Home sweet home a revers.., p.1
Home Sweet Home: A Reverse Harem Romance, page 1
Home Sweet Home
Maree Rose
Home Sweet Home
by Maree Rose
Copyright © 2024 by Maree Rose
All rights reserved
First Edition: January 2024
Published by Maree Rose
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means without prior permission of the author, except in cases of a reviewer quoting brief passages in review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents (outside of those clearly in the public domain) are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Blurb
When you’re a teenager, life is usually simple and carefree. You could never imagine the evil that lurks in the shadows, waiting for a chance to steal your innocence. However, for Willow, that evil becomes a stark reality when she’s abducted while walking home one night after spending the day with her best friends.
For 15 long years, Willow finds herself in the clutches of a sinister cult, her life dictated by the whims of those who seek to control and manipulate her. At the same moment that she tries to break free, she is finally saved, her life spared from what she considered a fate worse than death.
To reclaim the life she lost, she returns to her hometown, and the friends who never forgot her. But her life’s not instantly filled with sunflowers. A lot has happened during the time she was gone, and people have changed, including her.
Willow’s time in captivity has left scars on both her body and soul.
She wants to heal and move forward with her life. But will her past stay in her past? Has evil followed her home? Or was it there all along?
Foreword
Hello readers!
Thank you so much for picking up my book!
Please be aware that this book is a reverse harem, meaning our leading lady Willow will not have to choose between her men, because #whychoose.
There is explicit language and explicit sex scenes. This is absolutely an adult romance and is intended for readers 18+ due to the language and content.
Thank you and I hope that you enjoy Home Sweet Home.
PS. Okay mum… this one you can read…
For those who don't care about the content warning and like to live on the edge, skip the next page… for those who take the warning seriously, don't skip it… these ones are to be taken seriously…
Content Warnings
Child abuse
Child abduction/Kidnapping
Prolonged physical and mental abuse
Religious trauma
Cult behavior and teachings
Attempted brainwashing
Sexual assault/Rape (including sodomy)
Body mutilation
Alcohol abuse
Death during childbirth
Forced betrothal
Stalking
Arson
Knife and gun violence
Intense PTSD depiction throughout (including panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, and misplaced guilt)
IMPORTANT NOTE: All reasonable efforts have been made to accurately reflect Willow's time within the cult and the resulting effects on her mental health. This story does delve deeply into PTSD symptoms and emotional and mental trauma from 'Willow's' perspective. Not everyone experiences trauma and PTSD symptoms the same way, or has the same thoughts.
These characters are fictional and although I have had assistance from those who have experienced this sort of trauma, creative freedom has still been used in writing this story, including the timeframe for Willow's recovery, as that has and will always be at your own pace.
Mental Health matters and is very important, if you or someone you know may be in crisis, or struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can use the following numbers to contact 24/7 assistance and confidential support:
USA and Canada: 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline)
UK: 166 123 (Samaritans)
Australia: 13 11 14 (Lifeline Australia)
New Zealand: 1737 (National Mental Health Helpline)
Please check your local national lifeline number if not in the above countries.
For those who fought hard to escape
the chains that bound you,
I'm so proud of you.
And for those still fighting,
I believe in you, keep fighting.
Prologue
Screams, fire and the loud, sharp sounds of gunshots surround me. Panicked people run in all directions. It was chaos in an environment that had been strictly built to ensure structure and compliance.
However, instead of feeling panicked or scared, I only feel immense relief. The happiness bubbles from deep inside me, escaping my lips and tugging them into my first smile in years.
I kneel on the dirt in front of the large compound, men dressed in tactical gear holding heavy weaponry moving forward toward the building at my back. Most of them continue on while the man closest to me comes to a standstill, only a step in front of me.
I bring my hands up to prove they are empty before lacing them behind my head. The movement makes my long honey blonde waves move, brushing against my ass.
The man crouches down in front of me, reaching up to pull down the mask from his face and takes off the glasses revealing his whole face. After years of looking into the faces of evil men, it isn’t hard for me to see that this man isn’t one.
He has kind eyes, clear and blue. High cheekbones and a dusting of dark stubble across his angular jaw.
“Hey honey, you’re safe now. My name is Easton. Can you tell me your name?”
It’s odd to feel wetness on my face; I didn’t even realize that I started crying. I’m sure I must look crazy, this smiling woman kneeling in the dirt with tears on her face.
“They called me Grace,” I reply softly. A shiver runs down my spine as I momentarily think back on the common phrase whispered to me, “By the grace of god.” Words that will now haunt me forever.
He slings the weapon onto his back before reaching out to hesitantly touch my elbows, moving my arms down as he raises me slowly, helping me back to my feet. He briefly looks down at my bare feet before quickly returning his eyes to mine.
I know what he sees, and the fact that he didn’t take the time to look at me more just proves the sort of person he is. The white nightgown that I was forced to wear is semi sheer and you could clearly see the curves of my hips and breasts through the thin material, my nipples dark against the light fabric.
They forced me into it after they ‘scrubbed my body of any impurities’.
Because it was the night before my wedding, and I had been given no choice in that fact. When you're told that you're to be married in our community, you simply smile, lower your eyes and say thank you for the blessing.
It doesn’t matter that the man I was to be married to was pure evil. All that mattered was that he was the eldest son of our leader. I was being afforded an honor and was supposed to be grateful.
When they left me alone in his room to await his arrival to test my virtue, as was custom, was the moment when I had been grateful. It was my first time I was left alone anywhere; I even shared a room to sleep with three other girls my age. I took the chance I had been waiting on for years, climbing out of his window and making a run for it.
As I started to make a dash across the land behind the compound, I triggered the giant flood lights above, temporarily blinding myself from the sudden brightness. I felt my heart freeze in my chest, while my body stumbled causing me to fall in the dirt on my knees. It took a moment for me to realize that the flood lights were not aimed at me but aimed towards the compound where I now saw a swarm of heavily armed men making their way inside.
Easton gently guides me toward where I now see a lot of military-like vehicles, some of the light coming from spotlights mounted on their roofs. A woman in the same tactical outfit as the man ran toward us, stopping our progress and then wrapping a blanket around me.
I mumble my thanks to her before she smiles in response and disappears again.
As I tighten my new covering around my body, Easton once again cups my elbow and starts moving me toward the vehicles again. I can see the concern in his eyes as he keeps looking between me and our obvious destination.
I still can’t stop smiling, the relief inside of me is so palpable.
“You say they called you that, is that not your name?” His voice is soft, like he's trying to be gentle with me in all aspects.
I shake my head in a quick jerk, using the arm he isn’t holding to wipe my face with the blanket. Maybe if I get rid of the tears I won't look quite so crazy. “No.”
“What is your real name, do you know it?”
Of course I knew it, I made sure to repeat it to myself every day since they told me my name was now Grace. But I doubted that would actually make much difference.
“Willow Silva.”
He stumbles, his hand tightening on my elbow sharply almost the point of pain. I don’t make any sign that he hurt me; They trained me to take worse without a sound. But my eyes do widen slightly when I see him looking at me with a shocked look.
“Oh my god. I know you… well, I have studied everything there was to find about your disappearance.” His mouth is hanging open and all I can do is blink wide eyes at him while he seems to
Chapter 1
Willow
15 years ago
As a child in a happy small town, you never imagine that anything can happen to you. Any Amber Alert that scrolled across the bottom of our television screens or took over our radios were simply an annoyance. Any whispers from our parents about them were simply ignored.
Fifteen years ago, I was twelve years old and all I wanted to do was spend time with my friends.
We thought we were invincible, and in the safest place in the world.
How very wrong we were.
That fateful day fifteen years prior felt like any other day. I walked over to the neighboring property to play with my best friends.
Wyatt snuck us into the barn to check out the new foal, I think more for my benefit than for Mason or Gage. After that we spent hours riding the trails and occasionally racing each other.
I ran back home as the sun started to set, but never made it there.
You wouldn’t imagine that between the space of one property and the next that something could happen. But thinking back on it, it was as though they waited for me. I barely had a chance to scream before I was unconscious, the chemical smell on the rag they held to my face impossible to get away from.
When I finally woke again, I felt sick and so very tired, and I was nowhere near the place I called home. The struggles of a twelve-year-old girl were useless against the bigger adult bodies and the ropes that bound me.
They told me my name was now Grace. And despite me screaming that my name was Willow, they kept calling me Grace. They dressed me in a plain brown cotton gown and soft shoes. They took everything from me, my clothes, my earrings, even the braided bracelet to match the ones that I made for my friends. I was left with nothing from what they referred to as my life before they “saved” me.
It was made very clear to me from the moment they showed me my new home that it would be difficult for me to escape, though that didn’t stop me from trying the very first moment I could. As a result, I was chained to my bed on a short leash for a week.
The very first time they struck me with a leather strap to the bare skin at the back of my neck was a shock. I was told that it was so that I could feel it close to the mouth that was telling lies when I insisted that my name was Willow and not Grace. That when I opened my mouth to tell more lies, it would be a reminder not to do that.
I didn’t learn my lesson the first time.
Eventually, I did learn to just repeat it to myself at night instead of the prayers they insisted on.
The room they put me into when I first arrived was what I imagined would be in a convent. Bare walls, bare floors, nothing but a small bed with a thin mattress in a small square room.
And no windows.
Even at twelve, I heard about solitary confinement in prison, and this is what I imagined.
The first week, I screamed and cried until I couldn’t do more than surrender to the numb exhaustion that slid over me like a blanket. Before I woke and the process started again.
Eventually, I could not do anything more than stare blankly into nothingness.
When I called out for my mummy and daddy, they appeared. They weren’t my parents, but they now claimed to be. They were who led the people I was now forced to live with. They insisted that I call them Mother and Father, as that was who they claimed they were to me now.
I was given scripture to read and learn to become a good disciple to the faith. And when I refused to read it, I was refused food in return. I was told that my soul needed sustenance before my body did.
I followed along simply so I could have food to take away the ache in my stomach.
Months passed like this with my resistance and struggles becoming less frequent and less severe. And therefore the punishment for my disobedience also became less frequent.
But still not a day passed where I didn’t shed silent tears at the memories of my parents and friends at home. And every night I told myself my name is Willow, my family and friends miss me and I will get away one day to return to them.
I knew escape was almost impossible. But no matter how long it took, I would find an opportunity to leave.
When they felt I surrendered to their will and accepted my place among them, they bathed me and scrubbed at my skin. I went along when they baptized me in some attempt to cleanse me of the impurities of the world they saved me from. That was how they worded it.
I was thankful that the water disguised the tears on my face.
It was the final step to becoming part of the family.
But no matter how willing they thought I was at that point, they weren’t my family. They had stolen me from my real family.
Chapter 2
Willow
10 years ago
The man known as Father is giving me to his son.
He has promised me in marriage and I have no say in it.
I’m not even an adult yet, but I have been told that once I have transitioned through all of my scripture levels and have reached what they call full enlightenment, that I will be taking my place by Jacob’s side. And in his bed.
The lecherous looks that I receive from Jacob tell me that is all he cares about.
He is tall and slim, and three years older than me. I had read and watched Harry Potter before my abduction. The man looked like Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort had a love child. And he had the creepy vibes to go with it. His pale skin was even lighter than the blond hair he kept tied back at the base of his skull.
And from the moment his father announced our betrothal he called me his Angel.
I was thankful that they were so strict with their beliefs and that sex before marriage was a harshly punished offense, though I doubt if they would actually punish their own son. But I couldn’t imagine them actually cutting into him and leaving him in the middle of nowhere with nothing to save him.
I swore to myself in those moments that I would take as long as I could to progress through their scriptures. Maybe he would get bored of waiting for me and ask his Father for someone else instead.
That may be naive of me to think, but I couldn’t give up the small sparks of hope that still existed inside of me after so long.
The hope that I would be able to escape still simmered inside of me even though they never allowed anyone to be alone. I wasn’t the last girl to appear against my will. In the early days I heard the screams and crying of others and my heart ached for them.
I was already scarred from my attempts to reach them and give them hope we would get away from here. The backs of my legs for walking too closely to areas I shouldn’t be in, and the backs of my arms for wanting to comfort those who were not yet “clean.”
It took years but once they were happy that we all surrendered to their way of life, we were moved into a room together. They made it very clear that they had eyes and ears in the room, however, because I earned another scar across my upper back for trying to speak to them negatively about The Family.
Outside of the room we slept in, we were always escorted to our chores, worship and scripture lessons. We had etiquette classes that I mentally called Stepford Wife lessons.
Our commitment to God and The Family was always at the forefront of everything we were taught. On the inside, I was screaming, tearing at the walls of my own mind in protest of the constant barrage of manipulation.
Every day, I missed my parents and my friends. And every night, I still silently recited to myself that my name is Willow.
Chapter 3
Willow
3 years ago
At twenty four any hopes I have of holding off my marriage to the son of Satan were rapidly dwindling.
The moment my twentieth birthday passed, or at least the birthday they gave me when I refused to answer their questions, Jacob made it clear he would no longer tolerate my delays.
He went to his father and requested betrothal “dates” so that he could spend time alone with me until our marriage. All under the guise of getting to know his future wife better.
