Ember, p.1
Ember, page 1
Ember
Legacies Series
Book 3
Erin Osborne
Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in book reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Erin Osborne
Editor: Melissa Kulis
Character List
Legacies
Strippers:
Sydney ‘Delight’ Thompson
Emersyn ‘Sky’ Wilkes
Waitresses:
Hope ‘Heaven’ Kent
Tabby ‘Dream’ Kendrix
Kait ‘Fawna’ Vaughn
Emily ‘Gabby’ Vaughn
Bartenders:
Colt Johns
Thorn ‘Vanish’ Alexander
Logan Johns
Bouncers:
Zander ‘Breaker’ Williams
Timothy ‘Crave’ Bennett
Killian ‘Bounce’ Graves
DJs:
Trey Kingston – Day
Kevin Edwards – Night
Managers:
Tonya Johns
Axel ‘Blood’ Johns
Kings Vengeance MC
Officers:
President: Axel ‘Blood’ Johns
V. President: Timothy ‘Crave’ Bennett
Secretary: Anthony ‘Specs’ Adams
Treasurer: Randy ‘Ledge’ Coleson
Sgt. At Arms: Zander ‘Breaker’ Williams
Enforcer: Killian ‘Bounce’ Graves
Road Captain: Lance ‘Carver’ Hilton
Members:
Thorn ‘Vanish’ Alexander
Patrick ‘Digger’ Lewis
Shayne ‘Grunt’ Carter
Thomas ‘Greek’ Carter
Colt ‘Scathe’ Johns
Prospects:
Logan Johns
Levi Bennett
Charlie Wilson
Ol’ Ladies:
Tonya Johns – Blood
Sydney ‘Delight’ Thompson – Bounce
Emersyn ‘Sky’ Wilkes – Colt ‘Scathe’ Johns
Sweetbutts:
Tempest
Ginger – no longer a sweetbutt
Carrie
Needa
Lynne
Connie
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Darlene. Thank you will never be enough for all the help you have given me with this series, the friendship, and our long talks since the very beginning. You have been there when I was ready to give up on my dream and passion to talk me off that ledge and continue on with the stories in my head. My kids love talking to you about the animals and hearing the latest stunt one of them have pulled. Thank you!
Ember Blurb
Blayke ‘Ember’ Mathison
Growing up, I was repressed. I couldn’t do much of anything because my parents believe their religious beliefs outweigh everything else. I have reasons to stay; reasons to take the punishments and be controlled. My breaking point is when I’m expected to marry the last person I ever would. Can I get out and find my happy?
Logan Johns
Kings Vengeance MC is my family. My dad is the President of the club. I tried to get away for a while and find my own path in life. My attempt failed because people hate the club and will do anything to get rid of us. My loyalty is to the club and my family. I’m not looking for anything else. Can I truly have everything I want and be happy?
Will Ember’s past tear everything apart before it starts?
Table of Contents
Ember
Copyright 2020© Erin Osborne
Character List
Dedication
Ember Blurb
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Ember Playlist
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Other Books
Prologue
Blayke ‘Ember’ Mathison
GROWING UP ON the outskirts of Brighton Hills, I didn’t have your typical childhood. I was surrounded by my parents, Joseph and Sandra Mathison, along with three older siblings and four younger siblings. Our home was in a commune of sorts with other families who believed in the same faith as our family. Every day we did something related to the church. If we weren’t at church services, it was reading the bible, doing God’s work by helping our neighbors or working the land around us, or we were with the younger children rehearsing for an upcoming play.
I was not allowed to have any friends. If I was around kids other than my siblings, it was neighboring families. We didn’t get to socialize though. The only times we were together was during bible study or when we were working. My parents kept our working with other children to a limit. Mostly, they found excuses for us to work at our home. Either inside or outside. That’s on top of our daily chores and routines.
Our chores consisted of cooking when we were old enough, scrubbing every surface until it shined, dusting, doing laundry by hand before hanging it out on the line, and doing the dishes. The boys had to chop firewood when they were big enough to hold the axe. They also got the ground ready for us to plant our gardens in. Or they would be mowing the grass. We would hang the laundry outside, plant fruits and vegetables, pick fruit from the trees surrounding our yards, and made sure flowers were planted leading up to our porch. Only the ones our parents demanded though.
If we did any schooling at all, it was the teachings our parents wanted us to learn. Our lessons always focused around the bible in one form or another. Since we don’t socialize with other children that don’t live in the compound we live in, no one knows we don’t actually get an education of any form. That’s why children’s services is never brought to our little “village” as it’s called.
Once every other week, my family loaded up in our large, old model van to go to town. As my parents went to get groceries, we would be allowed to go to the library. That was my favorite time. I could read books while we were there. Travelling to distant lands where there wasn’t punishments, anger, strict teachings, or the solitude we endured at home. In my young mind, the characters in my stories became my friends. The only companions I had in my life.
Even though there were eight children in my family, we were not encouraged to become close. Each day, we had a list of chores to complete, separate bible studies depending on our age, and then it was time for bed. The only time we were really in the same area was at meal times. At the dinner table, there was to be no talking at all. We were to remain silent other than if it was our time to say the prayer. Other than that, silence reigned supreme.
Our little commune was called ‘the village’. Thirty houses filled the large, fenced-in compound. More space than was normal separated our homes from the neighbors. I’m not sure why that was. Other than none of the families wanted to socialize with one another. Well, they didn’t want us kids to socialize. Our mothers met on a daily basis for some kind of working meeting. I’m not sure what they did at these meetings. The men of the compound would also gather several times a week. Again, no one knows what these meetings were about. Everything in the village was kept a secret for some unknown reason.
There was no television in our homes either. Our only electronic device was a radio which was only turned on during Sunday mornings for church if we were unable to attend church for any reason. I’ve seen televisions and other electronics when we’ve been in town at the store. We weren’t encouraged to ever ask questions about anything, so I never voiced my confusion over why we couldn’t have something like that in our home.
Our clothing was plain. Most of it we make ourselves. The women all wear dresses covering our bodies from our neck to our feet. Under our dresses we have to wear a full slip, plain bra, and white underwear. Stockings were to cover our legs at all times. Men wore long-sleeved shirts with buttons going from the bottom to their neck. Pants we made were what they wore with suspenders over their shirts. If a man or boy exited the house, they always had a hat covering their head. Women and girls had to wear either a hat or a cloth covering our hair. Our hair was also always kept up in a bun. We weren’t allowed to have our hair hanging loose or in a ponytail. The only exception to the rule was when we went to bed. Then, we were allowed to wear our hair in a single plait down our back.
The first time I was punished, I was only two years old. I wasn’t feeling well and was apparently crying and extremely cranky. My father couldn’t take my temperament, so he beat on me until I shut up. While he was beating on me, my mother simply stood behind him and watched on. She didn’t shed any tears or make a sound. He kept telling me I needed to repent for my sins. I’m still not sure what sins I was committing at the tender age of two.
As we got older, our punishments only increased in the number of them along with the damage we suffered. Out of all my siblings, I was apparently my parent’s problem child. I served the most punishments out of everyone I was around. Most days I could barely move around because of whatever trauma my young body had gone through.
Our parents decided if we were breaking one of their rules. Or one of God’s rules. Even if our mother was the one to determine we deserved a punishment, no one but our father was allowed to punish us. After listening to our offence, he would then decide our punishment. Sometimes it was something as simple as standing with our nose in the corner. Our eyes would have to remain on the wall in front of us and we weren’t allowed to move or speak until he gave us the okay. Sometimes our punishments were severe. I’ve had so many severe punishments, I’m not sure where one ends, and another begins.
We were taught at a young age, crying, yelling, or showing any emotion would only serve in our punishments being worse. No one is allowed to show any emotion because we’re not supposed to feel anything. No fear, pain, anger, sadness, love, or caring about anyone or anything. My father is extremely perceptive and could see a sheen in our eyes even if we weren’t looking at him. If our body so much as had a tremor run through them, we were punished more because of it.
When I was twelve years old, my mother caught me reading a book filled with smut, swear words, and other depravity. It’s a book I checked-out from the library. My mom took the book from me, didn’t destroy it because it wasn’t our property, and had me doing several extra chores until my father returned home. When he got home, my mother explained what she caught me doing. My father’s punishment was to whip me with his belt, his belt buckle digging into my skin cutting it open. After that, I was made to stand on a bed of nails while reading the bible out loud. I did not get to eat dinner, have anything to drink, or treat my feet after standing on the nails. I was sent to bed.
Another time, I was caught looking at make-up while in the store with my mother since I lost my privileges of going to the library. My mother caught me. That time I was fourteen years old. I’d never seen make-up before. My curiosity got the better of me. My father’s punishment that time was to get a switch from the tree outside and hit me repeatedly on my back with it. He was hitting me so hard, the switch cut through the thin fabric of my dress into my skin beneath it. Again, I wasn’t allowed to treat my wounds. So, the fabric of my dress stuck to the wounds. When I changed into my nightgown, my wounds opened back up so that fabric eventually got stuck to them as well.
From there, my punishments became worse. My father would beat me to the point I could barely breath, bones would be broken, and lacerations would cover my body. After all that happened, I would be forced into the basement with no food, water, light, blankets, or even a mattress to lay my beaten body on. The cold, hard cement floor was my only companion. I’d be locked in the basement for days on end depending on what my infraction was. Sometimes it was only a day. Other times I was locked in there for a week or longer. I’m the only child in my family who was ever punished in that manner.
None of us who received a punishment, got hurt while working, or became ill were ever seen by a doctor. Our mother would be responsible for bandaging us up if my father deemed it appropriate. She would nurse us back to health if we got sick. Hospitals and doctors were evil because they believed in the use of medicine to cure ailments and illnesses. If we ever got really sick, a man who claimed to be a doctor would be brought in to look us over. He was also the same man who would deliver babies if a doctor was needed for any reason. Broken bones were never set, they healed how they were. We were lucky if one of our parents put them in a splint.
Now, instead of fearing the punishments, I have a new fear. One that trumps any punishment I’ve ever received in my entire life. There is a man in the commune who is already married to three women. He’s got four children so far while his brides are aged fourteen, sixteen, and now nineteen. The children are two and under. His wives are abused daily along with the children. This man’s name is Pierce.
Pierce is older than my father by a few years. He’s got a pot belly which hangs over his pants. There are always sweat stains on his clothing, among stains from food he consumes throughout the day. His hair is always longer than any other man’s hair around us. It’s greasy, stringy, and never brushed. The body odor emanating from him is so overwhelming anytime he’s in the area you smell him before seeing him. I’m always gagging whenever he’s around.
A few days ago, when I was locked in the basement, I overheard my parents talking with Pierce. They were discussing my marriage to him. After all I’m almost twenty-one years old and no one else has shown an interest in marrying me. I’m too obstinate, untrained, ungodly, and any other number of reasons men don’t want to marry me. They don’t want to have to train me, make me obey them, or have to deal with my independence. Pierce makes it sound as if he’s doing my family a favor by taking me off of their hands, so they don’t have to take care of me any longer.
As my parents are talking with Pierce, my body begins to shake uncontrollably, my heart begins racing, pounding so hard I fear everyone else can hear it around me, and sweat begins pouring out of me. The thought of leaving this place and running as far away as possible consumes me. I will never marry a man like Pierce. One who seems to enjoy beating on women and children. A man who wants to control the women he “owns”. I will never be with anyone like that.
I have no money, nothing to my name, and no skills to get a job. The clothes on my back belong to my parents. Everything I’m allowed to use is theirs. I’ve literally got nothing to think about packing or wanting to take with me. Possessions mean nothing to members of the village. However, I do know where there is a large stash of money. I’m not sure where the money is from, but I know how to get it. That’s the only way I’m going to be able to get away from here. If only I knew where to go from here. At this point, that’s not even a major concern for me. My only concern is getting the money without anyone realizing what I’m doing.
The day after I overheard my parents and Pierce talking, I formulated a plan to steal the money and leave the village. That night, I went to bed as normal. Once the deafening silence from everyone in the house filled the still, dark, night, I slipped from bed. I already had on a dress instead of changing into my nightgown. As quietly as I could, I made my way through my parent’s house, slipping out the door, into the cool, crisp air of the night. My only flaw is not grabbing my shoes since it would alert my parents I wasn’t in the house the second they awoke.
There was barely any moonlight to guide me on my way through the dew filled grass toward the main building of the village. The main building was in the very front of our commune and never locked. We would go inside for church, or any gatherings for all of us. Every week, one family would be responsible for cleaning the entire building from top to bottom. I was in there last week when I saw Thad putting a large sum of money into the safe in his office. There was already a large stockpile of it filling the large safe hidden behind a picture on the wall. Thad wasn’t careful about entering his code either, I watched him as he input the numbers.
Memorizing those four numbers became my safe haven. My only way away from the village so I wouldn’t be killed in less than a month or two. There are several rumors floating around as to where Pierce’s original wife is. They range from her being ill, dying in childbirth, and finally to him killing her because she didn’t want to conform to his rules. I tend to believe he killed her because he has to have strict order in his life for some reason. I’m not sure what his problem is, but I’m not about to find out.
Sneaking into the building, I silently make my way to Thad’s office. It’s as if I’m floating on air I’m so quiet so no one catches me in the building. Nervous energy fills me as I get closer to his office. The fear of being caught consumes me. Finally, I hit my destination and lift the painting from the wall. Setting it carefully on the floor next to me, I key in the code to unlock the safe. Once the door is open, I grab the bag I hid in here last week while I was cleaning.
