Untitled Prologue ~ Something I’m working on.

Something I’ve been working on when I need a break from The Dollhouse and My King. It’s a little darker than anything I’ve ever written. It’s Untitled, unedited, subject to change and all that blah blah blah.

Copyright © Mary Martel


“Twins,” she sneers. “The devils spawn, the pair of you,” she shakes her head in disgust. “Both of you trying to save the other from a well-deserved punishment.”

She tsks loudly, angrily.

“Your punishment is deserved. If one of you does not step forward to accept it I will be forced to punish the both of you and, Lord knows, you don’t want that.”

Both young men, mirror images of one another, remained silent, kneeling on the floor.

“Do not test me,” she seethes. So enraged she doesn’t seem to notice when spittle fly’s out past her dry, cracked lips.

Neither boy so much as flinches when her saliva rains down on their lowered heads. They’d been here with her before, several times in fact. If they spoke up in their defense the punishment would be a hundred times worse. They’d learned this particular lesson not even a week into their forced stay in her home.

“I should never have allowed such evilness to enter into my house. To corrupt my family. To taint my home. This is the thanks I get for opening up my home to you when you wretched little beasts had nowhere else to go. I took you in with open arms and you ungrateful bastards…”

On and on she ranted, all the while pacing back and forth in the dark, windowless room with a dirt floor and a bare bulb as the only source of light hanging from the ceiling.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

All the while her mouth spewed venom down at them. So horrible were her words I felt them as if they were a physical thing, a horrible thing, leaving me trembling in my hiding spot under the stairs.

Neither boy moved a muscle. They were stone statues, her words unable to chip away at their rough exterior.

They were brave.

They were everything I wasn’t and I envied them their bravery. They were both polar opposites of me in every way. And they were both here, down in the basement, because of me.

She stopped pacing, stopped spewing vile obscenities.

Her arm came up and down, slicing through the air with surprising speed and accuracy.


The twin on the left, I wasn’t sure which one because I was still unable to tell them apart, was left with a flaming red hand print covering his cheek from her blow to his face.

He made not a peep in protest nor did he move a hand to shield himself.

I, however, whimpered, unable to hold the pathetic little cry in any longer.

Both boys simultaneously jumped to their feet, but it was already too late. Beady brown eyes were locked on me. She had her prey in her sights and there would be no help for me now. Her tongue snaked out, momentarily wetting her dry lips. A sinister grin bloomed to life on her weathered face.

“Ruby Jane,” she called out.

In the harsh light I watched as horror spread across first one, then the other twins face. They knew what was coming for me.

They’d tried to protect me, my young champions, but once again fate had other plans.

I wiped snot off my face with the back of my hand, scooting further into the darkness below the stairs, all the while praying for a miracle. Praying for anything. Praying for the floor to open up swallowing me down into the seven pits of hell.

It was of no use because I was already in my own version of hell, one I’d been in for years. One I’d remain in for a good, long while.

Until one day we were all set free.

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Mary Martel

I'm an author, a wife, a mother of two extremely beautiful girls, a book addict, a lover of mermaids, and so much more.

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