Fall From Grace (Slater #1) (4 page)

Laura continued to go to their spot, with the hope that Porter would be there, but he was nowhere to be found. She searched the town, her mind swimming with emotion, desire and need.  One afternoon she had been walking along the edge of the river when she heard sounds just under the bridge.  Laura gingerly climbed her way down the river bank, the long grass snagged at her dress and Laura could decipher the sound as being a woman’s moan.  Her mind told her that she shouldn’t go there, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own and continued on the path. As she neared the pillar of the bridge she could make out the white flesh of a female leg, a rough hand ran brutally up the skin.  Laura’s heart quickened as she realised the two people were doing what she had assumed. The woman’s red hair cascaded down onto the earth behind her. Slowly Laura crept closer and she saw the bare torso of a man, his head buried into the chest of a very buxom woman.  Laura’s eyes widened with recognition of the back.  The scars that littered it and the tattoo of welts. Her breath caught in a gasp and she clasped her hand over her mouth, trying to will her body to turn away and run.  Before Laura had a chance to run, the man turned, his darkened eyes fixing on Laura’s.  His face changed in recognition, his mouth twitched, he watched her with blood shot eyes, eyes of the devil. Porter. The man, who held her heart and her virginity in his hand, stared into her face, his hands on another woman, his smile sardonic and spread across his face. Laura could feel the tears that wet her cheeks and dripped from her chin.  She turned on her heel, scrambling her way back up the bank and ran.  Her lungs felt like they were on fire by the time she reached the small cottage in the woods.  His eyes, dark, bloodshot eyes that would haunt her in her dreams forevermore.  They appeared next to the eyes of the stinking man from her childhood and somehow they seemed to match.

No words her mother spoke would bring comfort. Laura was a broken woman. She was angry and filled with hatred. She wanted to hurt Porter, she wanted to see him break, the same way that he broke her. But who was she? Laura thought. 

Chapter Seven

Porter.

Porter recognised Laura when he had turned, hearing her gasp. He saw the hurt in her face, but the demon had been awakened in him.  He couldn’t help but feel a sick perverse pleasure as her face had been flooded by a stream of tears.  His erection had twitched in excitement of not only being caught doing something so carnal, but by whom he had been caught by.

He stood behind the large home that his parents and family lived in, thick in the woods, a strap of leather held in his hand, his bible opened on the ground. The searing pain jolted through his body with every whip, he felt nothing but remorse. He hated who he was. He hated the evil lust that ran through his body. He hated the broken hearts that he left in his wake. He hated the brokenness that he saw in Laura’s face, the brokenness that he had caused. 

He flicked his arm over his shoulder with another whack from the strap and a hissed breath over his teeth. The welts that had only just begun to heal opened again, the feeling of the warm blood mixed with the stinging breeze trickled down to the top of his pants.  Porter was due to leave for the seminary the next day and he wasn’t able to resist the woman who had smiled so sweetly at him, licking her lips with desire.  Her red hair hung down over her shoulders, her dress was tight across her bountiful breasts, her skin pale and the spider web of blue veins that traced their way across her neck had made her irresistible to his touch.  Porter felt nothing but disgust for all that he had done, for what he had done to Laura. His lust a thorn in his side that he hoped seminary would help relieve.

Porter wanted to go to Laura but he knew it would be of no use.  It was better that she hated him and he leave, than him to make amends and leave her behind.  As he emerged from the woods, his shirt stuck to his back, his hair thick with sweat, Cole came towards him.

“Father is looking for you” Cole said eyeing Porter, his gaze heading towards the leather strap coated in blood held in Porter’s hand. 

Porter folded the strap of leather into his bible, nodding his head.

“Why do you punish yourself, Port?” Cole asked as he fell into step beside his brother.

Porter shook his head, unable to explain to Cole that he had to atone for his sins and this was the only way to do it. He needed to feel the pain in order to feel like he had paid for his sins.  As they entered their house, he could hear his father in the sitting room.  Both Cole and Porter walked into the dimly lit large room, the fire crackled and spat as if rejecting Porter and his sin from the room, or maybe it was enticing him into the depths of hell.  Books were tucked firmly into place across the vast space of bookshelf on the walls, the opulent furniture spoke of wealth and importance and there his father Richard sat in the grandest of the chairs.  Richard was a big man, his girth sat around his belly that was large and round, a bristling long beard donned his chin and his face was a pillar of stern and pristine morality. Richard looked like his father and brothers, all the Slater men looked similar with their broad shoulders, tall bodies and dark brown eyes. The Slater name was one to hold proud Richard would exclaim. They held high positions in the village and when Richard’s brother, James had mysteriously gone missing many years earlier the townspeople searched high and low for him.  It brought great shame to the Slater family that James would leave without a word. James had become a taboo subject in the Slater household. Rumour was that he had left with one of the peasant women in town, his demise being a lustful spirit, one that Porter seemed to have found himself afflicted with. Porter felt like shrinking in the presence of his father.

“Ah Porter my son” his father bellowed throughout the room. 

Porter forced a smile as his father waved him into the room.

“Father, I must start packing, I leave early in the morning” Porter spoke.

Richard nodded and urged Porter to sit in front of him. As Porter took the seat in front of his father, he could feel the warmth of the fire flick over his face.  The skin on his back began to itch under the shirt where it had got stuck to the blood.  He wanted nothing more than to go to his room and wash, but Richard rarely spoke with his children, so Porter knew that pitching a fit would fall on deaf ears.

“I wanted to give you something that my father gave to me, when I entered the seminary” Richard spoke as he reached under his chair.

Richard pulled out a thick leather bound book and ran his hands over the cover.  Porter could see that the book was well read, the leather cover was worn and scuffed.  Richard passed it to him and as Porter opened up the book, he saw that it was a bible.

“This will come in handy while you are learning to be a man of God” Richard said, his voice cracking with emotion.  “I always wanted one of my seven sons to go into the seminary, this was my calling and I prayed over every one of you that one of my children would follow this same path”

Porter looked up at his father to see a single tear escape from Richard’s eye.

“You will be a great man of God.” Richard said.

Porter’s father cleared his throat and slumped back into his chair, indicating that their moment of togetherness had come to an end.  Slowly Porter stood from the chair, clutching the bible in his hands against his chest.

“Thank you father” Porter said quietly before he turned and left the room to pack his meagre belongings for the next morning.

He felt like a traitor, his father never showed emotion and yet his pride for Porter seemed to ooze from every pore.  Porter’s insides were twisted and he felt a pang of regret for the shame his actions would have bought Richard.

Porter didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning, haunted by demons trying to tear apart his skin, sneering at him, reminding him of all the evil that he had committed.  The morning birds made too much noise too early. And before he knew it, Porter was bundled up into the back of a cart, led by two huge black stallions to the lands unknown.

The fog pulled at him as Porter looked out the tiny window of the carriage while it barrelled down the dirt lanes and into the deserted town. As they slowed through the village, Porter watched the buildings, the stalls, all still and quiet. Nobody was around, the smells of the country, the nearby farms and the local merchants cooking lingered in the air.  Porter felt remorse for his decision, it would have been easier to stay in the village and find a sweet girl to marry, one that would give him children, settle down. But his calling was to be a man of the cloth.  Well so his father told him, Porter began to doubt that it was his calling at all.  But he knew that he could never go against his father’s wishes. 

The steeds towed the carriage out of the town, passing through a light thicket of woods; a flash of black velvet caught his eye.  Porter leaned forward in his seat, pressing his forehead against the small window.  He watched as they passed Laura.  Her face was stained with tears, her hair hung drab around her shoulders, her eyes blazed bloodshot and red.  Her stare connected with his and suddenly in that moment, he knew that insanity had started to take its hold.  Porter slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes, as darkness began to creep in taking him into a land of dreamless slumber.

Chapter Eight

Laura.

Laura heard the wheels of the carriage coming towards her, the big black stallions leading the way.  The man that sat atop the carriage sneered down at her, his shining black hat perched importantly on top of his head. As the carriage slowed past her, she caught sight of the man that was being carried away.  Porter.  He stared back at Laura.  She searched his eyes for remorse, for feelings, for anything. But there was nothing, it was as if he didn’t even know who she was. 

Laura watched the wheels turning, rolling along the ground and wondered how much it would hurt to throw herself under the crushing weight of them.  Would it turn the carriage over? Would the driver feel it? Would the horses stop? Would they care? The questions flew through her brain in seconds as she took a step to throw herself under the wheels. Her mother’s face flashed her mind.  Her mother standing over her writhing body, screaming, but no one would come; her mother would be there on her own.  It was the only thing that stopped Laura’s foot. She shook her head to shake the thoughts of suicide.

When she finally arrived home, her mother was hunched in front of the fire warming her fingers.  Gwendoline was once the most beautiful woman in the town. With her flowing blonde hair that formed curls at the end. Gwendoline’s eyes were an emerald green, so dark that her father said he spent so many hours just getting lost in them.  Gwendoline told Laura once that eyes were the doorway to the soul.  Now, however, when Laura looked into Gwendoline’s eyes, there was nothing but heart ache.  She was so frail and broken.  It seemed that she was becoming more broken every day.  Gwendoline had been losing weight at a rapid pace.  Her face became more sunken and her eyes seemed to bulge with malnutrition.  Laura tried to get her mother to eat more, but Gwendoline would just shake her head and tell Laura she wasn’t hungry. 

Laura noticed how much time her mother spent in front of the fire just sitting there, staring into the flames that licked at the stones surrounding them.  Her hacking cough was the only sound that filled the house.  As Laura came into the room, Gwendoline turned to face her.

“Laura, have you had your monthly?” she asked.

Laura stopped in her tracks and shook her head; she hadn’t had it since she had been with Porter.  Gwendoline nodded her head and ambled her way to her feet. She swayed slightly and Laura reached forward ready to grab at her arm to stop her from falling.  Gwendoline smiled at Laura and pat the hand that had caught Gwendoline’s arm.

“Come child, we need to see Doctor James” Gwendoline spoke.

Laura followed her mother silently through the woods into the town, stopping every few yards for her mother to hack up a loud barking cough.  By the time they got to the town and stood in front of the cold stone building Gwendoline was visibly struggling for breath and Laura was starting to feel panic rise.

“Mother?” Laura asked, clutching at her mother’s arm.

Gwendoline was bent over, her hands on her knees as she breathed heavily.  Laura gently caressed her mother’s back, trying to think what her mother would do to make Laura feel better when she was poorly.

“Are you sick mother?” she timidly asked.

Gwendoline looked up at Laura, her dark green eyes welled up with tears and she slowly nodded her head.

“Yes child, I’m very sick. We need to see to you now though” Gwendoline said, tugging at Laura’s hand and leading her into the doctor’s office.

Inside the office was dark and dusty.  The front room of the house was nothing more than a small sitting room with hard wooden chairs dotted throughout it.  A woman looked up at them from a table and nodded her head.

“Gwendoline? Do you need to see Doctor James?” She spoke with concern in her voice.

Gwendoline shook her head and pointed at Laura while she continued to catch her breath. The nurse narrowed her eyes and stood taking Gwendoline by the elbow and leading her to a hard backed chair in front of the fire.