Heinous, p.1
Heinous, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Yolanda Olson
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All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover and Formatting by Pretty in Ink Creations
Editing by Ally Vance
Photography by: Xram ragde https://www.instagram.com/xramragde/
Contents
Author’s Note
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
About the Author
Author’s Note
Well, this is awkward considering I rarely do trigger warnings anymore, but I just have the feeling that I should toss one into this because I don’t want anyone to read something that might negatively affect them.
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My veteran readers can skip this; you’ll be fine. (At least, I hope so.)
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If you’re new to my work and you’re starting with Heinous, hey there! You picked a hell of a book for your first Yolanda Olson rodeo, so I’ve decided to give you a little warning as to what you’re getting into.
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Please note, this does not cover everything, just what I think may be triggering to some.
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MSBP (FDIA) survivor
Sexual assault survivor
Self-harm
Genital mutilation
Extreme scenes of graphic violence resulting in death
Family love (both forced and consensual)
Severe mental health issues (For both.)
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Now that we got that out of the way, I honestly hope that you enjoy Maisie and Elijah’s story. It’s tragic, heartbreaking, violent, grotesque, and possibly one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever written.
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See you on the other side!
Blurb
Someone once said that if you talk about the devil, he’s bound to appear.
Most would keep silent, hoping that they’d never be found by such a monster, but I prayed for his touch every night.
I knew the devil when I was a child and fell in love with him the first time he taught me that I wasn’t as damaged as I was led to believe that I was.
He cared for me, helped me learn how to smile, and see the world in a different way even though he didn’t realize that he had done so.
But they feared him; hated him.
So seventeen years ago, they ripped him away from me.
What they didn’t know was that he had already created a monster in his very image.
I thought I’d never see him again—I finally resigned myself to that. But then he came back, just like he promised he always would through that smile of his.
We’re together again.
And now, no one will be able to keep us apart ever again.
Prologue
Mama never did love him.
Either of us.
She said he was a demon straight from Hell.
He had to be, since he looks so different to everyone else.
His mouth was always just a little too wide for his face, his eyes—while a bright shade of hickory-brown—were darkened by the madness that consumed him, and then there were the voices he always seemed to hear—the things that he saw, that no one else could— convinced her that he needed to be thrown away.
She said I was a jezebel and that it was my fault men fell to the temptation of my bed.
She blamed me for him, though I never understood why.
I was supposed to be wiser because I was older than he was.
I was born first, so the lessons they imparted in both of us should have stuck, but my love for him never wavered.
I never did get the chance to properly know him. She and Papa kept us as far apart from each other as they could.
There were nights that I’d stand in his room and watch him sleep. That was at first; the braver I became, the closer I would get.
Papa caught me one night as I sat on the edge of his bed, watching his chest steadily moving up and down.
He grabbed me by a fistful of my hair and dragged me out. I took the belt that night as best as I could, refusing to cry or show any signs of being in pain.
I never wanted to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they were so close to breaking me, because I wasn’t theirs to break.
That was the same night Mama decided I was sick. She took me to the doctor the next day, filled him up with lies about how I had been behaving, and in turn, he gave her so many prescriptions that I wasn’t sure how she would be able to afford them.
But, Mama had always been a cunning woman, and when she was finally able to get her hands on everything he scribbled on that little white piece of pad paper, my Hell truly began.
Of course, by the time we got back from getting all of the medication, Papa had already sent him away. I’m fairly certain he ran him out of the house while calling him a temptation, but I never did get the full story.
“It’s not your place to question us, Maisie. Shut your fucking mouth and take your goddamn medicine, or so help me God.”
God.
They called on him a lot whenever they decided to punish us.
I knew in my heart that I’d have a score to settle with God one day, but first, I would have to rectify what had been done to us.
I never really thought I’d get the chance.
Especially not after I started getting so damn sick.
My hair would fall out in chunks, and even my teeth were rotting out of my head.
Cracking on pieces of bread, and chipping when I would place a glass of water to my lips. They destroyed my body, made sure that it would stop growing when I was at a time in my life where I was finally starting to feel strong.
My skin started to become as sallow as my soul, and I was so goddamn weak that I decided not to fight back anymore.
I took my medicine as prescribed, and I bided my time.
Eventually, they wouldn’t be able to hold me anymore. I’d find a way to stop taking my medicine, even though they always made me take it in front of them. Papa had insisted I open my mouth to show him that the pills had been swallowed down into my body to continue their course of corruption and devastation.
Then, one day, I figured it out.
I would hide the pills under my tongue and show them the empty mouth they always wanted to see.
One night, when I had finally given up all hope, when I was on my knees saying my evening prayers, he showed up at my window.
A sin.
My sin.
He came back for me like he’d promised the last night when I had sat on his bed after Papa woke him up with his yelling.
We’ve taken care of each other as best as we can. We’ve been learning about each other, hiding away from Mama and Papa who by now have probably given up all hope that they’d ever find me again.
And as I sat on the edge of his bed, watching him sleep like I had only once before, I knew it was time.
The only way we’d be able to be together would be to destroy the very essence of evil.
We’d have to go back home.
One
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he stroked my cheek.
"You haven't taken your medicine," I reminded him as a tear rolled down the side of my face.
"You're the only drug I've ever needed," he assured me as he used his thumb to wipe it away.
"I'm expired," I reminded him softly with a chuckle.
It was a sentiment I often spoke whenever he gave me the exact same reason for not trying to get better.
"We all do at some point," he replied wryly as he turned on his side and slipped an arm around my waist. When he scooped me closer to him I smiled faintly as a fresh tear broke the barrier.
"Can I have a hug now?" I asked hopefully.
"It's not time for that yet."
His tone was quiet, thoughtful, and a little subdued.
I sighed, deciding it was time to go back to the original subject. "You'll get sick again if you don't take your medicine."
"Good," he said as he turned his face so that his lips grazed my cheek. "Then there'll be no doubt that they will remember me."
"Wouldn't you rather show them that you got better without them?"
He scoffed but didn't say anything else.
The moment we shared had been ruined by my damn near hourly reminders that he needed to take his medication.
In a way, I understood the resentment. He saw what they did to me and feared they would do the same to him, but Elijah Young was truly sick.
Unlike me.
I sighed when he turned on his side, his back to me and moved forward to lay an arm around his waist.
“Don’t be angry with me,” I pleaded. “I just want you to get better.”
“Right,” he replied curtly, but he interlaced his fingers with mine to let me know that he wasn’t entirely angry with me.
“When was the last time you took them?” I persisted quietly.
Elijah let out a loud sigh as he let go of my hand and whipped the sheet off our bodies. He sat up and reached for his prosthetic, secured it so he would be able to walk properly, then reached for the orange bottle that sat on the nightstand, next to our bed in the only motel room we could afford.
I pushed myself up onto my elbow and watched him carefully as he walked into the bathroom. I heard the sound of the water sputter as he turned the dial, then the sound of the bottle being opened. A moment later, he reemerged with two pills in the palm of one hand, and a plastic cup full of water in the other.
He came over and sat next to me on the bed, held my eyes for a moment and shook his head before he tossed the pills into his mouth, then chased it with the lukewarm tap water.
I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees as I waited. I hated treating him the way Mama and Papa did me with the routine of making me prove that I had taken what I was prescribed. But, if he didn’t learn to control his demons, he’d be a danger to both of us.
“Ahhhh.”
He opened his mouth to show me that he had swallowed his pills. When I didn’t react right away, he sighed and lifted his tongue to show me that he wasn’t as proficient in hiding his medication as I had learned to be.
“See? All gone, Aunt Maisie. Now can we just relax before we have to leave?” he asked as he set the cup down on the dirty carpet.
I nodded and he grinned.
It was nice to see that he could still genuinely smile at times. Even though I couldn’t, I always did my best for him because he deserved it.
Elijah’s only sin was being born, and no one should have ever suffered what he did for something he had no control over.
I moved over slightly when he gave me a gentle nudge and turned his body to lie down. After he rested his head comfortably against my shoulder, I turned my face toward the mirror sitting directly in front of the bed.
All I could see looking back at me was the beginnings of a monster… One that had been torn apart from the inside and held no love for anything in this world other than the young man in her arms.
The kind of monster that would do anything to keep her sin close to heart—happy, safe, content.
And when my eyes shifted toward him, I saw something different. He already looked like all the things I wished for him.
Only, he wasn’t whole any more.
Part of his leg, from just below the knee had been cut off before he came back for me.
He told me that he did it because it was the first foot that left when he ran away as Papa chased him out. That it was the one that abandoned me, and he couldn’t bear keeping it for betraying me.
I remember his confession like it was just yesterday. The way his eyes searched mine as he sobbed and begged me to forgive him for leaving.
But I didn’t love him any less.
I didn’t fear him, either.
It only made me want to be better for him, and that would mean facing our tragic past before we could secure a future together.
I turned away from the mirror and rested my cheek against his head as his breathing became even.
Elijah Young was exactly that.
A man barely twenty-two years of age with a predatory urge inside of him, one I encouraged when the moment called for it.
It’s the only way we’d be able to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies—no matter how scarce—and each other.
“Go to sleep, Aunt Maisie,” he mumbled against my shoulder, and I chuckled.
It seemed that he was a lot smarter than I gave him credit for, and that was something we would need in the coming days and months.
I looked in the mirror one more time before I sighed and slid down on the bed, taking with me the image of the monster into the world of dreams.
Maisie Decker.
A woman seemingly thirty-nine years of age, with stunted growth, who was damaged on the inside and out.
Two
"Stick your thumb out, Mais. Someone will always stop for a pretty girl."
I chuckled as we stood on the side of the road, our destination—the Smoky Mountains—waited for us somewhere out there. It’s where he told me we’d best be able to prepare for going back home.
He said there were sometimes cabins in some of the parks that were left unattended, and it would be easy to move back and forth between them without being detected.
I was always more cautious than Elijah, though. Because while I believed he could do anything in this world and I wanted nothing more than to see him flourish, we still had a long, hard road ahead of us.
A tap on the shoulder broke me from my thoughts. When I glanced up into his brown eyes, I saw the confidence already shining brightly in them. A nod in the direction of the road, and my eyes shifted from Elijah to the pick-up truck that was waiting patiently for us.
“Where ya headed?” the slightly older man inside asked as he tipped the brim of his cap at us.
“Wears Valley,” Elijah replied as he leaned on the windowpane and grinned at him.
“That’s in the other direction, but I’ll be glad to take you there. Hop on in,” the man offered with a smile.
Elijah opened the passenger side door and climbed in first. I shifted the tattered, oblong bag that I held in my arms and placed it carefully on the floor of the truck, before I took his hand and let him help me in.
His golden rule when we hitched rides was that he always wanted me by the door.
“If anyone tries to get funny with you, I’ll kill them. It’s better for everyone if they can’t get to you.”
It was a combination of jealousy and wanting to be the man he blamed himself for not being while I went through my torments.
But it never was his place to protect me, and no matter how many times I had tried to remind him of that, he continued to dismiss it in a haze of anger and sadness.
“I’m Mike,” the man said as soon I closed the door. Elijah wrapped an arm protectively around me, then extended his free hand toward our new ride. “I’m Elijah and this is Maisie. Thanks for giving us a lift.”
I leaned over slightly to smile at Mr. Mike and extended my hand to him as well, then settled back against the seat.
I knew that no matter how much he tried to make more than just our acquaintance with small talk, the conversation was over.
At least it was for me.
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Mr. Mike eventually stopped for gas somewhere outside of Russellville. We still hadn’t left Kentucky, but he said that if he filled up now, he’d be able to make it the rest of the way without any unnecessary stops.
When we got to Knoxville, he pulled into the parking lot of a small diner and cut the engine to his truck.
“We’re a little under an hour away from Wears Valley, but I’m feeling a bit peckish,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
“We’ll wait here,” Elijah said. Even though everyone in the truck could hear his stomach growl, I knew it was because we only had enough money left for another cheap motel stay before we found a cabin.
