The Beast of Rogue

By Autumn Russell

In an effort to work on his relationship with his self-involved wife, Joanie, Curt takes their son Tommy to visit his grandmother in Rogue, Montana. Tommy is taken on a fantastical adventure when his grandmother tells him a story about Rogue many moons ago. It starts in the eighteen-twenties with Lucinda, the unhappy wife of an impoverished fisherman, who more than anything wants a child of her own, and will do the unthinkable to get her wish-even kill.
Shadow wolves stalk the forest in search of prey, wreaking havoc and terror on eighteen hundreds Rogue. Reports of people claiming to have seen sightings of another kind of animal, a mythical silver wolf, spread to the papers and soon the elusive creature is known only as The Beast of Rogue.
And then there's Bella, a prostitute who lives and works in The House of the Rising Sun. She desperately wants to escape the people in Rogue with their accusatory stares and condemning whispers. Tragedy strikes when she least expects it, leaving her more alone than ever before.
Clementine, a miner's daughter, is in love with a young man whose world is very different from hers. The two met there at The Falls, and were drawn together by a similar tragedy. Her father, the miner, has never gotten over the disappearance of his wife, Suzanna. Despite the whispered rumors that she took off and abandoned him and their daughter, Clementine, he holds out hope that one day she'll return. Although he swore he'd never remarry, it's not long before his continued loneliness brings him to The House of the Rising Sun, and into the arms of a woman who bears a striking resemblance to his long-lost wife, Suzanna.
What happens next will have lasting effects as a clash between good and evil ensues, culminating in a shocking revelation that shakes the town of Rogue to its very core. Rogue and the surrounding forest stir and come alive with ancient echoes from the past, bringing unimaginable horror in their wake. The Beast of Rogue is a magical tale that takes a spine-tingling twist on an old folk ballad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Autumn Russell
• Release date: Jun 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310731914

Autumn Russell

If I'm not writing I'm reading. I always enjoy a chilling fairytale or gripping suspense. I have a bookshelf at home full of my favorite authors and their stories.Mainly I write psychological thrillers and fairytales. If you're following or reading my stories, you'll find that I throw in the occasional comedy or drama.Mostly my stories center on a basic conflict that almost always end in a twist.In my writing I touch on the idea that all of us have secrets, some shocking, while yet others, terrifying. We all have the inherent need to believe that we're safe with those closest to us. But sometimes evil lurks just around the corner and hides in the most familiar face.Which now brings me to invite you to try out my books, listed here. FATAL OBSESSION, A WALK AROUND AUDUBON, LOST SOULS, THE BEAST OF ROGUE, THE QUEEN UNMASKED, WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW, HOUSE OF HER DREAMS.GHOST FOREST Coming Fall/Winter 2023

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Notes of a fiddle floated through the air. The little girl of around four wandered away from the crowd of townsfolk, whose laughter faded off into the distance the further she went. But the little girl was aware of none of this, nor was she aware of the danger that was about to befall them all.

A field of wildflowers growing from lush green meadows rolled out in front of her. An expanse of blue daisies went on for as far as she could see. The sun sat high above in the cloudless sky, casting a warm glow on the idyllic scene below.

A butterfly landed at the little girl’s feet but when she tried to grab it, the colorful insect took flight and flitted away. The beauty of the day, warmth from the sun, and even the butterfly that always remained just out of reach, all beckoned her onward. Further she ran, through the field of daisies, laughing as the tall flowers hit against her face, the air redolent of their scent.

From somewhere behind, arms reached out to unexpectedly scoop her up off the ground. She was frightened at first, until the person who had her, spun her around and she immediately saw the smiling face of her mother, who laughed and said, I found you, Busy Bee!

She knew then that everything was all right and she giggled at her mother’s words. She squealed in delight as her mother tickled her, then set her back on her feet, and kneeling down to eye level said, Close your eyes, Busy Bee, count to ten and when you open them come and find me. She reached out a hand and smoothed down her hair. Are you ready?

Giving a vigorous nod of her head, the little girl smiled, then covered her eyes with her hands, just like her mother taught her to do many times before. This game of hide and seek was something they always played. She peered out in time to see her mother’s long hair and skirts whip out behind as she ran toward the large tree up ahead. Then she closed her eyes and quickly finished counting. But even as she started forward, she knew that before she ever had a chance to make it to the tree, her mother would come out and scoop her up in her arms, tell her what a great tracker she’d someday make, and afterward they’d return to their cabin with her older brother and papa, where the four of them would have a slice of her mother’s chocolate cake before bed.

As the little girl neared, her eyes never left the lone tree that stood regal and tall. Any moment now she expected to see the long black hair of her mother as she whirled out from behind the thick trunk, her navy blue dress and bonnet blowing out around her in the afternoon breeze. But as she continued forward nothing happened. She made it all the way up to the tree and peered behind it but still found nothing, no trace of her mother.

Mommy?

For the first time she was unsure, and had become uncomfortably aware of how far she’d wandered from town. Taking cautious slow steps, she walked to the edge of the field and peered down the steep drop.

There at the foot of the ravine stood a lone wolf hungrily feeding on what was left of her mother. Blacker than night, the animal was more shifting shadow than a solid form. The little girl’s eyes locked with the large yellow eyes of the beast, then she shattered the calm with a thin, high-pitched scream.

Not long after, a group of men came running with their axes and weapons at the ready but it was too late. The beast with the yellow glowing eyes had disappeared and had taken its grisly meal with it, leaving only some navy blue sash behind.

The little girl cried herself to sleep that night; it was the first of many nights to come that she and her brother would spend without a goodnight story from their mother.

THAT VERY SAME NIGHT ACROSS TOWN

Her fingers groped for the pearl handle of the letter opener. The man that pushed inside her, and now rutted on top of her like some unreasoning animal, was oblivious to his imminent death and the violence that would precede it.

A burst of giddiness swept through her as her fingers curled around the smooth handle of the letter opener that at one time had been her mother’s, and would ultimately serve as a deadly weapon – a weapon which she now wielded in both her hands, the sharp tip poised over the back of the man who lay on top of her.

Her gaze locked with the hollow stare of the woman who looked down at her from the sparkling chandelier. Her full, cherry-red lips mouthed the words, You can do this.

Yes. She could do this. No – not just could, but would do this, and would love every minute of burying this very blade into the man’s back, just as he buried himself deep inside of her – it seemed fitting somehow.

She timed the movement of his hips, and with his next thrust, she too thrust the sharp-edged blade deep into his back. The woman in the crystal chandelier smiled down her approval on the scene below. After the initial thrust of the letter opener, she looked on in amazement as bright crimson pooled from the neat little gash that had been made in the smooth flesh. Her breath caught at the first sight of blood, she wasn’t at all sure what kind of reaction to expect from this stranger whom she’d just mortally wounded – would he simply roll over and die? Or would he try to kill her just as surely as she was killing him now?

But the reaction she got was none of these things, it only seemed to incite him to thrust deeper and faster, which in turn caused her to match his thrusts with the thrust of the blade. Over and over again she ripped the blood-drenched, pearl-handled letter opener from the gaping wound his back had become, only to plunge it deep inside him once more. Blood poured from his back and came down like warm sticky bathwater to cover her and soak into the bed sheets. Crying out in ecstasy, she stabbed him again and again, and then amazingly he moved off of her, and winced in pain when he felt his back and the blood she’d drawn from it with her nails, when she raked them along his skin. He was staring down at her now, his face a mask of contorted rage.

That’s when she realized what she’d done, or in this case not done. She had never harmed him as she thought, at least not mortally, but instead had merely imagined stabbing him. The entire duration he’d been pleasuring himself on top of her, she’d only raked her nails along his back, digging them into his flesh while keeping her unblinking stare fastened on the letter opener – the letter opener that remained out of reach and undisturbed sitting on the dresser a few feet away. This fantasy was reoccuring and became more and more real in her mind with each of the men she bedded. Now looking up into his eyes and the way they darkened, she knew what would come next – had seen that exact expression on the faces of other men in the past.

You crazy bitch, look at what you did to me. Goddamn! You made me bleed. I should kill you for that. Whores like you don’t deserve to live.

She heard herself answer and say, "No, I should have killed you." The last thing she saw was his fist as it came crashing down on her, and then a burst of pain as it connected with her face. This was followed by a dull aching and then nothingness.

She came to moments later to see the face of one of the girls who worked there at the brothel hovering over her. Gradually her vision, at least through one eye, came back into focus, and it was then that she saw the worried expression on the other woman’s face. Her lips were moving and she was saying something, but Bella couldn’t make out the words. She continued to watch through a kind of foggy haze, almost as if whatever had happened, had happened to someone else and she was merely an invisible spectator, as the woman who had been staring down at her called in some of the other girls, who also now gathered around to stare at her, almost as if she were some kind of freak in a sideshow. She was only able to make out bits and pieces of the ensuing conversation. Their voices and the words spoken swirled somewhere far above her.

She’s hurt, said the first woman.

There’s another customer waiting downstairs, said another.

She can’t work like this, protested the other woman.

The sound of rustling skirts filled the room as more women came in to look at Bella’s face, and the blackened eye that was quickly swelling shut, marring her perfect beauty.

The madam pushed her way through the group of women and studied Bella’s face with detached indifference. When she spoke her voice sounded as though it was miles away. She’s a mess, but the client that’s waiting downstairs is a regular here and he requested Bella.

You can’t possibly expect her to entertain – not in her condition, argued one of the women.

"I run this establishment, and I can expect and will expect certain things out of all of you. Her gaze focused on their faces. I’m the one who provides shelter to each and every one of you. And those paying customers out there are the only reason why none of us go to bed hungry. Now I’m about to make myself very clear – I don’t care if every single one of you is half dead, she paused, or beaten within an inch of your lives. As long as there’s paying customers, every girl who works in this brothel is not only expected, but is required to meet all their needs. Those of you who don’t like that can get the hell out of my house now!"

The madam’s harsh words were met with stunned silence.

Bella was only vaguely aware of the madam as she looked the rest of her over for further injury, much the way a cattle rustler would inspect one of the herd that had little to no value. She was disposable along with the rest of the girls who worked there, and they all knew it. None of them mattered and they were all interchangeable. When they grew too old to be desirable they would be left to die in the harsh outside elements. There was no happy ending for them, nothing to look forward to.

The only thing wrong with her is her face, and that will heal – in the meantime, the rest of her is perfectly capable of satisfying any basic need our customers might have. Her voice then lowered as she turned to the woman who first found Bella, and said, "Stay here and keep a watch on her. I want to know if her condition worsens. It won’t do to lose her, she’s one of my best. I’m going to take care of some things, and also let the customer who’s waiting know what kind of state she’s in. I hate losing business, but I offer only beautiful girls here, and I can’t afford making a paying regular dissatisfied over being given a girl who’s only semi-conscious, with a blackened eye that’s swollen shut. She doesn’t look pretty, and our customers expect pretty." The madam finished these last words with a frustrated sigh.

She doesn’t look pretty…

The words so callously spoken by the madam on her way out of the room hadn’t caused the single tear that escaped Bella’s eye and trickled down her face, but rather it was caused by the memory those words evoked.

She doesn’t look pretty…

Those were the first words Bella remembered having heard uttered by her mother when she was old enough to understand, and the same words she would continue to utter to her as she grew into a troubled young woman.

^^^

Eyes the color and shade of ice, the woman who once had worked in a brothel herself before getting enough money together to buy her own, stepped out onto the indoor balcony and scanned the noise-filled, crowded floor below. She spotted the last customer Bella had been with almost immediately. She prided herself for always being aware of who was doing what with what girl. Being stolen from was something she wouldn’t tolerate, and she had no patience for men who used her services and then didn’t want to pay up. She was now staring directly at the man responsible for damaging what she considered to be her property. Shouting so as to be heard above the din of laughter and voices, she called down to him, You messed up the face of one of my girls – now what do you think a businesswoman like myself should do about that?

The cowboy sniggered with the group of men he was drinking with, then tipped up his hat, and met her steely gaze with one of his own. Well, I don’t rightly know, little miss, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll close your mouth before I give your pretty little face the same treatment I gave that bitch upstairs.

"That bitch you’re referring to just so happens to belong to me, including what was a pretty face – you see, the dilemma we’re currently facing is what are you going to do about it?"

The cowboy took a swig of whiskey then looked at the other men he was with, chuckled and said, You heard the lady, boys. She wants to know what we’re going to do about it.

My quarrel isn’t with them – only you.

Shoving out of his chair and standing to his full height, the tall cowboy said, "And just what are you going to do about it?"

You damaged merchandise that belongs to me, and in order for this matter to be resolved peaceably, the way I see it is that you owe me an entire week’s worth of pay that my girl can’t make with the condition that you left her in.

Taking a deliberate step forward, he said, Funny – because I don’t remember ever wanting to resolve the matter.

Reaching beneath the heavy skirts of her dress, she slipped the six-shooter free from the holster, then trained the gun’s barrel directly at him.

He paused and gave a surprised step back. You should be more careful with that – it could be dangerous.

It’s not the weapon that’s dangerous. It’s the person holding it that makes it dangerous, she said evenly.

His surprised expression changed into a smirk, then turned into a look of cold murderous rage. I don’t take kindly to threats, especially when they’re coming from whores. Why, I’d be willin’ to bet that you don’t know the first thing about how to even work a gun – much less shoot one. With a glint in his eye he moved steadily up the stairs toward her.

Without hesitation the madam pulled the trigger. A single shot rang out, followed by a quick succession of more shots.

The group of men who just moments earlier had been watching the whole thing, laughing and calling out cajoling remarks, fell silent as they stared at their friend who lay dying on the stairwell, a look of frozen shock on his face that had quickly drained of all color. He groped for the banister with one hand, and smeared a trail of blood down the railing and onto the steps. He brought his hand that was soaked in bright crimson up to his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. That bitch just shot me. He looked to his friends who were all on their feet now watching him. He slowly slid a few steps down before his eyes glossed over, before he tumbled the rest of the way down and lay at the foot of the stairs in a crumpled heap.

Someone called out from the crowd, You’re dead now, whore. This was followed by hoots and hollers, before all fell silent.

Angry over the death of their friend, the remaining five drew their weapons. Let’s have us a little fun like we did in Miles City. You remember that, don’tcha, boys? said the leader of the group. He gave a grimacing half grin. We all shot that whore at the same time. When we were finished with her, she had more holes in her than what she was born with – kinda like how you did ole Danny boy here, only worse. His eyes narrowed as he trained the barrel of his gun on her. Oh yeah. We really showed her. We had us some real fun – fun that I’m just now gettin’ a real bad itchin’ for again.

The madam made no reply to this, her eyes remained as cold and expressionless as the group of killers that threatened her.

What’s a matter, darlin’? Aint you gonna cry and beg the way the other whore did, right before we shot her? Come to think of it, maybe I was wrong about you. I can see you’re the type that just might be in need of a little encouragin’.

I aint shed a tear in all my years of livin’ nor have I ever begged anyone for anything. And I aint about to start now.

His eyes glimmered with rage. Like I said, you might be in need of a little encouragement – He then pretended to fire the drawn weapon he kept pointed at her. He glanced back at the others and said, Feisty little thing, aint she? You know, I’m beginnin’ to think that to send her to meet her Maker without first properly introducin’ ourselves would be a real shame – a real cryin’ shame. He tucked the gun back into his pants and moved steadily up the stairwell toward her. What’d ya say boys we have ourselves a real good time. I’ll go first –

"Then you’ll be the second to die. I would say first – only it looks to me like your friend who’s currently bleeding all over my floor beat you to that."

His lips twisted into a teeth-baring snarl as he took the stairs two at a time and lunged for her, but she’d already anticipated this, and easily moved back just out of reach, then said, It’s still not too late for you and your friends down there to back out.

The cowboy who had just lunged for her, turned and glanced back down to where his friends stood, and said, Well, well, would you just look at that, boys – I do believe the lady here means she wants us to let her go. He turned to her once more. His face lost all expression as he said, Only thing is, we can’t do that. Not after the way she killed ole Danny boy, now can we? He watched her with a studied expression, then cocked his head off to the side. You – you understand, don’tcha? He reached down into his pants and pulled out his gun again and pointed the barrel at her once more. Now I’d be willin’ to bet that you done went and fired out all six rounds into our friend down there – so I’d say you’re clean outta luck. A slow smile spread across his face.

He was about to step up onto the landing when she said, No, I don’t guess you rightly could. I only hoped for your sake you would.

Oh. Now would you look at that – the whore has a heart after all. Too bad I’m going to put a big ole hole in it. He looked back and laughed some more with his gang of outlaws who stood at the bottom of the landing.

I have a proposition to make, said the madam.

"You have a proposition to make? Coming from a whore that doesn’t somehow surprise me, but you see, my boys and I here, well, we aint too much in the habit of askin’ for anything, we’re more in the habit of just takin’."

Don’t flatter yourself. I’d enter the bowels of hell and take you down with me before I let you so much as breathe on me.

His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke there was a dangerous edge to his voice, "From where I’m standin’ I believe your exact words were, I have a proposition – He crossed over to her with his gun still in hand and nudged her with it. Now did I hear you right – or didn’t I?"

Keeping her voice steady, she said, A proposition to a gun fight.

A gun fight – with you?

My brother taught me how to shoot. I can handle myself just fine. Unless, of course, you’re scared.

A shadow loomed over his face, but quickly vanished and was replaced with a broad grin, and without tearing his gaze from hers, he called down to the others and said, The little lady here wants a gunfight. We’ll give her a gunfight. She’s under the impression that just because she got lucky and shot ole Danny boy there when he wasn’t expectin’ it, she thinks she can do the same to us. Although I don’t see how she expects to win a gunfight with an empty gun – unless of course she’s got another hidden ’neath those skirts of hers. He chuckled as he made his way down to where the rest of his gang stood.

Your friend got exactly what he deserved.

He’d made it to the bottom step when he came to a standstill and stiffened.You know I’m really gettin’ tired of your mouth – I think I’ll shut it early. The leader spun around and he and the rest of the men were about to fire their pistols, when fast as lightning the madam pulled the trigger of the second gun she’d kept hidden within the folds of her dress. A rapid blast of gunfire rang out, leaving all five sprawled out on the floor before they could get off a shot. All of them were dead except one.

Blowing the smoke off the barrel of the gun, the madam slipped it back in its holster. She slowly made her way down to where the leader lay, his body sprawled out on the stairs, still alive and gurgling up blood. Kneeling down so he could hear her, she said, "I think I forgot to mention that my brother – the one who taught me how to shoot, is a gunslinger – or maybe, you and your boys just forgot to ask. One important thing he taught me was to never be caught with only one gun. With the man dying at her feet, the madam went on to address the crowd of onlookers. For those of you who are new tonight or just might need a reminder, this is my establishment, and you’re all paying guests here, and will be treated as such, provided that you treat the merchandise with care – damage the merchandise, and I’ll damage you. I won’t tolerate disrespect of any kind. Unlike the no-good scoundrels whose blood is now pooling on my expensive steps and floor, it would be in all your best interests to remember that. Now get these bodies outside before the blood soaks in and ruins my floor."

The nearest bystanders lent themselves to the task, and one by one dragged the men out the door and onto the street. A few of the girls hurried over with buckets of soap and water and began cleaning up the blood.

The madam called down to the girl stationed at the piano, Start the music!

Notes from the piano rang out and the brothel soon was filled with boisterous shouts and laughter as everyone went back to the activities of the evening.

The madam went in search of Bella’s next customer. After making the necessary arrangements, she made her way down the long, wide hall, skirts swishing as she walked with a bounce and purpose to her step, when a longtime admirer of hers who regularly frequented the place, caught up with her. That was some gunfight back there. You’re a mighty good shot and an amazing woman to behold, Elvira Mae. I almost woulda felt sorry for ’em had they not had it comin’ like they did. You did a right good job at puttin’ that there gang of killers right where they belong, and shoulda been years earlier. The sheriff and his deputies should be thankful to you for riddin’ this town of scum like them.

She only smiled at his words of praise and said, You know as well as I that the sheriff would rather drink poison from a rattlesnake’s fangs than do somethin’ like that.

Sadly I’d have to reckon you’re probably right about that. Although I still think that you would make the best female sheriff this here town has ever seen. He reached out to touch a lock of her pale golden hair. You’re a vision of beauty to behold.

And you’re a fool for noticing.

Elvira Mae, he began carefully, there’s somethin’ I’ve been a meanin’ to tell you – I’ve held back saying it for too long now, and I think it’s time I was honest about my feelings and intentions toward you.

She surprised him with her next words, when she said, I already know. I’ve known for a long time – don’t you think a grown woman knows when she’s bein’ courted?

He blushed slightly. I guess, now that I’m thinkin’ about it and we’re discussin’ it like the way we are, well, I guess maybe I have been a little forward.

I know what you’re gonna say and I’d just as soon you didn’t.

Just hear me out. Now this aint exactly how I planned on askin’, but seeing as I got my courage up, and we’re discussin’ things like we are, well – Elvira Mae, would you do me the honor of bein’ my wife?

She directed her gaze to the rowdy crowd below. I spent my entire life working hard to get to where I’m at, and I didn’t do all the things I’ve done just to settle down into a domestic life – a life that you and I both know I’ll never fit into or be happy with. You’re a good, decent enough man, and you’ll make a right fit husband for someone someday – but it won’t be me. Besides, can you see a woman like me, who can shoot better than most men, darning socks by the fireplace? She laughed at the thought, a warm husky sound.

A shadow passed over his face and he quickly looked down at the floor. That’s what I’ve been afraid you might say. Just know that for as long as I’m alive you’ll always be the only woman for me.

Then you’re in for a lonely existence waiting for something you’ll never have.

He pulled a single yellow rose out from the inside of his coat and said, For you.

Accepting the gift, she leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek and said, I would love to stay here and continue this conversation, but there’s other things that need my attention, so you’ll have to excuse me now. She turned on her heel and continued down the hall.

He stood and watched her walk away with a look of longing on his face, before turning and leaving.

The woman who had been holding a warm cloth to Bella’s injured face looked up to see the madam enter the room in a rustle of skirts. How is she doing?

In and out, but mostly she’s been like this, quiet. If you want, I could stay here with her for the night?

That won’t be necessary. Your time will be better spent downstairs seeing to our customers. We have a full house tonight.

What about Bella? Shouldn’t someone stay the night here with her?

"Yes, someone should, and someone is – The madam went about neatening up the room and putting things in order as she talked. A paying client –"

But you couldn’t possibly have really meant it when you said she has to still work tonight – I mean just look at her, in her condition it wouldn’t –

Cutting her off, the madam said, I meant every word of it – you’ve been working for me long enough to know I don’t run a house of charity. Every girl who sleeps and eats here has to earn her keep – including those who get injured on the job. Noticing the horrified expression on the other woman’s face, the madam continued, I like to keep our customers happy, and this one likes girls that have been roughed up a bit. I’ll admit it’s strange, but then again, in this line of work what isn’t? I’ve even known a few who’ve preferred whores that were cold and stiff to the live ones. I learned a long time ago not to ask questions about certain preferences in the bedroom, and I’ve long since stopped caring. As long as they got the money we give ’em what they want. And believe me, he’s got the money – paid up front and even put in a little extra. She flashed a smile, pulled out a handful of coins, then stuffed them back into a satin pouch and said, Go on now, get out of here.

The woman hurried out after casting one last reluctant look toward the bed where Bella lay sleeping. The madam followed her out into the hall, where the customer was already waiting. Giving him a wink, she walked past and said, She’s all yours…

The man reeked of stale tobacco, and of alcohol and sweat, but Bella was scarcely aware of him as he got on top and thrust himself inside her. The back and forth movement of the bed caused bile to rise up in her throat. The dull ache in her head became a sharp steady pain. Blessedly the laudanum that was administered to her earlier was starting to have an effect, and the grunting slob on top of her was being quickly erased from her mind, as she fell into a deep sleep full of disjointed dreams where she was revisited by a long-ago ghost from her past.

Her mother stepped out from the blackness, much like the empty void Bella found herself now standing in.

Nothingness. Empty space, with only the exception of the other soul that stood there with her, her mother – or at least the woman she’d thought to be her mother for most of her life.

Bella fell back at the sight of her mother, but it wasn’t her mother that frightened her – it was the words. Biting words that she knew were always right there on the tip of the other woman’s tongue. But as Lucinda remained standing there, cloaked in darkness, there were none of the recriminations she’d anticipated. Nothing but still quiet.

Perhaps she had been wrong – perhaps Lucinda had loved her after all.

Rushing forward, Bella said, Mother – but stopped short when she saw the other woman’s face, twisted into a snarl. Shooting out a pasty white, gnarled hand, Lucinda hit her hard across the face. You stupid little whore, she growled.

Mother! Bella fell back in shock, her hand covering the mark on her face that was already turning red.

Surprised to see me, I see, Lucinda chuckled unpleasantly. Her mother’s eyes, full of condemnation, met hers. "I always knew you were nothing but a trollop from the day you were spawned. And it looks as though you didn’t disappoint – you did turn out to be nothing – nothing, that is, but a whore! A whore that I did my damnedest to abort –"

No, no, no, nooo! Bella turned to run, trying desperately to flee from the hateful words that were hurled at her, but everywhere she went, her mother would appear, blocking any escape.

"Did you know that I tried every way possible to abort you – but you just wouldn’t die?" Her mother’s wide gleaming eyes searched out hers.

Through her sobs, Bella said, No – please, mother, don’t say things like that.

"Why not? It’s the truth. But then again you never really were one for the truth – because you’re a liar! A liar like the devil! You’re nothing. You’re garbage. A worm beneath my feet – a worm that should just crawl away and find somewhere to die, because nobody loves you. Nobody cares! You don’t have a backbone, you’re nothing more than a sniveling worm – little girl. You are a liar. And there’s nothing I despise more than a liar. A liar! Her mother’s eyes grew yet wider as she continued to chant this over and over again, A liar! A liar! A liar! A liar!"

No! Petrified, Bella buried her face in her hands, as if the act itself would help to block out her mother and the words that she continued to hurl out.

"Yes – a liar. A filthy, dirty, little liar."

God save me! Get me out of here! Sobbing, Bella cried out into the blackness.

"God has nothing to do with my being here."

For the first time, Bella looked, really looked at the pale, grotesquely contorted features of her mother’s face, and realized that Lucinda was dead. Blurting out her next words, she said, But you can’t be here –

Her mother’s lips formed a smirk, yet she still managed to keep the rage in her eyes unchanged. If anything, the hatred that burned behind them only intensified with each condemnation uttered. Oh, can’t I? That’s odd. Because it looks like I’m right here. She moved menacingly closer to Bella. "I’m your mother. Don’t you dare tell your mother where she can and can’t be."

But – you’re – you’re –

Lucinda took another step forward. "I’m what?"

You’re dead! Bella screamed and took off running, horrified by the reality of it. Her mother’s laughter followed her wherever she went.

"I’m here, because you wished me here." Lucinda’s laughter went up into a cackle.

No, even if it were possible, I would never make a wish so vile.

You say never – yet here I stand.

Go back to hell where you came from!

Not before I’ve taken you there with me, her mother shrieked, and flew at her with open hands that closed around her throat. Bella gasped for air as her mother choked the life out of her while screaming in a deep distorted voice, Die, bitch! Die!

Bella came awake to screams, and was only vaguely aware of the man who straddled her, while screaming, Die, bitch! His hands were around her neck, closing off her air. Then right when she thought she’d die, the man abruptly released his viselike grip on her, gave a gargled cry and slumped forward, his now sightless eyes staring down into hers. Something warm and sticky soaked through his shirt and onto her. It took her a moment longer to realize that what she felt was blood, not hers, but his.

Coughing and gagging, she cried out and struggled uselessly from beneath him. It was then that Bella realized that she wasn’t alone – someone was in the room with her. The dead weight of the man that crushed her was shoved off, and Bella saw the familiar face of one of the other girls she was friends with. She hovered over her, asking how she was, but when Bella tried to speak her words came out in more coughing, and she drifted off again into a chaotic place somewhere between waking and sleeping.

There was the sound of footsteps as a second person entered the room, a young girl of eighteen. What’s going on? Is everything… Her words trailed off as her gaze went to the body of the man who lay there dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood, a knife protruding from his back. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she gave a shrill scream.

Shut up and start helping by getting this bastard’s bleeding body out of here, then start scrubbing everything clean. You know how Elvira doesn’t like blood soaking into the floors. Now go on. What ya waitin’ for anyway?

The girl looked over to where the blood was pooling. I – I aint never been this close to a dead body before.

Then go over there and tend to Bella. I’ll take care of the body myself. When the girl was slow in reacting, the other woman shot her an impatient look and said, "You do know how to do that – don’t you?"

Nodding, she hurried over and perched on the edge of the bed. She dipped a cloth in warm water and washed the blood from Bella as well as she could, while the other woman grunted and heaved as she struggled under the weight of the dead man, whom with much effort she managed to drag to the open window and shove him out, sending his body catapulting to the ground below.

She came back over to where the girl still sat, and said, Go ahead and start cleaning up the floor. I’ll finish seeing to her and getting some fresh linens on the bed.

Having heard what happened, the madam reluctantly agreed to allow Bella to rest without being disturbed until she was sufficiently healed. While in her drugged state, Bella made out bits and pieces of the conversation the two women in the room were having.

Did you clean out his pockets first? asked the madam.

Here’s everything he had, said the other woman, handing over a handful of coins.

Hmm, good. The madam counted it and smiled, then said, You killed him?

I didn’t have any other choice.

You did no less than what I’d have expected you to do. If the sheriff comes around askin’ questions I’ll be sure to tell him it was self-defense. We’re a family, and if we don’t look out for one another then no one will. We sell our bodies – not our souls.

We sell our bodies – not our souls….

The rest of what the madam and her friend said faded away, save for that one phrase that stuck in her mind. For Bella wasn’t so certain she agreed – because every time she welcomed into her bed another tobacco-chewing old man with rotted teeth, or another psychopath with fetishes and twisted desires their wives back at home wouldn’t satisfy, she felt another piece of her, the real her, die, until nothing but hatred remained. Hatred for both the men and herself for allowing it.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Music from the piano, played by a girl wearing a scarlet dress with a plunging neckline, spilled out of the brothel, and could be heard above the din of voices and laughter from the men, mostly miners and lumberjacks who came regularly to drink and take advantage of the more sensual pleasures offered there.

Bella lay on her back staring up at the overhanging crystal chandelier. She could just barely make out the distorted image of herself, and was careful to keep her gaze locked on her own beautiful visage, and not on the man who pleasured himself on top of her.

She could almost time how long the act itself would take by counting the rhythmic squeaking groans made by the bed springs. In her years working at the brothel, she’d become accustomed to all her regulars and what each of them liked. With some, she had to be somewhat of an active participant and feign enjoyment by making all the right sounds at all the right times – which she’d also timed. Much like the way a great actress would on the stage of some grand theater. And that’s just what she was, an actress, an actress of the bedroom, a woman in red – a woman who became whatever it was these creatures desired.

Being with some of them turned her stomach, and for a time had even made her sick – literally sick. Gut wrenching, and heaving until all her innards, it seemed, would have been vomited out. This torment she endured time after time, until her mind and body had become numb. Deadened to the despicable acts and atrocities she was required to endure. The few and only times she gained any pleasure were those times when she watched herself from the crystal chandelier, and imagined – no, could almost see, envision herself, taking the letter opener and…

This was a thought that couldn’t always be finished – a guilty pleasure that at times would be cut short by the grunting fool whose lips searched out hers, reminding her of the life force that still possessed this creature, causing it to return to her week after week. The burning hatred and disgust she felt for them was carefully hidden behind the sexy smile and heavy-lidded expression she’d worked hard at perfecting for them.

When the act was finished, the customer got dressed, pulled on his boots, counted out the money owed, and left it there beside her on the bed. Keeping her provocative pose, Bella gave a little wink and said, Later, cowboy.

He tipped his hat on the way out and said, Next week as always, darlin’.

She waited until he was gone and the door had closed behind him, then muttered, Bastard.

Getting back into her dress, she grabbed up the money, and counted the coins that one day would represent freedom from this life of misery. Misery. The very word that her mother had uttered to her at every opportunity, and accused her of causing. No, hurled at her like a hard slap across the face.

It wasn’t until she was much older that she finally learned the truth – that Lucinda, who for so many years had claimed to be her mother, wasn’t really her mother at all, and all the stories she’d been told by the woman who claimed to have tried to abort her multiple times, were really nothing but lies – terrible, cruel lies, told by a spiteful woman who was filled with so much hate, that it was all she ever gave out.

For the longest time, Bella had believed these wicked lies, until one day Lucinda had told her about her real mother, and how her real mother had worked in a brothel, and even told her about the sister she had, but until then never knew. Bella never was quite sure what had caused Lucinda to tell her the truth, but she assumed it was done to try to hurt her. Hoping it would upset her to realize that her birth mother was a whore who died while giving birth to Bella and her sister. But instead of making her feel worse, it actually became a source of comfort to finally know that this bitter woman who had raised her and despised her so, wasn’t her real mother. She was glad, she didn’t want to think that Lucinda was something she’d come from or that a mother could have such hate for a child that was her own.

After having discovered the truth surrounding her birth, Bella found that she couldn’t stop thinking about the second baby that was born – her sister. Filled with curiosity, Bella had asked Lucinda about who and where her sister was now. For the longest time Lucinda had refused to answer, until the day of her eleventh birthday. That was when she met her twin sister, Suzanna, for the first time. And although the two were twins, they weren’t identical, but did share the same color of eyes, and the same full lips and high cheekbones. Bella had been surprised when Lucinda took her to her sister’s house so the two could meet for the first time. But as with everything Lucinda did, it was done to hurt her, as she later came to realize.

Not wanting to remember something that caused her so much pain, Bella absentmindedly set the money back down next to the bed, and walked over to the antique box that at one time had belonged to the woman who gave birth to her, and who died right there in the very room she now worked and slept in.

Running her fingers along the ornate edges, she set it aside and turned to the mirror and picked up a comb, slowly ran it through her hair and stared back at her reflection. No longer was she an innocent, young, eligible girl. The kind a young man would consider for marriage – no, she was ruined. So unlike her sister, Suzanna, who was given an adoptive mother who loved and raised her as if she were her own. Suzanna got everything she should have had – a handsome, rich husband, a cozy cabin in the woods, and a child – yes even a child – a beautiful girl they named Clementine.

She tried to be happy for her sister and the constant good fortune bestowed upon her, but one can only try to be happy for another, who always wins and never loses, for so long. And her good nature gave way to resentment, then rage, as she watched Suzanna live a charmed life, and she had long since decided that it was time her perfect sister lost.

Whether or not Suzanna knew of her sister’s burgeoning resentment was unknown. But one thing was certain. The blessings bestowed upon her throughout the years never changed her kind, sweet nature, and never once did she forget about her dear sister, Bella. And dear was exactly how she thought of her sister. Having lost their mother in birth, and never knowing their father, they were the only biological family each of them had left – until of course Suzanna married and had a child of her own. For Suzanna, her family and the people who mattered to her had only grown, furthering her joy. But for Bella, her family and the love she initially felt for her sister had dwindled down to a deep-seated envy that had grown and flourished like a patch of weeds, spreading poison through their roots.

During the days and weeks since the two brutal attacks she’d suffered, and the attempt made on her life, Bella had gradually healed from her injuries, and with enough powder was able to conceal the last of the bruising on her face and neck. She’d taken extra care with her appearance on this day – the day that she would