Once Upon a Vow

By Erin Lee

Before you say “I do,” ask yourself:

What would I do if the monster was the one I pledged forever to?

How bad can ‘for worse’ get?

Meet Tendra, Colby, Aurora, Liza, Jackson, Daddy, August, Rich, Gina, Malcolm and Kate in six twisted tales that will send you running as far from love as you can get. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Oct 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781542659222

Erin Lee

Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

Book preview

Dedications:

For the vows we keep,

for better and for worse.

In death, we do part?

Or, is it into eternity?

Warning:

This book is a collection of dark fiction that deals with disturbing, undiagnosed psychological issues. It includes violent, graphic material only suited for adults. It is not suitable for minor children.

Read at risk of insanity.

Love can be brutal:

Praying Mantis

Black Widow

Awakening Aurora

Mama’s Closet

Daddy’s Monster

Acquiring August

Praying Mantis

Fun facts about praying mantises: 1. There are 1700 different kinds. These insects aren’t a one-size-fits-all species. 2. They use their legs, with sharp blades like a jack-knife, to kill their prey. 3. Female mantises eat their male partners after mating. 4. Praying mantises bite the backs of their prey’s neck to paralyze them. 5. Common belief is that it’s illegal to kill a mantis in North America because they are endangered. The truth is, they are not. They are all around us.

***

1993

"But isn’t she supposed to cry? There’s never been any of that. Not even when she was born. It just seems strange."

Sandra Sinensis plops down onto the plastic bench in the fourth pediatrician’s office she’s been to this week. Determined to get answers, she stares at the young doctor listening to her daughter’s heartbeat. Only a few years out of med school, his boy-like blond bangs cause Sandra to clench her fists and wonder if, maybe, the next doctor will know what to do.

Dr. Tann shrugs. Every kid is different. Babies meet certain milestones at different times. It’s all in the range of normal. She’s not really old enough for more testing. And, there’s no reason to. She looks perfectly fine to me, he says.

What about autism?

Ma’am, that’s not something we would diagnose until she is in her speaking years. She’s just a baby. Take her home and enjoy her. Most new mothers would be thrilled to have a kid who doesn’t cry. Sandra is almost sure he rolls his eyes.

Tendra, the one-year-old, pulls back from Dr. Tann’s stethoscope, giving him a cold stare that sends shivers down Sandra’s neck.

See! She doesn’t want you touching her. Is that normal too?

I’m a stranger to her.

"That’s not what I mean. She doesn’t want anyone touching her. It’s not normal. I’ve been around enough kids to know. She doesn’t cry for us to get her out of the crib and she winces when we touch her. What about some sort of nerve issue? Maybe she’s oversensitive to touch or something. Or, like I said, autism. I’ve been all over the library researching. I’ve heard autism is a new thing. Most people don’t really know about it. Maybe you just aren’t familiar..."

"She is fine, Mrs. Sinensis. Just keep up with her well baby exams with her regular pediatrician and she will continue to progress at her own rate. Dr. Tann pulls Tendra’s tee-shirt back into place and turns to his clipboard. He looks up at Sandra. You can take her now.

Sandra moves to the examination bench where Tendra looks up at her, expressionless. The baby doesn’t reach out for her mother. Instead, she rests there, staring at her; taking turns between her mother and the ceiling. She doesn’t make a sound. Instead, it’s as if she’s studying her surroundings. As Dr. Tann hands Sandra a slip to bring to the reception desk—likely another expensive billing code her insurance won’t fully cover for absolutely no results—she is sure she sees a raised-eyebrow smirk on her daughter’s face. Still, she thinks, no. That can’t be. She’s only one.

I’m sorry I wasted your time. I just want to help my daughter. Something isn’t right.

Mmm hmm. Have a nice day, Ma’am.

Sandra and her husband, Thomas, spend the next eighteen months jostling the baby in and out of doctors’ offices. Convinced Tendra can’t hear and will never speak, they are jolted into a whole new mindset when she finally says her first word. It happens on an ordinary evening while Sandra is wiping their daughter’s mouth clean of beet juice. They are both there to witness it, though no one will ever believe them. Tendra looks up at her mother, raises her eyebrows, smirks, and says—clear as can be— die.

***

1995

Have you thought about what preschool you’re bringing her to? I’ve been totally stressing out about it. They have the school for the blind but it’s two hours away. We are thinking about moving. But with Tim’s job, it’s just so hard...

Sandra has trouble making eye contact with her best friend, Kim anymore. Watching Tendra and Kim’s daughter play together in the sandbox is a great excuse to appear distracted.

I’m really not sure. I think we’ll just go to Jump Start and hope for the best. All her audio tests came back normal so I’m not sure what else to do. I guess we can just keep our fingers crossed. Maybe the doctors were right... Sandra doesn’t know whether to pity or envy her friend. Kim’s daughter, Taylor, was born two months premature and has been blind since birth. While Sandra would never wish that on anyone, she’s always been envious that at least the medical community understands her daughter’s issues. Four years and more than two dozen doctors later, she still hasn’t been able to get anyone to listen to her about Tendra.

Well, I certainly hope so. Having a special needs kid is hard, Kim says, shouting to Taylor to stop banging a stick on the side of the sandbox. Someone is going to get hurt!

Sandra watches Taylor put the stick down and pout. What she’d give to have a kid who listened. Had that been Tendra, she’d have stabbed me with the stick.

Yeah. I guess you’re right. I don’t know how you and Tim do it. But Taylor’s a really great kid. Such a big heart, Sandra says, smiling at the curly-haired blonde fumbling around in the sand. Her head is arched awkwardly and she uses her hands to feel her way around; finally coming up on a plastic shovel for digging. So, tell me more about this school for the blind. And, how serious are you guys about moving? I don’t know what I’ll do without these playdates. Taylor is Tendra’s only friend.

Kim shrugs. "Well, the school is really nice. Each kid gets their own para to help them. They teach them braille and ... No! Tendra! Stop!" Kim jumps off the bench, racing toward the girls. She grabs the stick out of Tendra’s hands just as Tendra launches a handful of sand directly into Taylor’s eyes, turning next on Kim.

Die! Die! Die, Tendra screams, wrestling Kim for the stick all while reaching for more sand to throw at them both.

It takes Sandra a second to reach the sandbox. She pulls Taylor away, shielding her eyes from the sand flying toward her again. This time, it lands in Sandra’s face. She spits dirt out of her mouth and clutches the blind girl, using her own tee-shirt to shield her head as the little girl screams and cries, frantic to get the sand out of her eyes. "No! Tendra, stop. Not nice!"

Finally, Tendra drops the stick. She lets sand fall from her open palm and stares at her mother and friend, crowing. Then, she takes a rock, and bashes it into the side of her own head. She reaches up, letting blood collect on her hands, and sucks her fingers clean.

***

2010

By the time Tendra graduates high school, Sandra and Thomas have all but given up on the daughter they’d once worked so hard to get help for. Eighteen years of therapists, neurologists and psychologists have yielded no results. In fact, Sandra is convinced the most helpful tool she’s had in raising the feisty redhead is the Internet, where Web MD has led her to the conclusion that her daughter does not, in fact, have autism. What her daughter has, she’s decided, is no soul. Or, maybe, it’s that she has no heart. Whatever her daughter is missing, it’s precisely why she and Tom had decided not to have more children. Tendra was more than anyone could handle.

Psychopath, sociopath, borderline personality: It really didn’t matter. All Sandra knew is that she and Thomas were tired. Where other parents watched on with pride, Sandra feels relieved at her daughter’s graduation; an end is in sight. She grips her husband’s hand. She can’t help but notice the gray at his temples and the way his skin reminds her of warm leather; tired but firm. If anyone should be celebrated on this day of Tendra’s graduation, it’s him. He’s been the one to pay for all the specialists and take overtime shifts to pay off attorneys for Tendra’s shoplifting, assault, and harassment charges. It’s been Thomas who kept Sandra sane as she battled Tendra over everything from tattoos with forged parental consent to why sixteen-year-olds who cheat on the SAT don’t deserve free cars. And, there was Milo; the family cat. Milo had been Tom’s best friend, until he was gone. Sandra shivers, deciding that today is a day to be positive, not to look back. Soon, we will be free. She rubs her husband’s thigh and scans the sea of mortar boards to find Tendra’s. In rhinestone and glitter, it reads Mischief Managed. Yeah. Not really. More like contained, for now...

***

2012

Tendra

Tendra yawns, fumbling for her phone. This time, instead of hitting the snooze button, she turns it off. Why anyone would take a class before noon is beyond her. A girl needs her beauty rest and astronomy is a ridiculous subject anyway. She’s always hated science. A third-year student at a state school, Tendra still hasn’t picked a major. Frankly, she doesn’t see the point. The only thing she’s interested in these days is the incoming pledge class of her sorority. She’s waited two years to get to the point where she has seniority and intends to make those bitches pay. Oh, karma. How I love you. Tonight’s going to be a blast. And I’ve earned this. Putting up with all that crap. She pulls her pillow around her ears, ignoring the sounds of kiss-asses coming back from earlier classes, and falling quickly back to sleep.

Tendra never makes it to class. She does, however, get up in time to start on her make-up and find her mask. She takes time in selecting the perfect Tommy hoodie for later tonight. Stolen from an ex-boyfriend or another who was only good for trips to the outlets, Tendra lays the black sweat shirt across her rumpled bed. She uses both hands to smooth it out, looking over her shoulder at a pile of clothes on her nightstand. She spots the leggings she’s looking for immediately and throws them on the bed too. It takes an hour to collect her things and shower. During that time, she recites the Kappa Theta Delta pledge class 2013 mission statement. She gets stuck on words like honor, pride and loyalty. Such bullshit. Whatever. At least I get to be in charge. I better get a pledge who listens to me. Becca can take the evil ones. She kicks her chemistry notebook under her bed. Wretched thing. Who needs to know that shit anyway? Not me. No thanks. And fuck Eddie too.

Five hours later Tendra rides shotgun in Becca’s car.

Alright, I’ll be right back. This is going to be so much fun!

Tendra watches Becca, also dressed in layers of black, skip into the package store. In minutes, her sorority sister will emerge with a night’s worth of liquid entertainment. That’s always when the fun begins with the Kappa sisters.

***

Move it!

Get your ass up, bitch!

"Now!"

Becca, Tendra and a myriad of other girls scream at tiny girl with brunette pigtails. The girl is wrapped in a purple comforter and rubs sleep from her eyes as she springs to her feet.

No, on your knees, Tendra yells. Show some respect for your sisters! I’m not having some disrespectful little shit be my little. We’re going to start this out right. "Do you have any idea what an honor it is to be selected to pledge for Kappa Theta Delta?"

When the girl, now on the floor, doesn’t answer immediately, Tendra gets louder. "Well? Do you? Cause if you don’t, you can march your ass to Delta and be one of those losers. The choice is yours."

The girl sniffles, bowing her head.

"Yeah, I’m not feeling any dedication. This is an honor. It’s 8:30 at night and you’re already in bed? What the fuck?"

The pledge looks up. I...I’m sorry. I just didn’t get any sleep last night. We were up learning the mission statement and...

"What? Are you kidding me right now? One night?  Pledge week is a week! How the fuck do you think you’re going to make it if you can’t do one night? Becca demands, rhetorically. We’re not having some nark be a Kappa sister. If you can’t hang, just tell us now. Otherwise, get your shoes on, pledge. We’ve got places to be and shit to do. You’re with Tendra. You better do exactly what she says too. First stop, student union."

***

2012

Colby Vincent

Colby wakes ten minutes before his alarm, the way he does every day. He jumps out of bed and races to the shower, tripping over his cat, Sampson’s, water bowl. He stops to put three tiny pellets of fish food in his beta’s tank before reaching for the last clean towel, which he hangs outside the shower door. Exactly seven minutes later, he emerges from the shower with just enough time to brush his teeth and slip in the puddle from the cat’s bowl to turn off the alarm. He catches himself on the wall. With one hand, he shuts his alarm off. With the other, he steadies himself, looking up at the calendar which is now eye-level behind his nightstand.

Well hello, King, he says, to the Crab Spider over the top of the month of November. Funny meeting you here. He laughs out loud, standing up straight and pulling the towel tight around his waist. His swimmer’s body and tight lines pop through the towel in a