Chapter one
John
The tilted coffee table was flipped across the room as John let out a shout. He felt a tornado of rage whirl inside him like nothing he had ever felt before. Each thought of Marie pained him. He saw her blood on the bed and floor and felt physical at the thought of her in distress. Like the winds whipping inside him were filled with shards of glass, every thought of his sister screaming in pain cut a hole deeper inside him.
He stormed out of the room after swiping up every handful of dollars and change he could see and stuffed it in his pocket. In the pitch black of night, he stomped towards home. Towards the community. To the only place he knew. He didn't know how he would get there. He did not know what would happen once there. The community was miles upon miles away. John didn't care. He would walk day and night for weeks if need be to reach Marie.
The only thing he knew was he would get to Marie.
I will save Marie.
John had walked for hours before a yellow car pulled to the side of the road beside him. 'Taxi-Cab', the vehicle read. The driver was a heavyset man leaning out of his window.
"Hey man, you need a ride? This is the interstate. You don't want to be walking out here."
"You'd give me a ride anywhere?" John asked, exhaling several deep pants.
The driver snickered and shook his head. "I wouldn't say anywhere, but as long as the price is right."
"Price..." John dug in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled 5, 10, and 20 dollar bills he had wadded together. "How far west can you take me for this?"
"West?" The driver mauled over the amount of money with his eyes before saying. "Maybe an hour or so."
John dumped the money into the driver's hand and got into the back seat. The drive seemed like it paused time even though his mind raced. He wondered if she was alive or if she was alive, how had he hurt her? He could not have killed her. His father would be upset because of their defiance, but he was more upset about losing Marie after having already sold her in marriage. If he lost her and the sale fell through, he would be shamed in the community. That was the biggest insult he feared.
What tortures is she suffering for her betrayal? What fate have I subjected my stepsister to?
It was halfway through the night when the driver turned down his radio and spoke to John again.
"Hey, man. This is it. I drove an extra twenty minutes more because you seem like a good dude, but this is as far as I can take you."
John got out of the car and looked about. He recognized the farms and open fields, even at night. They were about fifteen miles from his community.
"Very well, thank you," John said.
"Good luck to you, man," the driver said before turning around on the country road.
John started at a brisk jog. A pace he could sustain for some time. He was not a man built for running long distances. Though his tall long limbs were good for runs, his bulky muscles built over years of tossing bales of hay and working the fields made him slow. His pace quickened the more his mind thought of Marie and the closer he got to her.
He would sprint for a half and mile then march for the other half, over and over until finally he neared home. The smells, the sounds, the sights... they were the same as he had felt his entire life. Birds chirped as darkness faded to morning, the sun rose. John's shirt was soaked through with sweat, but still he jogged. He jogged down the dirt path all the way to the front of his father's house. The house where his mother had died. The house he wished he never saw again.
Exhausted and near collapsing, John wheezed several deep breaths before shouting, "Father!" Staring at the quiet house as the morning light rose. "Father!!!"
There was motion inside the house, and the door opened. Only it wasn't father who came out, nor was it Marie. The man who stepped outside was Tom, Marie's betrothed. Followed by Tom's father, Gary. Then five other men from the community.
They walked down the stoop forming a wall in front of John.
"Where is... my father?" John gasped.
It was only then his father exited the house and from the front porch looked down on his disobedient son.
Chapter two
John
John stared at the men, who glared down at him. Their eyes were set and full of judgment. It did not matter to John. He was not here to placate these men nor their ways of life. He was here to get his sister back.
"Where is she?" John panted, his exhausted body struggling to recover from his all-night journey. His eyes darted from each man's face before him, but none replied. "Where is she? Where is Marie?"
When he looked up at his father, who stood on the porch, he saw the jagged look of the man's snarl. A man full of hatred and malice that had built up and consumed him after a lifetime. It was then in that moment that John questioned why he called this man father over so many years. His mind searched for a moment to call upon in his memories. Examples of love, affection, or warmth that he could cling to as reasons he should still call the man father but none came to him. The man was no more a father than a manager was at a factory.
Taking a step forward, he walked towards the house. If they would not produce her, John would find his sister and take her from here. It was Tom, Marie's betrothed, who shoved John backwards a step. Measuring the scowl in Tom's eye, John could tell they knew of their relationship. They knew his step sister was more than that to him now. And Tom didn't want the competition.
Tom swung a right hook at John. John ducked below the punch and shoved the boy backwards. He stumbled backwards and fell at the feet of his father. Gary grumbled a curse and, while John still stumbled off balance, struck a punch squarely in John's jaw.
The piercing strike jarred him and sent him falling into the dirt. Before he could get up, a kick from a third man struck his face and sent blood flowing from his nose.
"Ugh!" John flipped on his back and rolled to his side. Through blurry vision, John saw Tom swinging his foot at her face. He stumbled to his feet and felt weakness in his arms and legs, then felt Tom's boot hit his leg. Hands grabbed at his arms and around his chest. They were men from the community. Old men who had kept this community alive for decades. The kind of man John would become in thirty years if he stayed. The kind of man John's father expected him to become.
John felt his sweat-soaked shirt stretch to the limits as he used all his effort to pull from the hands. Using all his strength, he sent one man tumbling forward before Tom's punch connected with John's face. And again, he ate another punch.
"You think you can steal my bride?" Tom yelled as he wound up for a third strike. John snapped his hand loose and grabbed Tom's throat in one hand. Tom still threw the punch, but it landed like nothing against the taller man. Squeezing Tom's throat until his ferret face panicked and turned blue, John gritted his teeth and thought that he would never let go of this swine.
There was shouting all around John, hands clawed at him and swung punches at his face, but he ignored them all. Then there was a strike to his leg that seared pain through his knee and thigh. Gary had a long piece of wood in his hand and was winding up for a second swing. John released Tom and was thrown on to the ground while the boy wheezed for air.
John wouldn't get up from the ground and when he was moved he wouldn't remember how. The last thing he remembered was the dozens of strikes raining down on his arms, legs, and head as he tried to shield himself. It was his father who threw the last punch that sent him into unconsciousness.
He still hit as hard as John remembered.
Lights came and went as did consciousness as he was moved and dragged about. Darkness came again when the familiar smell of hay, dirt, and barn hit his nose. He heard doors closing and rusty metal locks clicking. This barn wasn't his father's, though. Everything hurt as he found consciousness slowly. But gentle hands found his cheeks. Through swollen and bruised eyes, John looked upon Marie's tearful face.
Chapter Three
John
"They came in so fast, I couldn't stop them," Marie had said later that night. She cleaned his wounds with a tear of fabric from her skirt and a bucket of water that was left for them. "There was a knock at the door. I was stupid not to use the peephole. I just thought it was you or something. "It was Gary, Tom, and... father."
"Blood..." John's mouth and tasted his own blood as he did. "There was blood in the hotel room."
Marie looked away. Saddened and ashamed, it seemed.
"It was Tom and... and father," Marie shook her head as if confused. "There's another side to that boy I hadn't seen before. He had a gripped throat and started choking me. I swung and tried to get free. We tipped over half the furniture fighting. His father pulled him off of me... I thought I was going to die... when father grabbed me by my hair I was so mad I spat in his face... that's when he gave me a bloody nose."
John opened his eyes enough to see through the moonlight the crusted blood around her nostrils and the bruising beneath her eye. John gritted his teeth at the sight. He knew he was a mess of injuries, but that was fine. He'd take any punishment as long as she did not.
"Did they tell you what they're going to do?" Marie asked with fear in her voice.
