d be dead if Mama found out they were in bed
together.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered as he reached up to touch the bruise on her cheek.
She winced a little, but didn’t pull away. He leaned over a bit and pressed
their lips together. It wasn’t the same as their other kisses. It wasn’t soft,
warm, or comforting. Instead, it was needy. They kissed hard and fast. His hand
went back to her waist and he pulled her closer as their lips moved feverishly.
It helped to make the pain his body feel a little better, “Constance…” he
groaned as their lips parted for a moment.
“Don’t stop…” she urged as she pressed her body flush up against his. He didn’t
want to stop. His body felt hot. He groaned as she raised one of her legs and
slid it along his. It felt wonderful. Her barefoot dragged along his leg,
pushing up his nightshirt as he clutched her nightgown tightly, “Touch me,
Credence,” she moaned out softly, “Please.”
Oh he wanted to. He’d imagined all sorts of things he could do to her, but he
didn’t understand how to do any of it, “I don’t know how.”
He felt her lips smile against his as she reached down and touched his hand,
“Like this…” she pulled his hand along her hip and up towards her chest. He
didn’t release her nightgown till it had pulled up to her waist. His fingers
dragged along the curve of her chest till she brought it to rest over her
breast. He sucked in a breath sharply as he felt the shape of it. It was
heavier than he’d thought it would be. Her nipple was hard, pressing against
his palm through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
His head was swimming. Her body felt so good and right now, it was his, “Have
you done this before?” he didn’t know why he asked it. He’d been able to come
to terms with knowing he wasn’t the first boy she’d kissed, but he wasn’t sure
he could handle this if it wasn’t the answer he wanted.
“I haven’t,” to which he almost sighed in relief.
He took her lips again. Kissing more eagerly as his fingers curled around her
soft breast. Even as pain shot through his body as he slid his leg between
hers, letting her leg curl around his hip to further close any space between
them, he felt a warm stirring between his thighs again.
The last time they went to the park, they had kissed for quite a bit and by the
time they got up to leave, he had been very aroused. He’d done his best to not
draw attention to it. Every step he took made his pants and underwear rub
against it. Her hand on his arm and watching her didn’t help. She tripped and
he grabbed her, pulling her close for just a moment till she got her footing
again. It made him finish in his pants. Luckily, they were black and it was
rainy out again. While he was embarrassed, at least no one could tell that the
wet spot on his pants was from his own shame, rather than the weather.
Constance gasped, but not in pain this time. Her voice was warm, soft, and
needy. Part of him knew that if there had been another boy here close to her
age, that it could have just as easily been him doing this with her. She had
needed someone to latch onto and he had been her only target. She didn’t want
him because it was him. She wanted him because she had no other options. It was
easy to make himself believe it, not that it stopped him.
He realized that her hips were moving. Very gently. They moved lightly against
his leg. He could feel how warm she was. He’d never imagined that women touched
themselves. Even if they did, he couldn’t think of how or what they would do.
Did women get pleasure the same way he felt when he did it to himself?
“What’re you doing?” he wanted to hit himself for asking. Why did he have to
ask questions? What if she stopped and wouldn’t do it again? Credence hated
himself every time he opened his mouth, “Your hips…”
He couldn’t see it, but he could feel her face getting warmer, “I...I’m sorry.
I wasn’t thinking…”
“No. Don’t stop,” he said softly. He realized when she stopped doing that, then
her leg that was between his stopped moving.
It started slow. Her hips moved gently and he felt her knee nudge up against
his underwear covered length. He knew she was bare under her nightgown. As she
moved, her hips slid along the top of his leg. The position had moved his
nightshirt up and he realized that her bare womanhood was touching his leg. It
brought a searing hot warmth to his face. It felt warm and a little wet.
Credence wondered what it looked like. He’d never seen a naked woman before.
Her fingers stroked the back of his neck as they began kissing again. He even
managed to move his hips a bit, despite the pain it caused. He clutched her
breast tighter and she moaned loudly. He couldn’t help but groan back as she
hiked her knee up a little higher. He felt himself twitch and throb against her
leg. Her own hips lowered a little, pressing harder against his thigh as she
rubbed against it. Her breaths were coming quicker and her body was shaking a
bit.
“Oh Credence,” she cooed his name before kissing him hard again.
He’d never felt anything like this before. It was incredible. If it wasn’t for
the pain in his backside, it would have been perfect. Did it count as pleasing
himself if he was rubbing on her leg and not into his own hand? It wasn’t sex
either. He didn’t know what this was, but it felt wonderful. Would God see it
as wrong if they were still virgins?
She gasped loudly and her fingers clenched onto his shoulders hard. He felt a
wetness growing on his thigh, coming from her body. He thought, for a moment,
that she might have soiled herself in some way. But she sounded so happy. Did
women finish in a similar way to men? Credence had no way of knowing. But her
hips continued to twitch for a moment or two before she relaxed.
Even though she stopped, he continued moving against her. He wanted to release,
to finish. It didn’t take much longer. Her fingers went back to his cheeks and
her lips pecked against his. She said his name softly and he felt his member
throb it’s release against her thigh. He was a little embarrassed about it, but
the moment he released, all the pain went away for a minute.
They both whimpered softly for a moment or two before looking in each others
eyes, “That felt wonderful…” he whispered, “...Constance, I…”
“Shhhh,” she brought her finger to his lips to stop him, “We’re not going to
talk about it right now,” which was a first. Usually she wanted to talk about
everything before they did it. She was giving him permission to not have to
discuss it for once. Instead, she laid her head down against his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her tight and pulled her close. Credence didn’t want
to let go.
***** Chapter 8 *****
“But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any
kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God's holy
people.”
The voice woke them both up quick. Their bodies were still tangled up with each
others. Her head on his chest and her nightgown hiked high up around her hips.
Her bare legs exposed to the room. His chin had been resting on her head and
his arms around her waist. She was holding him tight around the middle of his
torso. Despite the pain, it had been the best night sleep he could remember.
They both cried out as belt came down over both their hips. Credence jolted up
and Constance huddled against him as they saw Mama standing over the bed.
“Sinners! Dirty, filthy, Sinners!” she shouted, “For this is the will of God,
your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of
you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion
of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God!” she was reciting the verses he
knew so well. It was likely that he could recite nearly the entire bible from
memory.
The belt came down again, hitting her back and making her cry out as she
scrambled to get towards the wall with him, “Stop!” she shouted, but Mama
didn’t listen. Didn’t care.
“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the
flesh!” the belt hit his legs as he tried to get out of the bed.
“Ma!”
“Horrible child! Whore! I took you into my home and this is how you repay me?
By corrupting my child!” even though she never let Credence call her his
mother. Mama had got them all when they were young. While he was her trouble
child, she still saw him as a devout child. Constance was the only one who had
spent her childhood with a real family. He was sure she saw Constance as some
devil whore who had tricked her way into the house to lead her children astray,
“Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is
lawlessness!”
Mama swiped for Constance, but she managed to fall out of the bed and out of
the way. She crawled her way out of Mama’s reach, but it didn’t matter. She
went for Credence, who was still close enough. She grabbed his hair much the
same way she had Constance the day before, “Filthy boy! Laying with a whore!”
“I’m sorry!” he sobbed loudly as she pulled him from the bed and started
dragging him towards the railing.
“I raised you better than this! Putting yourself inside a devil woman!”
He half stumbled, half crawled as she dragged him out of the room. Chastity was
there again. Watching with stony eyes. No doubt she had run to Mama when she
woke and realized that Constance wasn’t in her own bed. After the beating he
received the day before, he didn’t think he could cry anymore, but somehow new,
hot tears were running down his face as Mama threw him down, “Please! I’m
sorry! We didn’t sin!” he tried to defend what they had done.
“Don’t lie to me! You sleep with a whore and then lie to me! Ungrateful boy! If
it weren’t for me, you would have been dead!” she never let him forget that
after his parents had been found dead, he was nearly dead himself. Having been
locked in a room and nearly starved to death and unable to get out on his own.
Mama was the one that found him. She’d come to the apartment handing out
leaflets with a young Chastity. They heard him crying inside and went for help.
He owed her his life. Or so he’d always been told. Credence remembered nothing.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” it was the only thing he could think of to say. What
else was there to say? How much better was the truth? Was pleasuring himself
against her leg and groping her breast really any better than giving away his
virginity? Would Mama even care? They’d used their bodies inappropriately.
That’s all she would see.
She grabbed him roughly by the collar of his nightshirt and forced him up onto
his knees and his hands onto the railing. No backside whipping today. No. She
had done that and it had apparently not done what she wanted. She was going to
lash him. It wouldn’t be the first time. His shoulders had several scars from
the last time.
He whimpered and lowered his head, “Count to three!” she ordered and he shook
his head hard, “Don’t defy me!” she brought the belt down on his shoulder and
he cried out, “Count to three!”
“O-one…” he whimpered, “Two…” he felt his body tense up, “Three...Ah!” the belt
came down on his shoulder again, “One...Two...Three...Ah!” and again. She
wanted him to know when it was going to happen. To know when his punishment was
happening, “O-one..tw-two..t-t-three...Ah!” he could feel the leather cutting
through his nightshirt and into his flesh. He could feel the first few, small
streams of blood rolling down his back and wetting his shirt.
“Leave him alone!” it was Constance’s voice.
“Mama!” Chastity called out.
Credence turned his head in time to see her running at Mama. Her eyes were
streaming with tears as she ran at the woman. He moved quickly to avoid the
belt as it came down again. Mama turned to see the red haired girl coming at
her.
It happened too fast for him to do anything about it. He felt a sharp pain run
through his body as if something were urging him to stop it, but he couldn’t
let it out. It was heavy and it felt like it was churning inside of him,
begging to get out, but he couldn’t let it. He had to keep it back. Instead, he
had to watch as Constance grabbed for the belt and Mama yanked it back.
Constance fell into the railing and the old wood snapped under the weight of
her body. The scream was sharp and high with shock as she went over the edge.
Chastity screamed and Mama gasped loudly, “Constance!” he shouted as he
scrambled for the broken railing and peered over the edge.
She was laying across the top of the pews, several had broken under her weight
and due to old age. Her red hair was sprawled out and he saw red staining the
front of her nightgown, “Constance!” she didn’t move.
“Keep Modesty in her room!” Mama ordered Chastity and the girl hesitated,
staring at the broken railing in shock, “Chastity! Now!”
“Yes, Mama…” she ran off towards the youngest’s room.
Credence stared over the railing down at the lifeless body, “Constance…” he
said her name more softly before getting up quick and running for the stairs.
He took them two at a time as he went down and rushed over to her. Her eyes
were wide open and staring at him, but they were cold and lifeless. A slow drip
of blood came from the corner of her mouth and her pale neck had a large bulge
coming out the side of it. Her body was awkwardly hung over several broken
pews, “C-constance…” he touched her bruised cheek. It felt colder, “P-
Please...please say something…” he whispered as he tried to pull her off the
pews, but her body tangled around pieces of broken wood.
“Let her go, Credence,” it was Mama’s voice, “Go clean up and get dressed.”
“No!” he snapped as he finally managed to haul her off the pews and into his
arms. Her body was heavy and limp. Her head rolled to the side and there was a
sickening sound of bones grinding against each other.
Mama grabbed him from behind, hauling him back by his collar, forcing him to
drop her body. It hit the floor with a thud and he whimpered, “I said, go get
cleaned up and dressed. Now.”
Slowly, he started moving towards the stairs again, his eyes were on
Constance’s body. At least till Mama grabbed one of the tablecloths and threw
it over her broken and dead form. Hiding it from sight. She then closed up her
house robe and started for the door.
By the time he was done cleaning his new wounds and had his day clothes on, he
was mostly moving on autopilot. He didn’t want to believe it had happened. Part
of him was sure if he went to his little peephole and looked through it, he
would see her and Chastity putting their hair up for the day. That in just a
few minutes, they would all be sitting at the table and eating their toast
after breakfast prayer. Her foot would touch his ankle under the table and he
would try not to let it show on his face how happy he was.
Instead, he walked out of his room and saw pieces of the railing laying in
front of his door. As he walked down the stairs, he saw the broken pews and the
lump of cloth where her body was laying. Chastity was down there with Mama.
There were police with them. His whole body felt numb. He couldn’t even feel
his feet as he walked, “She attacked me and fell,” he heard Mama say.
“I saw it. She ran at Mama and the railing gave away when she fell. Mama tried
to stop her from falling,” Chastity confirmed.
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth. He was sure if Constance had managed
to get ahold of Mama, she would have hit her. But she had only done it to try
to stop him from being beaten again. He was sure once Mama was done with him,
she would have turned on Constance anyway. It had been self defense, “Wh-what?”
Everyone turned to look at him, “What’s that, Boy?” one of the officers asked
him. Mama’s eyes narrowed and he felt a shiver go down his spine. The first
thing he’d felt since he started cleaning his wounds.
“She...she fell because…”
“Because she attacked me. Isn’t that right, Credence? The poor boy is so
twisted up about it. Her mother had been a whore and I took her in. She toyed
with him something fierce.”
“That’s not...no...I…”
“Tell us what happened, Boy. Did she try to attack your Ma and fall?”
“Y-yes...but…”
They didn’t let him talk. Chastity came over and sank her little fingernails
into his arm as she pulled him towards the kitchen, “He’s shook up about it.
I’ll make him some tea.”
He nearly fell into the chair at the table as Chastity moved about the kitchen
to get their breakfast tea and toast ready. He heard someone say to get the
coroner and have the body taken away as soon as possible. Mama thanked them for
the assistance before coming into the kitchen. She sat down across from him and
folded her hands on the table, “Credence? Are you listening to me?”
He was silent, but only till she reached across and slapped him hard, “Listen
to me, Boy,” he reached up and touched his hot cheek, “That whore snaked her
way into our home. Who knows how many people she poisoned against us. She toyed
with you. You don’t think she really cared, do you? I’m the only one who cares
about you. Do you understand?”
His lower lip trembled, “Y-yes, Ma’am.”
What difference did it make if he understood or not? It wouldn’t make Constance
any less dead if he didn’t understand. She was really dead. It sat in his
stomach. Heavy. Like cold, dead metal. He could see her eyes looking at him.
Not just her warm, soft eyes as they kissed and touched in his bed; but her
cold, dead eyes. They were staring straight into him.
He could have saved her. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew he could have. If he
had just let go of that swirling pain that bubbled up inside of him on
occasion, he knew he could have saved her. Stopped her fall or caught her
before she tripped past Mama. Some part of his mind was telling him that he
could have done it. No matter how impossible it seemed.
“Good. Now go clean up the mess. We’ll have to get donations for new pews. It’s
not going to be easy,” Mama would find a way.
“Yea, Ma’am,” it was all he could seem to think of to say. Any other words were
lost on him as he climbed back to his feet and headed out to the main room. His
eyes fixated on the broken pews. He stood there, unmoving for a long time.
As slow as possible, he started to pick up pieces of broken wood. His mind
going blank as tears streamed down his face. He didn’t even sob openly like he
usually did. He just ignored the pain searing through his body and the
splinters going into his fingers from the wood.
He’d never felt so dead before in his life.
***** Chapter 9 *****
He kicked a newspaper off his shoe. The heading marking the new year didn’t
matter to him. What did it matter if it was 1923 or 1926?
It didn’t matter if Mama beat him. He’d managed to get out of the house after
midnight without drawing to attention to himself. He walked quietly till he
reached the park where they had spent their first afternoon together. That had
been years ago. It seemed so strange that he had known her for less than three
months. It felt like so much longer when he looked back on it.
He sat down on the bench and looked around. It didn’t look too different in the
dark. The only difference was the lack of people. No kids running around or
people pretending to feed ducks and squirrels. It was quiet.
She had been gone for nearly three years.
Mama, Chastity, and Modesty acted as if she never existed. They didn’t speak
about her. If anyone asked about her, they pretended not to hear. Mama had the
extra bed in Chastity’s room removed. He managed to save the box with her dress
in it and hid it away under his own bed. The lipstick was gone, but only
because Mama had thrown it away after finding it. Sad as it was, he’d taken her
dress out sometimes and held it and cried into it at night.
He moved day to day without a thought in his mind. It was just all numb and
cold all the time.
His eyes looked around slowly. He saw the building that she had said was where
she lived before Mama adopted her. He thought about her feeding him candy while
they sat here. Letting him taste it first and looking so happy that he liked
it. Her convincing him to talk to her so that he could kiss her. Her warm hands
holding his and her head resting on his shoulder as she talked. It was even
nicer when they kissed. He came here at least once a month. Unable to move on
from it.
He missed it so much already.
It had given him a glimpse of a life he wanted so badly.
That was all gone now though.
It hurt so much. He couldn’t stand it.
HIs eyes watered a little and he reached up to wipe away the tears, “No one
allowed in the park after dark. Get out of here, Boy.”
His head shot up and he saw the police officer. Anger bubbled in his blood. He
knew the man’s face. It was the one who had taken his statement about her
death. About how she had ‘attacked’ Mama. It wasn’t the man’s fault she was
dead. He hadn’t been the one to let her fall.
But he was the one that let Mama get away with it.
“You’re that Second Salem Boy, aren’t you? I remember you. You’re the one that
slept with the whore who broke her neck.”
“She...She…” he felt his stomach tighten, “She wasn’t a whore. I didn’t sleep
with her,” well, he did. They had fallen asleep together. Holding each other.
He’d thought about that night so many times.
“Ssssure. And I bet her mother wasn’t a whore either. Go on and get home, Boy.
Before I tell your Ma.”
“She’s...She’s not my Ma…” that’s what she was always telling him, right?
“Go on. Git,” he snapped.
Credence wasn’t sure what happened. Everything just went blank and when he
opened his eyes, he was home. He didn’t remember walking back. Maybe the
officer had brought him home? He wasn’t entirely sure. He supposed it didn't
matter. Nothing really mattered. He quietly moved into the house and up to his
room, ignoring the sound of fire sirens in the distance.
His body felt tired and sore. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Credence couldn’t stand it anymore. The swirling feeling that was always in the
back of his mind. The constant thoughts of Constance. The feel of the belt on
his hands, shoulders, and backside. The strain of carrying the soup pot back
and forth from the kitchen. The whispers from the congregation about his
sleeping with a whore. The word ‘freak’ floating into his ears as he passed by
people.
He had to get away from it all.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t have an education beyond what Mama taught him.
He would rather live on the streets than to stay with Mama anymore.
He waited till Mama and Chastity were fast asleep before stuffing a pillow case
with her dress, his box of newspaper clippings, and a change of cloths. A lack
of money wasn’t going to stop him either. He’d just start walking and wouldn’t
stop till he couldn’t walk anymore. Mama wouldn’t find him again. Credence’s
shoes padded softly on the ground as he started down the sidewalk. By the time
Mama realized he was gone, it would be too late to find him. He’d rather die
than come back.
He was scared, but he had given up caring a long time ago.
He had imagined many times what his life would have been like if Constance were
still alive. They would have run away together. Got married. He would have got
a job at one of the factories. Done honest, hard work. Just so he could come
home and see her smiling at him. Mama would never have been able to hurt their
of them again.
As it was, he would just have to do it on his own. Being alone, but on his own
was better than just being alone in that house.
Turning down an alley way, he had his eyes on the ground when a wind rushed
past him. He paid it no mind till he heard footsteps, “I...I don’t have money…”
he wasn’t stupid enough to think he couldn’t be mugged.
“I don’t want money,” the voice was smooth and masculine. He turned to see a
rather tall man with slick, black hair, just barely greyed on the sides. His
coat was fashionable and expensive. As was the suit he wore under it and the
grey scarf. His face was sharp and strong. He was a fairly imposing man, but he
didn’t look like some common mugger.
“P-Please leave me alone…”
“Your name is Credence, isn’t it? Credence Barebone?”
He gripped his pillow case tightly, “Y-yes.”
“Running away?”
His eyes went to the ground and he took a step back from the man, “I won’t go
back there. You can’t make me,” he’d never seen this man before, but that
didn’t mean he wasn’t a supporter.
“I know what she does to you, Credence. I’m sorry you have to live that way.
I’m also sorry to say that I do have to ask you to go back.”
“...I won’t. You’ll have to kill me. You can’t make me,” his head felt fuzzy
for a moment. He feared he would black out. It had been happening occasionally.
“I’m afraid I can, Credence,” the man stepped towards him again and he backed
up into the wall, clutching his pillow case to his chest, “My name is Mr.
Graves, Credence. I have something I need to ask of you. I know it won’t be
easy, but you’re the only one that can help me.”
“I don’t want to help anyone,” he wanted to be alone. Why couldn’t people just
leave him be?
“Yes you do, Credence. You’re special and that’s why I know you’ll help me.
You’ll help me for her, won’t you?” he narrowed his eyes a bit, “I know what
that woman does to you. I know what she did to Constance. She was just trying
to help you, because she loved you, Credence.”
He stared wide eyed as the man got close to him, “Leave me alone…”
“I want to help you, Credence. Let me see your hand…”
Mama had beat him this morning. Slapped his hands for having broken a dish
during the prior night dinner. They were still raw and he was sure his pillow
case was bloodied from holding it so tightly. Hesitantly, he reached it out.
The wounds had reopened, but they weren’t as bad as they were this morning,
“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered softly.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Credence,” the man said his name a lot. So few
people said his name, “I want to help you and in return, you will help me. I
want to give you a better life,” the imposing man named Graves reached out and
stroked his fingers along the cuts. He inhaled sharply as the marks
disappeared.
“H-how...How did you...do that?” he stared in amazement at his palm. There were
still scars a plenty, but the new marks healed and disappeared instantly. He’d
never seen anything like it before.
“Magic, Credence. Magic. I can teach you to do it too.”
“Y-you can?”
“Oh yes, but you must do something for me first. I need you help finding a
child, Credence. They belong to the Second Salem. I saw them in a vision. With
you and your Mother.”
He wasn’t the most intelligent man in the world, but even he knew when to ask a
question, “Why?”
“They are in danger, Credence. They can be taught magic, like you, but someone
is going to hurt them. I need to save them. Just as I need to save you, but
you’re the only one that can find them. I’ve tried on my own, but in every
vision I just see them close to you and your Mother.”
“We-we have a lot of children come in for meals.”
“One of them is special, Credence. Like you.”
He was still looking at his hand, as if he were waiting for the wounds to
reopen, but they didn’t, “What kind of things can you do?” his mind immediately
went to Constance. If Mr. Graves could heal his wound, what else could he do.
He’d said he’d know what happened to her, “Can you bring Constance back? Can
you bring her back for me?”
The look in Mr. Graves face was one he’d seen before. It was pity, “Yes. We can
bring her back. I can teach you to bring her back. When you have her back,
you’ll be able to tell her how brave you were. That you helped another child,
that you’re special, that you learned how to bring her back so you could be
together.”
He knew his face must have been lit up. For the first time in years, he felt
something. It was hope, “You mean it?”
“I do, Credence,” the man reached out and touched his face. He closed his eyes
and leaned into the touch. Other than his punishments, he hadn’t been touched
since Constance was alive. This man. This Mr. Graves. He was strong and
powerful. Everything Credence wished he was, “I just need your help first. Will
you help me, Credence?”
His eyes opened slowly as the man tried to pull his hand away, but he leaned
into it. Mr. Graves moved closer to him and wrapped his arms around him.
Hugging him gently and he nearly collapsed. He was so tired. Tired of trying.
“Will you help me, Credence? You’re the only one I can trust.”
Words he’d never heard before. Even Constance had never said she trusted him.
Not because she didn’t, but they had known each other for such a short time.
There had been nothing to bring it up about, “Yes, Mr. Graves. Yes. I’ll help
you.”
“Good. I’m depending on you, Credence.”
Credence couldn’t have imagined anything could have made him go back home to
Mama, but Mr. Graves had touched on it. In such a short time, he felt like Mr.
Graves was the closest thing to a father he’d ever had. More than that. A
friend. Someone who needed him, “I won’t disappoint you, Mr. Graves. I
promise.”
“Good. Now let's get you home…”
Chapter End Notes
     Considering doing a second story for a sort of 'aftermath'. Haven't
     decided yet. Anyway, thank you all for reading! I always appreciate
     it!
     -Toad
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