Iniquity (An Inferno World Novella) Read online

  Iniquity

  ____________

  An Inferno World Novella

  Emery LeeAnn

  Iniquity

  An Inferno World Novella

  Emery LeeAnn

  Iniquity Copyright 2019 by Emery LeeAnn

  Inferno World Copyright 2017 by Yolanda Olson

  Cover Design by Dez Purington of Pretty In Ink Creations

  Edited and Formatted by Ed Bar

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author’s imagination.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Foreword:

  Dedication:

  Chapter One: | Eve

  Chapter Two: | Eve

  Chapter Three: | Eve

  Chapter Four: | Eve

  Chapter Five: | Eve

  Chapter Six: | Mercy

  Chapter Seven: | Eve

  Chapter Eight: | Mercy

  Chapter Nine: | Eve

  Chapter Ten: | Eve

  Chapter Eleven: | Jerry

  Chapter Twelve: | Eve

  Chapter Thirteen: | Jerry

  Chapter Fourteen: | Eve

  Chapter Fifteen: | Eve

  The Inferno World | Dive into the dark, taboo world now!

  Other books by Emery LeeAnn:

  A Thank You Note

  About the Author

  Foreword:

  Welcome to Hell.

  In this place of darkness, the weak are easily consumed, and those brave enough to fight are served on a silver platter for the devils that have stolen them.

  They eyes of those that watch are the ones that should be feared the most. The need to feel disgusting and repulsive are granted with a smile, but only for those that obey his every command.

  Have you come to do the devil's work along with the one who longs for the devil's touch?

  There is no hope here.

  Only pain.

  Only suffering.

  Only death for the wicked.

  Iniquity is going to break your heart, but that's what you came for isn't it?

  To see how far Hell can reach and if you can survive its grasp?

  Get ready to fucking burn.

  -Yolanda Olson

  Dedication:

  When you dive into my little piece of Inferno World, think of the Queen of Horror herself, to whom I am dedicating this book, Yolanda Olson. Without her book, Inferno, this would never have come to fruition. She has been a consummate cheerleader the whole way for me, even when I wanted to hide! Love this bitch to pieces!

  Chapter One:

  Eve

  Have you ever felt sad? For no reason at all, or for every reason, your mind cannot decide. You are happier than you have ever been, yet so miserable. Your mind knows something must be fucked up.

  Yeah, that was my existence. My goal was to make him proud of me on some level, any level, really. I just wanted him to know that I was worthy of his redemption. Because in the end, that was what he did. He delivered me from evil and redeemed my soul.

  But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. Who was he? He was my stepbrother, Luke. His father apparently had a fling with my mother after she was already pregnant with me. I didn't even know of his existence until he approached me at the playground that day.

  My mom was a junkie. She would do anything for a quick fix. Including taking the food right out of my mouth to pay for her filthy habit. She had no issues with locking me in the closet while she paraded men in and out of our dingy, little apartment, letting them use her body so that she could earn her junk. The sound of her grunting and moaning, as man after man shot their load inside her, still rang heavily in my ears at night.

  If she was not able to get her daily dose of junk, then I took the brunt of it, and it could be very bad at times. I became her punching bag from the moment I learned to walk; black eyes and bruised ribs became the norm for me. Her way of apologizing was letting me go to the abandoned park right outside our rundown building to be a normal kid, or at least as much of a normal kid that my deprived mind could imagine. The visits to the park, however, were not entirely out of generosity, nor were it an actual apology. The visits to the park were also an easy opportunity for her to score some more blow.

  One day, I noticed someone watching us from the corner of the building. I could barely see out of my right eye because it was swollen from her punching me in the face after a man dashed out without paying for the pleasure of her pussy, so I didn't get a real good look at the stranger. So I just thought it was one of her hook-ups. There was always someone hanging around the park, trying to buy or sell dope, so it was not unusual to see someone shady looking.

  I walked over to the slide and started up the steps, one by one, as he walked closer to Momma. When he sat down beside her, you could just sense the atmosphere change. My mom sat up straighter, as rigid as a plank of wood, looking almost scared for a moment, but then seemed to calm down some. He bent down and whispered something in her ear. She looked downright stricken from whatever it was that he had said to her. He sat back and smiled the most menacing, alarming smile that I had ever seen in my young life. At this point, presently in my life, I would kill for that smile, but back then, it scared the living bejeezus out of me. I could feel the cold drip of fear seeping through my body. He looked over at me as I sat at the top of the slide, nodded his head, got up, and walked away. Gripped by an unexplainable terror, I froze in my spot, unable to do anything except blink as I watched his menacing figure disappear into a crowd of passersby.

  Momma yelled my name. I slid down the slide and walked slowly over to her with a different sense of apprehension. Somehow, I knew that I was in trouble. As usual, I didn't know why. I just knew that I was.

  Thwack. Her hand crashed into my mouth, and the familiar sting spread over my face. The iron tang of the blood from my freshly busted lip saturated my taste buds.

  "What did I do, Momma?" I cried, staring at her dumbfounded through wide, bewildered eyes.

  "The sins of your stepfather just came back to haunt me, and I'll be damned if that demon spawn of his will threaten me about my own child." She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across the asphalt. My scalp burned as she led me back into our apartment building.

  I was still confused as to what she was talking about when she shoved me in the cramped, little closet. I tried to get as comfortable as I could, knowing that she would most likely leave me in there overnight.

  I had never seen my mother so nervous. She had always been at least a little twitchy because of her habit, but now, she was downright shaking in fear. Part of me had been curious, but the other part of me just wanted to be able to go to sleep without her hitting me again. Any time I could avoid a punch to the face was a blessing.

  After dozing off for what only seemed like a few minutes, I woke up to my mom screaming at someone to get out. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in the closet just as the door swung open. The stranger stood there with his hand held out. Peering out around him, I saw my mother sprawled out on the ratty, little couch that she slept on. She looked like she was still breathing. Actually, she looked like she was in a deep and peaceful slumber, but I knew that I had heard her screaming just a few minutes before.

  I could remember the timid nature of my reaching for his hand. Now, I begged for his touch. He waited for me to stand up, and then, he pulled me out
of the closet.

  “Did she do that to your mouth after I left today?” He asked, gently tracing the swollen laceration on my bottom lip.

  I nodded my head as if to say yes. He cursed under his breath. “I told her to never touch you again or there would be consequences.”

  Cocking my head to the left, I had to ask, “Who are you?”

  “Luke,” he answered tersely, “I’m your stepbrother, and I’m taking you away from here. Right now.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?” I asked, surprised, but not exactly hating the idea, despite his intimidating stature and the visible anger etched on his face.

  “Unless you would rather stay here,” he grunted, shrugging his shoulders noncommittingly.

  “No, I want to go with you.” I ignored the slowly creeping fear that had consumed me earlier on the slide. There was nothing but pain and neglect for me here. At least he had shown some concern over my wellbeing.

  He nodded as if he knew that he was my only choice. My mom groaned on the couch. He looked at her, handed me a knife, and said, “You need to learn how to dispose of the malignancies that give you pain.” He gave me a wicked smile. “This is your first lesson on learning what it means to be in a real family. I want you to slice her throat open with this knife.”

  Looking at him, I was not sure if he was serious or not. My hand was shaking as I held the knife. I was not sure which was more surreal, the act of killing my mother or that I was taking orders from a stranger who claimed to be my stepbrother, and doing it willingly. My feet acted of their own accord, carrying me across the linoleum, even as my mind warred with itself. Could I kill my own mother? The woman who gave me life?

  The woman who systematically stripped me of my innocence, one slap, punch and kick at a time?

  The distance from the closet to the couch seemed to stretch for miles, every step I took felt as if it moved me farther away. My hand trembled, the sharp point of the blade wobbling as it directed me. I had never thought about taking a life before. How could I do it? What would it mean? What would it say about me as a person? My conscience screamed at me as I approached, but there was a darkness in my soul that washed it away with whispering words of encouragement. No longer would she be able to hurt me. No longer would she be able to trap me in the darkness that had permeated my very being. Now that darkness was my freedom. He was my freedom.

  All I had to do was press the blade against the soft flesh of her neck and then slide it.

  I stood over Momma’s prone body, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath that she took. Her eyes roamed under their lids, and I took a moment to ponder what she might be dreaming. Was she having a nightmare of her child hovering above her, slowly moving the blade to her throat? A part of me hoped that she was. Her waking nightmare would be her closet. All I needed to do was to shut and lock the door, and then she would be trapped in her torment for eternity. I tightened my grip on the handle, steadying my nerves, if not my limbs. My fingers tensed, and I looked up at him for approval.

  He nodded his head, a slow-spreading smile stretching his lips. I tilted my mom’s head back so that I could have access to her throat. She was snoring lightly, no doubt still high off her last fix. My hand shook like crazy, as I slid the knife across her throat in a jagged line. Droplets of blood bubbled up in the crevice of the cut and trickled down her neck to her throat, forming a shallow pool in the hollow above her collarbone. She was starting to wake up from the pain, her eyes struggling to open under the blanket of dope.

  I felt an insurmountable sense of exhilaration wash over me as I watched her, lying beneath me helpless. It was a marvelous thing to witness our sudden role-reversal, but I expected more. More blood, more of a fight, more...something.

  “You did a good job...” I beamed at his praise. “...but...” Wait, he said but. “...you need to do it again, and press harder on the knife so that it slices clear through the flesh.” He smiled encouragingly.

  I sighed loudly, not because he wanted me to do it again but because I didn't get it right the first time. I didn't know why, but I wanted to be perfect for him. I put the blade back to her neck and started to drag the tip with more pressure when her arms flew up to stop me. He very casually grabbed her by the wrists, put his legs on top of them to hold them above her head, and used his hand to help me apply more pressure. I felt the difference as I cut through the meaty part of her throat, but I felt something else as well, a spark that ignited from his touch. A spark that spread through my body like wildfire through brush. The blood was drenching her shirt as she gurgled, failing in her attempt to breathe. We stayed there, his hand over mine, until she took her last wet, ragged breath.

  “Good job.” He smiled what I would learn was a rare, warm smile. A smile that I would crave. A smile that would drive me to do anything to receive. “This is the first lesson you needed. You did great. What’s your name?”

  “Evelyn,” I replied with a grimace, the realization of what I had just done hitting me. I just took a life. Not just any life, but the life of the woman who gave me mine. The life of a woman who had tormented me. I swallowed down the emotional whirlwind wreaking havoc in my stomach. I could deal with that later. All I wanted in that moment was his approval.

  “It will be Eve from now on. And your forbidden apple...well, that will be your loyalty to me and how much you can handle to be part of an actual family.”

  I didn’t know what he was referring to by the apple reference, but my lessons, I would soon learn, would rip the very fiber of my being, taking me to new heights of terror, pain, and ecstasy. I would soon find out that he wanted to create the perfect monster, so I would surrender my soul to give him one. After all, a monster had tormented me, and a monster had saved me.

  Luke, my stepbrother, would own every ounce of my humanity, and I would beg for more. It was the welcome to being a part of a real family.

  Chapter Two:

  Eve

  Getting to the house that I would now live in was scary. We walked for what seemed like an eternity. In hindsight, I was sure that it was only a couple of blocks or so, before we reached his vehicle. I fell asleep on the ride to his house, physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted by what I had just done.

  Luke was my guardian angel in my mind, until I saw the darkness in his stare. His eyes had a way of sinking right into your soul, ripping out your deepest, darkest, secrets. I am not sure at which point that I knew that I had left my undeniable destruction only to end up in my own personal hell. Whatever the reasoning, the universe had brought Luke into my life for better or worse. No matter what abuse that I incurred, I would never want to change a single thing.

  Throughout the years, Luke trained me to be as lethal as he was. As his sister, he explained, I was special, so he would train me himself. As my lessons went on throughout the years, I found that my brother was evil incarnate, my own personal devil, and that I was his perfect sacrifice. He was using me as a test subject, if you will. A macabre experiment. He wanted to see how much one person could endure without utterly shattering to pieces. The thing that he didn't count on was that I welcomed the abuse. I looked forward to the pain. I craved his torture. Was it wrong that I wanted him to peel my flesh piece by piece, strip by strip, sliver by sliver, while he ravaged me body and soul? My only purpose, as far as I was concerned, was to please Luke and make him proud of me. His gratification was my only concern. And I would sacrifice anyone or anything to make that happen. If he bade me to eat the heart of an infant while he forced its father to fuck me with a cock drenched in its dying mother’s blood, then I would do it over and over. I would systematically go from house to house, from neighborhood to neighborhood, until organs filled my belly and bloody semen filled my womb.

  Chapter Three:

  Eve

  When my brother first took my virginity, it was cold and without emotion. As much as I tried to give him the same back, I failed when the tears began rolling down my cheeks. He finished his business with a de
ep, guttural grunt and then rolled off me. He told me to go shower and get myself cleaned up. I obeyed him without question, and the shower helped, washing away my tears. He was waiting in the bathroom with a towel when I pulled the shower curtain back. He explained that the physical act of sex would not be for my gratification until I learned how to do it the right way and please him properly. It was another lesson that my pleasure was only an extension of his; that I was to be an extension of him. I needed to figure out how to deal with it without getting emotional. After all, he saved me from my hideous mother, did he not? He was right. He was my salvation, and I owed him nothing less. This was the very least that I could do to show my appreciation, to make sure that his needs were taken care of.

  So I learned how to endure his physical needs of my body. It was my curse for being a female, and his right for being my savior. But as a female, getting older, my body was starting to have needs too. I would always be his sister first, but I was still a woman. The more practice that I got, the more my body responded. I learned when to move and how to move. My mind still hadn't caught up though. I cried every single time, which pissed him off. One day he broke the mold and flipped me over on top of him, so that I could ride him. My body betrayed me, or maybe it didn't, and moved in ways that my mind was not able to conjure. My hips rocked and gyrated, bouncing up and down in a rhythm never before known to me. My body fucked his like a wild banshee, and I took every inch of stiff cock that he offered. I milked every drop of semen that exploded from his throbbing shaft. I came harder than I ever had before. My orgasm shook the very foundation of my being. My eyes were watery. When I felt him pinch my nipples hard and twist them, my eyes opened wide, tears spilling out over my cheeks. I looked down at him and then shrunk back from his look of disgust.

  “You cry like I’m hurting you, but your pussy is telling a different story.”