It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen 1)

“Mae. That n-night…” I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “The s-scars…” Her eyes were huge and so f**kin’ blue. I was making her nervous. “I d-didn’t know how to d-deal. I felt like a… a… r-rapist, p-pouncing on you like I did. Lois dead. You were n-nearly killed. I weren’t d-dealin’ with shit like a Prez shoulda.”

Rubbing my hand along my throat, I said, “I-I just g-got you. I t-tried to stay away, do the right thing. B-because I ain’t no good for you. But f**k, I want you so b-bad I feel like I-I c-can’t breathe. Can’t p-push you away n-no more. Need to have you c-close.”

We stayed silent for a f**kin’ age before Mae spoke, her hand gripping mine tightly. “I was eight when I met you that day, you know.”

I jerked in shock. We hadn’t talked much about the past. Shit, we hadn’t talked much about anything. My fault for pushing her away. Knew she’d escaped some cult behind that fence. Didn’t know why or how, but I could guess it was bad by the way she never brought it up… and those f**kin’ rape scars…

Mae stared unseeing into the fire, then slipped slowly to the ground beside me. She leaned back against the bale. I pulled her closer between my legs, her back right to my chest. I had a feeling she’d need me for this shit.

She was breathing so hard, so I rolled back her long black hair and kissed up the side of her neck. She trembled in my arms, then a long exhale seemed to calm her right down.

“I-I g-guessed you were around that age. I was el-eleven.” I finally replied.

Relaxing back against my chest, she sighed. “I… I had just taken part in my first brother-sister sharing. I was stupid to resist the act. But I was so young and terrified. I tried to fight back when they forced me on the mattress and ripped off my dress. I had the bladed trap forced between my legs… to…”—her timid eyes flashed up to mine in embarrassment before once again dipping to the ground—“keep my legs… wide open to the chosen disciple. His name was Jacob. From that day on, it was almost always him who selected me. He was in his thirties at the time. That first day, my ‘Awakening’ as they called it, I resisted until I was broken in. As I grew older, I just grew… desensitized to it all.”

My hands gripped Mae around her waist and I shook in anger. A thirty-year-old man f**ked an eight-year-old chick with some bear-trap contraption prying her innocent pu**y open. Sick motherfucker. What kind of pervert does that shit to a kid? Sick motherfuckers, the lot of ’em.

“B-babe, you t-telling me y-you were r-r-raped at age eight?” I bit out.

“Yes,” she whispered. “And I ran into the forest afterward. I had to get away from it all. I had no idea what had happened. I didn’t even know what sex was before that day. We were kept separate from boys and men. We lived in separate buildings within the commune. It was quite the introduction to life with the opposite sex. I wanted to die, Styx. I was so sore, so ashamed.”

She swerved and ran her soft, shaking hand down my cheek. “And then I met you. You made me forget it all for a while. I was fascinated by you, entranced by your face; well, all of you—your dress, your beautiful hazel eyes. I had never seen an outsider before. We were instructed to believe that outsiders were evil, but when I saw you trying to communicate, trying to help me; you, instead, looked like my savior. You were my savior that day. I never once told anyone about you, but I thought of you all the time. I dreamt about you often. You were my assurance, my guarantee that beyond the rigid metal cell I had been trapped in, there was real hope. I watched you try to speak, the struggle you had. I was so confused by you.”

I coughed out a short laugh. “I b-bet. I c-couldn’t speak for shit b-back then. The only two people I-I’d ever uttered a word to were my ol-old man and Ky. But seeing you, curled up in that p-pilgrim dress and w-whimpering, forced me to talk. Y-your beautiful eyes d-drew me in.” Mae’s pouting red lips tugged into a shy smile. “Still do. B-been torture you sh-shutting me out like this for d-days.”

I had to ask the question burning in my mind. I just had to know. “You l-like R-Rider, Mae? You want h-him?”

She sat up, shocked, and her mouth dropped. “It is not like that! Rider is a good friend. He has never been anything but nice to me. He risked his life for me at the park, for goodness sake. He saved me, took a bullet to save my life. He understands how I was raised, Styx. I like him. He is a kind and honest man.”

“You t-told him ’bout your b-background?”

“No, I did not tell him! You now know most about me, Styx, but he understands the scripture I—we all—had to live by. Rider has lived by it too, I think. He helps me make sense of this outside world… this club… even you, your role as President, things you must do to protect your brothers.”

As she stroked my cheek, the bristles of my unshaven jaws scratched underneath her short nails. “You have to understand, Styx. Life out here, outside the commune, is so confusing for me. Half the time I have no clue what people are talking to me about. I just smile and nod, hoping they do not realize my confusion. I do not know all the modern devices that dominate your day-to-day life. I certainly do not understand the rules and the behavior of the men at this club. The way you speak to each other, to women, seems so wrong. It scares me at times. Rider understands my faith; no, my old faith. I do not know what I believe anymore or what to believe for that matter. Rider has not pushed me to be any different than I already am. He really did care for me when you were away, when you entrusted me to his care. I admit I do like him. Rider is my closest friend here in your world. I shall not give him up willingly, Styx. I… I need him.”